The God Tattoo: Untold Tales from the Twilight Reign (32 page)

‘I shan’t, Mistress,’ the white-haired watchman said with a bob of the head.

She handed him the ring of keys he would need for the night, which he accepted with another bob and slipped them onto his belt with a practised movement.

‘I’ll set some traps, catch you a few rats by morning.’

Gennay laughed, a feigned grimace on her face. ‘And a lovely present they’ll be, I’m sure!’ she said as Pirn led her back out the door. ‘See you in the
morning.’

The following day was a busy one, presided over by a pale winter sun that did little to warm the stones of the library. Gennay arrived not long after sun up, fairly dragging
Pirn from his bed and hurrying him through the empty streets. A few inches of snow had settled on the roads, but it was the night breeze whipping in off the ocean that had made Narkang’s
streets treacherous. At every intersection the pair were been forced to shuffle over ground polished smooth by the icy wind, but it wasn’t far from the Thonal household and they arrived there
before anyone else.

‘Master Bewen!’ Gennay called as Pirn knocked ceremoniously on the library door. She felt a moment of anxiety when her call was not replied to immediately, but then she heard the
thump of feet on the flagstones.

‘Mistress Thonal,’ Bewen said as he eased the door open. ‘Good morning to you, and you Master Pirn.’

‘No excitement in the night?’ Gennay asked, noting the ageing man’s face was crumpled into a frown.

He shook his head, eyes scrunched up in the day’s light. ‘None, my lady, quiet as the grave. I checked the rat-traps not long ago, didn’t catch a thing.’

‘Forgive me, Master Bewen, but you don’t look like a man who’s had a restful night.’

‘Restful, Mistress? No, I suppose not, but bad dreams is all, nothing for you to worry about.’

‘Been at the brandy on duty?’ Pirn asked, a warning tone in his voice. Bewen was allowed to sleep once the library was locked up; he was a light sleeper and anyone breaking in would
certainly wake him.

Bewen grimaced as he stepped back from the doorway to admit the pair. ‘Now you know I don’t do that no more, sir, not on duty. It was an old lump of cheese I brought as part of my
supper, nothing more.’

‘See that it stays so,’ Pirn commanded sternly.

The night watchman bobbed his head in acknowledgement, aware that any man with a history of drinking would be watched carefully by his master’s steward. He fumbled briefly at his belt
before freeing the large ring of keys and returning them to Gennay.

‘Thank you.’ She put a hand on his arm as she took the ring. ‘Bewen, what did you dream of? I’ve not seen you look so out of sorts before.’

‘I, ah, I don’t rightly remember, Mistress. I think I was trying to find my way through the city, I don’t know where I was going. All I remember is shadows on the streets and
me taking one wrong turning after another.’

Gennay hesitated and stared into the man’s rich brown eyes. Her lips were pursed as though anxious but, before she could say anything, Bewen shook his head and gave a short laugh.

‘Now don’t you pay any regard to that, Mistress – my dreams never made much sense my whole life, and for certain they never meant a thing about where I was or what preyed on my
mind. Half-gone cheese has made me see boats flap their wings and lift off the water before, and a watchman’s mind has time enough to wander far.’

Gennay smiled at the idea. ‘You’re right; too long by oneself leads to an over-active imagination. Do you read?’

Bewen’s face fell a little. ‘Never had much call to learn, Mistress, was born to a deckhand and a seamstress.’

‘Then you shall have to join our first class,’ she declared, shaking her head as Bewen opened his mouth to object. ‘No, it will be good for both the teachers and you, quite
aside from the fact that it would be a terrible waste to spend night after night in this place and not read any of the works we’re collecting.’

Seeing her mind was set, Bewen bobbed his head again and smiled uneasily, retreating out of the library as fast as he could and back to his home in the south of the city.

‘Are you sure about that, Mistress Gennay?’ Pirn asked with careful politeness as he watched Bewen cross the courtyard. ‘He’s a shade too old for learning, I
reckon.’

‘Nonsense, no one is too old, and as much as anything he’ll be a good challenge for the teachers we’re employing. He can be my spy in the lessons too,’ she added
brightly.

Pirn was careful not to let any expression cross his face. ‘I’m sure he’ll be delighted to help.’

