The Ring of Five (2 page)

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places. Some of them said things like BALLROOM and NIGHT PORTER, which he understood. But there were others saying things like GENERAL TRADECRAFT and INKS, which were strange to him. At the back of the room was a reception desk with a bell on it. He carried his case over to it and rang the bell.

Afterward he puzzled about where the man who appeared had come from. There didn't seem to be any doorway behind the desk, and yet the moment Danny's hand touched the bell, the man was there. He wore a dark suit and had gold glasses perched on a sharp nose. His gray hair was brushed neatly back. He peered at Danny over the top of his glasses with a disapproving look in his shrewd eyes. He glanced around as if there was a danger of them being overheard, then leaned over the counter and said in a low voice, "Were you followed?"

"Er, I don't really know."

"What do you mean you don't know?" The man's voice rose. "Don't you know how to spot a tail?"

"A tail ... What do you mean?"

"Tails. Spotting them and losing them. It's a basic."

"I came in a cab. Fairman's cab," Danny said. "He went very fast...."

"Ah, Fairman! Yes, of course." The man seemed satisfied. "Not many could keep a tail on Fairman. But you're not due until tomorrow morning."

"Like I said, he went very fast," Danny said, losing patience. "Maybe that's why I'm here early. I don't care. I'm tired and I wouldn't mind something to eat."

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A large ledger appeared in the man's hands. He flicked rapidly through it.

"You are Daniel Caulfield." The man studied the page he had stopped at. "No known alias or nom de guerre?"

Danny shook his head dumbly. What was the man talking about?

"There's no one but you booked in, and since you are early, we'll have to put you in pre-enrollment."

"What's pre-enrollment? Where are the teachers? This is Heston Oaks, isn't it?"

The man gave him a long, grimly amused look.

"Heston Oaks? No, this is not Heston Oaks. You have been sent for instruction. My name is Mr. Valant."

"What? Sent? What do you mean?"

Valant came out from behind the counter. He was taller than he had looked behind the desk, and thin, and he glided rather than walked.

"Enough questions now," he said softly.

"What do you mean, enough questions!" Danny exploded. "I want to know what's going on!"

Valant grasped Danny's wrist gently with one hand and placed the other on top of Danny's hand. Without seeming to exert much force, he pressed Danny's hand downward. The pain was exquisite. Danny felt his knees buckle.

"Now, Daniel," Valant said soothingly. "Come along. Do you think you are the first reluctant recruit I've welcomed?"

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Two stories above, in the library of the third landing, Master Devoy waited impatiently. The news from Sranzer was disturbing. Fairman had carried a passenger, a young man, across the border. The problem was the usual one. Could Sranzer's information be trusted, or was it a ruse put out for some other purpose? Devoy walked to the fireplace and threw on another log. The fire flared up, illuminating the great bookcases, the gleaming oak floors, the life-size portrait of Longford, who looked down with amusement in his eyes. The portrait had been left up there as a warning, and an admonishment.

Devoy straightened and caught sight of himself in the mirror above the fireplace. It was a Mirror of Limited Reflection, and showed only his long pale face as though it floated in a pool of darkness. He noted with satisfaction that the face was perfectly expressionless, despite his inner agitation. He had trained it to be so. It was said that even under torture, Devoy's calm mask would not crack. He turned his back to the fire and waited. Rain spattered against the windowpanes. The library on the third landing had one door and three secret entrances, one of which had never been discovered, and as he waited, Devoy saw a shadow move behind the statue of Diana the Huntress in the corner.

"You can never resist it, can you, Marcus? You can never just walk in through an open door," he said. A cloaked figure slipped out from behind the statue and

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threw back his hood. Marcus Brunholm had thick dark eyebrows over brown eyes, long black hair and a heavy, sensuous mouth almost hidden by a large drooping mustache. He crossed the floor to the fireplace and warmed his hands at it, his movements quick and furtive, his expression masked by shadows.

"What did you want to see me about, Devoy?" he asked.

