Anyway, the R.R. opens right on to the gardens, so it’s convenient for that at any rate. (Oh, Jotto keeps chickens, by the way. I’d wondered where the eggs came from.)
Lights come on in the lamps in here at sunset. The lamps are closed rosy glass roses, so I can’t see what makes the light, which doesn’t flicker, and goes out when I lie down on the bed. (The first time that happened I jumped up again and at once the light returned.)
It’s the old thing, isn’t it? This whole foul business is an Adventure. I should be energetically exploring, making notes.
The more I find out, after all, the more chance I have of learning how to get away from here and back to – Argul. Somehow that was difficult to write. It’s as if I’ve totally lost him. As if – I’d ceased to exist in Argul’s world. I can’t explain. But it’s an awful feeling.
I have asked questions, of Grembilard, and Jotto, and of another one I call the Gardener, because I always find him in the gardens, neatly scything the lawns or re-stringing air-harps. I’m pretty sure the Gardener is a doll, but he’s even more realistic-looking than Jotto, and he’s sullen and grunts at you like a bad-tempered slave. Maybe he is a slave?
Grembilard, though a slave (the letter Venn sent told me he was), is obviously a favourite of Venn’s. Twice I’ve seen them talking, all friendly and easy, in the distance. I never approached. The one time I came through a grove of strawberry trees, and there they were strolling along, Venn’s face. He looked almost afraid at the horror of Claidi, her appallingness. He gave me a brisk nod, turned and stalked off.
One evening too, I saw a big pale bird floating over the gardens, and Jotto said, ‘There’s the prince’s owl.’
He doesn’t look so much like Argul. It was just that first time I saw him, somehow he truly did.
Well, he does, rather. Sometimes more than others.
Why does he?
All this is such a muddle, and I almost have this feeling they sent me on purpose to someone who looks like Argul, just to make things worse. But what would be the point of that? Then again, why tell him I wanted to be here?
And who are They, anyway?
Ironel? Jizania? The Wolf Tower?
Questions I’ve asked, where I got no sense out of anyone here, are these:
1) Why am I here?
2) When can I leave?
3) Why did Venn’s mother make the palace-cliff move about inside?
4) Who was Venn’s mother? (Grembilard did say her name but I can’t remember it.) (Uzzy-something.)
5) Why did she go and where did she go? (Into the jungle, said Grem. That was all.)
6) What makes the hard still lamplight? (The waterfall, said Jotto, on that occasion.) So,
7) How? (Jotto couldn’t say. Grem couldn’t or wouldn’t. Didn’t even bother to ask the Gardener, and of course not Treacle.)
8) When can I talk to Venn properly? By which I mean I’ll make an appointment. (I dread this, but it’s necessary. I have to convince him somehow. He dislikes my being here so much, evidently, he might help me to go?)
9) What scrowth-cha-chaari is? (The Gardener shouted this at three cats who were clawing some trees. Probably it’s not polite. Jotto went very vague when I asked him.)
Bits of information I’ve received are these:
a) I should just ‘enjoy my stay’ here!!! (Jotto said this. You guessed? He hasn’t taken it in, and won’t (like all of them), that I’m a PRISONER.)
b) That Grem set out from the gardens to fetch me from the other side of the gulf two days before he reached the outer corridors and could operate the bridge. This was because of the rooms and stairs and halls and so on all moving extra weirdly.
c) (And this may be interesting?) The cats here, which run about wild, all came from three cats originally brought here – when? With Uzzy-something? They haven’t said – and the cats were ordinary then. But they have, over the years, developed thick bone ridges on their skulls! (!) To protect them when architecture suddenly shifts and they bang into things. Should I believe this? It’s the kind of story I never would have believed – if I hadn’t seen the cats.
Actually, lots of things here are … altered, or have been very changed.
Grem, for example. Real leaves do grow in his hair, which is anyway more like grass. How on earth can that be? (I haven’t asked him. It seems – rude.)
And Treacle. That crying-which-isn’t. She comes in and waters the indoor roses in pots, streams gushing from her eyes. Then she does a pleased little dance. I did mention her ‘tears’ to Jotto. I said, ‘How is it Treacle can cry like that?’ Jotto said, enthusiastically, ‘Yes, it’s brilliant, isn’t it?’ ‘No, but how?’ ‘Well don’t ask me, dear,’ said Jotto, as if thrilled to be ignorant.
He’s always carrying on like that, but he’s nice, too. And then again, look at him – he’s mechanical – But.
Then there are those things that growl – vrabburrs – they don’t sound right, either.
Argul, what would you do? It’s almost as if I can’t even see you mentally, in my mind, any more. How long is it since I was there with you, that morning in the Hulta camp? Months. For ever.
The Rose Room moved this morning. I was just getting out of bed, and almost fell over. It didn’t go far, only round the back of some Lily Rooms or something, according to Jotto, who found me after a quarter of an hour.
Anyway, once I’d got dressed, I put my stuff in the bag and went out through the corridor which now led from the door, got into the gardens, and now I’m not going back.
He has rooms that don’t move. If I’m stuck here, I too want a room
