Chapter Six – The Invisible People

The first thing Lawrence did after waking up and getting ready for the day was to ignore Bastien’s order about not taking the empty pot back to the kitchens or express his gratitude in any way. To prevent curiosity and questions, he had wrapped it in the same cloth, along with the spoon that had been provided with the meal. It had been a hearty dish, allowing Lawrence to go to sleep in a good mood, but now he was back to being the investigator in charge of uncovering the truth about what had happened to Lukas von Keller.

Orienting himself proved more difficult without a guide. As much as Ali could very well be a spy, he’d been good at offering Lawrence much-needed information about the layout of the place.

After a few fruitless attempts, he decided to walk out into the cloistered garden. A man in grey clothes was slowly sweeping the dead leaves from the short grass growing between the bushes, benches, and old statues. He seemed to be of an uncertain age, and Lawrence had to walk closer to determine more about the gardener.

To his shock, the man was younger than his slow movements suggested. Hearing Lawrence’s steps on the graveled path, he raised his eyes and rested his hand on his tool.

“Good morning,” Lawrence said out loud.

The young man – he couldn’t be older than twenty-five – nodded briefly at him, examining him with cautious curiosity. Hopefully, he wasn’t a mute. His face was rather dull, pale eyes, pale hair, but he didn’t appear to be suffering from any impairment, physical or otherwise. The clothes he was wearing seemed a size or more too big for his thin frame.

“I was wondering about where the kitchens might be,” Lawrence continued.

The gardener’s eyes darted to the parcel in Lawrence’s hands. Uncomfortable silence stretched.

Lawrence decided to take his leave. “My apologies. I’ll ask someone else.”

“You will have to go through the back,” the gardener called out to him after Lawrence had already taken several steps.

He turned and looked at the young man, who was gesturing slowly with one arm.

“Through there,” he explained, pointing at the end of the garden. “Once you’re out of the hallway, you’ll see the stables and the horses. It’s beyond that. You’ll have to walk for a bit.”

The gardener talked like someone who wasn’t used to talking much. His voice trembled slightly, and he chose his words carefully.

“Ah, that’s very helpful,” Lawrence said, smiling politely. “I’m Lawrence, by the way,” he added, stopping before the young man.

“You’re in uniform,” the gardener said, once his shock at this stranger’s unusual behavior wore off some. “You’re a student here.” That was probably as close as he got to shouting, and it still came out unsure and soft.

“Yes. I’m a new transfer,” Lawrence explained, without pulling his hand back.

The gardener hesitated but took his hand. “Earnest.”

“Pleased to meet you, Earnest.”

“You come from the outside.”

Could it be that Earnest had been raised speaking a different language? His word choice was odd, and that was a generous assessment.

“Yes, from outside,” Lawrence confirmed.

“We don’t go there much. I’ve never been.”

“Not even down to the village?” Lawrence asked.

Earnest shook his head. He stole nervous glances around, as if someone might see them talking and jump to the wrong conclusions. That alone convinced Lawrence that Earnest really meant it when he said that ‘they’ didn’t get out of Veridien much. But who did he mean by that collective pronoun?

“Maybe we can go together when you have some free time,” Lawrence suggested.

The head-shaking intensified. Then Earnest froze like a hunted animal hearing noises in the forest. It lasted only a moment; the next, he started sweeping dead leaves with renewed vigor, without giving Lawrence another glance.

There seemed to be no need for such an abrupt change in behavior. However, Lawrence casually looked around; was someone hiding behind one of the colonnades supporting the hallway ceiling going round and round the cloistered garden?

Without a doubt, he was being watched. But his outside status offered him leeway; at any point, he could blame any missteps on not being aware of the complex etiquette governing the place. Of course, it wouldn’t serve to invite close scrutiny, or closer than needed, at least. He walked in the direction indicated by Earnest, without looking back. To anyone spying on him, it might look like he’d done nothing but exchange a few words with the gardener. Someone who couldn’t afford his studies would be forgiven for trying to fraternize with the help.

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