‘Of course she’s wet. It’s raining.’
‘That’s not what I mean.’
Van lowered the book to the desk. ‘Oh. Well, wait till Murdon gets back. Maybe he can find someone to look after her. Did you see how many women are here?’
Lorn had noticed. It surprised him how many townspeople had come to aid Breck’s army. He said, ‘With luck one of them will be nursing,’ then wrapped Poppy tighter in her swaddling and cradled her as he sat down. An item on the desk quickly caught his attention. ‘What’s that?’ he asked, pointing his chin toward it.
It was a collection of metal rods, each with a shiny silver ball on its end and each a little longer than the other. The rods radiated out like the spokes of a wheel.
‘I don’t know,’ said Van. Curious, he pushed at one of the rods with his finger and watched happily as it revolved around its core. The action made him smile. ‘It’s like a toy. Do you think Reena can see it?’
Lorn doubted it, but he held his daughter closer to it anyway. Van pushed at each of the rods one by one, sending them spinning, but Poppy’s sightless eyes didn’t bother tracking them. Seeing the disappointment on Lorn’s face, Van shrugged.
‘It doesn’t matter. I don’t even know what the damn thing is.’
‘It’s an orrery,’ a voice answered. Startled, both Lorn and Van looked toward the door where a kindly face shone back at them. The man was nearly Lorn’s age, and he clearly wasn’t a soldier. He wore no uniform, just a plain shirt and worn out trousers that gave him the look of a farmer. Age had stooped him and twisted his bones. He shuffled into the room with obvious effort.
‘Who are you?’ Lorn asked.
‘My name is Garthel. Murdon sent me to look after the little one. Do you know what an orrery is?’
Lorn had to admit that he did not. He stared at the man uncertainly.
‘An orrery shows the movements of the heavens,’ Garthel explained. He went to the desk and pushed at the little orbs — which Lorn now realised were the planets — the way Vanlandinghale had. As they spun on their axes he beamed. ‘This was built by Figgis, the librarian who once ran this place. He was a man of much science.’ Garthel gestured to the books and manuscripts. ‘All these things were his.’
Van waved his hand in front of his face as if the dust were too much for him. ‘Did you ever think of getting rid of some of this junk?’
‘Junk?’ exclaimed Garthel. ‘This isn’t junk, sir! This is all of great value. Nothing has been touched since we got to the library.’
‘Or cleaned,’ remarked Van.
Lorn stood up. ‘You say you’re here to look after the child?’
Garthel’s smile was warm. ‘That’s right,’ he cooed, looking at Poppy as he spoke. He poked a playful finger at her stomach, then looked up at Lorn. ‘Murdon told me you were waiting in here, and that you had a infant with you. My family can look after her for you while you speak with Breck.’
‘Your family? You mean your family lives here in the library?’
‘Something like that,’ said Garthel. ‘There are many of us, as you’ve probably noticed. We help out as we can, at least for the time that we’re here. My daughter can feed the little one. She can take care of — what’s her name?’
‘Reena,’ Lorn answered. ‘Your daughter — she’s nursing?’
‘She can feed your daughter for you,’ Garthel repeated. ‘Breck would want us to help you.’ He held out his hands. ‘If you’ll give the child to me. .’
Lorn didn’t move. ‘Your pardon, Garthel, but I’m confused. Who are you? I mean, what are you doing here?’
The man’s expression remained kindly. ‘That’s a long story, friend, and there’s no time for telling it right now. Please trust me. No harm will come to the infant. We’ll get her cleaned and fed and let her rest. When you’re done with your business, she’ll be waiting for you.’
It sounded like a good offer, and Lorn saw no reason to refuse. The man still vexed him, but Poppy needed cleaning and rest from her dreary journey, so Lorn handed her to Garthel. The man cradled her expertly, his face shining, then left the room. In his wake a hundred new questions sprang up. Lorn sat down, forcing himself to be patient. He looked at the model on the desk, the thing called the orrery, and wondered what Poppy’s reaction would have been if she weren’t blind.
‘This place is odd,’ remarked Van. He didn’t sit but rather leaned against the bookcase. He had his own troubles vexing him, evinced by his worried expression.
‘What’s odd?’
‘I think it’s strange that so many people would come to Koth’s defence. So many men and women, willing to wait here and die? They’re not even soldiers, some of them.’
‘Better to die in a just cause than to live on your knees,’ said Lorn. He looked directly at Van, searching for a reaction. Van merely nodded.
It took longer than Lorn expected for Murdon to return, but when he did he had good news. From the threshold of the study he told Lorn and Van that Breck would see them.
‘Come along,’ he said gruffly, then turned and went back down the hall. Lorn and Van followed, but neither said a word. As they walked, Lorn rehearsed what he would say to Breck. Instinctively his hand fell down to his trouser pocket, where his fingers traced the outline of his ring, the only proof he could offer of his identity.
He expected Murdon to lead them up into one of the library’s towers, but instead they went back into the great hall, took another of its tributaries into a ground-level wing, and eventually came to a stop near the entrance of a vast chamber filled with long, narrow tables similar to those in mess halls. These tables, though, were of rich wood and gave off a warm lustre in the torchlight. Bookcases filled with manuscripts lined the walls, reaching to the ceiling.
A reading room, Lorn surmised. The vastness of the chamber made him feel small.
Arranged in tidy rows, all of the tables were empty except for one. At the far end of the chamber was a table separated from the rest, near a window with open curtains providing a spectacular view of the city. On one side of the table sat a group of men, all of them soldiers and all dressed in the uniforms of Royal Chargers. Like jurors, they faced Lorn and the others as they entered the chamber, which had the unnerving silence of a church. One man, however, remained standing. With his back to the newcomers, he stood staring out the window. His hands were clasped behind his back in patient anticipation. The cut of his shoulders gave him the air of a general. No one spoke as Murdon led Lorn and Van forward, though the soldiers along the table eyed them with curiosity. Murdon made no introductions. He came to a halt a few paces from the table.
It was the general who spoke first.
‘It’s very late,’ he said wearily, ‘and I awoke some of these men from a sound sleep. Why? Because I trust Murdon. He claims you have something important to tell me. Normally I would have waited until the morning, but I’ve been paranoid lately and since one of you is from Norvor I think I have good reason.’ At last he turned to reveal his fatigued face. ‘My name is Breck, commander of the garrison of Library Hill. Which of you is the Norvan?’
Lorn stepped forward. ‘I am,’ he declared. ‘Captain Breck, I’m-’
‘So, you’re the deserter, then?’ Breck interrupted, looking straight at Van. ‘Murdon told me about you. He says you were a Royal Charger, a lieutenant.’
‘That’s right,’ said Van, unperturbed. ‘I left Liiria when King Akeela died.’
‘When all of the country fell to ruin, you mean.’
Breck’s words were meant to cut Van, but the younger soldier showed no emotion. ‘I left to make a living, Captain Breck. There was no living to be made in Liiria, so I sold my sword to Jazana Carr. But I’m back now.’
‘I should be glad to have you, I suppose,’ said Breck, ‘but I don’t like mercenaries. Listen to me carefully, Vanlandinghale — none of us are mercenaries. We’re soldiers, all of us. Even Aric Glass, who brought you here. He didn’t run out on Koth as you did. In my mind that makes him twice the soldier you are. So if you want to stay you’ll have to prove yourself to me. I don’t care how good you think you are with a sword, how brave or any of that nonsense. I value loyalty. That’s it.’