Skate, for her part, had not moved yet since the woman began talking. Now, however, she deliberately and slowly walked past the sitting woman. She felt the anger burning in her chest, forcing her to refuse the woman’s demands for no other reason than because she did not want to do what she was told by someone she knew not at all.
Skate went straight to the stairs, formulating several biting retorts in her head to anything the woman might say to her, but Ossertine was unconcerned with Skate’s obstinance, staring into the fire as she had been for the last few minutes. Skate moved up the stairs, satisfied that she had won that confrontation; by not obeying the command, she had proved she was not to be commanded. Years in the Ink had taught her not to instinctively heed commands given by adults, a tendency that had to be trained out of the younger members of the group. After all, a burglar who actually listened to the Guards’ shouted demands to halt, stop, and wait was only good as bait to let others escape.
When she got to the top of the stairs, Skate turned toward her door, then paused. There was not much to do in her provided living space except stare at furniture, so she released her hold on the handle and turned instead toward the upstairs library, which she found unlocked, as Belamy had told her it would always be on that first morning here.
Skate closed the door behind her, figuring that Belamy could deal with his new guest when he got back. She had seen the room earlier this morning and several other mornings beside, but had paid little attention to it. Now, though, she canvassed it for anything valuable. Her first scan of her surroundings revealed Belamy had far too many books, and the two objects that Skate thought were likely to be his most valuable possessions were not in here. The fact that the jewelry box and the statuette remained hidden only further convinced her they would probably be the items she needed to look for when she finally made it out of the house for good.
Her targeted goods being absent, Skate continued peering around the room, which was packed floor to ceiling with texts. Being dead must be an incredibly dull affair, she thought as she considered the fact that the old man had probably read and reread everything in here at least twice. That explained why he was so desperate for new reading material. Finding something unread must be a rare event indeed for the man.
There were several trinkets on the shelves in this room, as there were in the main room downstairs, and some glass spheres and metal gizmos. Most of them appeared to her as rather dull, however detailed, stone trinkets and paperweights.
Tiny gargoyles and little lions, diminutive dragons and small dogs, beasts of every description stood in silent watch over the books that towered behind them. Skate picked one off the shelf. It was a life-size representation of a toad, squat and grumpy-looking as its blank stone eyes stared off into nothing at either side of its triangular head. She wondered where Belamy had gotten all of these; for the most part, they were of the same make and style, even seeming to be of the same material, despite being images of very different animals. She placed the toad back on the shelf, but almost dropped it when she heard a whisper in her ear.
“Ungor.”
Skate spun around in a panic—a panic even more profound than what she’d felt earlier in the basement. She did not know the voice; it was male, but she could not decipher more than that from the very quiet message. She could not find any source for it. “Hello?” she said quietly to the empty room, hoping to draw out the source of the unwelcome intrusion. Nothing greeted her in response.
A few minutes passed in utter silence. Did I imagine it? She definitely thought she had heard something. However, the continuing silence was doing an excellent job of convincing her otherwise. She waved her hand in the air, guessing that she had felt a breeze under the door and ascribed a word to its whistle. She returned her attention to the little toad and readjusted it, fixing its position, which she had ruined in her worried shock.
“The toad’s name is Ungor.”
Skate spun around again. She still saw no one, but there was something different about the room. A glass bauble near the single window of the room, which had been clear before, was full of gray smoke. The smoke churned before her eyes, neither excited nor languid.
Skate swallowed hard and took a step toward the bauble. “Are you talking?”
There wasn’t an immediate answer, but a few moments later, she heard unmistakably another whisper from the direction of the ball. “Yes.”
She moved closer and asked, “How?”
Another pause. “I’m in the glass ball.”
Skate got within inches of the ball and looked into its depths. She saw no one within. Indeed, she saw nothing but the churning gray fog. “I don’t see you.”
Another pause. “Pick up the ball.”
Skate thought this an odd request but did as she was asked. As she took hold of the sphere, the fog began to thin ever so slightly. The color within took on a blue tone as something moved closer to the surface. She saw a pair of eyes, wide-set and deep, under a dark brown brow. Nothing else appeared to her, not even the rest of the face.
“That’s much better, thank you.” The voice was no longer whispering but talking in a calm and friendly tone. The eyes were expressive—or perhaps Skate was simply ascribing that to them, because she had nothing else to work with. “As I was saying, the toad’s name is Ungor. If you were curious.”
Skate regarded the eyes with suspicion. “How could you tell I was looking at the toad?” she asked, looking back at where she had been standing. “How could you see anything?”
“I can see out of this even when you can’t see me,” the half-face said, drawing back into the blue-gray fog of the sphere. “You see? I can see that arched eyebrow you’re shooting my way, even though you can’t see my handsome face.”
He moved back into her vision, parting clouds as he came, still revealing only eyes and the bridge of his nose. He looked how some of the burglars dressed when doing a job, though she’d never seen someone dress that way using smoke before. “Anyway, I know it’s strange to talk to someone you can’t see, so I wanted to make it easier for you.” Judging by the slight lift of the skin under the eyes, the man was smiling as he spoke.
“That’s not what’s strange about this conversation.”
The man laughed. “No! No, I suppose it isn’t, is it?” He laughed again, a rather nervous sound, and cast his eyes around the room. “Tell me, are you here because Belamy told you to be in here?”
“No,” she said hesitantly, “but he didn’t say I couldn’t be in here.” The eyes in the globe gave an encouraging nod, and she continued, “He has a guest waiting for him downstairs, and I don’t like her, so I came up here.”
“I see, I see.” The eyes bounced again as their strange owner nodded some more through the blue smoke. “So you are also a guest of Barrison Belamy, yes?”
“Yeah; he’s letting me stay in the empty bedroom up here.”
“I see,” the voice repeated, interested and encouraging. “That’s wonderful. Do you know why he’s doing that? I’ve never known him to have guests stay more than a few hours at a time.”
Skate did not answer immediately. “I guess I’m more…hired than just a guest.”
“Oh? Mr. Belamy doesn’t have much need for a housecleaner, so I guess you’re a gopher?”