Arcanum (28 page)

He got to his feet, pushing the chair back against the wall. He seemed to be completely alone, and yet he knew he shouldn’t be. He, Frederik Thaler, had set guards to keep the books safe from looters, and arranged them in shifts so that no man would have to watch for the whole night – except for him. He’d stayed on duty, and now it was dawn.

Where was everyone? Had they faded away too, along with the magic?

“Hello?” he called, and his voice sounded weak.

A vaguely familiar face peered around the library doors. “Mr Thaler? You’re awake.”

“I am?” He put his hand to his chin, and felt stubble. “I am. Yes. I’m awake.”

Thaler tried to remember everything he’d done yesterday, but it still had the quality of a dream. Everything had been done with a purpose, and yet the situation was so extraordinary it hadn’t felt real. And now, with the first sunlight striking the western side of Library Square, he had to pinch himself to be convinced that it had all happened, just as he’d entered it in the ledger.

“Are all the books still safe?” he asked the usher.

“Yes, Mr Thaler. There’s been no trouble at all.”

“Good, good.” He pulled the ledger towards him and leant over it, examining each entry in turn.

Must thank Aaron Morgenstern, he thought, as he read about the lanterns. Do it this morning.

“Did the mayor ever send any militia?” he called out.

“No, Mr Thaler. Leastways, not so I noticed. Someone earlier in the night might have seen them.”

Must see the mayor, urgently. This morning, too.

“Was Under-librarian Thomm ever found?”

“Not that I know of, sir.”

Thaler looked up from his book. “It’s Mr Ullmann, isn’t it? I sent you to Jews’ Alley yesterday.”

“Yes sir. Max Ullmann. There’s something you should probably know straight away, sir. The master librarian: he’s not in a good way. Might be something you want to see to first thing, if you know what I mean.”

“Yes, yes, of course.” He’d have to do that this morning, too. So many things already. He emerged from behind the desk and stood with Ullmann and two black-robed librarians under the portico.

“Strange days, Mr Thaler,” said Ullmann, leaning on his improvised weaponry, a turned and polished table-leg.

There was no one in the square, and the fountain was still.

“Yes. They are, aren’t they?” Thaler rasped his stubble and noticed the emptiness in his stomach. There had been breakfast, and lunch too, yesterday, but he’d been too busy for supper and had eventually fallen asleep where he’d sat. He wasn’t accustomed to missing meals, and he pressed his hand onto his ample belly to check whether it had shrunk.

“When do you think we’ll get the lights back on, Mr Thaler?”

The question stopped any thought of food. It was a question that the whole of Juvavum would be asking. “Well, now. Here’s the thing …” – but he was just talking to cover the fact that, if he was correct in his assumptions, the answer might well be never.

“Mr Thaler?” asked Ullmann.

“I don’t know. The Order are strangely silent. Perhaps someone should go and ask them.”

Ullmann’s laughter sounded out of place. “I wouldn’t like to be the man who tries that, sir. They’re quick to anger and slow to forgive, so I’m told.”

Thaler was inclined to agree, but then again: “I intend to see the mayor this morning, and I have a feeling this question’ll come up.” He scratched at his chin. Normally, he would have washed and shaved straight after rising. “I’m going to suggest that, in the absence of the prince, me and Master Mayor make a little trip up to the White Tower.”

The two librarians, who were leaning against a supporting column, registered as much surprise as Ullmann.

“Yes, yes, I know,” said Thaler, testily. “I expect it won’t just be us – the guilds and such like will probably want representation. Though how many of them will actually want to come with us is another matter entirely.” He patted at his pockets. “So much to do today, I don’t know where to start. It would help if Under-librarian Thomm would bother to show his face. Any word on Under-librarian Grozer?”

“Can’t say, sir. None that’s reached me.” Ullmann hefted his table-leg above his head with both hands and stretched. “Are you going to open the library today?”

Thaler tutted and sucked air through his teeth. “No – not that I have the final say in the matter – but there’s a lot of reshelving and tidying up to do. We should concentrate on that today, and try to reopen tomorrow.”

“Very good, sir. I’ll pass the message on.”

