Chapter thirty-two

Kinspit

 

Hardacre spent most of the next day searching the University precinct for Kath. He visited every academic that he knew she had connections with but all of those trails were cold. Everyone had been friendly but vague about when they had seen her last; but he saw nothing that seemed suspicious. By late afternoon his feet were sore and his tolerance for eleven scholars, usually exceptionally high for a human, was all but exhausted.  

He returned home and went through Kath’s notes again. He felt no compunction about this – he was sure that she would want him to do everything that he could to find her. He also studied Viola’s reply to his original letter, but that had been crystal clear that she had no idea where Kath was.

The notes were copious but inconclusive. Among them, however, was an unsent eighth of a mail paper. On it Kath had written Viola – where the gods are you? He took it to the desk, not really knowing what to do with it. He took the top off the ink well, dipped his pen in the squid ink and wrote below Kath’s question – We know where you are, Viola – now, where is Kath?  He tapped the paper three times and was mildly surprised when it disappeared. He was even more surprised, a matter of minutes later, when it reappeared. He grasped it eagerly. On the bottom, in the tiny space that was left, was scrawled, in thick blue pencil, I think she’s with the naga in K, but I can’t be sure.

Hardacre leapt up.  If Kath had gone to see the naga and had not come back then she was potentially in grave danger. He himself had been pursued by soldiers when he had visited the snake-elf. Why had she gone there? And why hadn’t she discussed her plans with him? He instructed Bentley to tell Mr Ismay where he was going as soon as she could and then rushed to the university library.

 

Hardacre was worried and in a hurry, but he never rushed things that couldn’t be rushed. Before he did anything else he had to see the Archivist.

At first it hard to get an appointment to talk to him – they said that he was busy, or that he was off-site. Eventually he had to talk his way into the Archivist’s office through the human librarian, who owed him a favour or two. When he got into the office it was clear that the young elf was disturbed by his presence. He looked over his wire-frame glasses as Hardacre entered the room. He put the manuscript he was studying down on his desk and got up to greet him.

‘Envoy Hardacre – this is an unexpected pleasure’

Hardacre bowed low enough to be polite, but not enough to suggest subservience. He knew the importance of body language with the Old Elves – both transmitted and received.  

‘Thank you, Logotheton’ Hardacre said, ‘and thank you for agreeing to see me’

Hardacre considered this to be de facto true, even if there had been no official appointment.

‘Always delighted to see you...’ said the Archivist, clearly lying, ‘...how can I be of assistance?’

Hardacre paused to consider his options. He saw no reason not to play this with a straight bat.

‘I’ve lost a house guest’

The Archivists eyes widened slightly.

‘Oh no – that’s unfortunate. Is it someone I know?’

‘Yes – it’s Dr Fielding from ECU. She said that you had helped her find a number of rare books. She said that you were very accommodating’

There was a twitch, no more than a tiny spasm, but enough to show Hardacre that something was wrong.  The Archivist smiled.

‘Yes, I remember Dr Fielding – a very knowledge human scholar. She was particularly interested in the works of Kalappos the historian. Sadly, those extensive volumes are beyond the capacity of any human to read...’ 

‘So I’m told’ said Hardacre. There was an edge in their conversation that he’d never noticed before. Perhaps John was right not to trust this ancient culture.

‘Anyway’ the Archivist continued, ‘I haven’t seen her for several days...’

As far as Hardacre could tell this was true. So, if he hadn’t seen her what was he covering up?

‘That’s a shame’ Hardacre said.  He decided that it was time for a speculative shot. He didn’t expect a direct hit but perhaps he could flush something out of hiding.

‘She told me that there were some problems getting to see the books she wanted...’

The Archivist looked genuinely shocked. He shook his head, but then made the mistake of trying to clarify.

‘No, not in that part of the library’

He had no idea that he’d just walked into a trap. Hardacre savoured the moment for a heartbeat.

‘Oh, so there are problems in other parts of the library. I’m sorry to hear that...’

The Archivist’s head was continuing to shake but beads of sweat had begun to form on his forehead. Someone has got to him thought Hardacre, I wonder who?

‘Some technical problems... nothing serious’

Hardacre had another punt.

‘That room has always been a problem, I suppose...’

Logotheton’s head stopped moving. A pained look spread across his face.

‘What room?’

‘The Exotic Stack Library; is that not the problem you’re talking about?’

Logotheton’s face froze. Hardacre could see the cogs whirring in his mind, but the Archivist wasn’t quick enough. Hardacre had been a diplomat long enough to know when someone was making something up.

‘No, it’s not down there... it’s a problem on level seventeen – a lighting problem’

‘Oh no... Which level is that?’

‘Hydrology, Climatology, Physical Geography, those sorts of things’

Hardacre nodded and smiled sympathetically.

‘Well, Dr Fielding probably didn’t want to go there... I suppose’

‘Probably not’ agreed the Archivist. He half turned back to his manuscript. It was so obvious that he couldn’t wait for Hardacre to leave.  Not a tough nut to crack.

‘Well’ Hardacre said, ‘if you see her please let me know. Mr Ismay is very keen to find her again...’

John’s name made the Archivist pause for a second, as he had intended, but all he said was ‘I will, Envoy Hardacre’ and went back to his studies. Hardacre retreated slowly out of the Archivist’s room.

 

Even before he had stepped out of the room he knew among all the little victories he had made one major tactical mistake. It would only be a matter of a few hours before the Logotheton would report their conversation to whoever his masters were. At that point any access to the stack room would be much more limited. This meant that his only hope was to go straight there – a move that he hated on principle because it was forced on him. And that usually meant he would have to do something he hated even more – use witchcraft.

He hurried down the stairs with no clear idea how he would get into the stack room. He thought through everything that he knew about the nagas and the library but none of it seemed to give a clear view of what was going on. He would have to improvise, and that was something else that he was loth to do. But he had to do something and who knew how much time he had?

Two thirds of the way down, at the seventeenth level he stopped to check the Logotheton’s story. The door was clearly marked Physical Geography, but there was no sign of any problems. He pushed the large wooden doors open: the rows of bookcases were illuminated just as in the other levels, by a bright and steady light. After that, he hurried down the stairs even faster.