Part 11 (1/2)

She descended the hill in determined silence, not bothering to look behind her to see if the G'home Gnomes were following, knowing that they would be, resigned to the fact that she would probably never be rid of them. The descent took some time, and as she drew nearer to her destination she was able to determine that it did not improve in looks upon closer inspection. Everything seemed to be in disrepair and suffering from obvious neglect. No lights burned in the windows or from the towers, and the darkness suggested a total absence of life. Perhaps that was how things were these days at Libiris, she thought hopefully. Maybe its tenants had abandoned her. Maybe there was no one here anymore, and she wouldn't have to beg for admittance. She would just have to find a way in-and the place would be hers for as long as she wished!

Excited by the idea, she hurried ahead to the ironbound doors, gaining confidence as she neared. Of course there was no one here! Why would there be? Who would live in a place like this? Even the overseer had long since departed, discouraged with the work his charge had required, disappointed in the lack of support he was receiving from the Kingdom. After all, no one had come here for years. Not even Abernathy or Questor Thews had come. They just a.s.sumed that someone was still here.

She felt positively buoyant.

She reached the doors, grasped the huge iron knocker, and rapped it hard against the plate, announcing her arrival. The sharp clang of iron on iron echoed through the stillness and slowly died away. Nothing happened. She waited impatiently, already searching for a way to open the door from without. Impulsively, she tried the handles, but the door was securely barred. She might have to chance using magic, just a little, to gain admittance. Or maybe there was another way in, through another door on another wall. Surely there was no reason to keep such a decrepit place as Libiris locked up once it was abandoned.

Then, rather too suddenly, a small door set within the larger doors, close down to the ground, popped open. A head crested with a tuft of white hair poked out, and a pair of gimlet eyes looked up into hers. ”What is it?” the owner asked in a dialect she could only barely understand.

”I'm seeking shelter for myself and my friends,” she declared, still recovering from her shock at actually finding someone here.

The head tilted upward slightly, and she saw a face that most closely resembled that of a rodent, long and pointed and hairy. The eyes narrowed with suspicion, but she refused to be intimidated and held their gaze with her own. ”Can you let us in, please?” she pressed, trying hard to sound both desperate and helpless and not angry.

Teeth flashed behind a wicked smile. ”No, I cannot. Go away!”

The head disappeared back inside, and the door slammed shut.

Mistaya stood staring at the tiny portal in a mix of fury and frustration, very tempted to knock down the doors using her magic and march inside, announcing who she was as she did so and demanding that her tormentor be made to answer for his uncivilized behavior. She was cold and tired and hungry, and she did not deserve to be treated like this.

The G'home Gnomes appeared at her elbow, their wizened faces looked up into her own tentatively. ”Maybe we ought to just leave,” Poggwydd suggested from one side, while Shoopdiesel nodded in hasty agreement from the other.

Maybe that would have been the best thing for it, but Mistaya was already set on doing the exact opposite. She had put up with enough of people pus.h.i.+ng her around. She reached up for the knocker and rapped on the plate once more, much harder this time. She had only a few seconds to wait before the smaller door popped open anew. The little man reappeared; he must have been waiting just on the other side. He was angry now and not bothering to hide it.

”I told you to go away!” he snapped.

”Go away to where?” she snapped back. ”We are in the middle of nowhere. Don't you know anything of the King's guidelines to hospitality? He wrote them himself when he was made King, years ago. All strangers are to be given food and shelter when they seek it in genuine need; none is to be turned away without good reason. What reason do you have to turn us away? Are you frightened of a girl and two G'home Gnomes? What is your name?”

All this appeared to catch the ferret-faced fellow off guard. He shrank back a bit under the force of her wrath. She watched his mouth tighten and his eyes fix on her belligerently.

”My name is Rufus Pinch!” he snapped. ”And I do only what I have been ordered to do and nothing more. I don't know anything about the King's guidelines to hospitality.”

”Well, you should!” she shot back, even though she had just made it all up. ”I shall be forced to report you to someone who can afford to take the time to come out here and instruct you on their usage! Turning away supplicants in the middle of the night is unacceptable behavior!”

The little man hunched his shoulders and folded his arms across his chest defensively. ”Well, I can't let you in,” he repeated.

Things seemed to have reached an impa.s.se, but suddenly another section of door-this one apparently the upper half of the smaller-swung open and a second figure stepped into view. It was a boy, not much older than she was, rather tall and angular in build, his black hair worn long, his jaw lightly bearded, and his eyes bright with secret laughter.

”What's happening, Pinch?” he asked the little man, arching an eyebrow at Mistaya. ”Is there a problem?”

”This girl wants in, and you know the rules as well as I do. We are not to allow entry to anyone, no matter-”

”Yes, I know the rules. But this is my sister, Ellice. She's here at my invitation.” He stepped forward quickly and took hold of an astonished Mistaya's hands. ”h.e.l.lo, Ellice. I gather you got my letter and decided to come help us with the work. I'm very happy to see you.”

He bent forward and kissed her lightly on the cheek. ”I'm Thom,” ”I'm Thom,” he whispered in her ear as he pulled away. he whispered in her ear as he pulled away. ”Play along.” ”Play along.”

”You never mentioned a sister,” Pinch declared accusingly.

