Escana (27 page)

Ella's
head throbbed blindingly as it tried to piece together another
question.

'I
wouldn't try to think too hard right now, you've had a nasty
experience and need plenty of time to recover.'

The
woman briefly dabbed Ella's head with a damp cloth, gazing over the
bedsheets with an approving look on her face. 'You're well on the
mend, it shouldn't be too long until you're up and about with a head
full of questions.'

She
couldn't remember losing consciousness at that point but upon opening
her eyes again she found the woman was no longer there. She propped
herself up on her elbows with a gasp of pain, surveying the room with
a much clearer head.

There
were eight beds in total around the room, a fireplace glowed at the
end of it and cast long shadows over the floorboards. The windows
were dark, she had woken in the night.

The
previous conversation came back to her piece by piece. She initially
suspected that Falarus was a wealthy nobleman and that she was one of
his new acquisitions. She doubted the slave market would have such
qualms about giving her a good bed, though the battered state of the
four women she could see in the beds did hint that they were being
prepared for something else. No, a nobleman would scoff at the dregs
here and a guard probably couldn't afford such a large chamber. There
was something in the word 'missionaries' that didn't sit right with
any of her previous guesses. Was this some kind of cult?

A
door creaked open and a small girl walked in with a pail of water in
her hands. Upon seeing Ella upright in bed the girl set the bucket
down with a splash and exited with great haste.

She
was still pondering the nervous and altogether mute reaction when the
door opened again, admitting the larger lady she had seen before.

'I
see Elizabeth has found you awake at last, I'm sure you have many
questions. This is a safe place, you have nothing to fear here.'

'Where
am I?' she asked again, stupidly.

'You
are on the second floor of the House of Falarus. You have been
recovered by our missionaries and were thought a lost cause dearie,
such was the state you were in. I knew better when I laid my eyes on
you.'

She
had heard this answer before. 'And who are you?'

The
woman swelled up with pride. 'I am head attendant of the House of
Falarus, Mrs Newbury.'

Ella
found the wide grin somewhat disconcerting. 'What is the House of
Falarus?'

'The
House of Falarus is where Falarus lives. You are being cared for
here.'

She
arched an eyebrow at the large smiling woman, wondering if she was
being played for a fool.

'Who
is Falarus?' she asked.

The
grin beamed even brighter than before. 'He is the kindest soul in all
the land, he opens his doors for anybody and asks for nothing in
return.'

As
irritating as she found the simple and cheerful tone, Ella knew she
had to draw blood from this stone while she was still awake. 'How did
I get here?'

Mrs
Newbury shrugged. 'The men brought you in, our missionaries. They
recovered you.'

Ella
sighed and closed her eyes, she knew she wasn't going to get much
more. 'I would like to speak to Falarus.'

The
woman nodded at her vigorously. 'Oh yes, that's what everyone says
eventually. Falarus will be here soon, he will answer the rest of
your questions.'

Upon
seeing that her duties were done, Mrs Newbury pottered about the
other beds making concerned clucking noises at a number of them
before heading for the door.

In
spite of the woman's odd mannerisms, Ella felt assured. For reasons
she couldn't touch on, this place felt as safe as it looked. She
considered rousing herself and looking for Falarus under her own
power but thought better of encroaching upon her mysterious host. If
he was going to come to her then she may as well get as much rest as
possible. As soon as she flopped back down onto the bed, sleep washed
over her.

'
W
here
am I?' Jakob asked nobody in particular. He sat on what he assumed
was a white floor and his head ached furiously, everything
surrounding him was white save for a solitary figure.

'Nowhere
in particular,' the stranger from the bridge said. He was missing his
characteristic grin this time.

'You!'
Jakob exclaimed, sitting up sharply and eyeing the man with
suspicion.

'Me,'
the man intoned back at him. 'Feeling a bit more like yourself now?'

He
clenched and unclenched his hand, staring down at it. These weren't a
worker's hands, they had the blunted fingertips of a man hammering on
a keyboard. He waited for the surge of pain to hit his head for
remembering that. Nothing happened.

'Mr.
Sandberg it has been a relatively interesting tale thus far, though I
can't help but notice the limited exposition you have given your
namesake. Was this a deliberate attempt to make him an Everyman? Is
he your Mary-Sue to project over?'

Jakob
stood, attempting to approach the man with quickening footsteps, yet
no matter how he tried the distance between them remained constant.
Eventually he sat back on the floor and contemplated responding.

'Yes,'
he finally admitted with a sigh. 'He's the hero of the story,
destined to restore order to the world.'

The
man laughed. 'You must be a fine poker player, Mr. Sandberg, but
you're not fooling me. The world you've given us so far is fairly
ordered, there are no monsters and war that you've spoken of rages
far away. It isn't disorder that your hero is railing against, he's
fleeing from the very order he chose to violate through his actions.'
The man seemed to draw closer then, still out of Jakob's reach. 'What
are you refusing to tell us about your lead character, Mr. Sandberg?'

Jakob
chuckled sourly. 'You're with them, aren't you? This is some fucked
up experiment to get the ending of my book, isn't it?'

The
stranger remained silent.

'Well
you want a story, that's exactly what I'll give you then. Doesn't
look like I have much of a choice anyway, does it?'

The
stranger shrugged. 'Your actions are being played out as they were
written thus far without fail, when I cede control of your body you
will have the choice to alter those events or remain on course and
provide us with the ending we require.'