"Don't act the innocent, Marcus," Devoy growled. "Fairman brought a boy across the frontier tonight."

"Who is at this minute receiving the tender ministrations of Mr. Valant," Brunholm said smoothly.

"I can't believe this, Marcus!" Devoy's voice exploded into the library, yet his face remained tranquil. "What about the treaty? You know the Ring are only waiting for an excuse. The Two Worlds are poised on the brink!"

"Have you seen him?" Brunholm said quietly.

"Cherbs are raiding every night as it is. Recruitment from the Upper World is expressly banned."

"He is perfect. He is the one."

"We must not let the frontier become open. The harm would be immeasurable."

"We can't last like this forever," Brunholm said, straightening suddenly. "We have to act, to take a risk. We grow weaker by the day. The boy is perfect. In every way."

As he looked up at Devoy, who was a few inches taller, Brunholm's brown eyes seemed to plead. The way a dog might look at you, Devoy thought, a dog that

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wags its tail when it is in front of you and bares its teeth when it is behind you.

"Perfect in every detail, you say?"

"Yes, Devoy." Brunholm could not keep the eagerness out of his voice.

"That cannot be taken for granted."

"Of course not."

"I will see the boy tonight."

"Thank you, Devoy."

"We shall see whether thanks are due."

Devoy's gaze fell on the Mirror of Limited Reflection. Brunholm's eyes followed. For a moment their faces floated side by side on an infinity of darkness.

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THE BALLROOM

Danny was in a small comfortable room. There was a bed and a writing desk, and a fire flickered in the grate. There was a table in the window alcove, where Valant had placed a tray with a glass of milk and a cheese and pickle sandwich. The man had been kind enough, but Danny remembered the pain in his hand. He had been hustled swiftly along a corridor, but his hand had hurt so much that he had barely looked about. Once they'd reached the room, he'd thought of making a bolt for it, but Valant had stayed between him and the door. Besides, where would he have run? He had gone to the window and looked out, finding to his surprise that they were high above the ground, although he was sure they hadn't climbed any stairs. Far below he could see the graveled entrance to the building, then the lawns, and dimly, trees tossing in the
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wind, giving way to darkness, although on the horizon there was a glow of light on the underside of the clouds.

Valant had put logs on the fire, then gone out and returned with the food, careful to lock the door behind him. He had refused to answer Danny's questions, telling him each time that he would find out in the morning. Finally the man went out, and Danny heard him lock the door once again.

Danny carried the milk and sandwich to the fireplace and curled up in a shabby armchair. Although everything else about the day had been odd, there was nothing odd about the milk and the sandwich, and he devoured them. It couldn't be so bad, he thought sleepily. Anything was better than the back of the taxi, anyway. He would see the proper teachers in the morning and everything would be explained. The fire blazed merrily, and he stared into it, his eyelids growing heavy, until finally, he fell asleep.

At first he couldn't tell what had wakened him. A strong gust of wind against the windowpane, maybe, or the dying fire collapsing in on itself. It was a moment before he realized where he was. He was stiff and the room was chilly. He stood up, half asleep, stretched and yawned. Then he heard it again, the noise that he knew now had awakened him. It was the sound of feet outside the door, a quick shuffle, as if there was more than one person moving swiftly. He went to the door and listened. The footsteps faded into the distance and were gone. He put his hand on the doorknob, then remembered that Valant had locked it. But to his surprise, as he turned away, the door swung open.

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Without thinking about it, he stepped out into a long corridor with a curve in it, so he couldn't see the end. There were red velvet hangings on the walls. He caught a flash of movement down the hall. He hesitated. Valant had wanted him to stay in the room, that was certain. But why had the door been unlocked?

Maybe I can get to the bottom of all this, Danny thought. Who do Fairman and Valant think they are, anyway? Swinging the door closed behind him, he set off.

