Chapter 54
I follow Sojourner into her office, running through all the excuses I can think of to get out of this. I cannot possibly listen to homilies and marriage advice for a union I have no intention of honoring, especially not while Noah’s Valley is under attack from within.
Sojourner closes the door behind me. The chamber is hushed, soothing, the walls lined with dark wood and bookshelves, a desk in the center.
I’ve landed on what I consider my best bet—telling her I’m ill—when she holds up a hand to silence me.
She presses her ear to the door. Listens.
Then reaches for one of the red cloaks of her House and hands it to me.
“It won’t pass close inspection, but if you keep the hood up and stay off the main streets, you should be all right.”
I’m stunned. “What are you doing?”
“Gryphon said you need to get inside the Record Keeper cottage,” she says, guiding me toward the rear exit.
I stop so abruptly that my feet skid. “No, I mean what are you doing? Lying about my duty is illegal.”
She takes the cloak from my hand and wraps it gently around my shoulders, clasping it at my neck.
“Rose, a good heart always breaks a bad law.” She pulls up the hood, the simple blue cross tattooed below her ear exposed when she glances again toward the door to the chapel.
“You have until the bells ring. I hope you find what you’re looking for. ”
And then she shoves me through the exit, which I’m surprised to find leads directly outside.
I hear the distant sound of voices, Leo and someone else.
I flatten against the back of the chapel.
Brown grass scratches my ankles. Outside of the chapel’s shadow, there’s a broad open stretch of cobblestone I must cross to get anywhere else in the village.
“…Only for another night,” Leo says, his voice low. “Then he’s sending the four of them out first, after we kill the Beast and blow open the Wall. Let them draw the worst of whatever’s out there.”
My body freezes mid-step as Tomris of the Cynane Guardian house—protectors of the village’s north quadrant—comes into view, Leo at her side.
It’s only because of their nearness that I’m able to hear the details of their hushed conversation.
I press farther into the wall, my shoulder and side screaming and my pulse pounding so loud I’m certain it will give me away as they station themselves mere feet from my location.
Tomris whispers her response. “Do you think Jarek’s right? That our Founders were…tricked? That it’s not that bad beyond the Wall? He seems so certain, but why found this place if not?”
Is that what he’s telling the Guardians?
“I do not presume to question my leaders,” Leo growls, silencing her. “But like I said, that’s why it’s good he’s sending them out first. If he’s wrong, they’ll take the brunt of it.”
They don’t even glance my way as I slowly, silently inch farther down the building, until I’m on the opposite side from them.
I take measured breaths to calm myself. Is it better to race across the exposed stretch or to walk at a leisurely pace, a simple Priest out doing my duty?
I settle somewhere in between, my nerves grinding too hard to measure my steps.
If anyone glances my way, they’ll think I’m struggling with some sort of full-body cramp, but luck must be on my side because no one calls out before I reach the nearest alley’s protection.
I make it another fifty feet before a second pair of patrolling Guardians forces me to dive between barrels stacked in front of the Coopers’ relocated cottage. My heartbeat clobbers my ears, sweat gathering at my back.
The Guardians pass.
I stand, look both ways.
It’s clear.
I sprint the remaining distance, diving into the library. I have no plan should I encounter someone. Fortunately, the room is—as usual—empty during working hours. I nudge the door closed behind me and scurry across the open floor, thanking my good luck too soon.
“Marina?” Simon calls out. “Bring me a sandwich from last night’s meat if you’re making yourself one.”
My throat tightens. I glide across to the cellar door, pull out the key with shaking hands, and slide it into the keyhole.
I twist, fully expecting it not to work.
Instead, a delicate series of clicks floats like music by my ears.
I turn the metal ring and pull. The door swings open.
I manage to palm the key, step into the basement, and swing it nearly closed just as Simon Seingalt enters the library.
“Marina? Did you hear me?”
He’s just visible through the crack. I’m too afraid to close it and draw his attention, so I hold my breath.
He glances around the library, makes a frustrated huff, and disappears.
I ease the door fully shut and drop onto the top stair.
Time isn’t on my side, but my pulse is racing too fast. I force it to calm, massaging my temples.
My hand is halfway to my pocket before I remember that I gave Lucky Bunny to Meryl.
It’s a good reminder of my mission’s urgency.
My friends are still trapped in the chapel basement, and according to Leo, they’re going to be sent out as bait tomorrow.
The villagers will be told blowing open the Wall is for our greater good, and they’ll believe it, once Jarek shows them the carnivorous plant.
Of course, he’ll say he just discovered the thing.
I stand, reaching for the switch I saw just before I closed the door.
I flick it on, illuminating a row of bulbs leading deeper into the Seingalts’ cellar.
I pray the light isn’t visible from outside.
I hear no footsteps and take that as a good sign.
“Here goes nothing,” I whisper, heading down the wooden stairs.
I shake the cloak as I descend, releasing the chill of the morning and the perfume of chapel incense. The steps creak beneath my feet. I count seventeen of them, and then I’m standing on the basement floor.
It’s made of stone like what’s found in the chapel undercroft: one great unbroken slab.
The vault sits across the room, the walls between choked with books and scrolls, carelessly jammed on shelves.
A contraption of metal and tubes takes up the nearest corner.
I sniff in its direction. Pruno. That’s the smell always lingering around David.
Next to it is another machine blowing out warm air.
The vault’s metal door is slightly ajar. Rather than a knob, it has a plate-sized wheel on its face. Before going to it, I still, straining my ears for sounds of life. Nothing.
The door looks heavy. It’s possible the Record Keeper simply chooses not to close it.
The norms protecting this place—not to mention the lock at the top of the stairs—should be more than sufficient to keep out meddlers.
Or maybe David’s drinking has made him lazy.
Whatever the reason the door has been left open, I’m grateful.
I creep forward, nearly silent in my soft goatskin shoes.
I’m surprised by the lack of damp down here.
Last night under the chapel, I’d grown used to the feel and smell of it.
I decide that must be the purpose of the machine spitting out warm air beside the pruno still: to remove humidity from the air and preserve our sacred records.
I pull on the wheel, needing to plant my feet to move the massive metal door.
I look inside. Squeeze my eyes shut and then open them.
Do it again. The vault is empty except for two items in its center: a pedestal as large as a kitchen table, an enormous, closed book resting on its surface.
If it were stood upright on the ground, it would reach as high as my waist. Open, it must be longer than both my arms stretched wide.
A rope dangles over the center of the massive book, leading to a bare bulb.
I pull on it, surprised to feel it’s cool and smooth.
The bulb glares to life, so bright that I must shield my eyes until they adjust. I see then that the “rope” is a string of tiny, metal balls of impressive uniformity, clearly from the Before Times.
I return my attention to the book, running my hands across the leather binding, over letters etched so deeply I could have read them with my fingertips alone.
“Noah’s Valley Correctional Institute” is stamped across its cover.
We are not what we seem.