TWELVE THE TOUR
TWELVE
THE TOUR
W e’re twenty minutes late as we arrive at the front of the Seven Angels.
Tariq’s sweaty body has dried off, but he still looks pretty tired from his match against Jack.
On the way here, he still wouldn’t admit to using his powers to win.
It’s annoying. Was it because he couldn’t stand to lose?
Or was Jack right, and he’s into me? Maybe he was trying to impress me by winning?
A woman with a pushchair bumps into me, not bothering to apologise as she rushes past. I hate being in the city on weekends; the pavements are always so crowded with shoppers.
Sarumbourne, although a city, retains the charm of a classic English market town.
Its size might not compare to the neighbouring cities, but it has a uniqueness that draws people in.
Protected lands and listed structures have restricted the city’s development, preserving it as a historical tourist trap.
The cathedral itself is a magnet for tourists; its height alone impresses. It is said to have the tallest spire in the UK. Inside lies an original copy of the Magna Carta that attracts the curiosity of many visitors.
I navigate through a few more pedestrians while Tariq looks for his key.
‘Is this place not open?’ I shout over the traffic.
‘Only in the evenings,’ Tariq says, pulling out a key ring with three small keys dangling from it. ‘You’ll have your own one day. That’s when you know you’ve made it.’
I can’t tell if he’s being serious or not.
He unlocks the door, and we step inside. The bar looks completely different in the daylight, with occasional glares of sunlight breaking through the windows. The place feels calm and carries the lingering scent of alcohol.
Tariq adds a couple of logs to the fireplace on the far wall before kneeling beside it. With a flick of his hand, the wood bursts into flames, illuminating the darker corners of the room.
‘I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to that,’ I say.
Tariq smiles. ‘You will, sooner than you think.’ He rubs his hands together. ‘It can get cold in this place, trust me.’
‘Well, it’s a good thing you’re here to keep it warm,’ I say.
Tariq’s wide grin puts me at ease.
There are footsteps down the stairs. Nathaniel appears at the archway.
‘Ah, wonderful, you’re both here at last. I trust the night went uneventfully?’
‘Well, I wouldn’t say that.’ Tariq gives me a look. ‘But there are no attacks to speak of. Did the Guild say anything about the Dark Friars’ return or Draven’s offer?’
‘We will find out tonight,’ Nathaniel says.
‘We?’ I say.
‘Yes. The head of the Guild would like to formally meet you this evening, Liam. You are to be officially inducted into the Guild.’
I’m still not entirely sure who the Guild are, other than they seem to bark a lot of orders, and Nathaniel seems to be our messenger between us and them. I really hope my induction isn’t as long and boring as my college induction. That’s a day I’ll never get back.
‘We’ll head over after your training; it won’t be a long process. Tariq, you will join us and then escort Liam home from there.’
Tariq nods. ‘I’m gonna go get clean. Catch you later, Liam.’ He heads through the archway and up the stairs, out of view.
Why am I already missing him? I’ve only known Tariq for a couple of days, but he brings some comfort in all this… well, less than comforting situation.
Nathaniel claps his hands together. ‘Tea?’
I shake my head. ‘No, thank you.’
Nathaniel ducks behind the bar and around a corner where he fills a kettle. ‘I assume until recently you had never stepped foot in here before, Liam?’
‘I am only seventeen,’ I say, meandering around the tables and chairs. I admire the crackling fire Tariq created.
Nathaniel chuckles before returning with tea in hand. ‘Sometimes I forget how young you all are.’
He leans against the bar, and I’m unsure if I should be sitting or standing.
‘The Seven Angels was built in 1320 as a boarding house for those working on the construction of Sarumbourne Cathedral. In 1580, the Guild purchased the building and gave it to the Keepers at that time to use as their quarters…’
I’m seeing the bar in a new light. All the Keepers before me who have come through here over the years.
‘… one Keeper, back in 1594, Lazlo Varga was his name, opened this ground floor space as a public bar, to the Guild’s dismay, I might add.’
‘Why would they let him do that?’
‘Lazlo’s father was a very wealthy Hungarian and a powerful man in this area at the time. He persuaded the Guild to see otherwise, and it stuck. As it turns out, it was an extremely popular venture, and Varga senior split the profits between himself and the Guild to keep them appeased.’
‘And it’s still going.’ I pick up a menu from one of the tables.
‘Open every evening Wednesday through to Sunday.’
‘Do you live here with Tariq and Opel?’
‘Oh, no, I just have my study here. There is far too much dust in this old place for my liking. And Opel chooses to live away from the building, but she has a room should she ever need it.’
Nathaniel is already on the move before I can dwell on that drop of information.
‘Follow me,’ he says, setting down his now empty mug.
We step out of the bar and ascend under the archway into the hallway. There’s the back door at the far end leading to the courtyard and the stairs winding up to the first floor. To my left is an open door, revealing another staircase leading down into darkness.
