The corridor rippled again and this time all its dimensions wavered. Height, width and depth stretched and contracted all at once in a movement that made him sick to his stomach, so offensive was it to his innate notion of the solidity of things. Like most people, he’d grown up accepting that buildings just don’t warp themselves at random. Dizziness piled on top of his nausea, so much so that he stumbled and clutched at Caroline’s arm, but she was quicker and had already gripped his hand. He had the profound sense of a dream transition, where one moment he’d be in a classroom but then a sudden shift would find him in a park, all without any real in-between state.
‘Aubrey.’ Caroline’s grip on his hand was almost painful, but no force in the world would have made him relinquish it. The contact meant nothing, he knew that, apart from the natural human desire for comfort when in danger. But he wasn’t going to be the first one to let go.
They found themselves in a gallery, a rectangular walkway looking down on a well-lit room. He took a deep breath. ‘All right, so we’re somewhere else now.’
‘I’m glad you said that,’ Caroline whispered. ‘I thought I might have been dreaming.’
Aubrey clutched an ornately carved pillar nearby with his free hand, partly for extra steadiness, and partly to reassure himself that this place was real and solid. Insofar as that means anything around here, he thought.
Another deep breath. He did his best to take in the new surroundings, nailing down the new reality through empirical observation, doing his best to be a rational, intelligent being.
Four doors, evenly spaced, opened onto the gallery, halfway along each side. They were elegantly set with six glass panes, ruby red. Aubrey nominated the doors as north, south, east and west and felt better for it. The orientation had a settling effect.
A waist-high rail ran around the gallery. It was a rich, red-brown wood, polished smooth. He ran a hand along it and enjoyed the satin touch. The rail surmounted a carved wooden screen made of the same red-brown wood. It was a repeating vegetative pattern, undulating vines alternating with large rosettes.
When Aubrey leaned over the rail he was looking down on a library. The room was lined with bookshelves. Two long tables – covered with books – were arranged in the middle of the room, running along the long axis. A chair stood with each table, while a large red leather armchair took up most of the gap between one of the tables and the north end of the room.
The room smelled of leather and paper, with just a hint of dust. It was the perfect place to enjoy a book, Aubrey decided. Quiet, comfortable, a place to immerse oneself in the world of the written word.
Which is what Hugo von Stralick was doing. With every appearance of bliss, he was reading, standing in front of a wall of books and sampling them with an expression of deep and utter contentment.
It would have been a restful sight, but Aubrey stared, disbelieving, because von Stralick was moving like lightning, picking up books, flicking pages, replacing and extracting another, every movement done with supernatural rapidity.
Agog, Aubrey watched while the Holmland spy sped through a green-bound book he’d plucked from the shelves only seconds earlier. His face was both thoughtful and delighted as he read, his eyes flicking from side to side, his fingers turning pages almost in a blur. His other hand was holding open the gap on the shelf, obviously where the book had come from, with the intention of returning it to its space soon.
Von Stralick was browsing, but it was the browsing of a creature made of pure speed. In seconds, he’d worked his way through a dozen books.
Aubrey met Caroline’s wonder-filled eyes. ‘What on earth...?’ she said before words failed her.
‘Magic,’ Aubrey said simply. The magical power of their prison was propelling von Stralick at breakneck speed. Aubrey shook his head. No, that wasn’t right. Von Stralick didn’t seem strained or hurried. He was simply moving at a different rate. A phenomenally faster rate.
Aubrey gnawed at a lip. Or could it be that time itself was moving at a different rate down there?
He hissed as the implications hit him. If time were speeding away, how much time did von Stralick have left?
‘Hugo,’ Aubrey called, but von Stralick didn’t look up. With eye-watering swiftness, he simply nodded and chuckled – high-pitched – before replacing a fat book. Immediately, he sought another, a slim black volume.
Aubrey called again, but von Stralick was oblivious. ‘He’s either gone deaf or...’
‘He can’t hear,’ Caroline finished. ‘What’s he doing here? And what happened to the food smells?’
‘Food?’ Aubrey sniffed. ‘It’s gone.’
‘Library smell only.’ Caroline dropped his hand, causing him a momentary pang, and leaned over the railing. ‘Let’s go down and see what’s going on.’
‘It would help if there were a staircase.’
Caroline straightened. ‘Ah. Rather a glaring omission.’
‘It seems as if we’re not meant to get down there.’
‘Well, if there’s no stairway, we’ll have to find another way down.’ She frowned slightly as she measured the drop by eye. ‘It’s not that far. Twenty feet from this rail. Less from the floor.’
‘It’s too far to jump.’ Aubrey drummed his fingers on the rail and hummed a little. ‘I don’t suppose there are any bed sheets lying around? Nothing we could tie together to lower ourselves down?’
‘No.’
‘Didn’t think so. So perhaps it might be better to attract his attention.’ He bent and unlaced a boot. ‘I’m sure he won’t be able to ignore this.’
‘I’m glad you wore your good socks.’
‘Socks?’ He looked down. ‘So that’s where they went.’
‘Aubrey.’
‘Of course. I’ll get on with it.’ He hefted his boot, measured the distance, paused for dramatic effect, then threw it at von Stralick.
The boot sailed in an arc, but Aubrey’s jaw dropped when, mid-way and in mid-air, it bounced once, then settled, bobbing slightly like a cork on a pond, well above von Stralick’s head.
Caroline tutted. ‘I don’t think you should try the other boot, not even for balance.’
‘Right. Good idea.’ Trying to make sense of this impossible spectacle, Aubrey leaned over the rail. He grunted, reaching down as far as he could, but couldn’t feel anything. He straightened and then went to climb over the rail.
Caroline put her hands on her hips. ‘What on earth are you doing?’
‘Testing. I need more data, more observations before I can work out what’s going on.’
‘It’s something invisible, something that’s keeping us from von Stralick and something unknown. Isn’t that enough?’
‘It’s a good start, but I need more.’
Aubrey stepped over the rail, balanced on the narrow ledge, held onto the rail with both hands and stretched out a foot – his booted foot.
Ah.
Not far below the level of the gallery he struck a surface. It was spongy and giving, like a balloon filled with water. He pressed, and his foot sank. He pressed harder and the invisible material resisted, pushing him back.
‘I wonder if he can even see us,’ Aubrey muttered, while eyeing his boot, stranded in the middle of the unseen barrier. Von Stralick looked as if he was trapped in a bubble – a bubble where time flowed differently.
And if he spends much longer in it, Aubrey thought, he’ll start to age. With a growing hollowness in his chest, he wondered how long a lifespan was in such a place. It must be shorter, but how short? Sylvia had mentioned others, but had also mentioned that they had worn out...