‘Good.’ She prodded him on the arm. ‘Now get yourself back to the house, I’m sure father’s got two dozen things you need to see to.’

She ushered him out and shut the door firmly behind Pirn before heading up to her desk on the mezzanine, pulling open the two largest pair of shutters on her way.

‘There we are, a bit of light,’ she announced to the empty library, glad her father had agreed to replace the glass in the tall, shutterless windows that provided the bulk of the
hall’s light. ‘Now, let’s see about reviving that fire before Sarras gets here.’

As night fell, the library again emptied with alacrity, the last of their half-dozen newly hired scribes hurrying out the door with an almost apologetic look on his face. As
Gennay watched him shuffle gingerly across the snow-covered courtyard a slight movement caught her eye.

It had been too brief in the gloom to be sure of, but for a moment Gennay thought someone had poked their head around the open gate at the far end of the courtyard. The scribe himself made no
sign of seeing anything as he neared the gate, head low against the light falling snow. When she looked again, the darkness there seemed empty so she sighed at her own foolishness.

‘Mistress Gennay?’ asked Sarras from behind her. ‘Is everything okay?’

She turned and looked at the tall man’s anxious face that was punctuated by his curiously straight eyebrows. ‘Of course, I thought I saw something but it was just . . . well, it was
nothing, just a trick of the light.’

Relief flooded his face as Sarras nodded. ‘Very good, should we perhaps look through the letters of application before I leave?’

Gennay agreed and shut the main door before leading him back up to her desk. The sound of their footsteps on the stairs sounded oddly loud now they were alone and Gennay felt a slight unease
creep into her heart as they started leafing through the applications from townsfolk.

There were several hundred already, for children of all ages. It had already been decided that half would come from the families of merchants and traders – people who could pay for the
tuition and contribute to the library’s income, so the other half could be chosen from families without the money.

Gennay’s most difficult task had been to devise a test for the illiterate children brought to their door by parents equally lacking in learning. She agreed with her father that educating
the most intelligent of Narkang’s poor would improve the fortunes of the city, but Gennay had found picking the lucky ones a difficult and heartbreaking exercise.

‘What was that?’ Gennay asked suddenly, looking up from her desk.

‘What, Mistress?’

‘That sound, didn’t you hear it?’

Sarras smiled nervously. ‘I heard nothing, only the fire.’ He pointed behind him where the fire was crackling merrily still.

‘No, not that,’ Gennay said with a shake of the head. She looked out over the balustrade, down at the hall below. There was no one there, the main door shut as she’d left it.
‘I thought I heard a scratching sound.’

‘Rats, Mistress? It’s so cold outside, they’ll be seeking out the warmth.’

Gennay frowned at him and he wilted under the look. ‘I don’t think . . . ah, you’re right, I’ve just been spending too long in this draughty old place.’

She reached for the next piece of paper. ‘Oh, I don’t remember this one at all – Barra Entashai, son of a cook and a dockworker.’

‘Master Koyn met that one, I believe,’ Sarras said. ‘A cocksure street-brat he said.’

Gennay nodded, reading the short summary written by the ageing man who’d been her tutor for several years. ‘Master Koyn said the same about my brother,’ she said with a smile.
‘It might be a sign of intellect.’

‘He’s older than the rest.’

‘Not by too much. He passed the test easily, as you’d expect of one older – maybe we should see him again and ask something a little more difficult of him.’

Sarras inclined his head in acquiescence, but before they could move on to the next Gennay slapped her palm down on the desk.

‘There! That scratching sound, did you hear it?’

He shook his head but Gennay ignored him and rose, leaning on the stone balustrade as she looked down at the hall below. ‘I heard something, I’m certain – and it wasn’t a
rat, it was a more regular sound.’

‘I heard nothing, Mistress,’ Sarras said, bewildered. ‘Perhaps you are tired and we should stop for the day.’

She turned to face him, poised to speak, but then closed her mouth again and thought better of whatever was on her mind. ‘Perhaps you’re right, I’ve kept you here too long. Get
home to your supper.’

