Duncton Rising by William Horwood Read Free Book Online

Meanwhile I would not concern yourself with any notion that a female will be allowed to be a delegate at Caradoc. Duncton’s eccentricities regarding the qualities of females will not be tolerated by the Inquisitors at Caer Caradoc!”
    Chervil’s eyes narrowed and his voice, normally low and soft, suddenly sharpened as he looked to the shadows of some stacks beyond where Snyde stanced.
    “You mole! Are you... spying on us?”
    Snyde turned, stared, and laughed dismissively as the familiar form of Pumpkin emerged, carrying a text.
    “That’s only Pumpkin, just a library aide.”
    “Only” Pumpkin came forward with the text that Snyde had ordered up, placed it down, looked as abject and apologetic as he could, and began to back away again.
    “Are you Newborn of the Stone, mole?” asked Chervil, who rarely missed an opportunity to put others on the right spiritual path. “Are you joyous in the Stone’s knowledge? Does your spirit dance and your voice desire to sing?”
    It must be said that unlike most Newborns, whose eyes were cold and who spoke such things as if they had learned them by rote, there was an infectious sincerity about Chervil as he asked these questions. He was also a mole with a menacing authority, and when he exercised it, genuine charm.
    “Sing? Joyous? Newborn?” croaked Pumpkin, trying his best not to look Chervil in the eye, as much from a fear of being drawn into the over-earnest world of the spirit he represented, as from being identified as a mole who intended to resist conversion, real or pretended, for as long as he possibly could.
    “Well, er, yes, I suppose I could, I mean I am or might be reborn,” he faltered. 1 certainly like the Stone, yes, that’s for sure. But joyous? Now there’s a thing!”
    “Stop rambling. Aide Pumpkin, and go about your work,” said Snyde coldly.
    “Yes, Deputy Master, sir, I will!” said Pumpkin thankfully.
    “I am Master Librarian now. Pumpkin, and don’t forget it!”
    “No... Master,” said Pumpkin, almost feeling pain as he gave so august a title to so foul a mole.
    Chervil chuckled. “They certainly obey you, Brother Snyde, even if they don’t like you. Impatience may be a problem for you, but authority is not. I am glad I am not one of your library aides.”
    “And I am glad I am not merely one of your Marsh End followers. Chervil,” responded Snyde with a smile that was a touch too confident, a touch too arrogant, betokening a mole who had not yet learnt the useful art of seeming to be more modest than he felt; and, too, one who underestimated Chervil.
    There was a momentary hard glitter to Chervil’s eye before his customary smile returned, even warmer than usual.
    “So you will feel it safe to leave Keeper Sturne in charge of the Library when you leave for Caer Caradoc with me?”
    “Sturne is mediocre,” said Snyde shortly, “and always will be. Frankly, he is little better than a library aide like that tedious mole Pumpkin, for he has no wider view of Library matters than he sees in front of his snout. Hard unimaginative work has got him where he is, and that perhaps has made him more ambitious than he has a right to be. In consequence he is a bitter mole because of the failure of his hopes. Master Librarian Stour certainly has no confidence in him. He never gave him much promotion. But I suppose he will deputize for me well enough while I’m gone, and stance down very willingly when I return – and when I do I hope I shall confirmed as Master Librarian of
    Duncton Wood and so be even more ready to be of service to the Newborn cause than is possible so long as Stour is alive.”
    His eyes flicked round and looked up the ramp to the Master’s now-deserted cell, and the high galleries that ran from it round the end of the Main Chamber. He had already been up there many times, stancing in the Master’s cell as if it were his own, and peering and peeking from the dusty galleries to watch the aides at work, noting which were