The League of Sharks (19 page)

‘He's from Murias,' she announced to everyone. Brother Rard looked up sharply, concern etched on his face. How could she know?

Lasel held up the pouch. ‘He has cured vettel pig in here. A regional speciality.'

‘Murias?' asked Junk.

‘East from here. Central Uuklyn,' replied Hundrig.

Junk looked at Otravinicus. ‘If they're experts on the Room of Doors, maybe we can get some more answers from this Brother Antor. Maybe he knows how to find it.'

‘HA!' Brother Rard laughed. ‘He will tell you nothing. His only purpose in life … a task given to him by the One True God, Pire, is to guard the key of the doors. This he will do to his very final breath.'

A moment of silence followed, and then Junk said: ‘There's a key?'

Brother Rard closed his eyes. He really should keep his mouth shut.

‘How far is this Murias?' Junk asked Hundrig.

‘Not far,' he said. ‘Half a day's journey maybe.'

Junk, Hundrig and Otravinicus looked at each other. ‘Sounds like a plan,' said Hundrig. Immediately he started barking orders to his crew and they leaped into action, preparing for the journey to Murias.

*

The
Casabia
sailed north for an hour before coming ashore at a small town called Luta. There was a track station there. Once on land, the
Casabia
headed quickly east through landscape that changed dramatically. The softly undulating green hills nearer the coast became gradually rockier, mountainous. They climbed high above sea level and the air became thinner.

Murias was a region of great towering cliffs and soaring sandstone rock pillars six hundred metres high, rising out of lush woodland.

Otravinicus spent the first part of the journey trying to quiz Brother Rard, but the monk was having none of it. He had finally reached the point where he would say no more. Otravinicus soon gave up and retired to his cabin.

Junk sat near Brother Rard, who had his eyes closed, seemingly in meditation.

‘You should not seek the Room, boy,' said the monk suddenly, eyes still closed. ‘It is as I described and you will die.'

Junk shook his head. ‘The captain wasn't making that up before. I really have been in it. That's how I got here. This isn't my … time. My time was three million years ago. I had a sister, you see. She was killed. I was looking for her killer. Ended up following someone through a door from my time. I didn't know where I was going. The Room is, like, so vast you can't even begin to fathom just how big it is. You can't even see
all of it. It's so big the edges kind of disappear over the horizon. And the doors are all these green points of light. Thousands of them. Hundreds of thousands maybe. I guess they go everywhere. Everywhere's a lot of places. The planet's what – four and a half billion years old? Well, when I was at school. Little bit older now. That's a lot of places.'

Brother Rard growled in his throat and shook his head. ‘That's not what the Room is like at all.'

‘You've been in it?' asked Junk.

‘No, of course not. I am not divine. It is only for walkers.'

‘What are walkers?'

Brother Rard grumbled at Junk's ignorance. ‘Envoys of the One True God, Pire.'

‘Envoys?' said Junk. ‘Like angels, you mean?'

‘Envoys,' was all Brother Rard would say.

‘Well, I don't think I'm an envoy,' said Junk.

Brother Rard opened his eyes and laughed. It was a short and dismissive laugh. ‘No, you most certainly are not.'

Having grown up in Ireland and having had more than one theological conversation with a priest, Junk knew talking to Brother Rard was pointless. His tiny, blinkered view of the world could not comprehend what Junk was saying to him.

‘Back in my time,' said Junk, ‘there was religion. A lot of religions. A lot of gods.'

‘Only one true God,' said Brother Rard.

‘Yeah, they all thought they had the one true God as well. Are you going to be in trouble when you get back?' Brother Rard's expression betrayed his concern. ‘That's what I figured. You must be cacking yourself. You set out to off the doc, fail, and come back with a bunch of … what are we again?'

‘Coorratun,' said Brother Rard softly. ‘If Pire shows mercy, then Brother Antor will only kill me.'

Junk frowned. He stared at Brother Rard and knew he meant that literally. ‘And if Pire doesn't show mercy?' he asked.

A shudder ran down Brother Rard's spine. He bowed his head and continued to pray.

