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Authors: Philip Reeve
Tags: antique
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corner of it to the bright little splat of blood. The white fabric soaked up most of it, and Fever dabbed carefully at the rest, but she could not get rid of the brown stain that it had left, like an extra cog wheel, in the heart of the diagram.
She was still trying when she heard footfalls behind her, and turned guiltily to find Kit Solent standing in the doorway, wearing a quilted nightgown, his long hair loose.
"Fever! You poor thing! Whatever's happened?"
"It's a nosebleed," said Fever. "I'm sorry I've never had one before. I got blood on the book...."
Kit Solent strode over to her. He didn't seem to care about the book. He took her handkerchief from her and gave her his own, which seemed as big as a bedsheet, clean and fresh-smelling. "Sit down," he advised, guiding her to a chair. "Tip your head back. Ruan gets these sometimes. It is never as bad as it looks. Yes, the worst is over. I must have left the scent lantern burning when I went to bed. Foolish of me. Perhaps that's what made you feel faint. These old Scriven smells are not to everyone's taste."
The nosebleed seemed to have stopped. She said, "I'm sorry about the book...."
"Oh, don't worry about the book," said Kit, kneeling beside her. "I picked it up for a few quid from a bookstall at Rag Fair, years ago. It's just one of Godshawk's old notebooks. Dozens of them were looted from the Barbican after the riots."
Fever nodded. "Dr. Isbister has some at the Order's library."
"I bought it because it looked interesting. I don't really understand what it's about. Do those old drawings mean anything to you?"
He asked it casually, but Fever sensed a kind of eagerness under the words. Had he left the book out in the hope that she would come in and see it? She lowered her head cautiously, and looked at him, but she could see nothing in his face except kindness and honest concern for her.
Then she noticed something else. Behind him, the rugs of moonlight that had lain on the floor beneath each window were gone. Outside, above the rooftops, the sky was growing pale.
"What is the time?" she asked.
"Almost sunrise," said Kit Solent. 'There's hardly any point going back to bed. Shall I sort out some breakfast?"
"But that can't be...." Fever went to the closest window and looked out. It was true. While she had sat staring at that diagram, the whole night had passed. Behind the Barbican, the sun was coming up.
***
Chapter 10 summertown
Kit Solent did not take Fever back to Godshawk's secret vault .that day. He had been troubled by her confusion when he stood her before the locked door the day before, and also by the events of the night. He had hoped that the scent lantern and the book would have some effect, but the blood and the girl's obvious distress had upset him. He was a kindly man, and for all her solemn, Engineerish ways Fever seemed a child to him, not so very much different from Fern or Ruan. It felt horrible to see her frightened, and to know that he was to blame. He thought a day of rest was in order before he tried again.
"No school today," he announced over breakfast that morning. "And no work neither. We'll go to Summertown instead!"
"Summertown!" shouted Fern and Ruan happily.
"Summertown?" said Fever, far from certain. She knew what it was, a great triangle of waste ground up in Clerkenwell where, every summer, the wandering land barges stopped to dazzle the citizens of London with sideshows and trade goods. She had often watched the barges rumbling along the Westerway and the Great South Road, and Dr. Crumb had told her much about the engines that powered them, but as for Summertown itself...
"Is it not a rather irrational place?" she asked.
"if fun is irrational," said Kit Solent, through a mouthful of toast, "if color and excitement and good things from far places are irrational, then yes. But I think you'll find it educational, Fever, and I'm sure the children will. Come, you can explain to us how all the engines
She was still trying when she heard footfalls behind her, and turned guiltily to find Kit Solent standing in the doorway, wearing a quilted nightgown, his long hair loose.
"Fever! You poor thing! Whatever's happened?"
"It's a nosebleed," said Fever. "I'm sorry I've never had one before. I got blood on the book...."
Kit Solent strode over to her. He didn't seem to care about the book. He took her handkerchief from her and gave her his own, which seemed as big as a bedsheet, clean and fresh-smelling. "Sit down," he advised, guiding her to a chair. "Tip your head back. Ruan gets these sometimes. It is never as bad as it looks. Yes, the worst is over. I must have left the scent lantern burning when I went to bed. Foolish of me. Perhaps that's what made you feel faint. These old Scriven smells are not to everyone's taste."
The nosebleed seemed to have stopped. She said, "I'm sorry about the book...."
"Oh, don't worry about the book," said Kit, kneeling beside her. "I picked it up for a few quid from a bookstall at Rag Fair, years ago. It's just one of Godshawk's old notebooks. Dozens of them were looted from the Barbican after the riots."
Fever nodded. "Dr. Isbister has some at the Order's library."
"I bought it because it looked interesting. I don't really understand what it's about. Do those old drawings mean anything to you?"
He asked it casually, but Fever sensed a kind of eagerness under the words. Had he left the book out in the hope that she would come in and see it? She lowered her head cautiously, and looked at him, but she could see nothing in his face except kindness and honest concern for her.
Then she noticed something else. Behind him, the rugs of moonlight that had lain on the floor beneath each window were gone. Outside, above the rooftops, the sky was growing pale.
"What is the time?" she asked.
"Almost sunrise," said Kit Solent. 'There's hardly any point going back to bed. Shall I sort out some breakfast?"
"But that can't be...." Fever went to the closest window and looked out. It was true. While she had sat staring at that diagram, the whole night had passed. Behind the Barbican, the sun was coming up.
***
Chapter 10 summertown
Kit Solent did not take Fever back to Godshawk's secret vault .that day. He had been troubled by her confusion when he stood her before the locked door the day before, and also by the events of the night. He had hoped that the scent lantern and the book would have some effect, but the blood and the girl's obvious distress had upset him. He was a kindly man, and for all her solemn, Engineerish ways Fever seemed a child to him, not so very much different from Fern or Ruan. It felt horrible to see her frightened, and to know that he was to blame. He thought a day of rest was in order before he tried again.
"No school today," he announced over breakfast that morning. "And no work neither. We'll go to Summertown instead!"
"Summertown!" shouted Fern and Ruan happily.
"Summertown?" said Fever, far from certain. She knew what it was, a great triangle of waste ground up in Clerkenwell where, every summer, the wandering land barges stopped to dazzle the citizens of London with sideshows and trade goods. She had often watched the barges rumbling along the Westerway and the Great South Road, and Dr. Crumb had told her much about the engines that powered them, but as for Summertown itself...
"Is it not a rather irrational place?" she asked.
"if fun is irrational," said Kit Solent, through a mouthful of toast, "if color and excitement and good things from far places are irrational, then yes. But I think you'll find it educational, Fever, and I'm sure the children will. Come, you can explain to us how all the engines
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