There were books in stacks built into the walls.
‘Is this the library?’
‘No,’ said Venn. ‘It’s the Little Book Room.’
‘I see.’ It was about a hundred yards long and about the same wide.
We had a late breakfast in here. (Jotto kept muttering about his chickens, which he had left the Gardener to feed.) Then we had a look at some of the books (most of which seemed to be written in different languages).
I climbed up an inner stair to the gallery, and went out on to the balcony. I was admiring the view over the gardens, the descending jungle-cliff beyond – when the Little Book Room began slowly moving its Little self. It was so gentle, it really didn’t seem much to worry about. From the balcony, it was quite fun.
The LBR glided along and along the third storey. Trees went by below, some with monkeys staring up curiously. I even glimpsed the Gardener, bending in an annoyed way over a lotus pond. Then the LBR began to rise. This too was smooth enough, but we went up and up—Where we settled, I’d say the ground was – well, a very long way down.
Behind us, the only exit has been closed off by another wall.
At first we all waited for the room to move again, but it hasn’t.
Two days later, we’re still here.
It wasn’t a storm I saw gathering, from the balcony, just bubbly clouds. It’s getting on for sunset now again. Jotto is stoking the brazier. Four of the cats are having a pretend-fight.
There are two bathrooms off this room. I had a bath in a yellow marble tub and washed my hair. For something to do. And to avoid Venn.
It’s all right when we’re travelling, or eating or something, but when he seeks me out, as he did on the balcony … It makes me uncomfortable. And his clever remarks –‘Looking for the future’. He also said there are ghost mice in the library which eat the pages, and which have ‘Eaten more than we can ever know’.
I wrote a lot of the last section locked in the bathroom while my hair dried.
There’s a bedroom too, very small. Lemon-curd silk and white wood furniture. He avoided it and Jotto whispered to me, ‘She used to sleep there a lot, at times.’
She – Ustareth. Venn’s mum.
I was nosy. I tried to open the cupboard doors and drawers, but none of them would. I thought – was I being as bad, doing that, as he was, reading my jour—my book?
He’s made me feel I need to know things. This whole trek is supposed to be so I can learn more about the Towers. The Wolf Tower – the Law, the rituals, what They (?) are up to. But honestly, I don’t want to know. Not really. But he’s made me feel now I have to – or somehow I haven’t got a chance.
How has he done that?
I am so aware of him all the time.
This huge room is too small for both of us to be in at once.
‘The food’s going to run out,’ says Jotto, looking peeved. ‘And I packed such masses. Look at this bread! And these pomegranates are all runny and squidgy.’
This is stupid. We’re trapped miles from anywhere in a room in a building and we’re going to starve.
Venn said, as if he didn’t care much, ‘She knew ways of making the rooms shift, if this happened.’
‘Who? Your mother?’ I asked, furious. ‘Didn’t she ever tell you?’
‘She never told me anything, after I was two.’
‘And you never tried to learn anything after you were two,’ I nastily said.
Jotto looked upset and I wished I hadn’t.
But Treacle turned a cartwheel, revealing she was wearing red and gold striped knickers. Which made us all laugh, for some reason.
After lunch or tea, whatever it was, I walked off to Her Room, again.
I did something awful. Maybe it wasn’t. She’s long gone, and if she’d cared about any of it, wouldn’t she have taken it with her? Using a knife and fork from the meal, I started breaking into the drawers.
She could have fastened them by some scientific means, anyway. And she hadn’t. No, I got them all open after about half an hour. It made a mess, chips and splinters and curly gilded locks all over the floor. (No one came to see what I was doing, though I hadn’t been quiet.)
There was some jewellery. Very beautiful. Long tear-drop pearls, and a necklace of transparent polished green stones. A topaz in a ring.
When I saw the ring, I thought of what Grem had asked, about my ring, if it was my mother’s, because it had ‘properties’. Venn knows now it hasn’t – because of course my ring came from the Hulta. But has this topaz got them? I picked it up cautiously. I even put it on my middle finger – it was quite a bit too big.
Then – I stole it. I do steal things. I stole this book. In the House, you only ever got anything by stealing.
But I felt guilty, even though I know I took the ring in case it’s going to have some magical-scientific use.
It’s in my bag, tied up in a cloth from the bathroom. So if you read this, Venn – you’d better not – then you’ll know.
Apart from the jewellery I didn’t find much. Most of the drawers and little cupboards were empty, just dust and sweet-smelling powders in the corners, and in one a little black key and a scrap of paper with nothing on it.
There was a closet that had only one door, and the door had a bird painted on it. I didn’t need to break in – the little key fitted it. The door opened. And there was this dress. Ivory satin, is how I’d guess it should be described, thickly sewn with pearls.
I pushed it aside and in the back of the closet was a lever with an enamel handle.
They used
