‘Thank you, Mistress Fresque. Your offer to stagger the payments is kind and of necessity I must accept it,’ said the Spook, ‘but I can make a payment up front – one that will enable you to begin to attend to your own needs.’
I noted that my master had not addressed her by her first name, Cosmina, even though she had invited us to do so. Her superior manner and air of assurance made it seem inappropriate to be on first-name terms with her.
After we had finished our meal, Mistress Fresque took the tray and prepared to leave the room so that we could get on with our search. When she reached the doorway, she pointed to a cord hanging down beside one of the bookshelves. ‘Pull that and it will ring a bell in my quarters. Do not hesitate to summon me if there if anything you need,’ she said, giving us a smile as she left.
‘Well, lad, what I suggest is that we place any books that take our fancy on the table. It doesn’t matter if we take too many. We can make a final selection later and then return the remainder to the shelves.’ He sighed and shook his head.
‘What’s the matter?’ I asked. ‘Aren’t you happy to be able to choose from so many books?’
‘Aye, lad, that’s good – it’s just that I know that some things can’t be replaced. Just think of all those notebooks written by past spooks that I had at Chipenden; the history of their endeavours, how they solved problems and discovered new things about the dark . . . That’s all gone for ever. We won’t find such materials here.’
But the Spook was quickly proved wrong, for I soon found a book by one of his ex-apprentices – none other than Judd Brinscall!
‘Look at this!’ I cried, handing the book to him. It was a slim volume entitled A Study of the Moroii.
My master nodded in appreciation. ‘He was a good apprentice, lad, one of the few who completed his time to my satisfaction. And during his travels abroad he’s added to our store of knowledge. Moroii are Romanian elemental spirits. And I can tell that he knows his business because he’s spelled moroii with two “i”s at the end, which is correct for the plural. He must have given this to Mistress Fresque. I’d certainly like it for my new Chipenden library.’
After more than three hours of debate and selection we had piled about three hundred and fifty books on the table. ‘It’s getting late, lad. I think it’s time we were off. We’ll come back first thing tomorrow,’ said the Spook, putting his hand on my shoulder.
‘Aren’t we going to take up Mistress Fresque’s offer to stay the night?’
‘I think it’s best if we get back to the tavern. There are a few things that I need to think through,’ said the Spook, pulling the cord twice. I could hear nothing but knew that somewhere a bell would be ringing.
Within a minute Mistress Fresque had joined us; she smiled when she caught sight of the books on the table. ‘I see that you have been busy.’
‘That we have, but now we’re tired,’ said the Spook. ‘So we’ll come back in the morning, if you don’t mind.’
‘Won’t you stay here tonight?’ she said, looking very disappointed. ‘You really are most welcome. I get so few visitors and would love to offer you further hospitality.’
‘Your offer is very kind, but we don’t want to put you to any trouble. Before we go there is one thing I’d like to ask . . . ’
The Spook went over to the table and picked up the book by Judd Brinscall. ‘This book by Judd – how would you feel if I bought it?’
‘Judd gave it to me knowing that it would be safe here. But it is probably better suited to your new collection,’ she replied. ‘I have looked at the book – it is an excellent study of the elementals of my homeland.’
‘You have lived most of your life in Romania?’ my master asked.
‘Yes, I was raised there. But my uncle left the country as a boy and spent most of his life in your land. On his death I came here to claim what he left me – this house and library and a very small income from his investments. I cannot draw on the capital – hence my need to sell books.’
* * *
After taking our leave we walked back through the trees towards the river. My master seemed lost in thought.
‘Is there something wrong?’ I asked.
The Spook nodded. ‘It’s just my instincts – they’re telling me to be on my guard. Tell me, lad, when we were talking to Mistress Fresque, did you have any sense of a warning coldness? Anything at all?’
The Spook was asking if I had experienced the chill that told me something evil was close by. As seventh sons of seventh sons, we had the ability to sense witches, mages and other servants of the dark.
I shook my head. ‘I felt nothing. Not the slightest hint.’
‘Neither did I, lad. But some types of witch have the power to block our sensitivity to such things.’
‘But earlier, just before we entered the house, I did sense something wrong. A feeling that we were being watched; that something dangerous was lurking close by,’ I told my master.
‘Well, that’s one more reason to be alert and ready for anything.’
‘Do you think she might be a witch?’ I asked.
‘I’m not jumping to conclusions, lad, but there are a few things bothering me. Why were there such a large number of books about the dark in that library? What would be the motive for acquiring them? Did her uncle have a special interest in such matters? If it weren’t for the fact that Judd is a friend of hers, I’d be more than suspicious.’
‘Do you trust Judd?’
The Spook nodded. ‘He was a good apprentice, and once I’d have trusted him with my life. But folks can change . . . ’
‘There’s something else too,’ I told him. ‘She saw you holding the Doomdryte and I’ll swear that, for a moment, she looked furious.’
‘Then let’s see how she reacts tomorrow when we tell her it’s one of the books we’ve selected.’
WE LEFT BENT Lane, made our way down to the riverbank, crossed the bridge and walked on until we reached the tavern. The sun was an orange orb sitting on the horizon, but it was already closed and locked. The Spook hammered on the front door with his staff several times. It was a while before the innkeeper unlocked it. He glanced towards the setting sun.