This time a series of clatterings mixed with complaints grew louder until the door jerked open and an old man in a bed-robe stared up at them, his bald head surrounded by a fringe of white hair, with more of the stuff erupting from both ears.
‘These folk have a book for the vault,’ the guard said.
‘Has ale finally turned your brain to mud, Mika?’ Edran squinted at Nona, Jula, then finally Markus. ‘Tell them to come back in the morning.’
Mika frowned and eyed Nona with a measure of suspicion. ‘It is irregular …’
Markus spoke, his voice vibrant, each word sinking into the mind. ‘It is important. The book must go in the vault now.’
‘Nonsense! The day some monk, too young to shave, comes to order me about in my own archive …’ Outrage overtook the old man’s tongue. ‘Get out!’
Markus blinked and shot Nona a worried look. ‘It. Is. Important.’
‘It will be important in the morning. Right now it’s just irritating.’ Edran advanced, pushing Markus before him. ‘Get out! Mika, drag this boy out of here or so help me …’
Jula backed away, looking mortified.
Nona couldn’t believe how easily the old man was shrugging off Markus’s best efforts. Despite herself she believed his words, more deeply than she believed her own name. She stared at the librarian, hunting for some clue to his resilience.
‘Yes, Edran. Apologies.’ Mika interposed himself between the two men and took hold of Markus.
Nona moved quickly. She moved in front of Edran, meeting his outraged stare with her wholly black eyes, and pressed one hand firmly to his chest.
‘What?’ His eyes widened at the sight of hers. ‘How dare you!’
At the same time Nona reached around with her other arm to pinch the silver chain she had seen at the back of his neck above the bed-robe’s collar. With the links between her fingertips she applied enough sharpness to part them and let the chain fall. In that instant she gave the old man a shove hard enough to rock him back on his heels. ‘It’s important!’
Somewhere between Edran’s bare ankles and slippered feet an amulet tinkled unnoticed to the floor trailing a silver chain.
‘Guards!’ Edran’s shout was hoarse with rage.
‘Explain again, Markus!’ Nona called out.
Markus, halfway down the hall and being manhandled away at speed, spoke over the guardsman’s shoulder. ‘You want to help us.’
Edran’s anger clouded with confusion. ‘Wait …’
Mika released the monk, brushing at his habit apologetically. ‘Let me help …’
‘We need to get this book stored safely in the vault before nightfall,’ Markus said.
The old man threw up his hands. ‘If you must, you must!’ He frowned at Nona as if remembering the shove. A guardsman rounded the corner, puffing, but Edran waved him away impatiently. He turned to Markus. ‘Wait here. I’ll get my keys.’ And with that he retreated to his room, closing the door.
‘You should go now.’ Markus sent the guardsman back to his post.
Nona bent to scoop up the amulet, and as Markus turned back to her she opened her hand to display it, a sigil wrought in silver.
‘It’s the mendant sigil.’ Markus squinted at it as if the thing were too bright to look upon. ‘To negate manipulation of thoughts and emotions. Abbot Jacob and the senior monks at St Croyus have similar protection. The novices would be in charge otherwise.’
Nona closed her fist around it. Part of her wanted to take the thing as her own. Security against Joeli’s manipulations and whatever else might come her way in the future. But such a valuable object would be missed and in the resultant hue and cry her visit to the archives would undoubtedly be discovered. With reluctance she set the amulet down by the doorway. ‘Let him find it later.’
Edran kept them waiting ten minutes, finally emerging in his ink-stained work-robes, jingling a heavy bunch of keys.
‘This really is most irregular. Let me see your order.’
‘It’s here, archivist.’ Jula produced the document and held out Aquinas’s Book of Lost Cities.
Edran studied both, raising a white eyebrow as he leafed through the pages of the latter. ‘Hmm. Amazing that such works keep cropping up.’ He snapped his fingers. ‘Let’s be about it then!’
He led them through more corridors, unlocking two sets of doors, and descending a flight of steps. ‘I’ve told them a thousand times that it’s madness to store books in the catacombs, but do they listen?’ With his lantern raised, Edran hurried along a tunnel lined with empty niches, coming to a