hence he must join them.”
The entire gathering chorused, “The Saviour knows all!”
“What? I can’t be a guard!” I objected. “I haven’t the constitution for that sort of thing!”
The beak of every crow mask in the chamber turned to point in my direction.
“It is not your place to object,” Reverie said. “And in future, I advise you to speak only when you’re spoken to.” He turned back to Yissil Froon. “Very well, it shall be as you advise.”
My mouth worked but no further words emerged. I was shocked. No one had ever before addressed me in such a fashion.
Mademoiselle Crockery Clattersmash, responding to a gesture from Reverie, moved out of the pews and approached us. She’d taken only a few steps when she suddenly reeled to one side and collapsed against a pillar, which she clutched at for support. A low moan sounded from behind her mask.
“Mademoiselle?” said Reverie, moving down from the lectern. “Are you unwell?”
“Yes,” came the weak response. “No. Just a little dizzy. I shall be fine.” She straightened, shook her head slightly, and stepped over to us.
“Come,” she said, and led us out of the room, from the temple, and into the street. It immediately became apparent that while we’d been inside, New Yatsillat had expanded even more.
° °
We were given a large empty house on the city’s fourth level, situated at the edge of a quiet little square with a fountain at its centre. Three steps led to our double front doors, which opened onto a very spacious vestibule that gave access to five big, rectangular ground-floor chambers. A steep ramp sloped up the right-hand wall to the upper floor, on which there were six more rooms. The property was plumbed, and most of the rooms had a fireplace.
Mademoiselle Clattersmash told us we’d have plenty of time to settle in and sleep before commencing our training. She left, but we’d only just closed the door behind her when there came a knock upon it and we found ourselves in the presence of three plain-masked Workers—a furniture maker, a tailor, and a grocer. Each asked what we required, and it quickly became apparent to us that the provisions would be free of charge, for the concept of money was totally lacking in the Yatsill.
Adopting the philosophy that we might as well make ourselves as comfortable as possible as quickly as we could, we ordered from the furniture maker tables and chairs, beds, desks, sofas, armchairs, sideboards, armoires, bureaus, and a great many other things, every one of which had to be described in meticulous detail.
The tailor measured us from head to toe. I asked him to make me a black three-piece suit, top hat, and button-up boots. The latter had him bemused until I showed him my feet and described how they should be shod. Once he’d understood the concept, he was confident he could deliver and enthused about adapting the idea for Yatsill feet—though they weren’t really feet at all, being more the pointed ends of the four legs. With regard to the suit and topper, he shook his head and mumbled through his mask, “No, mate. This ain’t for the likes of you.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“You’re a Servant. It ain’t seemly for you to sport togs like this.”
Clarissa pulled me to one side. “Just to keep the peace while they’re judging us, you’ll have to pose as my Servant.”
“Have I plummeted so far in the social order?” I cried out. “It’s absurd!”
“It’s necessary,” she insisted. “But it’s for appearances only, nothing more.”
I was too tired to argue, so I settled for underclothes, shirt, trousers, jacket, and a cloth cap. I mollified myself with the thought that I’d at least have the boots I wanted.
“I’ll also bring you a uniform,” the tailor said. “A Servant in the City Guard, fancy that!”
“I don’t much,” I muttered.
Clarissa decided to forego the voluminous skirts of the British female and settled for a brown two-piece suit. She dispensed with the obligatory hat, saying she’d always hated the things.
“Trousers again!” I chided. “My initial suspicions about you were correct—you’re a confounded bloomerist!”
The tailor had no objection to her choice, but added, “You’ll require the robes of a Magician, too, ma’am.”
Next we spoke with the grocer and, not being certain what comestibles might be available, asked him to use his own judgement and bring us a selection.
Finally, at long last, we were alone.
The tailor had left two thick blankets with us, which we now placed on the floor in one