I’m in one.
I reached in and tried the lever, and when it moved I made it go over as far as it would. When I did, there was a really frightening noise – like hundreds of bricks crashing away into a bottomless pit. Perhaps that’s what it was, because the back of the closet was now open, and beyond was another stair, narrow and dark and completely uninviting. It went down and down.
Although no one came to see before, this noise was so extreme, they all had, now.
They all stood there, gaping. But Venn wasn’t gaping, he looked paper white. He said, ‘I remember that dress.’
I said, ‘Do you remember these steps? Are they safe? Do they go anywhere?’
‘Yes … I think that’s how she used to leave this room, or come up here, sometimes. I seem to recall that, how she’d just disappear, I couldn’t find her …’
He turned as if to go off, but Grem caught his arm. Then they walked off together, and Grembilard had his arm round Venn. And I felt as if my stomach had turned to boiling soup and I could have slapped both of them. And me, for being so unkind.
Anyway, they’ve decided now, about – it seems – six months later, we’ll all use these stairs behind the closet to get out of here. They ‘think’ the closet stairs don’t move. Let’s hope they don’t.
They did. Did! We’re all separated – I’m LOST – in this hell-palace-Rise – I haven’t a clue what to do—
LOST IN THE KITCHENS
Night’s arrived. Hallo, night. It was already sunset when we left the big Little Book Room. So, yes, it would be night now. The windows are all high up, and all I could see was fading sky, and now it’s black sky, and a couple of stars. Not the Star.
Some lights came on, rather cold, and of course, still and hard.
I’m writing by their glare, sitting on an old table against one wall.
Even before Argul, I haven’t been alone much. I used to share a room with Pattoo and Daisy in the House. And a wagon with Hulta girls in the camp. I was alone a lot on the journey with Nemian, and when I was dragged here. But there were always people about somewhere near. And in the Tower, I wanted to be alone, get away from the people.
But I’m alone now.
What happened?
Venn went first down the stair, to try it. And he said Grem should come last as back-up to the rest of us. Jotto, Treacle and I in the middle. The cats – J and G and I tried to carry them. They got away though, and rushed down ahead of us. I think they were all right. (Jotto said cats are always coming into the palace, yet always managing to get out again. They can get through tiny holes and they also leap, vastly better than any of us.)
We shared carrying the baggage, and I had my bag. I was also carrying a pillow – but it fell away from me when the stair broke up.
I didn’t like that stair. Even though I found it. Maybe it had it in for me. That’s silly. But who knows?
At first we moved down with no problems at all, and although no lights came on, Jotto had lit a candle under a glass bulb. It flicked a lot. And the stair started to curve round to the right, and then it was like a corkscrew.
Then it straightened out again and it and we emerged in an open space, with a tile floor below gleaming in the last of the sunset.
‘Thank God,’ said Venn. He sounded strained.
Perhaps it was his voice – or even some of the cats’ voices, since they were sitting in the red pool of light meowing up at us.
The stair shook itself.
Treacle and I grabbed for each other but were dashed apart. I fell on to my knees, and little sharp splinters in the stair bit into my knees. (Injury to insult!)
I saw, and couldn’t do a thing, Venn and Jotto and their piece of stair going one way – left; and Treacle spinning off on hers to the right.
Grem behind and above me called, ‘Catch hold of me, lady—’ but as I turned and tried to, it was too late and his stair-part was flying him up into the ceiling, which opened to let him through.
And I – I was dropping fast towards the floor – and I screamed – but the floor too opened wide, and I was dived through, down and forward, into darkness and the smell of old water, moss and rust. The floor above closed up behind me.
When the stairs stopped, I slid off and stood up in blackness. Was it a cellar?
No. As my eyes adjusted, I made out the first line of high windows, their glow just fading.
I stood staring at that till it was all gone.
Then a light popped on.
Somehow it took me ages to realize I was in a sort of kitchen – kitchens – room after room. They must go on, like everything else here, for miles.
Tried to recall what Jotto said about the food. (I apologize for not noting it down properly before, but a lot’s been going on.)
Jotto said, I think, the kitchens now make the food, or a lot of it. And he said he meant machines made it, but in the kitchens.
These must be the machines.
Up near the ceiling, tanks and bulges and long sprawls of pipes. Which make noises, gurglings and thumps and skinkles.
I don’t understand, of course. Maybe you do.
Ven’n – if you ever read this – I don’t mean you.
The thing is, I don’t think anyone ever needs to come all the way down here. You can fetch the food from somewhere else. So the actual kitchen rooms below and around are just unused, and falling apart.
There are old fireplaces, some in walls, some