He
looked up at the stranger with distaste and suspicion, he didn't like
being controlled by anyone. 'You mean to tell me that you'll just let
me play out my own story with prior knowledge of everything that's
going to happen?'

The
walls had started to darken, unconsciousness was beginning to take
hold of him.

'No
my good author, you will be Jakob the hero throughout as your memory
begins returning to you, when the time comes you will have gained
enough control to exercise your decision. That choice is entirely
yours, Mr. Sandberg.'

J
immy
kept constant vigil over Jakob that night.

The
man who had finally introduced himself as Gadtor had brought him
through a series of alleyways to what appeared to be an abandoned
warehouse. The further they travelled the more alert he had become,
it was a side of Urial that Jimmy had never seen, all dirt and grime
and shanty housing propped up amongst warehouses that loomed large
over the surroundings.

At
first he only spotted the odd body, he'd mistakenly written them off
as a drunkard who had failed to find home. Eventually they started to
come upon more of them, until everywhere he looked the streets were
littered with people.

Gadtor
had explained to him that the homeless cast themselves wherever they
could find space and hoped the night watch would be merciful. A
dishevelled and hopeless looking group shivered as one in a vain
attempt to gain heat in a corner, they didn't appear to have anything
to steal but the rags on their backs.

The
warehouses were locked up tight and some of the larger ones were
guarded mercilessly. Gadtor's monologue continued every step of the
way, as if he were some morbid tour guide.

The
slum land surrounding the warehouses had been cheap property and
incentives were given to businesses that chose to drive the beggars
out of the area. Over a frenzied period of construction, the few
thatch houses remaining had been demolished to make way for further
storage facilities. Those who didn't have property to be bought out
were driven out by force. Many perished in the streets initially,
with nowhere left to go.

He
had been brought to what appeared to be a renovated warehouse, but
all pretence of listening to Gadtor had vanished when he spotted
Jakob amongst the bodies piled onto the floor.

His
brow was fevered and he twitched in his unconsciousness in between
shallow breaths. The relief that had gripped Jimmy as he dashed over
died a small death at the sight of such agony.

He
didn't know how long he sat there staring at Jakob. All thoughts of
thanking his rescuer Gadtor or even asking of the well-being of Ella
had vanished at the very real condition of Jakob's body strewn out
before him.

His
subsequent anger at the inattentiveness of the aides had been brief
and seemingly expected, they had to deal with all kinds of anger and
complaints. Gradually the world around him returned, as did the
reality of the situation they were forced into. There were far too
few stretched too thin, coping with a multitude of maladies that had
poured in through the door. Given the condition of the dungeons,
Jimmy was under no illusions that many of these frail figures
wouldn't see out the night. In spite of the size of the warehouse,
the floorboards were cramped almost to the point of no movement. He
briefly remembered nodding, as if dazed yet again. He couldn't
remember anything about the aide but his leg had been tended to. That
they did nothing for Jakob but make him more comfortable when they
finally got to him did not go unnoticed.

Having
come out of the initial shock, Jimmy noticed a second set of boards
had been laid across the wooden beams above and a crude staircase had
been erected in the corner. He watched the slow and doddering descent
of an old man and his cane, wincing at each step he took and
realising that the man bore the same expression. He hobbled to each
body, inspecting it with a shake of his head and consulting the aides
as he passed them. Jimmy surmised that this was someone of importance
but couldn't find it within himself to leave Jakob unattended. His
pressing need for answers had been snuffed out as soon as he had seen
the dire condition of his friend. Turning to face him once more, he
settled back onto the floorboards and waited quietly for something to
change.

Heavy
boots sounded in his direction and two men came to a stop at his
feet. Jimmy looked up but refused to rise on their account.

He
recognised the first man from earlier in the night, the scarred face
of Gadtor giving him what he thought must have been a positive smile.
The second man remained hooded, which struck Jimmy as odd considering
they were indoors.

'How's
your friend?' Gadtor asked, kneeling down beside him and looking
genuinely concerned.

Jimmy
shook his head, a lump was forming in his throat and he couldn't get
any more words out. He hadn't known Jakob as long as those around
suspected, that didn't make seeing his plight any easier.

A
large gloved hand reached out and squeezed his shoulder. 'I know kid,
he may yet recover. I've seen much worse in my time.'

He
looked up at the other man then, who still stood silently over them
all. It wasn't just the absence of words, Jimmy couldn't even hear
the man breathing.

'What
do you think, Hermit?'

The
man lowered his gaze to Jimmy's level, settling his eyes on him for
an extended period of time. Jimmy waited for some comment or sign,
anything to shake the strange feeling of trepidation in this man's
presence. The man finally gave a slow nod, nothing more.

Gadtor's
smile widened, as if he'd discovered something once lost.

'Son,
what do you know about the Black Quail?'

E
lla
was less baffled when she woke, a clear memory of this ceiling and
what it portended flashed through her mind. She rose with less
difficulty than before and started to scan around for any signs of
change in the small room.

An
odd scuffling sound on the stairs was what she heard first, followed
by a thud. They formed a precise rhythmic pattern as whoever it was
made their way up the stairs, unseen.

She
decided not to draw the attentions of the new visitor and settled
back down into the bed, waiting for further developments.

The
thudding ceased at the top of the stairs and changed into a gentler
tapping sound as the figure wheezed his way around the beds.
Occasionally it would stop for a brief period, possibly to check on
the other beds, but it drew inexorably closer to the foot of her own
with each passing tap.