Mirrorscape (4 page)

The Mysteries

Mel had never experienced such a complicated flood of emotions. There he was hastening off in the finest transport he had ever seen with a rich and important man to begin a new life.
But now that my dream's come true, why do I feel so wretched?

‘Here, Mel, let me look at you,' said Dirk Tot. ‘Are you hurt? I can see bruises and a nasty wound on your scalp. Any broken bones? You belong to the master now. He won't want damaged goods.'

Mel shook his head. He suddenly realised the danger he had been in and then, with a shock, the danger his parents and the whole village were still in. ‘Those men … what are they going to do? Mum and Dad, will they be all right?'

‘I don't think that your parents – or anyone else – are in any immediate danger. If I know Adolfus Spute, as soon as he has vented his rage on his men he will be hot on our trail.'

Mel looked alarmed.

‘But he won't catch us. Not without these.' He opened his good hand to reveal two greasy linchpins. ‘I had Yan remove them from the rear wheels of his carriage. I reckon he might get as far as ten miles before they finally fall off. The closest spares would be in Arpen and it would take a fast rider a day to make it there and back.'

‘I don't understand any of this. Those men, what did they want?'

Dirk Tot turned his good eye to look at Mel. ‘What do you know about the Mysteries?'

‘Everyone knows about the Mystery. It controls weaving. Dad says that if he had more money he wouldn't have to make tabby. He could buy the Pleasure to weave fancy cloth.'

‘That's just the First Mystery. The Mysteries do rather more than that. Long, long ago, when Nem was just beginning to become rich and prosperous, all trade was unregulated. Unscrupulous traders began to take advantage of their customers. Wine was watered, flour was bulked up with sawdust, and all manner of shoddy goods were passed off as genuine. The honest merchants
and artisans of Nem decided that this could not be allowed to continue. So they banded together and formed the Mysteries. If you wished to trade or produce any kind of goods, anywhere in the realm, then you had to be a member of your particular Mystery. Your work was carefully inspected before you were admitted and at regular intervals thereafter. The Mysteries only asked that their members pay a small tithe each year to cover the cost of seeking out the frauds and charlatans and policing the trade. Within a few years, the frauds had all but disappeared, the customers grew content and bought more and more goods from the members of the Mysteries.'

‘If the Mysteries are so good, why does everyone in Kop always moan about them? And I still don't understand what this has to do with those men back there.'

‘Well, over the years, things went wrong. There will always be men who only think in terms of profit, never in terms of value. Men who have no interest in what they claim to represent. Eventually, such men came to dominate, and under their control the Mysteries became
increasingly corrupt. The tithes they demanded became bigger and bigger. When this form of income no longer satisfied, they came up with the idea of Pleasures. The bigger Mysteries began to gobble up the smaller ones until, eventually, only a few remained.

‘Today they regulate all life in the realm beyond the bare necessities by their control of Pleasures.'

‘So if Heck the baker wants to bake a new kind of cake he has to buy a Pleasure?' asked Mel.

‘That's right. Or if a seamstress wishes to decorate a garment with a new kind of stitch, then she must buy that Pleasure.'

‘So how many Mysteries are there?' Ever since he was small, Mel had always vaguely known that life in Kop was regulated by some shadowy authority far away.

‘There are five, and each controls one of the senses. The First Mystery has dominion over touch and it controls, among other things, the production of cloth and tailoring. The Second Mystery rules over the sense of smell, and thereby the production of such items as perfumes and cosmetics. The Third Mystery concerns itself with the sense of hearing, and so with regulating
all entertainment in the land. The Fourth Mystery is concerned with the sense of taste and its power lies over agriculture and the production and supply of food and drink.'

‘But everyone eats food. I've never heard of the Fourth Mystery.'

‘That's because the kind of food you would have been used to in Kop – bread, water, home-grown vegetables – doesn't come under their auspices. If things don't change, they probably will soon.'

