CHAPTER
23
I PACED AROUND OSWYN’S OFFICE, my shoes slapping the floorboards. My mind raced along with me.
Isaac has the key. Isaac the bookseller, Master Benedict’s faceless friend. I’d never met him, but Master Benedict had told me where his shop was. I wanted to run there right away, but I couldn’t. I still needed to see the Guild Council. It wouldn’t have done any good to leave, anyway. It was Sunday. Isaac’s shop would be closed.
None of this made me any less impatient. Restlessly, I paced faster, round and round Oswyn’s desk, feeling like a dog herding sheep. On one loop, my eye caught a figure through the window, down in the courtyard. It was another apprentice, exiting the door to the laboratories.
I’d thought Tom was big. This young man was twice his size, a true living giant. His barrel chest strained against his blue apron. The way he lumbered across the stone, it looked like an elephant had escaped from the king’s zoo.
He plopped down on one of the benches in front of the steps to the Great Hall. The iron groaned under his weight. Like with the long-haired apprentice, the Elephant looked familiar, too. Again, I thought back to my test, but that didn’t feel right at all. I got the sense I’d seen him recently. I tried to remember where.
It was while I was trying to place him that Oswyn entered the courtyard. He was with the Grand Master, steadying the old man’s elbow, helping him slowly down the main steps. Sir Edward looked upset. Oswyn didn’t seem much better. They were saying something, but two floors up, with the window closed, I could barely make out the words.
“. . . shop . . . torn apart,” Oswyn said. “Stubb . . . looking for . . . vanished.”
“. . . you think . . .,” Sir Edward said. “. . . have to stop . . . find Lord Ashcombe . . .”
Oswyn nodded. “. . . already sent . . . Christopher . . . murders . . . Cult . . .”
Oswyn guided Sir Edward across the courtyard. The clack of the Grand Master’s cane on the stone came through better than their words. I opened the window, trying to catch the rest of what they were saying, but their backs were to me now as they made their way toward the entrance to the Hall. The little I could hear came in equally frustrating fragments.
“. . . Archangel . . . ,” Oswyn said. “. . . can’t believe . . . we do?”
“. . . Stubb . . . ,” the Grand Master said. “. . . apprentice . . .”
The wind blew the rest of their conversation away. They disappeared under the arch to the exit to Blackfriars Lane. It brightened with sunlight as the outer gate opened, then went dark again. I blinked.
Did they just leave the Hall?
I’d been trying so hard to hear what they were saying, it didn’t even occur to me where they’d been going. I waited a moment to see if they’d return. They didn’t.
The long-haired apprentice was supposed to tell Oswyn and the Grand Master I was here. Had he not found them? I moved to chase after them, and was stopped dead in my tracks.
Oswyn’s office door wouldn’t open.
I rattled it, but the knob was frozen, the latch trapped in the jamb. I peered into the keyhole to see if the key was stuck. I saw right through to the opposite wall instead. The key wasn’t stuck. It just wasn’t there.
The apprentice had locked me in.
I stared at the door for a moment, my heart beginning to pound. Then I ran back to the window. The Elephant was still sitting on the iron bench, tossing pebbles disinterestedly at a flock of swallows that had congregated by the well. I almost called down to him for help, but the way he threw the stones unburied a memory.
Dice.
That’s where I’d seen the Elephant before. I’d nearly tripped over him as I’d fled the shop yesterday, after Master Benedict had hit me. He’d been behind our house, in the alley, throwing dice. Another boy had been with him. I hadn’t seen his face, but he’d had long dark hair. I’d been so upset at the time, I’d barely even noticed. Now I remembered both of them.
They’d been in the alley behind our shop, right before my master was murdered. The Elephant and the long-haired apprentice, the one who’d brought me up here.
My guts began to twist. The apprentice hadn’t gone to tell Sir Edward and Oswyn I’d arrived. He’d gone to get them to leave the building. They’d left without even knowing I was here. And now I was trapped.
I finally understood why my master hadn’t run that day. He’d been trapped, too, the same enemies surrounding him. They’d wanted Master Benedict’s secret. If he’d fled with me, they’d have taken us, if not in the streets, then after following us to wherever we’d have run. The best Master Benedict could do was send me away. He’d sacrificed himself to save me. Now, locked in Oswyn’s office, I’d squandered that. I’d let them trap me, just like him.
Movement from the courtyard pulled me from swelling despair. It was Valentine Grey, the third Council member, the one who apparently thought I should be flogged for my insolence. His giant gold chain bounced off his stomach as he hurried down the steps. He skidded to a stop at the bottom and, out of breath, addressed the Elephant. “Where’s Sir Edward?”
The apprentice pointed toward the entrance. “He just left, Master.”
Valentine ran after them, holding on to his necklace. Like the rest of the Council before him, he disappeared under the arch and didn’t return.
The masters were gone. I prayed I was wrong, that this was a misunderstanding. When I saw the archway brighten again, I held my breath. They’ve come back, I thought. Then I saw who it was.
It was Wat.
He strode across the courtyard, untying his blue apron. He threw it on the bench beside the Elephant.
“Blackthorn’s apprentice is here,” the Elephant said.
Wat’s fingers played along the handle of his knife. “Where?”
“Martin took him upstairs.”
The long-haired apprentice—Martin—appeared at the top of the steps.
“Where is he?” Wat asked again.
“I locked him in Master Colthurst’s office,” Martin said.
The three of them looked up at the open window. I leaped to the side, hoping they hadn’t seen me—as if at this point that would somehow make a difference.
“Why would you put him there?” I heard Wat say, sounding angrier than usual.
“He said he was here to see Master Colthurst,” Martin said defensively. “What was I supposed to do?”
“Hide him somewhere. No one’s supposed to see him. What if the masters had gone up there?”
“Why would they do that?”
“Enough.” The Elephant’s voice rumbled. “It doesn’t matter. The masters left. No one’s going to find him now.”
“Let’s finish this, then,” Wat said, and I swore I could hear his blade leaving its sheath.
“Not yet,” the Elephant said. “The doorman’s still here. Go get rid of him. No, not that way. Send him on some errand that will keep him away for a while. Martin and I will check the rest of the Hall, make sure no one else has come.”
“Just ask the doorman,” Martin said. “He’ll know.”
“Our master told us to be sure,” the Elephant said. “So we make sure. Once the Hall’s cleared, bring Christopher to the basement. We’ll deal with him there.” I heard the iron bench creak, the scuffing of leather on stone. “It’s not like he’s got anywhere to run.”