Thaler was taken aback, and realised he needed to make sure there were no misconceptions. “I’m not in charge, Mr Ullmann,” he said.

“Doesn’t look that way from where I’m standing, Mr Thaler.” Ullmann nodded emphatically. “Don’t look so worried. The gods provide the right man for the right time.”

“I’d be more believing in the wisdom of the Aesir if none of this had happened in the first place, Mr Ullmann.” Again, Thaler experienced the nagging doubt that the gods, if they ever existed, weren’t the slightest bit concerned with who he was or what he did. But perhaps in this case, Ullmann was right. Magic didn’t just disappear; something must have caused it. “Still, this all very academic. If we don’t get the water back on today, I doubt the doughty burghers of Juvavum will be as accepting of their situation as you.”

“The water, sir?” Ullmann called after him as Thaler went back inside briefly for the ledger. And the seal. Can’t go leaving that lying around. “Now that is serious.”

“Yes, Mr Ullmann. It is, isn’t it?” He hefted the book under his arm and pocketed the seal. “Now, I will be sending every available librarian back here as soon as I can. When they arrive, go and get something to eat, and get plenty of rest. I shall commend you for your diligence to Mr Glockner, and if I may say for myself, very well done, Mr Ullmann. Very well done indeed. If anyone needs me, I shall be in the refectory; after that, I will visit the master librarian and Mr Grozer, followed by the Town Hall. Disturb me if it is important; otherwise, carry on as you see fit.”

He hurried away, the seal knocking against his leg as he walked. He passed the fountain, the surface of the water in the great stone bowl reflecting the sky in tremulous stasis.

The Romans had installed them, and they hadn’t possessed the magic that up until yesterday the Germans had had at their command. So there was already a way of getting water through the city’s pipework; he just had to find out how they’d done it, and copy that. How difficult could it be? The caesars had first taken the settlement fifteen hundred years ago, and Juvavum still had sections of the ramparts that dated back that far.

Thaler stopped in his tracks. He may not even have to copy the Romans. The original system might still be beneath his feet, lying dormant like some slumbering beast. What an extraordinary thought, having to rely on something so old.

He set off again, his quick steps devouring the distance between the library and the refectory. He began to smell the kitchens, steam wafting out of the high open windows. Some things, at least, were normal.

There were doors. Big doors with iron rings, and smaller ones closed with thumb latches, but he arrived in the refectory soon enough.

The room was long and thin: the ceiling went all the way to the painted roof, and high-set arched windows let slanting light stream in, illuminating the long table that stretched the entire length of the floor.

There were lights hanging from the roof beams, but, as in the library, they were extinguished, cold and grey.

Half a dozen librarians were already seated and eating, clustered at the far end nearest the kitchen. They seemed in good spirits, despite – or perhaps because of – their experiences. Normally, breakfast was taken in library-silence, with each man attempting to find an island of peace before the day’s work. This morning was different in every way.

Thaler closed the door behind him, and walked down to join his fellows. Who rose as they saw him approach.

Embarrassed, he waved them back to their plates. “Quite enough of that, I think,” he flustered. He placed the ledger next to him and helped himself to a mug of short beer from the jug.

“Is the library safe, Mr Thaler?” one of them asked.

“Yes, perfectly safe. I’ve left it in the very good care of Mr Ullmann for the moment.” Thaler helped himself to a still-warm bread roll and dug his thumbs in to split it open. “Ah. Compliments to the bakers. I am in need, gentlemen, so no questions for the moment.”

He dipped his bread in his beer, and savoured the yeasty, malty flavour. He cut some slices of sausage, and ate those one after another, then went back for more bread, and more beer.

The others were watching him. “Eat, eat!” he encouraged. “We must keep our strength up. There’s work to be done.”

So they kept going, even if they’d already finished, and after cramming enough in to fill the void in his stomach, Thaler slowed down enough to pass on his news.

