Circle of Stones (16 page)

“All-purpose opener, we call it. The lock is very rusty.”

It wouldn't even turn. He sprayed it with WD-40 and tried again.

The metal rod moved and slid, and then he forced it around and they could hear the reluctant grinding of the mechanism. “I don't think this has ever been opened.”

“Like Tutankhamun's tomb,” Josh said. “Maybe we'll find treasure.”

She stood behind them, watching. A sort of panic was rising in her; she wanted to go back, go out, upstairs, into her room. But she held herself still.

“Okay. Now we've got it.” Simon pulled at the door; then he pushed it. It didn't move.

“Stuck. Give me a hand, Josh.”

Josh squeezed in next to him and they both put their shoulders to it. Sulis could feel the strain. She could feel the old timbers, stubborn and warped, fixed for years in their frame. She could feel the darkness behind, the deep, untouched darkness, the silence no one had broken since the door had been locked, maybe centuries ago.

“Wait,” she gasped.

Still pushing, Josh twisted his head to her. “Why?”

She didn't know why. There was no why.

They pushed harder and the door began to grate on its hinges, shuddering inward. As it opened she stared with fascination and horror at the slot of blackness that widened, wrinkling her nose up at the musty stale air that wafted out, imagining it like a dark wave washing over her.

“Nearly. Just a bit more.”

Had they talked to Josh? Had they all discussed her, her obsessions, what she must have seen as a child? The terrible beauty of the girl falling into blue air?

“Just one more shove, Josh, near this side.”

Was there a conspiracy of silence against her?

“Thanks. Fantastic.” Simon gave the door a final heave and it juddered wide. He wiped filth from his hands. “We're in! Right. Well. Here goes. Can I have the flashlight, Sulis, or do you want the honor?”

She glanced at him, and there was nothing but excitement in his face.

So she pushed past him and clicked the flashlight on.

She shone its beam into the darkness.

Zac

W
e walked down to the baths together, I in my dark coat & Sylvia with a green cloak around her. In the gracious spaces of Queen's Square a few linkboys led groups of men toward the gaming houses; a carriage with outriders paraded solemnly by, the warmth from the horses' steamy backs touching my face.

But down in the insalubrious alleys, the city stank. How could Forrest hope to change such a world as this? Stepping over a pile of muck, I guided Sylvia under the overhanging roofs, through the noxious lanes, where a filthy pig snuffled in a trough.

She said, “Are you sure about this, Zac?”

“I have to have the note-of-promise.” Didn't she see that? “I have no money to pay these debts, Sylvia. My father is bankrupt. If I am ever to make anything of my wretched life  .  .  .”

“Yes. Yes. All right. I see.”

Her arm was light on mine. Then she pulled it away, drawing her cloak tighter. I said, “You're afraid.”

“Not of Compton.”

“No? How well do you really know him?”

She wasn't looking at me. Dark thoughts came to me. Did she meet him in secret? Did they talk about me? I fought down a rising panic.

“I knew him when I worked at Gibson's. A little.”

“You never talk much about that place.”

She shrugged. “It was a hellpit. People lost everything there. They were robbed, often. Once, one of the girls died.”

I stared. “How?”

“She fell   .  .  . I was there, I saw it. Things were dangerous for me after that. That was why I ran.”

“Someone pushed her  .  .  .?”

Her eyes flickered to mine & then she looked away. “Please, Zac. I don't want to talk about it.”

She was a girl of mystery still, then. But we were nearly at the baths, so I tapped the leather folder under her arm. “Now. You have the plans. You know what to do.”

I had given her my forged designs at home; then she had slipped into Forrest's workroom with them for a moment & come out with this old folder, the designs placed neatly inside. I was surprised, but she had said she thought it would make them look more authentic, more as if she had stolen them. Now, glancing at a corner of paper that peeped out, I prayed that Compton would not guess at the subterfuge.

Seeing my glance, she tucked the paper in hastily.

“Shall I come in with you?” I asked.

“No.” She pulled the wide hood around her face. “Watch if you want, but if he sees you it's all over, so keep well away.”

“Be careful,” I said. It was foolish, & sounded it. She smiled at me, her eyes lit with nerves. Then she hurried inside.

I waited five cold minutes before I followed her.

