The Curse of the Gloamglozer (32 page)

‘I jumped back nervously and hurried to the valve-platform. All round me, the mass of interconnected pipes had begun to creak, clatter, whistle and hiss with the air rushing through them. Initially, too, there were a lot of odd splutters and disconcerting bangs as the internal valves creaked into action and blockages were cleared. Soon, however, these random noises stopped, and all that could be heard was the pulsing sound of air being sucked in from outside and pumped round the laboratory paraphernalia.’ Linius looked up, his face beaming with satisfaction. ‘I'd done it,’ he said. ‘I'd brought the Ancient Laboratory back to life. Now it was time to carry out a few preliminary experiments.’

He sat forwards. ‘The first I performed was the creation of the sky-crystals you like so much, Maris. Red,
yellow, green, purple – they are formed in the net-like structures. Then, when I had mastered that, I turned my attention to a different part of the laboratory. I made mood-salves – curious unguents, extracted from the weather, that collected in the glass spheres. The ancient academics once used them, albeit sparingly, in all their medicines. A hint of “greed”, for instance, improved the appetite, while a little “anger” was said to be a general cure-all.’ He raised his eyebrows sheepishly. ‘I, myself, developed rather a taste for “joy”,’ he admitted, and sighed. ‘It was that which kept me going during the hard times.’ He looked at Maris. ‘For there were hard times, times when I wanted to give up and never visit either the Great Library or the Ancient Laboratory ever again. And yet …’ He fell still.

‘What, Father?’ said Maris.

Linius frowned. ‘There was one carving in the Blackwood Chamber which had intrigued me from the moment I stumbled upon it. It showed a First Scholar standing in the centre of the laboratory on the valve-platform, but I couldn't make out what he was doing because the carving – uniquely in the whole chamber – had been crudely disfigured. A chunk of blackwood had been hacked off where his hands rested on the controls, as if on purpose. But why? What was he doing, and what was the curious shape hovering above him?

‘Of course I, too, had stood at that very spot, manipulating the valves in every configuration imaginable as I slowly learned how to operate the laboratory. Yet no matter how hard I tried, I was unable to concentrate the full power of the laboratory by opening the entire forest of tubes and inlet valves all at once and in the right sequence, so that everything flowed into the central root-pipe at the same instant. And so, the entity that they had managed to create eluded me.

‘But I didn't give up. I undertook weeks of new research. Hour after hour I spent up on the platform, experimenting until my eyes blurred and my hands ached from shifting the valve-levers, turning the valve-wheels and pushing and pulling the valve-stops. Exhausted and frustrated, I was finally on the point of abandoning my task for good when, all at once, I heard a tell-tale hiss of air. Scarcely daring to believe that I might be nearing my goal, I pushed the lever I was holding fully open. The hiss became a loud roar. Sparks began to course along the pipes. And then it happened!

‘A great ball of charged particles appeared in mid-air above my head, held in position by the air streaming in from the end of the central root-pipe. It sparkled and pulsed. I'd done it! I'd created a lightning-orb. Like that First Scholar before me,
I
had managed to harness the electric charge of the sky!’

‘The key to creating life itself,’ Bungus murmured.

Linius turned to him. ‘That's right,’ he said. ‘The creation of new life! And with the glisters that lived throughout the stonecomb, I also had the seeds of that new life. It was an opportunity beyond my wildest dreams and I buried myself deeper than ever in my work.’

Maris looked at her father proudly. What a genius he was! So clever. So determined. She glanced round at Bungus, expecting the expression on his face to confirm her own feelings – but the old librarian was not smiling. His mouth was pursed, his brow furrowed.

‘Did you not realize what you were doing?’ he said gravely. ‘The creation of life is sacred, Linius. Tampering with such matters is sacrilege, a profanity. You should have left well alone.’

Linius's face grew long. ‘Alas,’ he said, ‘I know that now. Yet all my life I have pursued mysteries. With so much knowledge in front of me, just waiting to be explored, how could I
not
have pursued it?’

Bungus snorted.

‘Besides,’ Linius went on, ‘I was sure I could close the valves down the moment it became dangerous.’ He looked away. ‘I underestimated my own desire to succeed, for as the experiment progressed I became increasingly obsessed. Nothing else mattered. I
had
to create new life!’

‘Linius, Linius,’ said Bungus softly, ‘this was the mistake the ancient academics also made. And it led to their downfall, as well you know.’

‘I do,’ said Linius, ‘but by then, I believed I was better than those early scholars. I was beginning to see where their work had gone wrong. I was convinced that, by learning from their mistakes, I could complete the experiment they had started all those centuries ago.’ He paused. ‘You see, I had got the feel of the laboratory. It was like a living thing to me. Standing at the keyboard of valves, I felt like…’

‘The Master of Creation,’ said Bungus scornfully.

Linius hung his head. ‘Yes,’ he said simply. He shuddered, wrapped his arms tightly around him and raised his head to the ceiling. ‘Oh, Sky above!’ he wailed. ‘If I had known then what I know now, I would have shut the door and turned my back on the laboratory once and for all. And yet I could not. It took until the other night before I was finally convinced – before I finally did what I should have done so long ago, and sealed the laboratory.’

