The Curse of the Gloamglozer (16 page)

‘Whatever happened to your father,’ said Quint, his voice lowered, ‘took place inside the great floating rock of Sanctaphrax. There was a hole in the side – the entrance to a tunnel which went deep into the stonecomb. He disappeared into it for half the night. When he returned, he was in the state you witnessed this morning.’

‘The stonecomb,’ Maris repeated quietly. ‘But why?’

‘The professor didn't say,’ said Quint. ‘Though I think it had something to do with the barkscroll I fetched him from the Great Library.’ He shrugged. ‘What about the Treasury Chamber?’ he suggested. ‘Isn't that somewhere inside the great rock? Perhaps he went there.’

But Maris was shaking her head. ‘There is only one entrance to the Treasury Chamber,’ she said, ‘and that's here in Sanctaphrax.’ She frowned. ‘What in Sky's name could possibly have been important enough to make him risk entering the terrible stonecomb?’

Quint shuddered. ‘Is it really as dangerous as they say?’

Maris shrugged. ‘I've heard many stories,’ she said.

‘Stories?’ said Quint.

‘Stories of those who, when the rock shifted, lost their way and got trapped for ever in the honeycomb of twisting tunnels. Stories of blind, translucent creatures that haunt the shadowy depths waiting to prey on those who venture inside the rock. And stories of glisters.’

‘Glisters?’ said Quint. ‘What are they?’

‘No-one is really sure. Apparently, they inhabit the deepest, darkest parts of the rock, living off whatever wind-borne morsels filter through. And they glow. Occasionally, some will come up to the surface.’

‘They will?’ said Quint.

‘Yes,’ said Maris, ‘though they're impossible to see straight on. But sometimes you kind of catch glimpses of them – sudden darting flashes of light out of the corner of your eye…’

‘Yes,’ said Quint excitedly. ‘Yes, I've seen them. In the Palace of Shadows. And the Great Library.’

Maris nodded. ‘For some reason they seem to favour the older buildings…’

‘Could these
glisters
have attacked your father?’

‘I don't know,’ said Maris, ‘but if the tales the treasuryguards
recount are true, then it's certainly possible.’ She shuddered. ‘I would hate to go down into the stonecomb.’

Quint nodded. ‘And yet, although he must have known all the dangers himself, your father decided to go there.’

‘Yes,’ said Maris thoughtfully. ‘He must have had a very good reason.’ She turned to Quint. ‘Promise me that you will keep me informed of any future tasks he sets you,’ she said.

‘I promise,’ he said.

‘And I'll tell you if he lets anything slip when we're talking,’ she said. ‘He‘s up to something – something dangerous – that much is clear. We must find out what it is, for his sake.’ She paused, and took hold of both of Quint's hands. ‘If he takes you down in the low-sky cage again, you must follow him into the stonecomb,’ she said. ‘And please, Quint, look after him. I'm begging you.’

Trying hard to conceal his own unease, Quint smiled. ‘I'll do my best,’ he said. He paused. ‘If it's any consolation, when your father came back to the cage, he did say that it – whatever that might mean – was
over
. I …
What is that?
’ he asked, as a roar of jubilant voices filled the air. He looked round. ‘It's coming from over there,’ he said, pointing back towards the Loftus Tower.

All at once, the puzzled expression on Maris's face melted away. ‘Of course,’ she muttered. ‘It's Treasury Day.’ She smiled bravely. ‘Come on, Quint. You'll enjoy this.’

· CHAPTER EIGHT ·

THE TREASURY
CHAMBER

T
reasury Day occurred annually on the first day of the second moon when in its third quarter. It was a significant day in the Sanctaphrax calendar since it marked the time when the academics of sky-scholarship overruled those of earth-studies and first introduced stormphrax to the new Treasury Chamber deep down in the heart of the floating rock.

The earth-studies librarians had fiercely resisted the move, claiming not only that it broke the Third Law of Buoyancy but that it also wasn't even necessary. The answer to the buoyant rock's problem, they claimed, lay in the study of the rock and its properties, not in the crude solution of weighting it down with stormphrax.

The sky-scholars, on the other hand, maintained that if they did not do just that, Sanctaphrax would break from its moorings and be lost for ever. In the event, the debate never reached a final vote, for the sky-scholars – convinced that they were correct and terrified of becoming
lost in open sky – enlisted the help of a band of flat-head goblins to carry out their plans.

At first light on that fateful day, the flat-heads broke in and forcibly removed the earth-studies scholars from their Great Laboratory. By noon – for the first time in the history of Sanctaphrax – the sky-scholars were in complete control of the floating rock. They had a chest of stormphrax carried down the tunnels to the newly-created Treasury and, having determined the exact centre of the chamber, aligned it carefully. A company of guards was left to ensure that no-one tried to sabotage what they had done – a company later to become the much-feared Treasury Guard.

All this happened many many years ago, with all the protagonists now long since dead and consigned to history books and civic records. Yet certain aspects of that special day remained, enshrined in tradition, rituals – and even in the language. A cry of
Trust the skies!
for instance, took on the meaning of ‘Good luck!’ while ‘
Librarian's loss!
’ meant the opposite, both in Sanctaphrax and, later on, in Undertown.
Treasury Day
, as it had become known, was a holiday marked by many with message-sending and gift-swapping, and was celebrated in the refectory with a seven-course banquet.

More relevantly, it was also the day when the Treasury Guard and Chamber were ceremoniously inspected by the so-called Next-Most High Academe. From early morning, crowds would gather outside the entrance to the treasury tunnel – festooned for the occasion with flags and bunting – to watch and cheer on the spectacle.

