It was very quiet in the house – Mr
Ismay had been gone for two days and Hardacre had found time to tidy both the
larder (quite a quick job) and his master’s study (inevitably, that took the
whole day). In the late afternoon on
both days he was able to spend more than an hour in the garden and then
dedicate a little time to writing up his notes on Macrocephalos’s baffling
lecture. On both nights he slept like a log.
When he woke up on the third morning
there were two mail papers sitting on his bedside table. He read them in order.
The first was from Mr Ismay, explaining that he would be delayed for a few days
longer, and the second was from Viola –
Deputy Governor’s Office, Gorodnikov,
Eighteenth of May, Nine-hundred and ten
Dear
Laurence,
We have found an ancient map and we think that it will
lead us to the first snake, if any such things really exists. We thought we
should tell you where we are going, just in case we encounter any problems. We
are travelling across the Bay of Galente to the ancient port of Tamaranti and
then on to Karuodendron in the central Oket plateau. We hope to
follow the old road that runs north-west from Tamaranti, if we can. We have no
idea what we will find.
We were wondering about the naga that your colleague
met in Kinspit. Could you perhaps go and visit it and talk to it? We know this
is a huge imposition, but we really do think this is important.
With
best regards,
Viola
& Kath
Hardacre sighed. Both of these messages
were, as far as he was concerned, entirely problematic. A few days of his
master’s absence wouldn’t matter too much, but there was already a pile of
correspondence, magical and non-magical, waiting for him. As for Viola’s message, it seemed to be
plainly a conflict of interest. It would
be hard to help Viola without stinting on his Hybitor duty.
The worries grew within
him throughout the day, as he had to put off visitors once again. Even the
washing provided no relief – no matter how many shirts he ironed and folded his
worry about his friends in Oket grew; he knew that they had proven themselves
resourceful, but this seemed like a fairly madcap scheme. A resolve grew in
him, that he had to help them in some way. It was with great reluctance that,
over lunch, he decided on a desperate remedy – he would take the afternoon off
and go to the University library.
***
After a lot of discussion and political
cajoling he had been given permission to see the exotic stack librarian. In
reality this had probably called in all of Mr Ismay’s and his stock of favours
with the University library staff, but there was little he could do about that.
He had decided that this was important and so now he had to see it through to
the end. The archivist had been very jumpy about the whole thing and Hardacre
half expected that he would still be prevented from having his interview, or,
if he really was able to speak to the naga, that might be their last chance for
quite a while.
Kathleen had warned
him about the long walk down the apparently-endless stairs. He really didn’t
mind it – the air was cool and he was able to clear his mind of everything
except the strange snake-elf. He tried to remember all that Kathleen had
reported about her.
Eventually he was at
the door at the very bottom of the stairs. He breathed in deeply and then
knocked, very firmly, on the door. He
was scarcely surprised when the door swung open. The naga was no more than six feet in front
of him in elven form, wrapped in a green toga. She looked pale and thin but her
expression was implacable. This was completely different from the first
impression that Kathleen had formed – this was a dangerously powerful creature
in a flimsy female elf disguise rather than the other way round. He wondered which
impression the naga preferred.
‘How is Dr Mannings?’
she asked, ‘was the information that I gave her useful?’
Hardacre stood
completely still. There was no way that he was stepping into the room before he
was invited to.
‘Dr Mannings has been unwell’ he said, ‘but
now she is fine’
‘I’m sorry to hear
that…’ said the naga
‘But…’ continued
Hardacre, ‘the information was invaluable and it prevented a huge loss of life’
The snake-elf smiled
wanly and then nodded him inside. He hesitated for a second but then stepped
across the threshold. There was a strange little pop that he recognised
immediately: he had passed into a folded
area of space. He wasn’t the slightest bit shocked.
‘How can I help you
Mr Hardacre? I somehow think that it is not concerning academic matters that
you have come’
‘That is right – I
wanted to ask you a few questions; ones that I think are of the utmost
importance. If they were not so important then I would never have even
considered disturbing you’
The naga’s eyes
narrowed and Hardacre was certain that he saw within them a deep, inexplicable
fear.
‘What form of
questions?’ she asked
‘Questions about you,
if it is permitted…’
Some reflex made the
naga step back into her vast warehouse of artefacts, which Hardacre could only
now see clearly. This was the strangest room that he had ever seen. Row after row
of the memorabilia of three worlds: a treasure trove of knowledge that none (in
his world at least) were allowed to explore.
