Menagerie Part 6

'Indeed.' Zaitabor looked up as Araboam reported to him.

'No trace of the homunculus, my lord.'

'As is to be expected,' said Zaitabor, returning his gaze to Defrabax once more. 'After all, you do claim not to have one.' He nodded at the two knights. 'Let us return to the castle.'

The knights let go of the old man and pushed him to the floor. Defrabax landed awkwardly and moaned with pain.

Drizzle fell onto his upturned face through the doorway as he watched the knights leave.

Jamie felt a perplexing contentment as he stood in a doorway watching the headquarters of the guards. Although he knew that his prospects of ever going home again rested entirely with the Doctor, for once the expectation of trying to liberate his friends did not fill him with fear. There were no monsters, no guns, no baffling invisible doors. Just people he understood and buildings made of stone and windows with metal bars.

It was like real life, and even his flight from the guards had brought back memories of Redcoats. The soldier had fallen for a ruse so simple that even an Englishman would have seen through it. 'Look over there!' Jamie had exclaimed, pointing, as the guard came towards him with manacles - and the old man fell for it! They were very primitive people.

Jamie had followed the cortege of soldiers and criminals to the dark building at the centre of town. He had walked around the building twice, ascertaining that there were two main doors and a number of smaller hatches down into the cells. The squat building covered a surprising area, and there was no way that he could observe all the entrances. He settled down into the bricked-up doorway of a facing tenement to observe what seemed to be the main entrance, brushing some dirt from his kilt. As he did so he caught a flash of motion further down the broad cobbled street. The movements were furtive, as befitted one moving after the curfew, but Jamie's keen eyes could track the figure as it moved from shadow to shadow.

It seemed to be a young lad whose eyes were so locked on to the guards' building that he failed to notice Jamie mere yards away. After a pause the boy ran across the street and skidded to a halt in a large puddle just beneath one of the barred windows. Jamie watched the boy looking about him nervously. Seeing no one, he craned his head into the window. Immediately the lad ducked down. Someone was there.

Jamie decided that the one thing that he needed now was a friend. It was time to give the boy a hand, whoever he was. Jamie only hoped he'd be appreciated.

Jamie stood up and coughed loudly. The boy immediately sank back into the shadows. Jamie could see the spreading stain of water creep up the boy's legs. Pretending not to have seen him, Jamie walked casually across the street, for all the world a gentleman out on a brisk midnight stroll. He whistled tunelessly to fortify his confidence.

There seemed to be a single candle burning inside the main door. The archway was of strong grey stone, and gave way to a number of shallow steps leading downwards. The roof was so low that Jamie had to crouch slightly in order to get in.

The small room at the bottom of the stairs was bare and smelt of stale alcohol. A desk of wood and slate sat in the centre of the room, one leg, a good three inches shorter than the others, supported by an empty scabbard. A man sat slumped at the desk, his arms extending over the length of the table, his face on the cold surface, snoring loudly.

'I've just come from an illegal drinking house,' said Jamie loudly, remembering the words of the knight when they were arrested. The man barely stirred. 'I said, I've just come from an illegal drinking house.' He shook the man by the shoulder. 'So I think you'd better come and arrest me.'

The man snorted and grabbed for a nonexistent weapon.

'You . . . It's after curfew . . . You shouldn't . . He got to his feet, swaying slightly, big b.a.l.l.s of fist rubbing his rheumy eyes. An empty bottle rolled across the desk and on to the floor. It bounced and then split in two at Jamie's feet. 'What are you doing here?' the man finally exclaimed.

'Looking for a friend,' said Jamie, edging towards the door. 'I think I'll come back later.' With that, he ran back up the steps and on to the street.

The man roared and came after him, sword in hand.

As they ran down the street Jamie risked a glance over his shoulder, and saw that the soldier was puffing already, gesticulating wildly. The young man crept into the building.

Jamie turned his head and concentrated on running, which was made difficult by the damp, uneven surface of the road.

He glanced at the buildings as he pa.s.sed, hoping to avoid getting lost.

His keen ears soon lost the sound of pursuit. He slowed, and a few minutes later he turned the corner that would eventually take him back to the guards' building.

Walking towards him from the building was the young man. He was clearly downcast, his body language seeming to indicate that he was resigned even to capture.

Jamie stopped and looked at the lad. He was about Jamie's age, slim and slightly gangling, with unkempt hair the colour of dirty straw. The boy smiled eventually, a grin of such warmth that Jamie was very much put at ease by the stranger.

'I have heard that fashions in the other cities are unusual,'

said the young man at last, 'but never did I expect to see a man in a woman's skirt.'

Araboam and Zaitabor stood to attention as Himesor examined the papers they had brought. 'The first proof, Grand Knight,' said Zaitabor. 'Proof that Defrabax has a homunculus.'

Himesor stared down at the pages in front of him.

'Meaningless words,' he said. 'And this sketch?' The drawing showed a cadaverous, slab-faced creature with unnaturally long arms.

'Drawn by the wizard's boy,' explained Araboam. 'He invited the wh.o.r.e into their house. She saw the creature.'

'I will question the girl later,' said Himesor, nodding to himself. Almost without thinking he found himself smudging the charcoal, blending the sharp lines into subtle suggestions of sinew and bone. He sucked the blackened end of his thumb. 'I was an artist before I was a knight,' he said, looking up at Zaitabor, seeking whatever pa.s.sion lay beyond his cold features. 'Where once I dedicated my works to the Higher, now I chase golems and apes from the sewers. I think I lost something a very long time ago, and I know not how to get it back.'

'And this man?' asked Zaitabor impatiently, indicating the small figure who stood silently towards the back of the room.

