“Strømberg?” Eliza stepped forward again. “Is it to do with David? Is there
something wrong?”
Aunt Gwyneth pulled on a pair of white gloves. There appeared to be elec:trodes running down the finger seams. On the palms was a strange-looking mark, made up of three ragged but unconnected lines. “What you will discover here will shape your future. Go carefully, Eliza. It may be some time before I return.”
“Wait. You can’t abandon me! Where will I sleep? What will I eat? You haven’t explained about my father. And what about my training? And the daughter you promised?”
“An Aunt,” the agent of the Higher cut in, “must learn to cope with any adversity. Your training starts here. Alone, in the Dead Lands.” And right before Eliza’s eyes, Aunt Gwyneth spread her arms and
the mist rose up once more and surrounded her. Blue flashes lit up her gloves and she was drawn away swiftly, as if she was nothing but a feather on the wind.
For twenty paces, Eliza gave chase. Failing breath and the loss of a shoefinally brought her stomping to a halt. Shehung her head as the solitude closed in,then limped back and retrieved the shoe. Itwas soaked and reeked of something…unwholesome. With a hostility she barelyknew she possessed she set herself to hurlit far away and go barefoot across thegrass. (Where to, though?
Where?
) Butbefore the rage had her in its sway,something else had conquered her auma. She paused and looked at the dirt on theshoe. Smoky wisps were rising out of it
again. With her free hand, she scraped some mud off the sole and rolled it
through the ends of her fingers. Strangely, it did not smear. And the more she rolled, the more permanent and workable the stuff became, until she had a ball of it on her palm. It sat there, grey and shiny and smooth. It was then she recalled a name for it.
Clay.
16
Voices. Mr Henry and someone new. Rosa pushed the dragon book under herarm, blew a kiss to David and hurriedfrom the room. She paused just inside thedoorway of the next and hid herself there,to listen.
“Good grief,” she heard Mr Henrysplutter. He had stumbled against the messof books. And though the cause of it wasno real fault of hers, Rosa felt a mild rushof guilt, nevertheless.
“This is unusual?” the visitor asked.
There was a jocular note in his smooth,deep voice. A kind voice. Maybe with atribal twang. Rosa liked it, and thought shemight like the man, too, but she wasn’t
going to show her face just yet.
“This is one of
my
rooms,” Mr Henry
muttered, his manner implying that
they
were always tidy. “I don’t quite understand what’s happened. I left Rosa here, looking after David. I asked her to read to him, not trash the place.”
Now Rosa couldn’t resist a look.
Poking her face round the edge of the doorframe, she caught sight of the visitor. Atall man with stunning fair hair. He waslooking at the upper shelves. “Do youhave a ladder to reach those?”
Mr Henry nodded. “Yes, but it’shidden.” To Rosa’s astonishment, hestruck a small square on a tall dividingpanel between the shelves and it turned onitself to reveal a ladder.
“Perhaps she found it?” the stranger
suggested.
Mr Henry shook his head. “She’s been here for nine spins and has never worked it out.”
“Then maybe she had help?”
Rosa craned her neck a little further round the door. She gulped when she saw that the visitor had crouched down and picked up a bright red firebird feather. He twiddled it in his fingers. “Is this from the one that attacked David?”
Mr Henry looked on, concerned. “Yes,it could be. I’d better go and search forher, Thorren. If it was here she’s probablyrun from it, fearing it would injure her.”
“No, wait.” The visitor pressed hishand to the floor, almost making thewooden boards creak. “If she was hurt,the building would surely know it. I can’t
detect anything.”
“Could they have taken her, then? The birds?”
Thorren drummed his fingers. “No, the girl left of her own accord. I think she’s gone in search of something.”
Rosa gulped again as she saw Mr Henry stoop down and run his gaze across the fallen books. How long would it be, she wondered, before he discovered the one that was missing? She withdrew the dragon book and glanced at its cover. Did she really want to read a book so… sinister? Wouldn’t it be easier to give herself up? Tell them what had happened? Let Mr Henry and this visitor take charge? She balled a fist. No. She must be brave. This was between her and David and the
firebirds. Whatever mysteries this book
contained were going to be theirs to
unravel.
Hearing footsteps again, she preparedto run. But the sound was falling away andshe realised that the visitor had simplycrossed the floor to go to look at David.
“I’ve summoned an Aunt,” he said.
Mr Henry took a sharp breath.
“I know you don’t like them, Charles
”
—
“They have a blatant disregard for my work,” the curator grumbled.
“—but I’m required by law to bring one in. He may have injuries we can’t detect. If so, only an Aunt can aid him. Have you noticed any recurrence of his dreams?”
Dreams?
Rosa clutched the dragon book to her.
“He’s been calm,” said Mr Henry. “An
absolute model of efficiency and goodness. He’s adapted to the building as if he was born here.”
“And his fain?”
“Haven’t seen him use it. He’s
competitive with the girl, but never reaches for his fain to better himself. He
and the girl are very close, by the way.”
Rosa heard the other man suppress a quiet chuckle. “And how far has he got – with the books?”
Mr Henry drew another breath, but thisone was longer and more considered. “He’s reached 42. But they all do that. You really think he can break through tothe upper floors?”
Thorren Strømberg took a moment toreply. “There’s something odd about thisboy that I’ve not come across in other
ec:centrics; his ongoing relationship with the firebirds, for one thing. And the range and power of his fain is extraordinary. Then there’s the time rift, of course.”
Time rift?
Rosa mouthed.