‘But … ' Mel paused, confused. Suddenly the world seemed huge and hostile. ‘I still don't see what those men wanted.'

‘That brings us to the Fifth Mystery, which you have just had the misfortune to encounter. Its domain is the sense of sight. It controls the use of colour and anything to do with it with an iron fist.' Dirk Tot's brow furrowed and his good eye narrowed. ‘You will be seeing a lot more of it in the years ahead. The Fifth Mystery is the largest, richest, and most powerful of all.'

‘More powerful than the Fourth Mystery? You can't eat colour.'

‘Oh, colour was just the beginning of its power. Its ascent began when it discovered deposits of pigment on the island of Kig. The Fifth Mystery has mines there.'

‘That's where that man threatened to send me.'

‘Yes. Anyone who crosses the Fifth Mystery can end up there. On Kig the Fifth Mystery became expert at mining – and not only pigments. It discovered gold, silver, precious stones and other valuable minerals, which increased its wealth further.'

‘I've heard they're valuable but you can't eat them, surely.'

‘There are things even more valuable than gold, silver and gems. It expanded its mining operations and discovered the coal and gas that powers Nem today. When we get to Vlam you'll see what I mean. The Fifth Mystery's wealth is fabulous – certainly greater than the King, the Maven and the other four Mysteries combined.'

‘So you're telling me the Mysteries are all bad?'

‘Bad? As things stand, yes. There are a few, a very few, within the Mysteries who still hold true to their original ideals, but their voices are weak.'

‘But none of that explains why the Fifth Mystery came all the way to Kop. How did they know about me?'

‘You flatter yourself, Mel. Adolfus Spute didn't know you existed before today. He came to Kop looking for me.'

‘But why ….'

‘That's enough questions. You must be hungry.'

Mel had never imagined that there could be food like the delicacies the giant pulled from a wicker hamper. There were richly coloured and delicately smoked slices of ham cut so thin they were almost transparent, and a great loaf of fluffy bread with tiny pieces of fruit. Even the water was alive with thousands of bubbles that danced on his tongue.

‘Enjoying the picnic? We'll stop for something more substantial this evening.'

Mel's eyes widened. ‘More substantial? That's the best food I've ever tasted.'

‘You can eat very well in Nem – if you can afford the Pleasures.' Dirk Tot's tone had a bitter edge.

Afterwards, Mel began to doze, lulled by his full
stomach, the warm day and the steady rocking motion of the carriage as it made its way across the rolling countryside towards Vlam.

Suddenly, he was jolted awake. They were stopped in the middle of a thick wood and he realised he must have slept for some time. The door opened and Yan stood there. He looked at his master meaningfully and then twitched his head, indicating something over his shoulder.

‘Wait here and keep quiet,' said Dirk Tot sharply. ‘Don't try and follow me.' He ignored Mel's questioning look and drew down blinds that blocked the view from the windows. ‘And don't look out. You belong to the master now and must do as you're told.'

Mel was taken aback at the man's terse tone of voice. Was this the same man who had spoken so encouragingly about his drawings?

As soon as Dirk Tot slammed the door after him, Mel felt very alone. Sitting in the darkened interior, he became fearful that the High-Bailiff and his men had caught up with them. He remembered the bodkin he had stolen and fished it out of his shirt. He grasped the sharp dagger firmly and sat very still, straining his ears for sounds of activity. After a few minutes he slowly turned the handle and opened the door a crack. Seeing nothing, he opened it fully and stepped down. There was no one in sight. Then he caught the faint sound of voices on the wind. Mustering all his courage, he patted the horses and set off towards the sound.

