Chapter 23 - The Kraken Gate
It was late the following morning when I woke. Sunlight lanced in through two narrow, leaded windows, each topped with a quatrefoil bailey-flower in green and gold coloured glass. The lambent glow picked out details on a Caddrian rug that covered most of the wooden floor beside my bed, a woven chaos of cantering horses, valiant huntsman and rampant ligons. I got down from the four-poster bed and padded to the bathroom across the woollen wonder.
I washed and made myself presentable. Then I set about locating Na-Su in the labyrinthine pile that was Lannerville Hall, a baronial-style mansion commissioned by Director Harman’s grandfather. The four-bed sanatorium was located above the servants quarters, where we’d delivered her into the care of Doctor Caldwell the previous evening. One of the sanatorium’s rooms had bars and locks left over from the height of the Corrosion epidemic. The door to Na-Su’s room was open though. Ankush and James were standing outside. They were remonstrating with Nurse Vanning, a small but determined looking woman with a flesh-stripping glare, savagely tied-back hair and hips that had been designed to rest angry hands on.
‘She’s sleeping. You will return later!’
Ankush and James had a solid history of dealing with difficult and sometimes dangerous customers, but I could see they’d met they match in Nurse Vanning and were unlikely to progress their case any further. Suppressing a smile, I greeted them all and asked after Na-Su.
‘Your friend will limp for a while, but her leg will heal well,’ said Vanning in clipped tones. ‘Her shoulder is another matter. Doctor Caldwell removed the bullet that smashed her shoulder-blade. She’s going to be in a lot of pain and her arm will have to be in a sling for two or three cycles. Movement of that arm may be limited, permanently.’
‘Have you told her that?’
‘No,’ Vanning replied.
‘Please see that you do.’
‘Why?’
‘Na-Su Kamak doesn’t like to be told what she can and can’t do, it’s the surest way to get her to prove you wrong. Come on,’ I said to the boys. ‘Have you eaten? I’m famished.’ They had breakfasted, and had also had a tour of the manor, so I decided to ignore my rumbling stomach and asked them to show me around.
‘How are you?’ James asked, as they steered me back to the entrance hall. ‘I’m sorry we weren’t there to help you.’ His deep voice was strained. His concern was touching.
‘My throat is still sore.’ I touched self-consciously at the unsightly, purplish, mottled banding around my neck . ‘I got lucky on the air-train really. That could have gone much worse.’
‘Inigo said you nearly fell off.’
I nodded.
‘I should have gone with you.’
‘Yes,’ said Ankush, coolly. ‘The boss could have jammed your body into one of the corridor connectors. That way no one would have got through.’
I laughed. Ankush had seen the interplay between James and Tyrone and was stepping in to fill the void. James frowned momentarily, unused to teasing from the Gulreimian, then he laughed too and punched Ankush on the shoulder. We all laughed then. It felt good.
‘We should be safe here,’ said James looking up at the grand hammer beam ceiling that spanned the grand entrance and running a hand over his pate. I wasn’t so sure, but I kept that to myself and focused on the grand building. The polished floor was a marble chequerboard and the lacquered larkwood panelling was festooned with ancestral portraits. One was labelled with the name ‘Georgu Harman’, dressed in a high collared suit of the late seven-hundreds and a beard dating from the early part of that century. He looked dour. Money wasn’t the only thing Director Michael Harman had inherited.
We toured the corridors and investigated those rooms that were not obviously out-of-bounds. We passed maids and servants, cleaning, polishing and ferrying laundry about in wicker baskets. James and Ankush explained the layout of the manor which had a large courtyard at its centre.
‘The main reception rooms, ballroom and guest suites occupy the front of the building. The servants quarters, kitchens and the sanatorium that we’ve just come from run along the back of the courtyard, while various family members, when in residence, occupy the east and west wings, depending on status and how they were getting on with each other.’
