Chapter 8: The Ninth Stair

The ninth step of the east stair was an ordinary slab of grey stone.

Dravan put his boot against the side of it, and pressed a knot in the wall plaster with his thumb.

The whole step lifted on a hinge with a soft groan.

Under it was a short ladder, and at the bottom a low door.

"My father's auditor lived here," he said. "Until my father pensioned her out ten years ago."

"Her," said Nanami.

"Her. I haven't opened it since."

He went down first, holding the lamp up for her.

The rooms were small and tidy and very quiet.

There was a narrow bed under a patched quilt, a kettle on a hook and a shelf of green books.

A low table held a small wooden counting frame and a teacup.

The cup still had a brown ring in the bottom.

Nanami ran a finger along the table, and it came back grey with ten years of dust.

"She taught me sums at this table," Dravan said. "I was about so high."

He held a hand level with his hip.

"She had a ruler. She hit my knuckles with it exactly once, and then she explained why, and I never made that mistake again."

"I like her already."

"She would have liked you." He said it as a fact, to the wall. "She'd have liked you more than she liked me."

Nanami turned around.

He stood in the middle of the little room with dust on his coat.

He looked far less like a king than a tired man.

She sat on the edge of the narrow bed.

"Dravan."

"Yes."

"Put the lamp down and kneel."

He put the lamp on the table.

He knelt on the boards in front of her, slowly, and looked up.

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