After a few yards he heard the voices again, louder now, and he turned down an overgrown track in their direction. He soon saw a ruined building ahead. It had clearly once been much grander than anything he had ever seen in Kop, with fluted columns supporting the door and windows, and the still recognisable remains of coloured tiles set into the walls. He began to creep towards it. The walls were still upright and covered with ivy and brambles but the glass in the windows was missing, and only blackened, bare rafters showed where the roof had once been. He sensed movement inside and edged closer still. At the window he saw what he dreaded most. Three men, dressed in scarlet, were confronting Dirk Tot and Yan.

The Road to Vlam

Mel stood as still as a heron, his whole body tense. He strained his ears but heard only the wind whispering through the trees and the song of birds. His senses were as alive as when he was drawing, aware of everything around him.

He edged towards the doorway. Sick with fear, he crept closer and saw that there was a sixth figure inside, dressed in the same deep blue livery as Yan. The odds seemed better now, but the men in scarlet were sure to be armed and Dirk Tot still might need his help. He watched as Dirk Tot unfastened his reticule, withdrew what Mel guessed was a bag of money and a folded document and handed them over to the men in red.
They're robbing him
. Mel readied his bodkin in his sweaty hand. Then, in a gesture that shocked Mel, Dirk Tot embraced first one man and then the others as if they were old friends.

The meeting broke up abruptly. Mel ducked down. There was no way he could get back to the carriage
before the others. He let them pass his hiding place and then set off back through the wood at an angle he calculated would bring him out near the carriage. When it came in sight through the trees he saw that Dirk Tot, Yan and the new man were already there. Thinking quickly, Mel unbuckled his belt and emerged on to the road refastening it.

‘Mel, where've you been?' asked Dirk Tot. ‘I told you not to leave the carriage.' There was suspicion as well as anger in his voice.

‘Just in there,' Mel lied, indicating the trees. ‘That food was much richer than I'm used to. I had to go.'

Yan and the new man exchanged a smile but Dirk Tot stared hard at Mel. He said, ‘Mel, this is Hennink,' indicating the other man. ‘We just stopped by his house to pick him up so he could share the driving with Yan. We've a long way yet to go. We'd best be cracking on.'

Mel did not feel quite so guilty about his deceit now that Dirk Tot was lying to him too. As it turned out, his was only a half lie, as shortly after their journey recommenced he felt a stirring in his bowels. The food
had
been rich. The steady rocking motion of the carriage
that had lulled him before had an altogether different and unwelcome effect now.

As evening approached, they halted at an inn and Mel was at last able to relieve himself. In his brief absence, Dirk Tot had arranged rooms for them all and ordered supper. The inn itself was bigger than Fa Theum's fane and much better furnished. The other customers stared at the new arrivals with thinly veiled distrust. Mel also looked around warily. Strangers rarely came to Kop and those that did were invariably dressed in plain, uncoloured tabby. There was tabby to be seen here but augmented with brighter, better-made garments. To Mel tabby meant friend while coloured clothes increasingly meant foe.

Mel felt even more ill at ease as he sat down at the dining table. Dirk Tot looked at him as if he could read his thoughts.
Why had he said such bad things about the Fifth Mystery when he was one of them?

When the hot food came Mel wolfed it down. ‘Can I go to my room now?' he asked.

Dirk Tot nodded. ‘It's been an interesting day – for all of us. We won't be long from our beds. There's
another four days of hard travelling ahead of us.'

Mel had never had a room of his own before, nor a bed as large as the one he saw now. He could not believe how soft the feather mattress was. As he pulled off his shirt, the bodkin and the tiny box fell to the floor. He retrieved them, placed the dagger on the small table next to his bed and examined the box by the light of the candle.

It was made of some veined material that he had never seen before, as dark as old pewter but with murky swirls of colour, forming the tiniest picture he had ever seen. It represented the inside of a cave, looking outwards. There were sharp rocks on the floor pointing upwards and others on the ceiling pointing down. Beyond the mouth of the cavern he could see a landscape, veiled in mist, stretching away to jagged, snow-capped mountains. There were stars in the evening sky but they described no constellation that he could recognise. On the cave floor a strange plant grew and in the folds of its leaves nestled an egg. Mel was astounded at the fine detail.

