Read Online Endymion Spring by Matthew Skelton - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Matthew Skelton
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himself . He was probably the author of the book, then and not the title. But how could anyone be the author of a blank book?
There was only one way to find out. Blake would have to go to the library, find the volume and figure out its riddle. It was now or never.
Checking to make sure that no one was watching, he moved towards the door. Just before he slipped out, he glanced at the plate of Turkish delight.
No one, it seemed, had touched it.
6
I t was colder outside than Blake had expected. After the warm glow of the Master's Lodgings the air felt chilly, almost like winter, and he hugged himself to keep warm.
Moonlight dusted the college paths and he stumbled clumsily, trying to negotiate his way in the silver-dark. Shadows clustered all around him. He didn't want to switch on his torch until he was safely concealed inside the library, just in case he got in trouble for sneaking out on his own.
The cloisters loomed ahead and he hurried towards them.
As he passed down the first dark-beamed passageway, he stopped. It was like a doubt tapping him on the back, making him turn round. Someone was following him.
He stood perfectly still, listening carefully.
Nothing. Not a whisper.
Then, peering stealthily around a column, he checked the doorway of the Old Library on the opposite side of the garden. Only the faint toothlike striations in the stone were visible, taking a bite out of the night. Otherwise, there was nothing. No one was there. It must have been his imagination.
He carried on. Stairwells climbed into the darkness around him, while footsteps — his own — scratched the paving stones and rebounded off the walls, pursuing him as echoes. He started walking faster.
Reaching the next courtyard, he took a moment to steady himself. Buildings that were familiar in the daytime were now unrecognizable shadows. Trees shivered: black, batlike rustlings. His heart was beating fast.
Spotting the library, a wall of darkness in the distance, he ran towards it.
As his feet tripped up the steps, he saw the illuminated keypad by the door, its numbers lit up like eyes. The college no longer used keys for the main buildings, but had installed a high-tech entry-code system instead. Rather foolishly, he thought, the code was the same for each building, since the students and absentminded professors couldn't remember more than one number. In any case, he was lucky, since his mother had made him memorize the sequence so that he and Duck could get in and out of the library on their own.
He entered the number — 6305XZ — and heard the door click open. With a sigh of relief, he slipped inside.
The library, as he had imagined, was totally dark.
The first thing he heard was the sound of the clock ticking softly. It reminded him of a slow, rhythmic heartbeat. He relaxed.
Dimming his torch so that it would not shine through any of the windows, he swept the beam across the hall. The light made the books on the shelves appear silver, ghostlike. The central staircase sloped away from him, up into total darkness, but he took the left-hand corridor instead, past the portraits of Thomas Sternhold and Jeremiah Wood. Eyes glinted at him briefly and then disappeared as he crept along the book-lined corridor, past other portraits, further into shadow.
Finally, he came to the bookcase where he had discovered the blank book — or rather, where it had discovered him. The volume Duck had show him earlier was still open on the desk: a small landmark indicating where he should look.
But where was the blank book?
He thought he had placed it right here, on the third shelf, between the two volumes that were now sloping towards each other slightly. A thin crack of shadow divided them. He wedged his fingers into the gap. Empty.
Fighting a wave of panic, he scanned the floor, but the book wasn't there either.
He bit his lip.
There was only one way to find out. Blake would have to go to the library, find the volume and figure out its riddle. It was now or never.
Checking to make sure that no one was watching, he moved towards the door. Just before he slipped out, he glanced at the plate of Turkish delight.
No one, it seemed, had touched it.
6
I t was colder outside than Blake had expected. After the warm glow of the Master's Lodgings the air felt chilly, almost like winter, and he hugged himself to keep warm.
Moonlight dusted the college paths and he stumbled clumsily, trying to negotiate his way in the silver-dark. Shadows clustered all around him. He didn't want to switch on his torch until he was safely concealed inside the library, just in case he got in trouble for sneaking out on his own.
The cloisters loomed ahead and he hurried towards them.
As he passed down the first dark-beamed passageway, he stopped. It was like a doubt tapping him on the back, making him turn round. Someone was following him.
He stood perfectly still, listening carefully.
Nothing. Not a whisper.
Then, peering stealthily around a column, he checked the doorway of the Old Library on the opposite side of the garden. Only the faint toothlike striations in the stone were visible, taking a bite out of the night. Otherwise, there was nothing. No one was there. It must have been his imagination.
He carried on. Stairwells climbed into the darkness around him, while footsteps — his own — scratched the paving stones and rebounded off the walls, pursuing him as echoes. He started walking faster.
Reaching the next courtyard, he took a moment to steady himself. Buildings that were familiar in the daytime were now unrecognizable shadows. Trees shivered: black, batlike rustlings. His heart was beating fast.
Spotting the library, a wall of darkness in the distance, he ran towards it.
As his feet tripped up the steps, he saw the illuminated keypad by the door, its numbers lit up like eyes. The college no longer used keys for the main buildings, but had installed a high-tech entry-code system instead. Rather foolishly, he thought, the code was the same for each building, since the students and absentminded professors couldn't remember more than one number. In any case, he was lucky, since his mother had made him memorize the sequence so that he and Duck could get in and out of the library on their own.
He entered the number — 6305XZ — and heard the door click open. With a sigh of relief, he slipped inside.
The library, as he had imagined, was totally dark.
The first thing he heard was the sound of the clock ticking softly. It reminded him of a slow, rhythmic heartbeat. He relaxed.
Dimming his torch so that it would not shine through any of the windows, he swept the beam across the hall. The light made the books on the shelves appear silver, ghostlike. The central staircase sloped away from him, up into total darkness, but he took the left-hand corridor instead, past the portraits of Thomas Sternhold and Jeremiah Wood. Eyes glinted at him briefly and then disappeared as he crept along the book-lined corridor, past other portraits, further into shadow.
Finally, he came to the bookcase where he had discovered the blank book — or rather, where it had discovered him. The volume Duck had show him earlier was still open on the desk: a small landmark indicating where he should look.
But where was the blank book?
He thought he had placed it right here, on the third shelf, between the two volumes that were now sloping towards each other slightly. A thin crack of shadow divided them. He wedged his fingers into the gap. Empty.
Fighting a wave of panic, he scanned the floor, but the book wasn't there either.
He bit his lip.
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