Episode CXXXV – Smaller Spaces

Once inside the museum the Captain led them efficiently through its various corridors and display rooms with a clear intent of depositing them wherever they needed to go as soon as possible.  Sarah certainly didn't mind.  She was keen to be free from his company, from all these men who saw her as something decorative, soft and inviting rather than as an actual human being who might have opinions of her own how she wanted to be treated, but, despite this, she found herself a little regretful each time they left one room and entered another.  The museum was fascinating.

As someone who was still a stranger to Shadow, the displays and exhibitions they passed through, many partially obscured by the equipment and practicalities of running a war, were strange and intriguing.  There were mounted Stoneskins of various species which made her uncomfortable and brought back bitter memories of Dimsun.  There were machines which resembled antique cars, or boats, or even aeroplanes, but covered in crude pipework and extra engines, much more bulky and impractical than any of the similar vehicles she had witnessed on the streets and in the harbours.  There were arcane-looking circles of black powder, diagrams of pentagrams and stars, annotations in scripts she had trouble focussing on, glass cases filled with nothing but coloured lines of light.  There were historical dioramas, mock-ups of ancient fortresses and glowing obelisks.  There were skeletons and fossils, monsters she could never have imagined that towered over a room, or whose sinuous spines marked out the length of a corridor with no sign of the rest of the body.  There were specimens in jars, metal parts in display cases, whole walls of shields and weapons, paintings, pottery, books.  Seeing it in fleeting glimpses, one rushed room at a time was almost overwhelming.  She wondered if it made more sense to Diana, or if her imprisonment in Frostfeather made her almost as much of a newcomer as she was.  A glance in the huntress' direction showed that she was as implacable as ever, focussed on the destination and never the journey, nor the sights along the way.

Dimsun would have loved all this, Sarah thought sadly, and she continued on through the museum in solemn reflection.

At last they reached a small store room, outside of which stood a tall, awkward-looking guard with the scruffiest beard Sarah had yet seen amongst Doctor Barkham's recruits.  To her surprise he gave them all a warm smile, even Diana and, after the Captain had explained that they needed to be kept in custody until the Countess could be consulted, he continued to smile as he ushered them inside.

"There's not a lot of space," he said in a gentle voice, "and it's not very comfortable, but some of the previous occupants have made beds out of piles of books and... well it could be worse.  At least you'll be safe in here with me on the door."

Sarah was unsure how to respond, but figured she'd best stick to her character and replied with a demure 'thank you'.  Diana was less circumspect, becoming tense and then slightly aggressive as she was brought into the confined space.

"It won't be for long, I'm sure," the guard added, and Sarah began to wonder if he knew he was being patronising.  It was better than being leered at, she supposed.

The door closed, the light inside the store room flickered and there was silence.

Sarah and Diana stared at each other for a moment, the one’s eyes still a little red from crying, the other’s glowing fiercely in the dim light, then Dian turned and began pushing aside boxes of books and old phylacteries, as if searching for something.

“What are you doing?” Sarah asked, suddenly sounding tired and frustrated even to her own ears.

“I’m looking for another way out,” Diana growled.

“But we can just wait, can’t we?  They were going to take us to her.”

“As soon as my mother hears a description of me they’ll be sent back to kill me, or put me in a proper dungeon or…”

“Would she really do that?”

Diana whirled on her, eyes burning.

“Of course she would!  Have you forgotten Frostfeather?  That she just left me there, sealed away with all the other failed experiments.  She hates me!  I’m a reminder of her past failures.”

“But you’re her daughter!”

“And that’s half the problem,” Diana replied with deadly softness as she turned back to the boxes and continued to shift them.   She didn’t seem to want to explain in any more detail, so Sarah moved over beside her and started into the piles of forgotten texts, containers and exhibits, wondering what the chances were of there being any other way out of the tiny room, especially if it was being used (and guarded) as a kind of prison.

Ten minutes later, with almost all the boxes now blocking the door, Sarah and Diana were staring at a featureless wall and Sarah, at least, was wondering what on earth they had just wasted all that time for.  She turned to Diana, was about to make a slightly bitter comment on the situation and then spotted something in the other woman’s eyes which told her to keep her mouth shut.  It seemed there was a plan.

Diana stared at the wall for some time before she approached it, leaned carefully against it and put her ear to the cool, painted stone.  Silence followed, only heartbeats long, before she pulled away, smiled very slightly and then wound her oversized arm back and threw it at the wall like a pile-driver.  The effect was as instantaneous as it was dramatic.  There was a loud crash, the room filled with plaster dust and, whilst Sarah was still coughing, Diana pulled her through a ragged hole in the wall into a dark cavity beyond.

They stood in a between-place, an architectural void betwixt one room and another, lined with the unfinished edges of brickwork, wood and plaster, filled with cobwebs and the detritus left by the receding tide of workmen as the building was being finished: cigarette stubs; a fragment of newspaper; something rotten which might once have been a lunch.

“What is this place?” Sarah began to ask, but almost immediately she was interrupted by the sound of someone hammering on the door, somewhere beyond all thirty-seven outdated volumes of the Encyclopaedia Umbrae and some naturalist’s forgotten collection of partially shattered bird’s eggs.

“What happened?” came the soft, panicked voice of the guard, “Are you alright in there?”

The door handle shook and the banging resumed.

“We need to move quickly,” Diana said, and gestured Sarah forwards into the gap between the walls.  It was hardly inviting, but, looking back towards the tiny store room and listening to the thunder of footsteps outside the door, she realised that she didn’t have much choice.

“Once more into the breach,” she said and, laughing at her own foolishness, she ventured in.

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