Summoner: The Novice (Book 1) SAMPLE OF NOW PUBLISHED BOOK

Chapter 20

With breakfast over, the others decided to go back to their rooms for more sleep, but Fletcher was loath to sit in the cold. The conversation over breakfast made him realise how little he knew about Vocans. He was going to find Jeffrey. If Seraph knew so much about Vocans from the servants, he was going to tap that source of information for all it was worth. He was in luck; Jeffrey was still polishing the atrium floor.

'Care to show me around? There's not much point in cleaning that floor now, it's just going to get dirty when the second years come down for breakfast,' Fletcher said to the tired looking servant.

'I'm only polishing it so that Mr Mayweather doesn't yell at me. If I can say I was showing a noviciate round then I'm off the hook! Let's just take it easy on the stairs this time,' Jeffrey said, grinning. 'What would you like to see?'

'Everything!' Fletcher said. 'I've got all day.'

'Then so have I.' Jeffrey beamed. 'Let's go to the summoning room first.'

The room was on the same floor within the east wing. The large steel doors were difficult to open, the screech of rusted hinges echoing around the atrium. Jeffrey took a torch from a sconce outside and led him in, lighting their way with the flickering orange flame. The floor was sticky underfoot, which upon closer examination turned out to be made of heavy strips of leather. There was a large pentacle painted in the middle of the room, the epicentre of a spiral of gradually smaller stars. Each was surrounded by the same strange symbols that Fletcher had seen on the summoner's book. Perhaps these were the keys that James Baker had written about?

'Why leather?' Fletcher asked.

'The pentacles and symbols need to be drawn on or with something organic, otherwise they don't work. We used to have wood but it kept burning and needed to be replaced. The Provost decided that leathers were a better idea. It's worked so far; they smoke and smoulder a bit and it smells something awful, but it's better than risking a fire every time someone's demon enters the ether.'

'I had no idea!' Fletcher said, examining a row of leather aprons that hung on hooks beside the door.

'I don't know much else about this room. You're better off asking a second year, but I wouldn't bother. The competition for ranks is fierce, and they don't like to help first years in case you steal what would have been their promotion. I hate that way of thinking, but the Provost says that it's brutally competitive on the front lines, so why shouldn't novices get a taste of that here?'

Jeffrey lingered by the door, refusing to venture any deeper into the room.

'Let's go. This place gives me the creeps,' he muttered.

He led Fletcher out and they trudged up to the second floor of the east wing.

'This is the library.' Jeffrey pushed open the first door. 'Forgive me if I don't go in. The dust; it's terrible for my asthma.'

The room seemed as deep and long as the atrium was tall. Row upon row of bookshelves ranged along the walls, full of tomes even thicker than the book that lay at the bottom of Fletcher's satchel upstairs. Long tables sat between each bookshelf, with unlit candles spaced at intervals along them.

'There are thousands of essays and theories written here by the summoners of old. Diaries mostly, dating back over the last thousand years or so. This place doesn't get used much, there is so much work to do already, without the extra reading. But some do come here for tips and tricks, usually the commoners who don't have the coin to spend in Corcillum on the weekends,' Jeffrey said leaning against the doorway. 'They need to catch up anyway; the nobles always know more than they do, growing up with it and all.'