‘Those stairs lead to the basement, used for storage for the bar, as well as the incinerator,’ says Nathaniel.
Not exactly your everyday utility. ‘Incinerator?’
‘For the discreet disposal of other-worldly life forms and objects. Not something you will need to trouble yourself with just yet.’
Nice. Sorry I asked.
Nathaniel leads me up the creaking stairs to the first floor. The landing is dimly lit, with natural light filtering in from the window above the staircase.
‘This floor houses the Keepers’ sleeping quarters, as well as a washroom at the end of the corridor there. But through here is where you will spend much of your time.’ Nathaniel gestures toward a set of large, arched double doors.
I pull down on one of the brass door handles, and both doors open up. I step inside.
‘Welcome to the Varga Room, named after Lazlo himself,’ Nathaniel announces with pride. ‘More commonly referred to as the training room.’
The room is more extensive than I had anticipated, and much brighter.
I’m immediately drawn to a thick glass wall that divides the space into two halves.
The side I’ve entered resembles the rest of the building.
There are two large Tudor bay windows overlooking the busy street below, with cushioned seats under the windowsill.
In the middle stands a punching bag, a vaulting horse, and some sort of oversized yoga mat.
There’s also another fireplace, bigger and more elaborate than the others I’ve seen, with a large painted symbol above the mantlepiece – it’s some sort of intricate hexagon, divided into six pieces, each with a circle in the centre.
‘That’s the mark of the Keepers of the Crossing,’ says Nathaniel.
The other side of the glass wall is like a science lab.
It’s windowless, but industrial white lights keep it well-lit.
The floor appears smoother and more polished.
The lower half of the white-washed walls is padded, akin to giant blue cushions you’d find in a children’s indoor play area.
The only entry is a large rectangular glass door.
It’s one of the strangest rooms I’ve ever seen. It’s like something out of The Hunger Games . One half of the room is the Capitol – extravagantly modern and clean – and the other half is District 12, old and dilapidated.
‘This is incredible.’
‘Yes. It’s quite the spectacle, isn’t it? The section beyond the glass was only fitted a few years ago.’
‘Why didn’t you guys show me this before?’
‘Well, best not to overload you with everything at once.’
I edge closer to the glass wall, trying to get a closer look at the other side.
‘It’s simple, really. Any strength training and general fitness are kept on this side of the room, while in there is for combat and ability training. It’s a space for you to express your powers freely without bringing down the entire building,’ Nathaniel says.
‘Seriously?’
‘Fully soundproofed, with a sprung floor and re-enforced walls.’
‘It’s like you’re Q or something,’ I say, still in awe of the space.
‘Well, if that were true, you’d be a 00, and I’m afraid Keepers do not get a licence to kill.’
Opel appears in the doorway before I have a chance to comment on Nathaniel’s impressive James Bond reference.
‘I don’t think we need to worry about this one bringing down the building any time soon,’ she says.
She’s dressed in gym gear with her dark hair tightly pulled back.
‘Ah, Opel. I’m just giving young Liam here a tour. I was hoping, once I’ve finished, that you would start him on some defensive basics?’
Opel rolls her eyes. ‘I’ll leave that to Tar.’
‘Tariq already has his responsibilities with Liam at night. Besides, you’re the most experienced Keeper.’
Nathaniel’s slightly high-pitched tone tells me he’s trying to appeal to her expertise.
Opel lets out an exasperated sigh. ‘Fine. You can have thirty minutes of my time later.’ She tosses her jacket aside and taps on her phone. Within seconds the room is blasting Joel Corry and Nathaniel is already out the door.
We continue our tour to the second floor, leaving behind Opel and her booming dance playlist. This L-shaped hall feels more familiar.
The small door opposite the stairs leads to Nathaniel’s study.
There are two other doors, and another set of stairs.
There’s a view of the courtyard through a large overhanging window.
Nathaniel leads me past his study and into another room of a similar size. There’s a musty scent of old paper and ink in the air. The walls are lined with shelves, each with hundreds of books of varying ages.
An antique-looking rug fills the centre of the room. Above it sits a large coffee table, and two old Victorian-looking sofas, each with plush cushions.
‘As you can probably guess, this is the library,’ says Nathaniel.
‘I’m guessing these aren’t the latest bestsellers?’ I say.
Nathaniel chuckles. ‘I’m afraid not. Most of these are ancient volumes on demonology and folklore, early texts detailing the Crossing and the complex history of Sarumbourne.
It’s a treasure trove of wisdom for any Keeper in search of understanding and guidance.
Some of the rarer texts are kept at the Guildhall. ’
‘Isn’t that where Sarumbourne Council is based?’
‘Yes, the Guild is the Council, Liam.’
The Guild is the Council? So, who exactly knows about us Keepers? ‘I don’t understand.’
Nathaniel gestures to one of the empty sofas. ‘Then allow me to explain.’