The baths, even at night, were loud with noise. Forrest often railed against the vulgarity of the place, & as the hot steam gathered around me, I understood what he meant. The ancient pools & sacred springs were pits of noisome dirt. Filth crusted the steps, & the noise was deafening. There were even a few musicians, scraping rusty fiddles for coins. Men & women both, dressed in strange voluminous garments, waded & splashed, helped in & out by servants paid for the job. I dared not think what diseases most of them carried. Bladud's magic spring was wretched now indeed. Other servants waited at the common pump, clutching empty bottles to fill & take back for the master's gout or mistress's scrofula. The smell of sweating bodies was such that I had to fight the desire to take out my handkerchief & press it against my nose. Instead, I looked for Sylvia.

She was standing near the pump, the wallet held under her arm. I saw that the silk of her cloak was splashed & darkened by the water, but as I waited steam drifted between us, & a beggar woman pestered me to buy trinkets from a tray of junk.

I told her to leave me alone.

When I looked up again, Compton was there.

I drew a breath. His lordship wore another elegant coat, & a silver-hilted sword. He pulled off his hat & bowed to her, mocking. I indulged myself with a dream of knocking him to the ground at my feet. It was a very pleasant thought.

There was an ancient pillar nearby, green with slime. I stood behind it & watched them. They talked. He was smiling & laughing. She was quick, quiet, agitated. She glanced around once or twice. For a moment she seemed almost to be pleading with him; his smile went & he said something hard & sharp. Then he caught her arm.

I stood rigid. I wanted to run out & fling him off. But I told myself to be still because both of us would have revenge on him this way.

She took out the leather folder. I saw his face light; he reached for it but she held it back, & I knew she was asking for my note-of-promise, because he laughed then, & glanced around, as if he guessed I was there.

All the air between us rippled with steam. A great splatter from the bath doused me with hot drops; they touched my cheek like the fingertips of a hand. As I wiped them away I saw Compton take something from his pocket & offer it to Sylvia, maliciously holding it from her fingers & dangling it before her, like a man does with tidbits for his dog.

I felt my teeth grit.

But she took hold of it with a quick snatch & read it. Then she put it into her pocket & gave him the plans.

I held my breath. Because he untied the wallet & looked inside at once, his eyes alert. Suddenly I wondered if I had mis-gauged his knowledge. What if he recognized the errors, the impossible proportions? My drawings were good, my hand neat & as like my master's as I could make it. Surely he could not know.

He didn't
 .  .  .

He closed the folder & said something & she snapped an answer back. And then she was walking, away from him & away from me, her head down, thrusting people aside, pushing through the crowd. Compton turned & went out of the main door. Instantly I shouldered my way after Sylvia, slipping on the treacherous steps, hot in the clammy air of the sulfurous pools. She ran up the steps to street level.

“Sylvia!” I called her but she must not have heard, so I ran after her.

The street was cold after the steamy heat; its darkness was complete, but I could hear her running ahead. I followed her to Bath Street, past the hospital, into the clutter of shops & lockups the carpenters use, the saw-close.

“Sylvia! Wait! Here I am.”

Ahead of me on the empty street, she stopped. She did not turn, but waited till I caught up, & when I reached her side she did not look at me, but thrust a paper into my hands.

One small lamp flickered where a night watchman sat. I ran to it & held the paper under it, & cried out in joy.

It was certainly my note-of-promise. There was my own signature, scrawled in despair across the sum. One hundred guineas. Payable to Lord Compton.

“You did it! You got it!” I wanted to swing her off her feet & kiss her, but when I turned she was standing apart from me, & her face was grave.

“Yes,” she said. “I got it.”

Her coldness chilled me. So I bowed formally. “Thank you, my lady.”

“It was nothing,” she said. There was a glimmer of water on her face, as if the steam had gathered there & trickled. I could not tell why she was so hard, almost angry with me. But the note was real enough & rustling in my hands, so I held its corner carefully to the flame in the sooty lamp & watched it catch light, the paper blackening at the edge & then suddenly crumpling into fire. I turned it carefully & watched my debt smolder into ashes & fall at my feet. For good measure, I put my heel to the pieces & ground them into the dirt.

When it was done she walked away, & I went after her. “I feel so free! Sylvia, you can't guess how the debt weighed on me!” Indeed, I only knew how much myself now, when it was gone. “Things will be different now. I will work so hard! Forrest will barely know me. And my father—I will send him money. Every month! Half my salary.”

She was silent, walking beside me.