*

It was early afternoon when the
Casabia
reached the town of Murias. There was some discussion about who would go to the monastery. After all, if Brother Rard was typical of the zealots in the order, it might well be dangerous. Junk made it clear he was going and no one was going to stop him. No one tried to. Garvan said he would go with him and Otravinicus wanted to go too. However, it was pointed out that he was not the order's favourite person – not even in the top ten – or top one million – so it was agreed that it was better if he didn't go Then Hundrig volunteered. Though he had only really been paid to captain the ship, so this was a little beyond the call of duty.

They had a short walk from the
Casabia
to the base of the highest of all the sandstone rock pillars.
It stood separately from any other rock cluster. It was tall and straight. Years of erosion had smoothed all sides and the only way in or out was an elaborate pulley-and-basket system that ran up the south-facing wall.

When they got there Brother Rard explained that the basket could accommodate only two passengers at a time. However, because Garvan and Hundrig were so big, they would have to travel one at a time. Hundrig decided he would go up first, but Brother Rard said that wouldn't work because the gatekeeper at the top – Brother Hath – would not know him and he was not expected so he would not be allowed in. He would be sent straight back down again. Brother Rard said that the only option was for him to go up first and announce them. Then he would send the basket back down. Hundrig wasn't keen on this idea. There was no guarantee that Brother Rard would send the basket down and then their only option would be to sit and wait until someone left the monastery. There was no telling how long that might be.

‘I can go up with him,' said Junk. Hundrig didn't like this idea either. Junk was so small and puny. He assumed the rest of Brother Rard's order would be as big as him. ‘It's OK,' said Junk. ‘I can look after myself.'

Brother Rard wasn't keen on this idea either, but he couldn't think of a reasonable objection so he gave in. He and Junk climbed into the basket. The system was simple. Once in the basket Brother Rard pulled on a lever that
released a heavy rock at the top. The rock fell and the basket rose. There was ballast that accompanied the basket for when one needed to descend that had to be hauled up again, ready for next time. It all seemed rather antiquated and inefficient, though it was weighted perfectly and the ascent was smooth and swift.

When they reached the summit, they stepped out of the basket. There was a flat shelf of rock between them and the gates to the monastery. Junk was looking out at the incredible view. It was a bright, clear day and he could see for miles in every direction. There were about a dozen more rock pillars within view. There were buildings on some of the others but none as large or as impressive as the monastery.

The gate was seven metres high and made of solid wood. The walls were made of sandstone and flush to the pillar's edges on three sides, making it seem as if the monastery had grown out of the rock naturally.

It took Junk a little while to realize that Brother Rard hadn't sent the basket back down.

‘Is there a problem?' asked Junk.

‘It is not permitted for me to invite anyone into the monastery. Only Brother Antor can make this choice,' said Brother Rard.

‘You didn't think to mention that when we were down there?' Junk didn't believe Brother Rard.

‘Your captain is not a reasonable man because he is godless. I did not think he would understand,' said Brother Rard.

‘Probably not,' said Junk. ‘So get Brother Antor out here and have him give them the OK.'

‘Brother Antor does not come running when summoned like a common servant. I must go to him.'

‘Well, we have a problem then, because I don't trust you any more than the captain does and I'm not letting you out of my sight.' Junk sounded more confident than he felt and was very aware that he was standing on a ledge that was just a few metres wide. If Brother Rard was so inclined he could easily throw Junk off and there was nothing he could do but fall a very long way and go splat when he reached the ground.

Brother Rard looked hurt. ‘But I am a man of God,' he said.

‘Try growing up in Ireland and see how far that gets you,' said Junk.

‘Ireland?' asked Brother Rard.

‘Ah, never mind. It's not there any more,' said Junk. ‘Look, please, Brother Rard. I have come a very long way. I don't mean any disrespect to you or your order or your beliefs. I just want to find the man who killed my sister. She was only little and I should have looked after her. I was her knight, you see. Supposed to be anyway. I wasn't a very good one.'

Brother Rard rubbed his chin and considered his options. Finally he nodded. ‘I will take you to see Brother Antor,' he said. ‘I will accept whatever punishment he thinks is just for disobeying the rules of the monastery and bringing in an outsider without his permission. I
believe this is the right thing to do.' He made it sound more noble and courageous than it really was.