”You never asked,” the boy answered quickly. ”No one ever asks about my family, so I don't talk about them. But I have one, you know. Everyone has a family.”

Pinch did not look satisfied. ”Well, no one said you could invite her to come here,” he pressed. ”The rules are the rules. No one is allowed into the building. No one is to be given shelter or fed or encouraged in any way to try to enter or to remain at Libiris. His Eminence has made it quite clear.”

”His Eminence has also made it quite clear, on more occasions than I care to think about, that we need someone else to help with the work. You and I and the Throg Monkeys are not enough to accomplish what is needed. You've heard him say that, haven't you?”

”Well, yes, I've heard him, but-”

”Have you done anything to try to satisfy his complaints?” the boy interrupted quickly.

Pinch frowned. ”No, I-”

”Then please don't criticize those of us who have. There is a reason I am chief sorter and chronicler and you are an overseer. Now let's go inside and get my sister warm.”

Still holding Mistaya's hand, the boy pushed his way past a reluctant Pinch into the doorway. ”Wait!” Mistaya exclaimed. ”What about my friends? My escort,” she corrected quickly. ”They must come inside, too.”

Pinch stepped quickly to block their way. ”I draw the line here!” he declared, glaring at the G'home Gnomes. ”These two were not invited to come and are not fit in any case to do the work. They must remain here!”

Thom nodded reluctantly, giving Mistaya a look. ”I'm afraid that's so. But there are stables on the south side of the building where they can get out of the weather and sleep the night. I will see that they have something to eat.”

”Humpphh,” Pinch growled disagreeably. ”Very well. But they must leave here tomorrow at first light.”

Poggwydd and Shoopdiesel looked very put upon but showed no inclination to argue. Recognizing that Thom had pushed the matter of gaining entry as far as he could, Mistaya nodded. ”Good night, my faithful friends,” she called over to the Gnomes, not without some small warmth. ”Thanks for bringing me. I will see you in the morning to bid you farewell.”

She followed Thom through the small door and heard Pinch close and bar it tightly behind her.

Before the unfriendly little man could offer further thoughts on the matter of Mistaya's arrival and admittance, Thom led her through a small, tunnel-like entry into a much larger anteroom, its walls lined with benches and hooks for hanging coats and wraps, high ceiling intricately carved with figures that in the near darkness she could not make out. Stray lights burned here and there, but mostly the room was draped in shadows. The thick smell of must and stale air filled her nostrils, and a chill had settled with a proprietary sense of ent.i.tlement.

Thom led and Mistaya followed. The wood floors creaked as they walked down the length of the room, which was twice as long as it was wide. A high desk, elevated on a platform to allow whoever manned it to look down on whoever sought admittance, ran across the far end of the room, effectively barring entry to whatever lay beyond a pair of ma.s.sive wooden doors set in the wall behind. The desk was old and splintering at its joints, and there were spiders spinning their webs where s.p.a.ce permitted. She a.s.sumed there were spiders elsewhere in the room, as well, in places she couldn't clearly see. She looked down as they approached the desk and noticed faint clouds of dust rising in small puffs with each footfall.

”Don't mind that,” Thom advised cheerfully. ”This room doesn't get much use.”

She stepped close to him. ”Why did you say that I was your ...”

His face darkened as he quickly put a finger to his lips and shook his head. He pointed to his ears and then made a sweeping gesture toward the walls. ”Later,” he ”Later,” he whispered. whispered.

He led her around one end of the desk, but did not try using the larger portals, choosing instead a small door at one corner of the room, a door so un.o.btrusive that she might have missed it completely if he had not taken her right up to it. He grasped a handle that was all but invisible, pulled the door open, and led her through. A hallway beyond wound off into a darkness that would have been complete if not for the handheld lamp he suddenly produced and fired with his touch, something she recognized immediately as magic. She arched one eyebrow at him, thinking as she did so that there was more to this place and its inhabitants that she had first thought.

They pa.s.sed a number of doors, all of them closed, but Thom finally stopped before one and opened it. Inside was a very small, unadorned bedroom, dark and windowless, with a bed, an ancient cedar chest, a small set of shelves, and a table and chairs. There were no decorations hanging from the walls, no rugs on the floors, and no hints of color anywhere. Mistaya looked around in dismay.

”We can talk here,” the boy said, giving her a quick, rea.s.suring smile. ”They don't listen here. My room, maybe. But not here. These are the servants' quarters, the rooms set aside for the keepers of the stacks and the files, and there haven't been any of those for decades. There's only Pinch and the Throg Monkeys and me. And His Eminence, of course. Sit with me.”

He seated himself on the edge of the bed and motioned for her to join him. She did so, feeling braver now, more sure of herself than when she had faced Pinch alone. She didn't know who this boy was, but she didn't think he meant her any harm.

”Why did you help me back there?” she asked him. ”Why did you tell that little man-Pinch, you called him-that I was your sister?”

He shrugged. ”Oh, I don't know. It just seemed like the right thing to do. I didn't plan it. I saw you, and I just decided to help you out.” He shook his head. ”I get bored here. There's no one to talk to. I thought anyone traveling with two G'home Gnomes out here in the middle of nowhere would have stories to tell.”

”Well, I might not want those stories told just now. Will you make me go if I don't choose to tell them?”