‘It doesn’t sound as though you approve,’ I needled, aware of James’ deep-rooted hatred of the wealthy.
‘Too many of the rich and the landed gentry continue today as they did during the Empire,’ he growled. ‘The way I see it, the work of building the Republic was never completed.’
‘Shouldn’t people who work hard and build businesses that feed hundreds or thousands of people be allowed to profit from their success?’ Ankush chipped in. Gulreimians never understood our country’s struggles. They have a benign ruler, the Zhou-Rah, who was selected from amongst the poorest people in the land using a system designed to prevent the nepotism and corruption that had plagued our empire during the reign of the Orwalls. Successful merchants and businessmen were well respected, as long as they made regular and public donations to charitable causes.
James gave Ankush a pitying look. ‘Have you been inside a factory? Have you seen the hovels that farm labourers live in?’ James gestured at the fine drapes and an expensive-looking aquamarine vase as we passed. ‘They’re lucky if they own a shirt with no holes in.’
Ankush made no reply. I knew what he was thinking though. Gulreimia was not a land of plenty. Much of it that wasn’t mountainous was barren desert and the economic benefits of their copper deposits, much in demand with the advent of electricity, were substantially offset by the wars with their covetous neighbours. By contrast, Emberland was a haven of peace and prosperity. At least it was, until the recent trouble with Nallia.
We’d wandered full-circle around the sprawling manor, arriving back in the grand hallway when we were accosted by a dapper, besuited member of staff who could only have been the butler, Rigsby. He was portly, with thinning hair that he’d combed over and stuck down to his pate. He had round, thin-framed spectacles sitting comfortably on a hawkish nose from behind which he glared at me.
‘Are you the security chief… Ms. Derringer?’
‘I am. Would you be Mr. Rigsby?’
I had to be content with the tilt of an eyebrow as an affirmative. He looked up at James’ bulk and then turned his disapproving gaze on Ankush. The Malek brothers were almost certainly the first Gulreimians ever to set foot in Lannerville, nevertheless it was rude, so I broke into the appraisal.
‘We’re very grateful to your head housekeeper who showed us to our rooms last night.’
‘I trust everything is in order, ma’am’
‘Absolutely, Mr. Rigsby. We are settling comfortably. We’ll try to avoid creating too much disruption.’
Rigsby’s expression evinced scepticism, but he gave a slight bow.
‘I wonder…’
‘Yes?’
‘Pray tell me, what is the most direct route to the Hunting Lodge?’
‘Ah, where the project is.’ Rigsby uttered the word project as though it was something unpleasant stuck to his shoe. Director Harman hadn’t exaggerated when he had mentioned his butler’s dislike of the proceedings.
‘Yes, thank you.’
‘Very well. Cut straight across the courtyard and through the tradesman’s gate. Go straight through the walled garden and out the other side. The path there takes you to the lake. Turn right and follow the shore until you get to the folly. Turn right again and you’ll see the lodge… about a hundred paces away.’
This last was delivered quickly. Rigsby was about to take his leave when I stopped him. Annoyed, he was professional enough to manufacture a veneer of unctuous civility.
‘Yes, ma’am?’
‘Is there somewhere we can get a good view of the whole estate? Somewhere high up?’
Rigsby tilted his neck slightly, as though trying to relieve a trapped nerve. ‘Head up to the roof from the games room in the East Wing, ma’am. There’s a good view of the grounds from the clock tower.’ He produced a large bunch of keys and sorted through them until he found what he was looking for, a heavy, black key from a Densborough lock. He handed it over with a sigh.
‘Please return the key to me this evening, Ms. Derringer. It’s most inconvenient when they go missing. Will there be anything else?’
I thanked the butler again. Ankush, James and I watched him go.
‘Ugh! Even I wouldn’t be that sour if I worked for Director Harman.’ remarked James.
‘I don’t know,’ remarked Ankush.
James made a face. ‘Ha-ha! Don’t push your luck.’
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