He turned to Maris and took her hands in his own. ‘It has taken many, many months,’ he said, ‘but finally I have seen the error of my foolish ways. It's over now. For ever.’

‘Over?’ said Maris. ‘But don't you remember, Father? Even now, your apprentice, Quint, is down in the stonecomb, making his way to the Ancient Laboratory.’

‘It's all right,’ said Linius. ‘He won't be able to get in. Only the bearer of the Great Seal of High Office can gain access.’ He squeezed her hands. ‘Be a good girl and fetch it for me.‘

As he squeezed through the narrow gap in the rock, Quint knew that he had almost reached his destination. There was a scrap of torn material, still clinging to the spur of rock; hopefully Bungus's cape, which he was now wearing, was made of something stronger. Grunting with effort, he eased himself round the jagged spur and shuffled on further.

A moment later, the tunnel opened up once more as he reached the far side of the blockage. Ahead of him, bathed in the same dull red glow, was the door to the Ancient Laboratory.

‘At last,’ he whispered, ‘I've found it.’

He stepped forwards and leaned the hooked pikestaff against the wall. Then he reached out slowly, laid his hands against the carved door and traced his fingers round the outlines of the sculpted creatures. He stroked their life-like fur; he tickled their ears. His touch fell on the circular indentation at their centre, and as he ran his fingertips around the outer circle, up and down the triangular jags, along the calibrations, his eyes glazed over.

He remembered what had happened to the professor the last time
he
had stepped inside the laboratory: the terrible wounds, the horror-filled stare.

‘What monstrous creature lies behind this door?’ he wondered out loud, and shivered with fearful anticipation. ‘It still isn't too late to give up, Quint. You could just turn around and leave,’ he told himself. ‘No-one would think the worse of you. No-one need ever know…’

But even as he spoke the words, Quint knew that he could never pay them any heed.
He
would know if he turned and left – and he would never be able to forgive himself for such cowardice, no matter how long he lived. Besides, it
was
too late to give up. It had been too late ever since the moment when he had helped the stricken professor to bed the night before last, loosening his collar, unburdening him of the heavy chain around his neck…

Quint reached into his jerkin pocket and drew out the large gold medallion. He breathed in deeply to calm himself … He raised the Great Seal, eased it into the indentation in the carved stonework and turned it to the left, to the right…

There was a soft click. The door slid open.

· CHAPTER SIXTEEN ·

THE CREATURE

N
ot there?’ Linius collapsed back onto his pillow, his face pale and taut. ‘Not there … But it must be there! Have another look, child.’

‘I … I'm sorry, Father,’ said Maris, ‘but the case is empty.’

‘No, no!’ groaned the High Academe. ‘It can't be. How could I have been so careless?’

‘What is it?’ Maris cried. She was frightened now. Her father looked so frail, so fragile, and so very small lying there in the great bed, shaking his head from side to side. ‘Have you remembered where you left the Great Seal?’

Linius looked up at her miserably. ‘I took the seal off,’ he said. ‘I was weak, half-delirious. I handed it to him and told him to put it in its case. Then I collapsed into bed. It never occurred to me that he would…’

‘You don't mean … ?’ said Maris, as the truth dawned on her.

‘Quint,’ breathed her father. ‘Quint has the Great Seal.’

‘And the key to the Ancient Laboratory,’ said Bungus quietly. ‘I think you need to finish your story, Linius, old friend.’

Linius nodded weakly and cleared his throat. ‘As I became more skilled with the levers and wheels up on the valve-platform, I often thought of the carving of that ancient scholar standing, just as I was, at the controls of the Ancient Laboratory. I went back to the Blackwood Chamber and tried to read the ancient script but it, like the carving itself, had been hacked about horribly. From what I could make out, however, this ancient scholar had succeeded both in isolating a glister in the laboratory
and
bringing it to life. This he did by re-creating the exact conditions of Riverrise during a Mother Storm. Given my own growing feeling for the minute workings of the laboratory, and the months I'd spent studying in the Great Library, I felt sure I could repeat his achievement.’

‘Linius, Linius,’ said Bungus, as if talking to a young child. ‘Didn't you realize even then? There was a reason why the First Scholars abandoned the laboratory and mutilated all record of it in the blackwood carvings. Something went horribly wrong down there and they didn't want the catastrophe ever to be repeated.’

‘Yes, Bungus,’ said Linius, with an exhausted sigh, ‘but with the power of the Ancient Laboratory at my fingertips –
my
fingertips, Bungus – it was just too great a temptation. I had the entire learnings of the Great
Library at my disposal. I was convinced I could succeed where they had failed. And I did succeed, Bungus. At first…’

Bungus shook his head. ‘Of course, of course,’ he muttered. ‘It is all becoming clear to me now.’

‘Is it?’ said Maris. ‘Then please tell me, because Father is really beginning to scare me, Bungus.’