The Emperor of All Things - By Paul Witcover Page 0,58

pedants talking past each other in urgent whispers. Here, too, the Charleys could have been waiting, but even if they had been – which did not seem to be the case – they could not touch him; the Worshipful Company had been granted certain privileges in its charter, prerogatives that it clung to as jealously as it clung to its hoard of secrets, if not more so, and by those terms it was the Worshipful Company, not the city watch, that, at least initially, exercised legal authority over its own members within the environs of the guild hall. Even had the watch been present, and tried to question him, the guild would not have permitted it. He was safe here, among his brothers, his family. He felt a weight slip from his shoulders.

‘The moneychangers in the temple,’ said Mrs Puddinge in a low voice beside him as they crossed the space to the far side, where another door barred the way to the inner reaches of the hall.

‘I beg your pardon?’ Quare glanced down at her, surprised at the vehemence in her tone. She was surveying the stalls with evident disapproval.

‘That’s what Mr Puddinge called them,’ she told him with a self-conscious smile. ‘He thought the guild hall should be free of commerce, that at least here, within these walls, the Worshipful Company should be more, well, worshipful.’

‘Sounds like a man after my own heart, Mrs P.’

She gave his arm a companionable squeeze.

‘Strange,’ he said, dropping his own voice. ‘Everything seems so normal, does it not?’

‘Yes, I was noticing that,’ she agreed. ‘Do you suppose Mr Aylesford was lying about everything? That no one has died after all?’

‘We shall soon learn the truth of it,’ he said.

As they crossed the floor, Quare saw a number of journeymen and apprentices known to him, men and boys he would ordinarily have stopped and spoken to, for this antechamber of the guild hall was a great place for gossip and socializing. But now the urgency he felt in communicating what he had learned of Aylesford, along with his need to know Master Magnus’s fate, impelled him past his acquaintances with nothing more than a nod and a searching glance. He found it odd, however, that not one of his fellows attempted to address him, and that few of them would meet his gaze … and when they did, there was an unaccustomed hardness in their eyes, a kind of reproach that filled him with misgivings. Behind them, he heard fresh whisperings, like dry leaves stirred up in the wake of a breeze. The skin at the back of his neck prickled. Mrs Puddinge seemed to sense it, too, for she grew silent and tightened her grip on his arm.

They drew up to the inner door, and Quare knocked – admittance beyond this point was reserved to guild members. The door opened, and a liveried servant asked him his business, his powdered face expressionless; even his voice seemed dusted with powder.

‘I’ve urgent business with Master Magnus,’ he said. ‘He’s expecting me.’

The man bowed and stepped aside. Quare could not tell if this action constituted an implicit refutation of Aylesford’s claims or not. He made to enter; then, considering, paused on the threshold and turned to Mrs Puddinge. ‘I’m afraid you can’t accompany me any further, Mrs P,’ he said. ‘But if it will make you feel better, I’ll ask the masters to send another journeyman to escort you safely home.’

‘Very kind of you, I’m sure, Mr Quare,’ she said, ‘but I didn’t come all this way just to turn back now. I mean to see justice done.’

‘But—’

‘I’m known here,’ Mrs Puddinge stated. ‘As the widow of a master, it’s my right to enter the guild hall. Why, I’d like to see anyone try to stop me!’ This with a challenging glare at the liveried servant, who showed as much reaction as if she had addressed a brick wall.

Quare shrugged and gestured for her to precede him, not at all convinced the servant would not step up to bar her way. But she bustled past the man without difficulty.

‘Come along, Mr Quare,’ she commanded, glancing back over her shoulder.

Marvelling, Quare stepped through the door.

At once, to his utter surprise and confusion, strong hands took hold of him. It was the servant, and another, indistinguishable from the first, who had been lurking, unseen, behind the door, which now swung shut with a bang.

‘What is the meaning of this?’ he demanded, too shocked even to struggle in