The God Tattoo: Untold Tales from the Twilight Reign (34 page)

‘That appears to be my cue,’ the stranger said. He gave her a small bow. ‘Thank you for your time, Mistress Thonal – keep a weather eye on those shadows.’

Gennay gasped at that last comment, but he was off before she could overcome her surprise and reply. The stranger trotted away towards a side-street, not with undue haste but he covered the
ground quickly and had disappeared around the corner by the time her brother reached at her side.

‘Gennay? Are you well?’ Emin asked, giving her a worried look. ‘Who was that?’

She forced a smile and nodded, trying to ignore his piercing stare. Her brother’s eyes were a lighter shade than hers, so pale a blue they were halfway to white and even she found them
unsettling when he asked questions in earnest.

‘Quite well, and the man didn’t give his name – he was just interested in the library.’

‘That’s all? You look like you’ve seen a ghost – did he threaten you? I can catch him still.’

She raised a placating hand. ‘Nothing like that, he just unnerved me.’

To emphasise her point she took hold of her younger brother’s arm. Emin was hardly rash, but protective of his sister and sufficiently skilled with a sword that he’d easily outmatch
the stranger.

‘That’s all?’ Emin lifted her head to look his sister straight in the eye. ‘That’s not like you, to be so frightened by a stranger for no reason.’

‘I’ve been taking fright at all sorts of things this week, jumping at shadows,’ she said, managing a brief laugh. ‘I’m over-tired, little brother, that’s all.
My mind’s been playing tricks on me because I’m not getting enough sleep – if you’d spent any time at home this last week you’d have noticed that.’

The corners of his mouth twitched. ‘Uncle Anversis has had me out by nightfall, watching shadows as it happens.’

‘So you’ve not been drinking and whoring all night?’

‘Not so much as you think.’ His smile was a wicked gleam. ‘And anyway, where’s the fun in paying a woman? Far better to talk her into it.’

Gennay raised a hand to stop him. ‘I don’t want to know the details, just as long as none of my friends are involved.’

‘Best you don’t know then,’ he said firmly.

She shook her head, trying not to laugh. ‘Well, at least it won’t be the virtuous ones, I know you well enough for that. Why has Uncle Anversis got you chasing shadows?’

‘Ah now, it’s for a better reason than you might think. We’d been discussing malign spirits for reasons, well, reasons of far too much wine to be frank . . . however, it led us
down an interesting path; that of drummer boys in these winter months.’

‘Drummer boys? You mean those gangs of youths who walk through the streets making a racket and trying to extort money from people?’

As she spoke, Gennay shivered and Emin slipped an arm around her shoulders, setting them on the path home. ‘They’re the ones; Uncle claimed they were performing a service to the city
whether they knew it or not. I thought they were nothing more than a bunch of common thieves. So of course, a little evidence was required and I’ve spent a few evenings on rooftops watching
them come and go to see what nasty spirits were chased away by the commotion.’

Gennay laughed, the sound abrupt and startling in the evening quiet. ‘Oh honestly, the two of you drink too much. So, once you watched the hordes of the Dark Place chased from
Narkang’s streets you thought it was time to escort me home?’

Emin just smiled his infuriating smile. ‘Something like that, yes. Come on, enough shadows for the both of us today, I think.’

The next day came and went in a flurry of activity. Gennay started the morning late, her mother insisting that she rest rather than be heading to the library before dawn was
fully established. It had the desired effect and when she did leave the family home it was with a renewed spirit and fervour for her work.

Engaged in practical details of the offices and cataloguing the largest crate of books thus far, Gennay had no time to even think about the strangeness of the previous days. By the time the
light waned and the library was taken over by shadows, she was as ready as the others to head home, weary but undaunted.

By the next day, the scribes in the guildsmen offices were working on their first commissioned work and the library, for the first time, offered a glimpse of the place it would one day be. As
the sun sank to the horizon and the craftsmen left, Gennay stood side by side with Sarras on the mezzanine, looking down at the hall below.

‘We’re getting there,’ she said at last, the pair of them savouring the shared sense of achievement. ‘It’s been one of those days when I feel we got something
proper done.’

