Mirrorscape by Mike Wilks Read Free Book Online Page B

from the Fifth Mystery. It’s best you don’t draw attention to yourself. And look, those others are members of the Fourth Mystery. And those are from the Second.’
    From the darkness within the carriage Mel saw people with the same arrogant air as the High-Bailiff but dressed in other colours and with different hairstyles. The citizens of Vlam would deliberately cross the street to avoid the men from the Mysteriesand one man spat in the gutter at their passing.
    At last, their carriage turned into an imposing square with tall houses on each side and a huge, elaborate fountain at its centre. The architecture was intricate and made much use of herring-bone brickwork, tracery and coloured tiles. The steep, gabled roofs were tiled in extravagant, geometric patterns with tall, barley-sugar brick chimneys. The roofline was punctuated here and there with pointed spires and turrets and fierce-looking stone gargoyles projected from the carved eaves.
    The building they were headed for was larger than its neighbours, the upper part of it mostly devoted to an enormous clock surrounded by a multitude of small doors and windows. At that moment the clock struck the hour with a great, musical peal of bells. A procession of small, brightly painted mechanical figures appeared in the windows and filed out from the doors. As the clock chimed, minstrels played instruments, maidens danced, knights chased dragons from one side of the timepiece to the other. Above them, bright planets and constellations whirled and pirouetted until the chiming ceased and they all disappeared back into the clockface. Mel, whose sole concept of time was gauged by the height of the sun, was awestruck.
    â€˜What’s that ?’ he asked.
    â€˜It’s a clock. It’s one of the wonders of Vlam.’
    â€˜Who’s it belong to?’ Mel craned his neck to keep it in view.
    â€˜It’s Ambrosius Blenk’s clock. It’s his house.’
    â€˜What about the others?’
    â€˜All of the houses on this side of the square belong to the master. The other houses on the block behind belong to him, too. It’s now one big mansion. The master has a large household, Mel, as you’re about to see.’
    Beneath the wondrous clock was a set of gilded gates. As they approached the gates swung open and the carriage entered and passed through a tunnel into a large courtyard. Sure enough, what had seemed to be a row of individual houses from the outside was revealed as the façade of a single dwelling that occupied the entire side of the square. The courtyard was planted with low box hedges and flowering trees, interspersed with stone sculptures and surrounded by a cloister. Lamps burned everywhere, turning the twilight tonoon. Servants in the same deep blue livery as Dirk Tot and his coachmen hurried to and fro. Grooms appeared and took charge of the horses. A footman opened the carriage door.
    Dirk Tot stepped out of the carriage but Mel held back. Now that he had finally arrived, he felt nervous and painfully aware of how shabby and unsophisticated he was. Everything was so grand, so alien, so coloured. I look like a scarecrow. I’m never going to fit in here .
    â€˜Come on, Mel. It’s late.’
    Mel swallowed hard, grabbed his precious drawings and stepped down from the carriage. Dirk Tot snapped his fingers impatiently. Mel held his drawings in front of him to hide his threadbare peasant clothes and followed. He was so captivated by everything around him that he did not notice when he stepped in a mound of horse dung, before following Dirk Tot up a low flight of steps and into the mansion of his new master.
    The long hall they entered rose seven storeys above them to a brightly painted and intricately beamed ceiling. The floor was paved with pale tiles in a huge, circular design that was now tainted with Mel’s filthy footprints. The entire mansion was illuminated by flickering gas lamps in brackets attached to the