‘Permitted?’ she echoed, ‘no, of course it is not permitted,
but I sense that you will ask anyway’
The fear that was in
her eyes seemed to seep from her invisible scales. Hardacre realised that she
feared that he might not be what he seemed, and he could very easily guess who
she thought he might be. His own fear
threatened to overcome him, but he forced it back. He had to go through with
this.
‘Do you have a name?’
he asked.
‘No – but I have a
number. I am seven of nine’ she replied carefully
This was nothing new
to him, he had heard it from Kathleen, but the context seemed to change his
reaction to it. A sudden thought struck him. Something stirred in his mind from
that terrifying night in Ponwy.
‘Nine what’s?’ he
asked, ‘what are you the seventh of?’
The naga looked
puzzled, ‘the seventh naga of the nine that were made, what else would I be’
Hardacre’s brain
raced. Why did this seem so significant?
‘No, that’s not what
I meant’
There had been nine
nagas, and they appeared to be guarding Viola’s nine trees, but so what? Without any warning Macrocephalos’s obscure
phrase ‘enneic primes’ jumped straight into his head. What did ‘enneic’ mean?
He found himself soundlessly counting in Archaic Elven – ‘ena, duo, tria,
tessera, pente, hexi, hepta, octo, ennea!’. It meant nine, of course it meant
nine…
‘Do you guard an
enneic prime?’ he asked suddenly, with no idea what he really meant.
She began to
transform, very rapidly, back into her snake form.
‘Why do you ask that,
human?’ she asked, hissing and spitting. Her body formed a coil that bent like
a noose.
‘I assume from your
response that you do guard a prime,’ Hardacre, said, very calmly. He knew that
he was now in the gravest jeopardy, ‘but I have no desire to harm you or the
prime in any way’
‘I think that you
lie’ she said, shrinking back and rising to strike at the same time, ‘I fear
that you are the female enemy, veiled, and that you come to destroy me and that
which I guard’
A bead of sweat
formed on Hardacre’s forehead. He swallowed. At least if death was about to
come it would surely be swift.
‘No, it is not true’
he said rapidly, but in a very soft voice, ‘I am Laurence Hardacre – I have
dedicated my life to the care and safety of our world and its inhabitants. I am
not Bea, for I am sure that is who you mean; anyone can see that I have not
crossed the line. I am no necromancer’
The naga swayed from
side to side but moved no further forward and said nothing. Hardacre continued
as clearly as he was able.
‘You would no longer be
alive if I was the enemy – you surely know that. Bea has killed at least one of
your kind, in a cave in central Paror, so I’m sure that she wouldn’t hesitate
to do it again’
The snake hissed
again, but this time it was more like the noise of a deflating balloon.
‘You speak
truthfully’ she said, ‘we have no defence against such irredeemable evil, such
reckless hate’
‘The council are
dedicated to destroying the necromancers…’ he explained
‘You will surely
fail,’ the naga responded evenly, ‘against enemies of that power…’
‘Perhaps…’ admitted
Hardacre, ‘but we will surely try. And some of us are strong’
The naga turned her
head as if she had heard something behind her.
‘The Basilieus’s
soldiers will be here soon. The archivist has warned them of your presence
here. You should retreat or you will be captured’
‘Why would they want
to capture me?’
‘Because they think
that you know too much and I am sure that they are right’
‘Then why would you let
me escape?’
‘Because they care so
little about our world’
Hardacre could see
movement behind the serpent. Three elves dressed in military uniform were
approaching slowly but steadily. They looked completely focused on their task.
‘Well thank you’ said
Hardacre. He started to back away towards the entrance.
‘Stay
where you are’ shouted the leader of the elves, ‘we won’t hurt you’. He was now advancing rapidly towards Hardacre,
although his route was indirect, through the rows of shelves, as he was giving
the naga a very wide berth.
‘Are they friends or
enemies?’ whispered Hardacre, disorientated by this sudden influx of bodies.
‘Neither’ said the
snake, ‘you need to go’
Hardacre pushed
against the door and it swung open. The bite of cold in the stairwell behind
felt like freedom. He let the troops get
no closer; he stepped through the doorway and closed the door with a satisfying
push. He knew that the guards would not
dare to venture into the Library area. He was sure that they were not meant to
be there.
He contemplated the
climb back up to the upper library. At least it would give him some time to
think about what had just happened. Then
he needed to write it all down.
No comments:
Post a Comment