‘That we have, Mistress Gennay,’ Sarras agreed, looking more at ease in her company than he ever had. ‘Perhaps we should close up early today, in celebration?’

She turned, knowing he was not one for laziness. ‘Are you trying to be gallant, Sarras?’

The tall scribe blushed and lowered his gaze. ‘I apologise, Mistress, I hadn’t intended it to sound that way.’

‘But?’

He hesitated, then bobbed in agreement. ‘But you need more than one good night’s sleep, and you’re not the only one. My imagination’s been playing tricks on me too and
some of the young clerks have starting taking fright at nothing. Today was a good day, Mistress Gennay; let’s not allow our own foolishness to change that.’

She smiled, wanting to laugh and hug the man but knowing she could do neither. ‘Very well, I do see your point. Go on then, chase your scribes from their offices and send them home.
I’ll tidy up here.’

Sarras went as instructed, taking the ring of keys with him to lock up that end of the building on the way. Gennay damped down the fire beside her desk and set about arranging the piles on her
desk, piles that had only grown larger now more books had arrived and she was in the middle of preparing a card index. She stacked everything neatly and walked around the desk as the first pair
entered the hall, two young copyists talking excitedly.

She smiled and wished the earnest young men a good evening, but as she did so her sleeve caught the pile of index cards and spilled them across the floor. To make it worse, a half-dozen or so
kept going and scooted over the swept flagstones, ending up halfway down the stairs.

‘Oh for pity’s sake,’ she muttered, surveying the mess.

‘Do you need a hand, Mistress?’ called one of the copyists, halting at the main door.

‘No, you go on,’ Gennay said, shaking her head at what she’d done. Her mood was good enough, however, that she was soon smiling at her carelessness and dismissed the pair with
a wave. ‘Get yourselves off home, I’ll be done here in just a moment.’

Her smile became broader when, as she waved, she discovered one of the cards had managed to get stuck inside the voluminous sleeve of her green woollen dress. It fluttered out and before she
could catch it, swooped down to join its fellows on the stair.

‘Oh honestly, how did I manage that?’

The remaining scribes soon followed the first two, each calling goodbyes to Gennay, until there was only Sarras waiting for her by the main entrance.

‘Start without me,’ Gennay said in a slightly muffled voice as she bent low to pick up the cards. ‘I’ve dropped a stack and will need a while to put them back in
order.’

Sarras assented and went to lock the south wing door that led to the guildsmen offices before he started towards the kitchen and stores. Gennay fetched the last of the cards and carried them
back to her chair, arranging the pack against her stomach until she had a single, ordered block again.

From downstairs came the click of latches and scrape of bolts and for a moment Gennay pictured Sarras as he went through the routine. They were both meticulous people and she could easily
imagine each sound as it came; Sarras always followed the same routine every night. Eventually. there came the nearer scrape of the door into the hall and the oiled click of its lock, but then
there was a few seconds of silence.

Gennay frowned at the cards in her hands, surprised at hearing absolutely nothing until a slight grunt of annoyance broke the quiet. She smiled; Sarras had spotted something out of place. No
doubt one of the workmen would be receiving a telling-off in the morning.

There were footsteps and the creak of a hinge, then a gasp. She looked up. That wasn’t the sound of a man irate. Gennay set the cards down just as Sarras emitted a strangled whimper. At
the balustrade she leaned over and saw Sarras backing into view, his face white with terror. The scribe had his mouth open and arms raised as though about to ward off a blow.

The keys tumbled from his unresisting grip and clattered on the stone floor. His whimper grew into a fearful keening and his hands shook with fear; so terrified was he that Gennay watched him
stagger a few steps away and then his knees simply gave from under him and he collapsed onto his behind.

That seemed to break the spell for both. Gennay raced down the stairs, but before she could reach Sarras he had scrambled to his feet and run for the door, shrieking. He slammed it behind him
hard enough to rock it on its hinges and rebound, swinging back towards Gennay and crashing against a table behind before she could make up the ground.

Instinct made her falter, but then Gennay was out of the open door. The cold wrapped around her exposed face like a whip and she faltered, seeing Sarras slip on the frosty cobbles but fight his
way up again and barrel onwards, crying out piteously all the while.