“Any progress with that?” Mr Henry asked.
Once again Strømberg paused beforereplying. “His father fed the co:ordinates Igave him into a specialised com:puter
programme. It predicted a multidimensional portal.”
“What kind of portal? Where to?” said Mr Henry. (Rosa by now was biting down on her knuckles to keep herself quiet.)
“Anywhere, Charles. That’s the point. Think of a revolving door that can turn faster than the speed of light and deliver you into an infinite number of places.
That’s what appeared during David’sdream and that’s what the firebirds came
to shut down. What the experiment doesn’t definitively show is whether David created the rift himself or whether it came
via some external source. But in answer to
your previous question: Yes, I’m confident that David possesses the ability to find a way into the upper floors, but we may yet solve the mystery ourselves if he doesn’t.”
By now, Rosa’s heart was thumping soloudly that she had begun to back awayfrom the door, lest either man should hearthe pounding. But she did not want toleave until she’d heard Thorren Strømbergcomplete his statement. Mr Henry was thefirst to speak.
The curator said, “Surely you’re not
thinking about
using
the portal?”
“It’s a gem too sweet to resist,” Thorren answered. “The boy’s father believes he can replicate it – in his laboratory, under controlled conditions.”
“And you think it might take you to the roof of the librarium?”
“Well beyond that, Charles.”
“But the danger must be immense? Who would dare to go through a thing like that?”
“That has yet to be decided,” Strømberg
said.
But in Rosa’s mind, he was shading thetruth. He’d send David through the portal. She was sure of it. David would be made
to face the danger. At that point, she picked up her skirt tails and ran. She said, with profound intent to the librarium,
Take
me to where I can’t be found, so I can read this book quickly from cover to
cover
. She was sure that the dragon book would tell her something – why else would the firebird have singled it out?
Through room after room after room she flashed, her mind buzzing repeatedly with everything she’d heard. Dreams. Portals. Upper floors. David. Dreams. Portals. Upper floors—
“Ow!”
With a thump, she came to a sudden halt and staggered back, rubbing the tip of her nose. Her toes hurt, too. And one knee. She couldn’t believe it. She had run into something! A mistake she hadn’t made since her very first day in the librarium. But when she looked up to see what the obstacle was, she realised it wasn’t a
mistake at all. She was at the end of a darkened corridor. In front of her was a
closed wooden door.
It looked old and quite impenetrable. (How on Co:pern:ica had she not found
this
before?) And although it wasn’t labelled, Rosa knew in her heart that this was the entrance to Floor 43. She squeezed her hand around the hexagonal door knob. It was made of burnished metal and coated with dust. She took a deep breath and gave the knob a twist. It responded with a weary degree of resistance, but only went a quarter turn then stopped. Breath held, she pushed her weight forward. The door did not open.
“Please,” she said, pressing her shoulder against it. Thump. Thump. Still it would not budge. Reaching up, she banged
it with the palm of her hand. “Please,” she begged it, “you’ve got to let me in.”
And as she spoke those words, a powerful hand came to cover hers. Rosa screamed and jumped around. A dark silhouette stood in front of her. Not Mr Henry. Nor the visitor, Strømberg. A woman, fierce and frightful.
An Aunt.
17
“Well, well. What have we here?” the
woman said.
“Who are you? What do you want?” Rosa snapped. She pulled the dragon book flat to her body and folded both her arms across it.
“Impertinent whelp. I could have you de:constructed for an outburst like that.”
Rosa smirked and tried to push past her, saying, “Like to see you try.”
The Aunt stopped her and threw her back against the door with a force that belied her wiry frame. Without a hint of warning she reached out and pinched Rosa’s earlobe, forcing a fingernail into the flesh.
“Agh!” the girl cried, and slewed away in pain.
“So, you’re human,” drawled the Aunt, rubbing blood off her fingertips.
“What’s it to
you
?”
“I am an AUNT!” the woman roared.
“And you will obey me or face the
consequences. I could order your re:moval from this cosy existence in the time it would take to wipe my fingers clean.” She grabbed Rosa’s chin and turned the girl to face her. The black centres of her eyes drilled into Rosa’s soul. “You are that most pathetic of objects: a natural-born child with limited fain.” Rosa gasped as she felt the Aunt’s thoughtwaves probing her. “You are the progeny of misguided parents who wanted to believe that it was right to take a
retrograde step from the Grand Design. Let me guess… they abandoned you here when they realised it was too much for them to bear, seeing their cute little human
project
unable to cope with children far more talented. And when you wanted what you could not imagineer you became temperamental – and a burden to them.” She squeezed Rosa’s cheeks, making the child wince. “And this,” she continued, pressing her thumb against the tear rolling down Rosa’s face, “would have been the pinnacle of their embarrassment.” She leaned forward until their noses were
almost touching. “Believe me, child, re:gressives like you are not wanted outside institutions like this. So if you wish to stay here, you will do my bidding. My name is Aunt Gwyneth. Now, show
me the respect I deserve.”
With that, she let Rosa go.
The girl sniffed and wiped her nose on her sleeve. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry,
what
?”
“I’m sorry, Aunt Gwyneth.” And Rosa bowed politely as she was expected to do.
The Aunt cast her gaze down. “What is that you’re hiding?”
“Just a book.”
“Let me see it.” Aunt Gwyneth snatched it up. Immediately, her breath was like shattered glass. “Where did you get this?”
Rosa spread her arms. “Here,” she said, sounding credibly innocent. “I found it downstairs.” She didn’t want to tell the