Piranesi(49)

The day felt cold and I could tell by the touch of the Air on my skin that it was already raining in the Vestibules.

I had no appetite, but nevertheless I heated a little soup and forced Myself to drink it. It is important to keep the body well nourished. I washed up my pan and bowl and stowed the last of my possessions behind High Statues. I put on my watch.

It was a quarter to eight.

My most important task was to find 16 and ensure her safety. But as to the best way to accomplish it, that was far from clear. I was certain that the Other had set a trap for 16. Most likely he had promised to meet her in a certain Hall at a certain time and to tell her how to find Matthew Rose Sorensen. This meant that the most reliable way to find 16 was to look for the Other, but I did not want to go near the Other if I could avoid it. I remembered the words of the Prophet:

The closer 16 gets, the more dangerous Ketterley will become.

My hope was that I could find 16 before she reached the Other.

I went to the First Vestibule. I stood in the grey Rain and waited, hoping that she would appear. Between nine o’clock and ten o’clock I searched the adjacent Halls. Nothing. At ten o’clock I returned to the First Vestibule.

At half-past ten I began to walk between the First Vestibule and the Sixth North-Western Hall; I followed the Path laid down in 16’s directions. I trod this Path six times, but I did not find her. I was growing extremely anxious.

I returned to the First Vestibule. It was now half-past eleven. Two Halls West and North of here, in the Ninth Vestibule, the first Tide was already ascending the Easternmost Staircase. A delicate Wash of Water was scuttling over the Pavements of the surrounding Halls.

There was nothing for it. I must look for the Other. I had only just come to this decision, when upon the instant he appeared in front of me. (Why could 16 not do that?) He walked briskly across the First Vestibule, East to West. His head was ducked down against the Rain. His clothes were strikingly different from what he usually wore: jeans, an old jumper and sneakers, and over his jumper an odd sort of harness. Life-jacket, I thought. (Or rather Matthew Rose Sorensen thought it inside my head.)

He did not see me. He passed into the First Western Hall. Silently I followed him and hid Myself in a Niche near the Door.

The Other went immediately to the bag containing the inflatable boat and began to unpack it. I waited, watching constantly for 16. The Other’s attention was elsewhere and there might still be enough time to intercept her if she entered the Hall.

Some distance behind the Other, at the Western End of the Hall, I could see the glitter of Light on the Pavement: a film of Water was washing through the North-Western Doors. I glanced at my watch. Five Halls South and West of here, in the Twenty-Second Vestibule, another Tide was already rising, tumbling up the Staircase.

The Other unrolled his boat. He attached his little pump to it and began to pump with his foot. The boat began to inflate in an efficient manner.

Water was filling up the Second and Third South-Western Halls; I could hear the dull thud of the Waves hitting their Walls.

Then it came to me. 16 was clever. She was at least as clever as me, perhaps even more so. She knew nothing about the Flood but she would not trust the Other. She would wait and watch, as I was doing, hoping that Matthew Rose Sorensen would appear. Suddenly I had a mental image of both 16 and Myself hiding in the First Western Hall, both waiting for the other one to appear. I could not afford to remain hidden any longer: I stepped down from the Niche and walked towards the Other.

He glanced up and scowled as I approached. He did not pause in pumping up his boat. About two metres to his left was the grey bag, now empty, and beside it, resting on the Pavement, was the silver Gun.

‘Where the Hell have you been?’ he said in a voice of displeasure and anger. ‘Why weren’t you there on Tuesday? I looked for you everywhere. I can’t remember if you said that ten rooms will be flooded or a hundred.’ His foot on the pump was slowing; the inflatable boat was almost full of Air and his foot was meeting with more resistance. ‘I’ve had to change my plans. It’s a pain, but there it is. Raphael is coming here and, like it or not, we’re going to finish this. So no nonsense from you, all right? Because I swear, Piranesi, I’ve just about had enough from everyone.’

‘I visited him in mid-November,’ I said. ‘It was just after four, a cold blue twilight.’

He stopped pumping. The boat was now a plump shape with a taut, rounded skin. ‘We attach the seats next,’ he said. ‘They’re those black things over there. Pass them to me, will you?’ He pointed to the two contraptions whose purpose I had not divined. ‘When the room floods, you and I will get into this kayak. If Raphael tries to get into it with us, or to hang on to it, use your paddle to strike at her hands and head.’

‘The afternoon had been stormy,’ I said, ‘and the lights of the cars were pixelated by rain; the pavements collaged with wet black leaves.’

He was fiddling with the valves where the Air had gone in. ‘What?’ he asked, irritably. ‘What are you talking about? Can you hurry up and pass me those seats? We need to get a move on. She’ll be here any moment now.’

‘When I got to his house I heard music playing,’ I said. ‘A requiem. I waited for him to answer the door to an accompaniment of Berlioz.’

‘Berlioz?’ He stopped what he was doing, straightened and looked at me properly for the first time. He frowned. ‘I don’t … Berlioz?’