Gennay turned around, a sudden spark of fear in the pit of her stomach. Through the open door she could see the left-hand of the two reading rooms past a tall shelf stack, its door half-open.
Inside, it was dark and she couldn’t see much but she pulled out her knife before edging forward all the same. There was a stack of books on the table, one open upon it, but nothing else that
she could see through the gloom. She blinked. The shadows behind the desk seemed to squirm as she peered hard enough for her eyes to water and blur. When she looked again all was still, but before
she had a chance to investigate further an inhuman shriek came from beyond the courtyard, followed by a heavy thump.

Gennay turned, almost dropping the knife in her alarm. There were shouts and screams coming from the street. Without stopping to grab the keys to the library, she ran towards the commotion. More
voices added to the clamour, horses and humans all panicked and fearful. She reached the gate and stopped dead, uncomprehending of the chaos in the street at first. There were people running
towards her from all directions, men shouting and somewhere a young child howled. Torches bobbed through the evening mist, lending the scene an ethereal air.

A coach drawn by two bucking horses was hauled to a halt by its driver, dragged askew across the road, and a coachman had jumped from it before the wheels had even stopped turning. He ran to the
back of the coach and Gennay saw a bundle of cloth there on the ground. The cold seemed to intensify around her, fear freezing her gut and numbing every sound and sight.

The coachman rolled the bundle of bloodied rags over and Gennay felt a scream well up through her body, but no sound escaped her paralysed lips. As the coachman turned away she caught a glimpse
of the bundle’s face and the terror in Sarras’ dead eyes, his neck twisted unnaturally.

Gennay backed away from the sight, ignoring the shouts from somewhere further down the street. But then she stopped and, with dread, looked back across the courtyard at the library entrance.
Through the open doorway, the lamp flickered and shadows danced on the wall behind.

‘Something he saw? The room was empty, no?’

Gennay nodded, unable to stop herself glancing at the nowshut door to the reading room. It was late in the evening, but Gennay had insisted on returning to the library after supper and her
brother had accompanied her.

‘Are you certain it was empty?’ Emin persisted. ‘Did you look inside yourself or were you more intent on Sarras as he fled?’

‘What are you suggesting?’

He shook his head. ‘Nothing as yet, I’m merely wondering if there could have been someone in there to frighten Sarras. You watched him run from the building, it would be natural for
your attention to be drawn to the movement of that and miss a small detail of someone staying still.’

‘Emin, go and inspect the room yourself, there’s nowhere to hide!’

‘Not without help perhaps,’ he countered, ‘but there are ways and means to conceal one’s presence – trickery in addition to magery.’

Gennay stood and prodded Emin in the chest. ‘And what exactly was he doing in there, this mage? What horrors did he conjure to frighten Sarras so and for what purpose? This is a library,
Emin! There’s nothing of value or importance here.’

‘Not true, there are books – information. Knowledge is power; this could be someone opposed to the education of the masses or aware of a secret hidden in the books you’ve had
copied, unable to get at it without alerting the owner.’

‘And risk their interest be declared to the Land at large as a death is investigated? Killings attract attention, Emin, surely you realise that? A man would have to be desperate to go so
far – and if that was the case, why was I spared? I know more about the library and its contents than anyone else, why not approach or try to kill me first?’

Emin ignored his sister’s blossoming anger and sat back on the corner of her desk. ‘Murders that look like accidents aren’t investigated much. Perhaps Sarras’ death was a
warning to you, a threat of what could happen. You told me a man approached you in the street a few days ago, asking about the library and wanting to get at its contents.’

‘He was a vagrant,’ Gennay interjected, ‘more a ruffian than a mage!’

The smile turned indulgent. ‘They don’t all wear silks, dear sister; I’ve met mages who are dangerous and hard men.’

‘Don’t be such a braggart,’ she snapped. ‘Patronising a few dockside taverns doesn’t make you an expert on the darker side of the Land. You’re a fool for any
man who acts the rogue, worse than any simpering girl hoping to find a heart of gold. You’ve always been willing to swallow whatever guff any scarred veteran comes out with, and pay for his
beer as you drink it in.’