‘An excellent turn-out this year,’ said the Professor of Light from the stately prowlgrin-drawn carriage which – at precisely three hours – was rolling into the Mosaic Quadrangle.

‘Excellent indeed,’ said the Professor of Darkness as he pulled up the sleeves of his fur robes and waved back regally to the cheering onlookers. ‘And perfect weather for it, too, now that those rainclouds have cleared.’

The carriage continued across the intricate tiled mosaic and on towards the pyramid-shaped entrance. The spectators fell back excitedly as it clattered towards them. Seven strides from the doorway, the prowlgrin halted and the two professors stepped down onto the red and gold carpet awaiting them.

From his viewpoint on the steps of the Great Hall, Quint was enthralled. He had never witnessed such pomp and splendour before. ‘Look at the prowlgrin!’ he said excitedly. ‘Those look like real marsh-gems and mire-pearls on its bridle.’

‘I'm sure they are,’ said Maris.

‘And the professors' robes!’ said Quint. ‘Can that really be genuine pine-ermine?’

‘Of course,’ said Maris. ‘A white winter pelt for the Professor of Light, and a black summer coat for the Professor of Darkness.‘

Quint nodded and fell silent – though not for long. ‘I don't get all this
Next-Most
High Academe business,’ he said. ‘Why doesn't the Most High Academe perform this ritual himself? And why are there
two
of them?’

‘You've so much to learn,’ said Maris in a rather superior voice, ‘but if you keep on chattering, you'll miss the ceremony. Hush, here they come now.’

‘So-rry,’ said Quint sullenly. ‘I shan't say another word.’

‘Good,’ said Maris primly, patting her damp hair and straightening her steaming robes. ‘It's Treasury Day and I have to keep up appearances.’ She acknowledged a wave from the Sub-Professor of Mistsifting with a dignified nod. ‘After all, I
am
the daughter of the Most High Academe…’

A stooped figure with a hooded cape and silver nose-piece who was standing on the step directly below them turned to face them. ‘Forgive me for interrupting,’ he said, his voice deep and gruff, ‘but the lad does have a
point. We accept what's going on so blindly these days. Perhaps one ought to question a little more.’

Maris snorted and turned away. Quint drew closer. ‘Do
you
know any of the answers?’ he asked the stranger.

‘Some,’ he said. ‘For a start, the Next-Most High Academe was originally chosen because at the time the Great Laboratory became the Treasury Chamber, the Most High Academe was an earth-studies High Librarian. For this reason, a sky-scholar was selected to ensure that the new Treasury was adequately guarded. Nowadays, of course, the Most High Academe himself is a sky-scholar, and the role of the Next-Most High Academe little more than theatre.’

Down at the entrance to the treasury tunnel, the two professors were hammering, slowly and simultaneously, on the door with their staves. Once. Twice. Three times. As the loud, resonant thuds faded away, the quadrangle fell still. Then, out of the silence, came a muffled voice.

‘Who goes there, by Sky?’ it demanded.

‘A friend of Sanctaphrax,’ the two professors shouted back in unison.

There was a creak as the door swung open and a massive flat-head guard – with sword in one hand and studded cudgel in the other – stepped forwards to inspect them carefully.

‘Who's that?’ whispered Quint.

‘Sigbord, the chief guard,’ Maris whispered back.

The crowd remained still, scarcely daring even to breathe. Then the flat-head lowered his weapons and spoke up.

‘Enter, friend!’ he proclaimed, and a roar of approval echoed round the quadrangle.

The two professors disappeared inside, the door slammed shut behind them and the roaring of the crowd grew louder still. But Quint was puzzled.

‘A
friend
of Sanctaphrax,’ he repeated. ‘That's what the greeting said.
Friend
, not
friends
. So, how come there are two of them? Is it because they're twins?’

‘Oh, they're not twins, for all that they look so similar,’ the stranger with the silver nose-piece growled. ‘They met as young apprentices, drawn together by their shared interest in matters of luminescence. As time passed, they began to sound the same, even look the same …’ He glanced towards the door. ‘Like the subject they study, they're two sides of the same coin. It was impossible to appoint one of them to the post of Next-Most High Academe without appointing the other.’

‘I see,’ said Quint. By now, the crowd was beginning to disperse. Quint was about to depart himself when the stranger gripped him by the arm.

‘Not that I am in any sense condoning the situation,’ he hissed.

‘I beg your pardon?’ said Quint stiffly, as he tried to shake his arm free. The stranger tightened his hold.

‘There are many,’ he said, his eyes darting around him, ‘who are suspicious of the influence the Professors of Light and Darkness have over the Most High Academe. After all, why has a mistsifter seen fit to take on advisers from another school? And why …’

‘Come on, Quint,’ Maris said sharply and suddenly, seizing him by the other arm. ‘We should be getting back.’ And with that, she dragged him away.

As they joined the crowds – now spilling out of the Mosaic Quadrangle and going their separate ways – Quint glanced round.

‘What was the rush?’

Maris turned to him. ‘He was starting rumours and spreading gossip, that's why I wanted to leave,’ she replied. ‘I‘ve heard it all a hundred times before. The whispers. The intrigue. The lies. The question is,
what was he after
?’

As the door slammed shut behind them, the Professors of Light and Darkness relaxed. Since the rest of the annual ceremony would be performed out of sight of the excited spectators of Sanctaphrax, they had no need for any further pomp and ceremony. The Professor of Light removed his traditional white tricorn-hat and scratched his head.

‘So, Sigbord,’ he said, ‘have you any fresh news on the matter we were speaking about yesterday?’