“And he had no idea? Compton? He was satisfied with the plans?”

“He was satisfied.”

“What a fool he is”

“Yes.” Her voice was flat. “What a fool he is.”

Did she feel sorry at having outwitted him? I could not imagine it. We walked back quickly. She seemed disinclined to talk, as if the task of deceiving Compton had taken all the energy out of her. I fear I may have prattled on, because in my joy I did something I had not meant to do. I told her about the secret chamber in the heart of the Circus.

She listened intently. By the time we reached the house she knew it all, even my plans to watch the Oroboros meeting. She said, “I'm coming with you.”

I tried to hide my dismay. “Sylvia   .  .  .”

She turned on me like a viper. “I'm coming with you, & don't even think about stopping me! You've got your precious note, & you owe me for that! You're safe, & that's all that matters to you!” And she ran up the steps of the house & slammed the front door in my face.

I stared at the quivering black panels in bewilderment.

Now what had I done?

• • •

All the next day I did not see her. She wasn't at breakfast, nor supper, & Mrs. Hill said she had taken to her bed & was unwell. Forrest frowned. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Nothing, zirr, & don't you worry yourself about missy.” The housekeeper cleared the dishes. “A case of the vapors, as I know full well. It will all pass off tomorrow.”

She was avoiding me. I knew it, but had no idea why. Girls are impossible to understand.

Forrest sat awhile, musing, & I watched him. He had fallen into one of his strange moments of dream, & I wondered what he was thinking there, twirling the wineglass in his finger & thumb, what druid mysteries were perplexing him. Or was it something as practical as the materials for the broken scaffold? What a mixture he was!

I decided to try my luck. “I will be going out about the town tonight, sir, if you allow.”

He looked up. “What?”

“About the town.”

“Not gaming, Zac, I trust.”

I smiled, complaisant. “I do not game, sir.”

“Good. It's a great folly.” He put the glass down. “How do you think the work is going, Zac? Do you like what you see?”

I said, “It will crown your life's endeavor.”

“A crown of acorns.” He smiled. “But are you sure?” He fixed me with his dark eyes, always so quick. “Or are you just appeasing your master's vanity?”

I did not know what to say. And then the words came out & I surprised myself. “I believe the Circus will be spoken of in days to come as great architecture. I'm honored to be involved with it.” And it was true.

He looked at me over the empty table. “Are we friends, Zac?”

Now it was I who turned my glass. “Yes,” I said. He nodded.

“That pleases me. Sometimes I thought . . . because I know I am not an easy man to live with. Ideas rise up in my head like the bubbles in the spring. Who knows where they all come from? But I am glad you're working with me. I see a great future for you someday, Zac. Despite your airs & graces.”

I laughed, though the final sentence irked me just a little. But his mention of the bubbling spring reminded me of the hidden chamber, & I told myself that he had not shared this with me, & so how much was his friendship worth?

He rose. “I have to go out too, later. Enjoy your evening, Zac. Let's hope Sylvie will be back with us tomorrow.”

I watched him go out & up the stairs.

Sylvie
. That was what Compton called her.

• • •

I spent the intervening hours in my room, all hung about with my clothes. I tried to study, but at just before eleven the front door shut softly & I jumped up to the window & looked out. Forrest's dark shadow slipped into the street.

I grabbed my coat & crept past Sylvia's door, but it opened & she came out at once, as if she had been sitting there on the bed, waiting. This time her cloak was black.

“He's just left,” I said.

She nodded.

“Are you really ill?”

She looked at me strangely. “I don't know yet.”

We tiptoed down the stairs & out of the house. Mrs. Hall had gone home—just as well, because I dared not imagine what she might think.

So for the second night in a row Sylvia & I walked the streets of the city, but something had changed between us now; she did not give me her arm & we said hardly anything until we came to the edge of the site & saw Forrest not far ahead of us, tall & shadowy in his old coat.

The half-built facade cast a long shadow over the huts & masonry, the scaffolding & stacked stone. Looking up, I saw the moon was full, glinting on pools of water & the metal edges & corners of struts. But the center of the Circus was an inky darkness, & as Sylvia moved in front of me I almost stumbled to the floor. She grabbed my wrist tight.

Forrest paused.

He glanced around & we stood frozen. For a moment I knew he would call out, “Is that you, Zac?” & I would have to answer him. But he seemed to turn, & then was gone, into the cellars.