The Giant's Almanac Andrew Zurcher (books to read fiction TXT) 📖

his way through the Jackery towards the Registry. Through its high windows, even at night, he could sometimes catch the gleam and flash of the huge sharks circling in the Registry’s massive, central aquarium. Towering in the Registry’s atrium, the tank held every kind of fish he could imagine; and somehow, by feeding them – and who knows, perhaps by training them – the Registrar contrived to keep them all alive.

Passing the Registry, the streaks of night-blue still fresh in his eyes, Fitz bumped into Dolly and Navy, holding hands as they took the long way round to Dolly’s room in the Keep. Dolly ran in just as Fitz caught up, and Navy greeted him with bright, generous eyes.

‘It’s almost nine bells,’ she said. ‘Don’t let the Rack catch you out here or he’ll make pasta out of you, or something.’

‘Don’t you have curfew, too?’ Fitz asked her.

‘No,’ Navy said. ‘I have to lock up the aviary most nights, and then give the nocturnals their grub; so I’m allowed to be out till whenever it’s done. Nightwalking. It’s one of the perks of training under the Registrar. I guess it sort of balances out all the hours I have to spend mucking out the cages.’

A breeze stirred in the darkness, and Fitz shivered. Above them a light was shining in one of the Keep’s high windows. Fitz wasn’t sure if it was Dolly, or the Keeper.

‘Shall I walk you back to the Mastery?’ asked Navy.

They took their time: nine bells wasn’t quite as near as Navy had thought. As they went along, she asked him about his lessons with Dina, and whether he was enjoying them. He nodded.

‘And you’re still feeling all right – about being here? On your own and everything?’

Fitz nodded again. He hadn’t looked up, all this way.

‘Dolly’s been here two years, and she still cries about home most nights. You’ll never meet anyone more enthusiastic – about everything – than Dolly. She can do just about anything, and do it well: sports, maths, computers, music, whatever. She throws herself into everything as if it were the only thing. But she cries nearly every night, on the way back to her bed after Feeding, because she’s going to her room, and it’s not a home.’

Fitz said nothing. He was thinking about Mr Ahmadi’s library, back in the Old Friary. A world away.

‘You don’t ever cry, do you?’ asked Navy. She put her finger on the inside of Fitz’s elbow, and he stopped. ‘Not even that first night?’

Now he looked at her. ‘Why would I cry?’

‘Have you always been like this?’ Navy asked him. ‘So – I don’t know – easy about things? So able? Do you remember ever being upset? I mean, really upset?’

Fitz shook his head heavily. He knew he was avoiding Navy’s eyes, and that the heaviness in his head was in part a kind of guilt, because he was conscious even as he shook his head that he was lying. Of course he had been upset.

Once. The day I learned my words.

The darkness grew heavier as they left the Keep behind, but even in the darkness Navy had seen through him.

‘Tell me,’ she said, and kept walking. Fitz hurried to catch her, and they passed into the Heresiarch’s court together.

‘There are some words – this will probably sound stupid,’ he said – ‘but there are some words I learned once, in – my neighbour’s house, when I was small. He has – had – the most amazing library, full of ancient books, tall books, leather books, dark and huge and heavy, covered in dust. They were filled with stories and histories, with every kind of tale and life you can imagine. He used to let me borrow them. One day I was angry – or sad – I don’t remember which, or why – but I came to his house, to the Old Friary where he lived, and he showed me the library, and he gave me a book to read. I’d only just learned to read, I think. And I found these words. It took me hours to get my mouth round them, saying them over and over. They became special for me, sacred. Like a spell, maybe. And whenever I went to the library afterwards, I always said them – aloud, or in my head. And they always made me feel happy – happy and calm.’

They had reached the Mastery, and were standing outside Fitz’s tower. Navy made no move to go, so they just stood there, alone, together.

At last she said, ‘And you still say them?’

He nodded. ‘Sometimes.’

‘I don’t think that sounds stupid. I think that sounds brilliant.’ Navy drew her coat round her neck, and looked away, into the darkness. ‘Tell me the words?’

Fitz hesitated. ‘I feel silly.’

‘Don’t,’ she said.

‘All right, then. Algorithm.’ He took a deep breath.

‘And?’

‘And zenith.’

‘That’s a pretty one,’ said Navy.

‘Nadir.’ He paused. His heart was racing. ‘Albatross, the diver.’

His voice had risen at the end. She looked at him, full in the face. She was expecting one more. Maybe he was, too.

‘Almanac,’ he lied.

‘Those are beautiful words,’ Navy said.

They stood awkwardly for a few heartbeats.

‘It’s my birthday in a couple of weeks,’ said Fitz.

From somewhere across the court, maybe in one of the passages, came the sudden report of a sharp crack, as of wood landing on wood, or a person stumbling into something in the dark. Fitz and Navy both snapped their heads at the sound, alert to the possibility of an Off catching them outside after nine bells.

‘I’d better go,’ Navy offered. ‘I don’t want to get you into trouble.’

‘Do you think someone is watching us?’ Fitz asked her. ‘What was that noise?’

‘It’s a strange night,’ Navy answered, diplomatically. ‘It could have been anything. Tell you what, though – keep your words handy.’

And with that, Navy melted into the darkness the way they had come, slipping in absolute silence through the passage to the Heresiarchy, wrapped in her dark coat against the lonely night.

Fitz