Benjamin Wood - The Ecliptic

The door drew back abruptly and we were met by Ardak. He flicked a nod at the old man but did not acknowledge me. They exchanged a few words in Turkish, then Ardak brushed past us and went off down the hall. Inside, the provost was preparing a drink for himself at the hostess trolley by the fireplace. ‘Have a seat there, won’t you, Knell,’ he said, motioning to the settees. ‘I’m making what I like to call an Afternoon Refresher. Can I get you one? It’s just lemonade, a dash of grenadine, crushed ice, and pomegranate seeds. If you can get fresh mint, that makes it better, but I don’t have any.’

‘No, thank you,’ I said.

‘You’re missing out.’

The old man shut the door and loomed there like a warden. As I sat down, I noticed Gülcan in an armchair near the provost’s desk — she had been partly obscured by his gaunt frame at the hostess trolley, but I could see her now, reclining deep into the cushions with her head back and her fingers worrying her hair. She did not look at me. Nazar was the only one who did, in fact; lazing in a hot-bright shank of sunshine underneath the window, she rolled her pupils round to meet mine, perked up her snout, and then came stepping over. I petted her head and she settled at my feet.

Drink in hand, the provost lowered himself onto the settee opposite. He stirred the ice with a straw. ‘I am troubled, Knell,’ he said. ‘I never thought that I would need to sit you down for a conversation quite like this, but here we are. It’s hugely disappointing.’ He took a liberal swig of juice and gave a little noise of satisfaction. ‘Do I presume, from your lack of an expression, that you understand where this is headed?’

‘It’s never wise to presume anything,’ I said. ‘I heard you wanted to speak to me, that’s all.’

The provost pursed his lips and nodded, though I was not sure at what. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘Then let’s discuss the facts. Onus probandi —’ He leaned to put his drink down on the strange glass table between us. And, just when I expected he would lean straight back, he reached into his breast pocket and removed two keys — one brass, one silver — and snapped them on the tabletop. ‘Ender discovered these amongst your things last night at dinnertime. I apologise for the intrusion on your privacy, but these were special circumstances.’

Nazar put her chin on my toes and whined. My heart was skittering; I could not quell it. I decided it was best to say nothing at all.

‘Obviously, I don’t need to tell you where they were missing from, or whose doors they belong to—’

Staying silent was the best strategy. Until the thing was proven beyond doubt.

‘Add to this the information I received from Gülcan yesterday,’ he went on. ‘You mustn’t blame her — she’s been so twisted up about this whole matter she’s been quite unwell. In the end, it’s her own livelihood at stake, so you can understand why she would come to me. And then—’ The provost paused to slip a coaster underneath his sweating glass. ‘Then there is the matter of my telephone, which I found slightly off the hook last night and could not for the life of me think why — I mean, I have to be very precise about such things, as you know, with my eyes being the way they are, and if the receiver isn’t put back firmly, no calls can get through, which rather puts us all at risk. Anyway, you know about all this—’ He reclined again, crossing his legs.

I tried my best to look dispassionate. ‘I didn’t even know you had a telephone,’ I said.

‘Knell, please. You have been in this room a number of times. You have seen it. You have heard it. I have spoken of it. Let’s not make this conversation any more uncomfortable than it has to be.’ He looked down at Nazar, twitching his brow. She did not stir. ‘I have contacted the telephone company. They’re sending me a log of all my outgoing calls. It takes a bit of time, of course, but I should have them by tomorrow. And if I see that you have made connection with anybody using this phone line, and given any details about your whereabouts to anyone — well, that would be a serious breach, a serious breach.’

‘A serious breach of what?’ I said.

He glowered at me. ‘Of the fundamental purpose of this place. Of the honour code. Of the privacy of every artist under this roof and all the others gone before. It will not be taken lightly by the trustees, I assure you.’

I was feeling the same cold helplessness that had come over me at art school, when I was asked to justify the ‘profane’ content of my Deputation mural by the board of governors. I had not conceded my position then, so why now? ‘I think we’ll just have to wait and see what those phone records show. Because I promise you I haven’t spoken to a soul.’ Technically this was true: I had only talked to a machine.

‘Oh dear, I really hoped you wouldn’t take this line with me,’ the provost said. He spread an arm over the back of the settee. ‘Whether the records show anything or not, you have still broken into my study, which is a clear contravention of the rules. So, as far as I can see, you have two choices. One: that you stay with us, work here, carry on as normal. Try to come to terms with what has happened to your friend and find that sense of purpose you’ve been searching for. Everything as it used to be.’

He lingered here to give me time to understand the gravity of my circumstance. I did not trust a single word that passed his lips.

‘If that isn’t acceptable, then I will have no option but to impose much stricter measures.’

Again, he stopped, as though anticipating a reaction. But I simply folded my arms.

‘That means you’ll be escorted off the grounds without documentation,’ he said, ‘without support to secure your route home, or any acknowledgement from this office whatsoever. Any work you’ve made here will remain in our possession and you will forfeit any protection you might have otherwise received. In short, you’ll be entirely disowned. And, who knows? Perhaps the police will see to it that you’re arrested for trespassing on private property. We have some very useful friends in the local force. I understand they can be quite unforgiving on such matters in these parts. Am I being clear enough for you?’ He pitched forward for his glass and sipped at it.

I managed to still my heart enough to say, ‘And what if I’ve already finished my work. What then?’

‘Last I heard, you weren’t producing much.’ The provost shot a look beyond me — to Ender, I assumed, for clarification.

‘ Last you heard .’ I glared at him. ‘As it happens, I finished my mural last night. I’m done. I was actually going to arrange an appointment with you today to see about getting out of here.’

At this, he sniffed. It almost seemed to amuse him. He took another sip of his Afternoon Refresher. ‘Well, I’m very pleased about that, Knell, but the choices stay the same. I cannot let you leave knowing you pose a threat to this establishment.’

‘I’m just supposed to stay here till you throw me in the sea, is that it?’

‘Not exactly.’ He swirled the ice round in his glass. ‘My hope is that you’ll come to see the value of what’s here eventually. You have three good friends in residence whom you’ve disrespected in your haste to use my telephone. What will happen to them and their work if you insist on blabbering to outsiders? You are jeopardising more than just yourself.’ And, dredging the last of his juice until the grenadine bled against the tip of his nose, he said, ‘In any case, people usually find ways to occupy themselves — ask Ender. He writes a letter to his sister in Armenia every day, and not a single one of them has ever been sent without my reading it first. They’re full of fictions of his own. You wouldn’t believe the things Ender gets up to in his imagination, the things that he takes credit for. But ask him if he’s happier with what he has here or with the alternative — he’ll tell you.’