Brother Rard turned to the great door and picked up a rock that sat beside it.

‘This is the knocking rock,' he said, as if that was a normal thing to say. He used it to rap on the solid door three times. He set the rock down again and then they waited.

After about a minute Junk heard keys being turned and bolts being pulled back on the other side of the door. The sound was heavily muffled and Junk guessed that the door was pretty thick. It swung back slowly and another monk, wearing the exact same type of cloak and black clothing as Brother Rard and sporting the same Mohican hairstyle, stepped forward. He was much older than Rard. His skin was wizened and sagging, his eyes a dull grey rather than the vibrant silver of Brother's Rard's. He was as tall and as broad as the younger monk but his physique had turned mostly to fat. Instead of a solid square lantern jaw, he had two fleshy sacs that hung pendulously below his jaw. The strips of hair on his head were wispy and white.

‘Dulluk,' said the monk. ‘Tinggwa huum tal tinggwa chul.' He spoke in a language that Junk didn't understand.

‘This is the keeper of the gate,' Brother Rard explained to Junk. ‘This is Brother Hath.'

‘Occootoo,' said Junk. He knew it wasn't the correct greeting. It was like saying
buon giorno
to a German, but it was all he had. Brother Hath glared at him, looking him
up and down with a scowl. He and Brother Rard spoke purposefully for several moments. Junk had no idea what was being said, but judging from Brother Hath's combative demeanour and Brother Rard's more conciliatory tone, he assumed that Rard was asking to come in with Junk in tow and Hath was refusing. In the end, Brother Rard must have said something that swayed the argument in his favour, for Brother Hath harrumphed in a manner that was the same in any language and then stepped aside. Brother Rard looked pleased with himself and gestured for Junk to go ahead.

*

The interior of the monastery was bare and cold, as one would expect from a religious sanctum. There were a few small windows that allowed light in, but the long corridors and rooms they passed through were dominated by shadows. Deep, dark shadows in every corner. Everything appeared stark and unwelcoming. There was no comfort to be found in the Brotherhood of Pire.

Finally they came to a chapel. It was the largest room Junk had yet seen, as high as it was wide. There were a dozen small windows high up along each of the four walls and shafts of light shone through each window, hitting the stone floor. At the far end of the room was an altar. Sitting on top of it was a small cube about the size of a grapefruit. It had a dull bronze finish and was etched with a plethora of lines, squiggles and other markings. Kneeling in front of it, deep in prayer, was another monk.

‘Brother Antor,' whispered Brother Rard reverently to Junk.

Hmm, thought Junk, if it isn't the light, the air, the water, the earth himself. He was intrigued to meet this Brother Antor.

They stood quietly for several minutes while Brother Antor finished his prayers. As the silence continued, Junk was struck by an urge to start giggling. He really had to struggle not to succumb. A couple of times the beginning of a chuckle escaped but he was able to turn it into a muffled cough. Though any noise at all drew frowns from Brother Rard and Brother Hath, who was loitering behind them.

Finally Brother Antor finished and stood up. Even then he did not turn around immediately. He kept his back to Brother Rard and spoke in a deep, gravelly voice.

‘Doonk ka, Dulluk. Dinikanu,' he said. He sounded cross. Brother Rard answered in a weak, stuttering voice and his body language was extremely penitent. He dropped to one knee and bowed at the waist. Brother Rard spoke to Brother Antor for a long time. Junk understood none of it but Brother Rard gestured to him occasionally so Junk knew he was being included in his recounting. He also heard him refer to ‘Otravinicus' more than once.

‘What is your name, boy?' said Brother Antor in
Jansian. It took Junk a moment to realize he was talking to him.

‘Umm … Junk, sir.' There was something about Brother Antor that demanded respect.

Brother Antor turned then and looked down at Junk. He was even bigger than Brother Rard, taller and broader. He reminded Junk of a bodybuilder, ballooned on steroids. He was a little older than Brother Rard but fit and vital. His eyes were not silver, but golden, and they glittered in the low light. He wore the same black clothing as the others. He had the two strips of hair on his head running front to back but he had another strip running left to right. Possibly to signify his rank within the order.