“Well, my fellow librarians,” he began. While he had been feeding, other librarians had drifted in, and now he was bordered on both sides by attentive faces. “What has been happening to the north is beyond our control, but what happens here is not: so, when my lord returns, he will find us in our library, working as we have always worked. Now, we are at a disadvantage in that our usual means of illumination is currently unavailable to us: we have what we have, thanks to the beneficence of Jews’ Alley, but we must be very careful with our lights. We all know what happened to Alexandria, and that will not happen here.

“We have much to do. We have shelves to right and books to place on them. We have debris to clear and furniture to replace. When, gods willing, the master librarian returns to the library, he will find us as he has always found us: serving the prince as best we can, conserving and repairing our older manuscripts, copying and collecting and collating. It will be business as usual, and rightly so. Just because our fortunes change is no excuse. Our standards, already of the highest ethic, will not fall one iota.”

He beamed around at them, hooking his greasy, crumb-covered thumbs around the edges of his robe. “I aim to have the library back to normal tomorrow morning, at the first watch, even if I have to work all night. Who else will stand now and say that he is an honest labourer, and that, while there is a job to be done, he will not rest? Who will join me in this great endeavour?”

They stood as one, and Thaler dabbed the corners of his eyes.

“Come then. To the library.”

Outside, having started their day in darkness, the citizens of Juvavum were making up for their tardiness by turning out all at once. Despite the problems, they seemed determined – perhaps a little too determined – to carry on regardless.

Thaler found himself pressed to the walls of narrow Coin Alley on a number of occasions, all without so much as an excuse me or a beg your pardon. Relieved he’d made it as far as Wheat Alley without incident, he looked at the crowds there and decided to cut through to the open spaces of the quayside – with the barges tied up, there’d be room enough to walk sensibly.

It was almost true, and at least he found out where all the militia had got to. They were guarding all the barges and all the warehouses, from the city wall up to the very far end of Rudolf’s Quay. And, conveniently, the Town Hall was directly opposite the main bridge, right on the waterfront.

He strode past the knots of spear-armed men, feeling increasingly indignant. Surely some of them could have been spared to guard other locations in the town? Like the library?

To cap it all, he was stopped as he was about to ease his way into the Town Hall itself. A spear-haft blocked his way, and a voice monotone with repetition said: “You can’t go in.”

Thaler bristled. “This is library business, man.” He put up his free hand to push the spear aside, and checked himself just in time. Instead, he brandished his book, and the guard took a step back.

“The mayor said no one was to be allowed through …” said the guard, moustache twitching.

“Except on official matters,” Thaler finished for the man. “It doesn’t get much more official than this. I have the Great Seal of the Library in my pocket and I’m more than willing to stamp an imprint on your forehead to prove the point. Now, is Messinger in, or should I look elsewhere?”

The guard glanced up involuntarily, and Thaler spotted the open first-storey window he was looking at.

“He’s in a meeting.”

“Of course he’s in a meeting. Anything else would be a complete dereliction of duty, given the shambles we currently have. Now, are you going to let me in, or am I going to have to shout my report up to him?” Thaler ostentatiously licked his index finger and opened the heavy ledger.

Defeated, the guard stood aside, and the librarian carried on up the stone steps and through the door.

The entrance hall was suitably impressive: tall, wide, with a double staircase at the far end, lined in oak and punctuated by the symbols of Juvavum’s guilds. It would have been even more impressive if he’d found everyone hard at work rather than huddling together in twos and threes like frightened children.

These were the civic leaders of the town. Thaler found their behaviour shameful, and rather than look at them for a moment longer, he parted them to either side like the Jew Moses had parted the Red Sea and swept through the middle, all the way to the stairs, making sure that every step was purposeful and dignified.

Boots would have been better than library slippers. He seemed to be making a habit of that.

He turned the corner of the staircase, and caught a whiff of fear and foreboding. He recognised it for what it was: a contagion that could spread like the plague. Thaler’s mouth formed a thin line, and he carried on up the stairs to do battle with the mayor.

Messinger was bent over a desk placed in front of the window, looking at a set of accounts with a gaggle of assistants and councillors. They argued to and fro, groaning and growling as appropriate, but never reaching a conclusion.

Thaler used his elbows to push his way to the front, and slammed his ledger down, narrowly missing the mayor’s fingers.