He turned it over in his hand but could see no way
of opening it. He was about to give up when he pressed both ends at once and the lid popped open. There was powder inside it, every colour of the rainbow all at once. It glowed with a beautiful iridescence as he turned the box in the candlelight. He raised the box to his nose experimentally but could detect only a faint, metallic odour. Mel licked his finger and dipped it into the powder. He put this to his tongue and tentatively tasted it. It was bitter.
Perhaps it's poison
. With horror, he remembered where he had stolen it from. He cried out and immediately spat it on to the floor. He watched in amazement as the blob of multicoloured spit swirled this way and that on the bare boards and then seemed to writhe more purposefully. It began to form a miniature picture all by itself: a view of Kop! Incredulous, he grabbed the candle so that he could examine this marvel closer when there came a knock at his door.

‘Mel?'

Mel just had time to snap the box shut, hide it behind his back and place his foot over the gently moving stain before Dirk Tot's face peered around the door.

‘Are you all right? I thought I heard you call out.'

‘Oh, it was just a spider. It startled me, that's all.' Mel was becoming a practised liar.

The giant glanced around the low-ceilinged bedroom. ‘You're not in Kop any more, Mel. You've got some growing up to do and you'd better do it fast. Goodnight.'

Hurt and angry, Mel wanted to answer back,
don't talk to me like that, traitor, or I'll tell
… Who? He was not in Kop any more. He was all on his own.

As soon as the sound of Dirk Tot's footsteps had vanished down the hall, Mel removed his foot. There was now just a many-coloured smear on the floor.
Did I imagine it?
He was puzzled but also weary. He blew out his candle and climbed into bed. Sleep overtook him almost instantly.

In the morning there was no trace left of the stain.

Mel would have liked to examine his box and its strange contents further but the inns they rested at each night were busier so he had to share rooms with Yan and Hennink.

After they had been travelling for five days, there
came a rapping on the carriage roof and Yan's voice shouting, ‘Vlam ahead, sir.'

Mel looked out of the window. What he saw took his breath away. They had crested the brow of a hill, one of a long chain of hills that spread away in a great loop on each side all the way to the horizon. Nestled in the hollow within this vast natural amphitheatre were many farms, fields and orchards that became more numerous as they approached the centre. Right in the middle lay their destination. Roads snaked towards Vlam from every direction, vanishing into the city walls through grand arches. These thoroughfares were crowded with people and vehicles. The buildings that flanked these roads became denser as they neared the city. A wide river and many smaller canals entered through other, broader openings. Mel made out barges and sailing ships. Yet more boats sailed high above them, entering on tall, stilted aqueducts over the city walls. Spaced at intervals around the walls were tall towers, on top of which were peculiar machines with articulated arms that moved up and down, left and right, in odd, purposeful patterns.

When he finally found his voice Mel said, ‘I never imagined anything could be so
big
. Vlam must be very old.'

‘Some say it's half as old as the world.'

‘Are all cities like Vlam?'

‘I've travelled throughout the Seven Kingdoms but I've never seen its like.' Now that they were in sight of home Dirk Tot's mood had lifted. ‘You see those palaces?'

‘Palaces,' repeated Mel. He had never dreamed he would ever see a real palace.

‘Those are the three Great Houses. To the west stands the House of Thrones, the palace of the King. You can see his purple banner. And there to the east, crowned with the golden diaglyph, is the House of Spirits. The other one to the north, the biggest of all, is the House of Mysteries.'

‘Who lives in them?'

‘King Spen lives in the House of Thrones and the Maven in the House of Spirits.'

‘What, all on their
own
?'