Himesor turned, observing the stranger. He wore a dark coat, beneath which was a hint of azure, and square-patterned trousers. He blew his nose into a large handkerchief as if to imply that he wasn't listening to their conversation, but his eyes were intense.

'A scientist from another city. Oiquaquil brought him here. It seems that the night, though not yet spent, has many surprises for us.'

'He should be executed,' said Zaitabor instinctively.

Himesor shook his head. 'No. While I might oppose his beliefs with all my strength, I can at least offer him the common courtesy of politeness. Better to win an enemy round than to destroy him.'

Zaitabor opened his mouth as if to disagree, but then paused. He nodded curtly. 'My lord.'

'I am tired,' announced Himesor. 'I will talk with this scientist for a few moments before I rest. Araboam, you have done well today. Please wait outside this chamber for the prisoner. You will escort him to the cells when we have completed our business. You will then be dismissed until I next call for you. Do not neglect your meditations.' Himesor turned to Zaitabor. 'Thank you, my friend. We do seem to be making progress. Keep an eye on Defrabax. Soon his creature will come out into the open. Good night, Commander.'

The two knights bowed, and turned for the door. When they were gone, Himesor stood, sipping from a gla.s.s of water. 'Your name?'

'I am the Doctor,' said the little man, stepping around to the front of the Grand Knight's immense table.

' "Doctor".' Himesor turned the term over in his mind.

'The word refers to a scientist who is wise in matters of health and the destruction of disease, does it not?'

'That is one of its meanings.'

'Then that is what you do?'

'In a manner of speaking. I tend to be more interested in .

. .' The Doctor paused. 'Did I hear you discuss golems?'

Himesor laughed. 'You did.'

'Golems of great evil,' said the Doctor, his eyes the grey of battlefield smoke. 'I think of them as a disease to be destroyed.'

'n.o.ble sentiments. I once believed the world to be black and white. Since becoming Grand Knight I've been less sure.'

Uninvited, the Doctor sat down at the table. He nodded sadly. 'I know.'

Himesor looked out of the window. Dawn was not too far off, but the shroud of sleep felt far from his body now. 'Of course, I still believe in the ultimate evil and the ultimate good. But we people are made grey by our struggles towards the light and the ropes that bind us to the dark.'

'I once had a friend,' said the Doctor, his own eyes far away. 'We had everything in common - everything. But he enjoyed being scared of the dark a little too much. It swallowed him. I doubt that I shall ever see him again.' The Doctor stared at the sketch of the homunculus. 'I keep reminding myself that we're still the same man. We took different roads from the same junction, that's all.'

'Ultimately we gain nothing from the past,' stated Himesor dogmatically. 'I must rid these phantoms from my mind. My dedication is unchanging.' He returned to the table. 'You recognize this creature?'

'No,' said the Doctor. 'I've seen something similar in an old work of fiction, but -'

'I a.s.sume that you are in our city to investigate the Menagerie of Ukkazaal?'

The Doctor shook his head. 'I tend to wander without knowledge of my destination. But please tell me about it.'

'I do not place any faith in legends,' said Himesor with a note of steel in his voice. 'But it is said by some that this city rests over the great menagerie. Men who felt tempted to meddle in science were cursed and turned into beasts. A warning hangs over our heads: if we also meddle, the beasts will emerge to slay us.'

'I must say,' observed the Doctor, 'that from what I have seen your people seem in little danger of that. Science is feared, reviled. I can't help but think of the chains that await me in my cell.'

'It is right that the evils of science are opposed,' said Himesor. 'It is science that leads us into thinking about the problems of yesterday and the improvements that can be reached tomorrow. It is a fickle fantasy!'

'And yet I see that you have some sort of power station on the far side of the city.'

'The Furnace is a solitary exception!' spat Himesor. 'With the authority that rests in my status as Grand Knight I sanctioned limited experimentation. Scientists from various cities collaborated for a brief period. To my shame such stations now exist in the cities beyond our influence.'

'Shame?'

'I regret my decision.'

'Then why -'

'Our people were crying out for relief from their drudgery. I had to act. But now they have seen a glimpse of the seeming glory of science they will thirst for more.'

Himesor closed his eyes for a moment. 'My time is short.'

'I must say,' said the Doctor, 'I was expecting torture and inquisitions. I wasn't expecting such honesty and -'

'It does not matter,' said Himesor flatly. 'My admissions will not go beyond these walls. You will help us penetrate the Menagerie of Ukkazaal. And, if I have betrayed faith to science, then we will all die at the hands of the beasts that wait there.'

The man soon found Xaelobran's fish stall. Without coming too close he attracted the stallholder's attention.

Xaelobran nodded quickly, and said something to the boy at his side. A few moments later the two men shook hands warmly, their voices almost lost under the noise of the crowds.

'Argaabil!' exclaimed the stallholder. 'Good to see you away from the Furnace for once.'

The fat man brushed some soot from his overalls. 'Always a pleasure to breath good air,' he said. 'Now, I seem to remember a friend of yours being interested in esoteric and unusual creatures.'

'I'm expecting him any day now,' said Xaelobran. 'What have you got?'

'A dead animal in a case has come into my possession. I don't suppose I should have accepted it, but it seemed a fair stake at the time.'

'No one with any sense would gamble with you,' said Xaelobran. 'What's this beast look like?'

'It's like a huge insect,' came the reply. 'I can't say where it came from. It's in a casket, the like of which I've -'

'The creature. My friend is only interested in the creature.'

The fat man scratched his chin. 'Four huge arms, claws, some sort of vicious snout, long legs. The casket is frosted-over. I think the animal is grey or silver. Looks like its skin's been flayed off.'

'And it's genuine?'

Argaabil nodded. 'As far as I can tell.'

'I'll tell my friend. Anything else?'

'No. But I'm very glad the thing is dead.'