Caroline peered at George’s efforts. ‘And on the other side will be a grey-bearded prisoner? The one who knows all the secret escape routes?’
Aubrey shrugged. ‘I’m not sure we can rely on every aspect of the cliché. What if the originator of this place grew up with different clichés? Like one with the pit of boiling oil on the other side of the loose stone block?’
‘We’ll just have to be careful,’ George said. ‘Ah.’
‘That sounded like an “ah” of satisfaction, George,’ Aubrey said.
‘Satisfaction and discovery, old man.’ George straightened and dusted his hands together. ‘We do, indeed, have a loose block of stone. With a bit of an effort I think I can drag it out.’
‘Rather than pushing it in and losing it?’ von Stralick said, joining them after his introduction to the ominous shaft. ‘We don’t want to leave an obvious hole in the wall if we have picky gaolers, do we?’
It took George only a few minutes – and plenty of needless suggestions from his onlookers – before he’d managed to free enough mortar to get a grip on the sides of the stone block. Grimacing with effort, he inched the block forward. It grated, nearly stuck, then it was finally balanced ready to come out.
‘If it’s too much for you,’ von Stralick said to George, ‘I’m sure I can lend a hand.’
‘Appreciate the offer, von Stralick,’ George said, ‘but I think I have it under control.’
Aubrey wished that George and von Stralick would stop sparring, but it seemed as if they were in a drawn-out battle of niggling, like a pair of five-year-olds in a sandpit.
George leaned against the block with his shoulder, wiped his hands on his trouser legs and nodded. ‘All right, everyone. Stand back.’
He switched position and grasped the underside of the block. Gritting his teeth, he edged it forward until he was taking its full weight. He grunted and moved backward, slowly, knees bent. ‘Nothing behind me, is there?’ he asked, the strain in his voice evident. The tendons in his neck stood out.
‘All clear,’ Aubrey reported. He knew his friend was strong, but this was an impressive display.
‘Good.’
George shuffled back, then sank at the knees. With care, he moved his grip until he was holding the sides again, then gently lowered the block to the floor.
He straightened, sighed and massaged the small of his back. ‘There. Easy as you like.’
‘Liar,’ Aubrey said.
‘True.’ George flexed his hands. ‘I was just doing my best to keep up the cliché count.’
Aubrey went to reply, but his attention was caught by the hole in the wall and the words died in his mouth. He stared, then moved closer – carefully – to confirm what the removal of the stone block had revealed.
White. The hole opened onto pristine white.
George looked quizzically at Aubrey. Von Stralick narrowed his eyes and took a small step back. ‘What is it?’
Aubrey squinted, then frowned. What he’d thought was a blank, white space was anything but. It had a lustre, a subtle, shifting sheen that looked as if it was composed of a thousand different shades of white, shifting as he moved his head.
He reached into the gap. George caught his arm. ‘I was going to say “be careful”, old man, but I realised who I was talking to. What about “try poking it with something first”?’
Aubrey patted the appurtenances vest through his jacket, then he looked around.
Von Stralick, with a solemn face, handed him a long straw. ‘From the mattress. It was the best I could do at short notice.’
Aubrey thanked him. He edged his makeshift probe into the hole. When it reached the whiteness, the straw buckled. ‘It’s hard.’ Then he shrugged. In for a penny, in for a pound.
Before anyone could stop him, he put his hand into the gap, forefinger extended. He tapped the white surface with his fingernail. ‘Quite hard.’
‘Pearl usually is,’ Caroline said.
Aubrey straightened. ‘Pearl?’
‘Pearl,’ she repeated. Then she gestured, encompassing the dungeon and its surrounds. ‘We’re trapped in Dr Tremaine’s pearl.’
Of course. Immediately before waking in the dungeon, what had he been doing? Probing the pearl. He must have triggered a defensive spell and it had caught them all.
Von Stralick nodded. George peered into the hole. ‘Makes sense to me.’
‘Brilliant notion,’ Aubrey said to Caroline.
‘I’m glad you’re impressed,’ she said, offering him a smile.
The door to the cell suddenly swung back with a satisfyingly melodramatic creaking, and crashed against the wall with enough force to shake dust from the ceiling.
‘Ah. More have been sent.’
Framed in the doorway was a young woman and Aubrey was actually relieved. He’d half-expected to see a guard – hunchbacked or otherwise – leering at them, and was thankful that this wasn’t the case. His active imagination had provided fleeting visions of being asked questions while keepers enjoyed working the various means of extracting information. He wasn’t overjoyed at the prospect.
Their visitor was a striking figure, nonetheless, as she stood at the top of the stairs, studying them. She wore a long velvet gown the colour of old blood – a crimson so deep it was almost black. Her hair was thick and black, hanging past her shoulders. Aubrey had the distinct impression that she wasn’t well, for her skin was pale and her dark eyes sparkled with fever one moment, then lapsed into dullness the next. On top of this he had the creeping sense that she had a close resemblance to someone he knew well.
‘Sylvia?’ he said.
She inhaled sharply and turned her attention to him. ‘Why do you call me that?’
‘Because you look like Dr Mordecai Tremaine.’
‘Mordecai?’ She put a hand to her throat.
Caroline was grim. ‘What has he done to you? Imprisoned you here?’
She shook her head and her black hair danced. For a moment, animation came to her face and her eyes glinted with vigour. ‘No, never imprisoned,’ she said, but the energy fled and once again her face was almost a doll-like mask. ‘This is my home. I belong here.’
‘In a pearl?’ Aubrey said.
‘A pearl?’ Her brow wrinkled. ‘What a strange notion you have.’
‘Then what is this place?’ George asked.
‘Come with me,’ she said. ‘I’ll show you.’
‘We’re free to go?’ Von Stralick asked.
She shrugged, as if this was unimportant. ‘You’re free to come with me.’
Aubrey had more than a few misgivings. Her demeanour didn’t inspire confidence. ‘You are Sylvia Tremaine, are you not?’
‘I like the name.’ She turned away, back toward the corridor outside the doorway. ‘But it’s unimportant.’
‘No it’s not. What happened to you? Why are you here?’
She sighed. It was an expression of despair and desolation such that Aubrey’s heart went out to her. ‘That sort of thing doesn’t matter. I am here. It is where I belong.’
She left the cell, but the door didn’t close behind her. Aubrey looked at the others. ‘Well?’
George shrugged. ‘I’d rather follow her than be stuck here.’
Caroline came close. ‘What’s wrong with her, Aubrey? She seems...’
‘Not quite there?’ von Stralick offered. ‘Either that or she’s very ill. Some sort of wasting disease?’
‘I don’t think it’s anything like that,’ Aubrey ventured. ‘It doesn’t seem natural.’
‘So it’s something unnatural,’ Caroline said. ‘That’s a cheery prospect.’
‘In an unnatural place like this,’ George said, ‘it makes sense.’
‘Let’s see where she leads.’ Aubrey mounted the stairs and stepped into the corridor. Caroline, George and von Stralick came right behind him.