Dirk Tot laughed. It was a deep, rich sound. ‘No,
Mel, not on their own. The King and his entire court and council live within the House of Thrones. The realm doesn't govern itself. The Maven is the spiritual leader of Nem. He has the Hierarchs, the Fas Major and lots of Fas Minor to keep him company. As for the Mysteries, well, there is a vast bureaucracy needed to keep
that
House and all its machinations functioning.'

Mel could make out the five banners of the Mysteries fluttering from a tower so tall it seemed to scrape the underbelly of heaven itself. The topmost banner, bigger than the rest, was scarlet, emblazoned with the same black eye emblem that Adolfus Spute and his men had worn. The three soaring palaces each stood atop a steep hill. From the flanks of these hills the rest of Vlam seemed to tumble down, its headlong fall only checked by the city walls, which seemed to hold it in and prevent it from spilling out into the surrounding countryside.

Unable to take his eyes from the spectacle, Mel asked, ‘What're those hills called?'

‘The hills are named after the palaces that stand on them. The Hill of Thrones, the Hill of Spirits and the Hill of Mysteries.'

As they descended the steep road, Mel's flood of questions slowed to a trickle and finally ceased, so enthralled was he by the splendour of Vlam.

By the time they reached the city gates it was evening and lamps were being lit everywhere. The guards at the gates recognised Dirk Tot's carriage instantly and respectfully ushered him through. The music of the wheels changed as they rumbled over the cobblestones of the city.

Mel had never seen so many people before in his entire life, and all rushing this way and that as if there was no time to lose. There was not a scrap of tabby to be seen on anyone. All of the streets were lit by lamps that burned within glass globes on top of tall, intricately fashioned posts. He saw buildings with brightly lit lower storeys open to the street.

‘Why haven't those houses got proper walls?' he asked, baffled.

‘They're shops, Mel. You know what shops are? They sell things.'

‘Shops? I've never seen shops before. In Kop we make everything ourselves or barter with the other
villagers for what we need. Once a year a tinker visits with pots and pans and stuff. We usually pay him in tabby. The people here must be very rich.'

‘Some are, but not everyone.'

Mel rapidly became disoriented by their frequent twists and turns. At one point they crossed a wide river, although the bridge was so lined with shops and inns that at first Mel thought it was just another busy street. He saw that the three Great Houses were always visible above the rooftops from anywhere in the city.

‘Mel, come away from the window,' said Dirk Tot suddenly.

‘Why?'

‘Those men are from the Fifth Mystery. It's best you don't draw attention to yourself. And look, those others are members of the Fourth Mystery. And those are from the Second.'

From the darkness within the carriage Mel saw people with the same arrogant air as the High-Bailiff but dressed in other colours and with different hairstyles. The citizens of Vlam would deliberately cross the street to avoid the men from the Mysteries
and one man spat in the gutter at their passing.

At last, their carriage turned into an imposing square with tall houses on each side and a huge, elaborate fountain at its centre. The architecture was intricate and made much use of herring-bone brickwork, tracery and coloured tiles. The steep, gabled roofs were tiled in extravagant, geometric patterns with tall, barley-sugar brick chimneys. The roofline was punctuated here and there with pointed spires and turrets and fierce-looking stone gargoyles projected from the carved eaves.

The building they were headed for was larger than its neighbours, the upper part of it mostly devoted to an enormous clock surrounded by a multitude of small doors and windows. At that moment the clock struck the hour with a great, musical peal of bells. A procession of small, brightly painted mechanical figures appeared in the windows and filed out from the doors. As the clock chimed, minstrels played instruments, maidens danced, knights chased dragons from one side of the timepiece to the other. Above them, bright planets and constellations whirled and pirouetted until the chiming ceased and they all disappeared back into the clock
face. Mel, whose sole concept of time was gauged by the height of the sun, was awestruck.

‘What's
that
?' he asked.

‘It's a clock. It's one of the wonders of Vlam.'

‘Who's it belong to?' Mel craned his neck to keep it in view.

‘It's Ambrosius Blenk's clock. It's his house.'