Not waiting for a response, she ushered him towards the door, suddenly irritated by his meek manner. Sarras went without an argument, casting one curious look around him when he reached the
bottom of the stairs, but not lingering. They completed their rounds of the library in record time, Gennay marching through the dark rooms of each wing with a brusqueness that seemed to cow Sarras
further.

As soon as they had finished, he was scuttling for his cloak, head bowed like a contrite novice. He had barely got it around his body before he was fumbling for the door and his words of
goodnight came out as a frightened whisper, but before she could do anything to apologise he had set off across the courtyard, heading for home.

Gennay watched him go, then gave a start as she saw a flicker of movement in the dark shadows of the gate, as though someone had just stepped away.

‘Sarras,’ she called hurriedly. He stopped like a dog yanked back by its leash. ‘Did you see a movement there?’ she said loudly. ‘Through the gate?’

He glanced behind him, then shook his head. ‘No Mistress, did you see someone?’

‘I . . . I thought I saw someone step away. Have a care when you leave, just in case.’

Sarras nodded and took a tentative step towards the gate. He was not a brave man, but large enough that most cutpurses would think twice about approaching him on a street patrolled by the City
Watch. Walking cautiously, he peered forward before he reached the gate, but saw nothing. When he hopped a few paces through into the street beyond, he whirled around, arms up to ward off a club,
but nothing came and he lowered them again, abashed.

‘There’s no one out here,’ he called almost apologetically.

Gennay nodded in relief and waved goodbye. ‘Then I apologise, it’s just my imagination. Thank you, Sarras, have a good night.’

He returned the gesture and made to turn away from the gate before catching sight of something further down the street. Attracting her attention again, Sarras pointed at something in the
distance.

‘I see Masters Pirn and Bewen coming to collect you,’ he called.

‘Thank you!’ she replied, reaching for her coat as Sarras waved goodnight and disappeared around the corner.

Gennay shut the door again and slipped her coat on before heading back up to her desk to order her papers before her escort arrived. Pirn was a busy man and she didn’t want him to be
waiting around while she got ready. While tying the papers up she stopped abruptly and cocked her head to listen. The library was quiet again, silent enough that she could hear two pairs of
footsteps in the courtyard.

‘Daft girl,’ she muttered, covering the fire again. Then she heard it, a distant whispery sound from somewhere down below. Gennay ran to the balustrade and leaned out, but the hall
was empty.

‘I’m sure I heard that,’ she declared with more certainty than she felt.

She checked her desk. The piles weren’t quite as neat as they could be but it was good enough so she raced down the stairs, determined to look at the reading room below before Pirn reached
the door. Once there, however, her boldness faltered and Gennay found herself staring at the closed door for a moment.

‘No, I’ll not start being timid now,’ she declared and yanked the door open.

Inside, there was nothing but shadows and a handful of books. In the gloom within she could see they had been left carelessly spread over the table; one of the scribes must have been looking for
something and not bothered to tidy after himself. Gennay walked in and picked up the books, stacking them into two neat piles just as a crisp knock rang out from the door behind her.

‘Coming,’ she called over her shoulder.

Gennay left the room and started toward the door when a tiny breath of wind seemed to carry across her back. She gasped and whirled around, heart hammering, but there was nothing there. Her hand
went to her pocket and closed around the knife handle, but the library was again still and silent. The reading room was dark, only the lines of furniture and books really visible within. It had a
small window at the back that led on to an inaccessible light-well, but that was solidly barred.

‘A draught can still creep past,’ she muttered, watching the room suspiciously.

After a while of staring, she felt her eyes begin to water with the effort. As they did, the twilight seemed to shift and move slightly, reaching towards her. Gennay gave a small gasp and took a
few steps back, but then she blinked and the gloom in the small room returned to normal.

‘Mistress Gennay?’ called Pirn from behind the door.

‘Coming,’ she replied, suddenly desperate to be away. She fumbled a moment with the key, one eye on the room behind her but nothing seemed to move there now. Gennay wrenched the door
open and stormed out, almost barging Master Bewen out of the way in the process.

‘Mistress? What’s happened?’

‘Nothing.’ Gennay gave the room one last, cautious look, then shook her head and handed over the ring of keys. ‘No, just my imagination again, I’m afraid. Master Bewen,
the keys are yours – no cheese for your supper, I hope?’