He didn't remember the corridor being as long when he'd come in, or as spooky. The lights were far apart, and they seemed to flicker as if the electricity was on the verge of going out. There were more doorways than he recalled too. He moved as fast as he could, and once or twice he thought he saw movement in front of him, but he couldn't catch up to whoever, or whatever, it was. At last he reached the end of the corridor. The sign on the doorway in front of him read RECEPTION, and he didn't want to meet Valant again. He stopped. He was breathing hard and he could hear his own heartbeat, but above that was another sound, faint and far away, almost beyond earshot, but most definitely music--and that music was coming from behind the battered-looking door to his left. He weighed it in his head: risk another encounter with Valant, or follow the music? He took a deep breath and plunged through the door.

To his surprise, he found himself right back on the ground floor, even though he had gone down no stairs and the corridor had not sloped. He was in another

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passageway, with windows looking out onto the graveled front of the building. The passage was dingy, and some of the windowpanes were broken, so that the torn and faded rags that might once have been elegant curtains billowed in the wind. The music was louder, though, and a sign with BALLROOM written on it pointed to the right. He followed it.

The corridor led to a set of double doors covered in faded gilt and scrollwork. The music was obviously coming from the other side. He reached the doors. Hands trembling, he reached out for the right door handle. He eased it open until there was a tiny crack he could see through. Then he put his eye to it. To his astonishment, the ballroom was full of people. In one corner, a small orchestra was playing slightly creaky-sounding waltzes. Many of the people were dancing. Men and women of all ages, many of them with long oval faces, a little sad, perhaps, and all of them with the same strange blue eyes that made them look as if they were dreaming with their eyes open.

Most of the dancers were waltzing slowly around the floor to the melancholy rhythm of the music. Some of those who weren't dancing sat at tables, the women fanning themselves with elaborate fans. The men wore suits that were a little shabby but were brightened up here and there with a handkerchief in a pocket or a colorful tie. The women wore long gowns, the hems frayed and the flower patterns faded until they were almost invisible. They wore their hair piled high on top of their heads.

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The people seemed to be a little taller than average. But it wasn't their height that was strange, or their long faces and sad blue eyes. It was the fact that on each back, between the shoulder blades, dusty and graying, sprouted a pair of shapely wings.

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THE DEVIOUS ARTS

Danny knew he should go before he was caught, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from the scene in front of him. An elderly couple swung into view close to the edge of the dance floor, and he examined the wings more closely. They were about five feet long and elegantly shaped. But the feathers looked a little threadbare and worn, as if they hadn't been cared for. Danny remembered the footsteps he had heard passing his door. It must have been these people. But where had they come from? Perhaps they were some strange club who liked to dress up as angels. But something told Danny that these wings weren't dress-up. They were real. In fact, every so often a pair of wings would unfold and shake a little, as though to settle the feathers.

There didn't seem to be much conversation between

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any of the dancers. Some of them looked very proud, haughty even. The music came to a halt, and there was a little polite applause. The leader of the orchestra, who wore a black tailcoat, turned and bowed, then turned back to the orchestra and began another waltz, as slow and melancholy as the one before it. Danny noticed that people were starting to stand up and gather gloves and handbags. The evening was drawing to a close, he thought, and it was time for him to be out of there. But he had waited too long. As he made to go, something struck him hard from behind. He hit the floor with an impact that knocked the wind out of him. A strong wiry body landed on top of him and an arm snaked around his neck, almost choking him.

"Not a word out of you," a hoarse voice said. "Can't you see there's Cherbs about?"

Despite his shock and fear, Danny looked at the long windows on the corridor and saw that dark shapes were flitting past outside. There was a sudden crash of broken glass and a great commotion from the ballroom. Even with his cheek pressed painfully against the floor he could see that the lights in the ballroom had gone out. People were shouting, some in anger and others in fear.

From outside a reedy and malicious voice yelled, "A message for you!" The voice trailed off into sneering laughter and then Danny saw more shapes flitting across the window, lit from behind by the moon.

"Cherbs. They'll deny it, of course," the person holding him down said. The grip around his neck relaxed. Danny turned around. He found himself looking at a