along the saintswalk

Lumina led Demi up several flights of dark, cramped stairs and through a door that she unlocked with a key from around her neck. There was a general shuffling around of books to accomplish this feat, as there would be with every door they encountered, locked or not.

When Lumina unlocked the door, she showed Demi her key, then waited for Demi to pick the matching key out of her own string. Once she was satisfied, she moved on.

Down several corridors and around more than one corner, Demi found herself face to face with another door. It was made of dark wood and carved so ornately it seemed like it ought to have been the prize of a museum collection, but Lumina simply took another key from around her neck and exhibited it to Demi. Demi dutifully produced a similar key from her own string and Lumina nodded and then unlocked the door before curtsying as she opened it.

Demi smiled at her fondly. She already liked the little church mouse quite a lot.

They both collected their books from where they had been gently laid on the floor and continued on.

On the other side of the carved wooden door was a narrow stone bridge, just wide enough for three people to walk abreast. After Demi passed through the door, Lumina closed and locked it behind them. Demi looked up at the cloudy night sky overhead and the wind whipped her hair around her face. It still smelled and tasted of rain but the lonely moon was visible, the clouds gathered around her like skirts.

Above her, she again heard the sound of wings, but she could not discern the source of the noise.

Lumina passed by her, and Demi turned her head to follow her, looking at the City around them. They were high up, higher than Demi had anticipated. She was glad that she wasn't particularly afraid of heights, or the walk might have been decidedly uncomfortable.

A dark shape loomed before them, a strange building with dimly lit windows: the original chapterhouse.

“The saint’s walk is the main way into the original chapterhouse,” the small girl said seriously. “And by main way, I mean it’s really the only way.”

Wrought iron fencing ran atop the waist high stone walls of the bridge, curling into fanciful shapes that finished as spikes pointing up at the red sky. There were lamps here and there along the fence so the way forward was lit. The roof of the cathedral behind them was lit up like it was Christmas, but here along the saint’s walk, the lights were low. It was just enough to see by.

“The only way in?” Demi asked with confusion. “But aren't we about five stories up? There has to be some way in and out at the ground level,” she pointed out.

“There are four doors on the ground level of the original chapterhouse,” Lumina confirmed. “But they're always kept locked, and we don't have the keys for them. In addition, two of them are physically blocked by crates of books and other miscellaneous items.”

“Well, shouldn't we ask for the keys?” Demi wondered, perplexed. “You said that we’re the only two people who live in the original chapterhouse, right? Wouldn't it make sense for us to have them? Or is there a reason that’s not allowed?”

“I think I might have been unclear,” Lumina said with a finely drawn brow. “It's not that the keys are in someone else’s possession and all that we need to do is ask for them. The keys are in no one’s possession. No one knows where they are. I don't think they've been seen in over fifty years. That’s what I have determined as a result of my research.”

This caused Demi to stop flat on her feet. “What?” she asked in absolute confusion. “No one has the keys to the main doors of the building? They can't be opened at all? If the keys are lost, why haven't the locks been changed?”

“Because the original chapterhouse is a historic building,” Lumina said evenly. “The archbishop explained it to me when I first came to live here. It's against criminal law and church law to alter the structure of this building. The windows on the ground floor are barred, so you know. They don't open anyway,” she added, predicting Demi’s next suggestion. “The only remaining usable entrance above ground is the saint’s walk. This door is never locked,” she said, nodding her head toward the small side port ahead of them. “It can't be locked,” she said. “There’s no way to lock it.”

“That’s comforting,” Demi said vaguely, but Lumina gave her an idle shrug.

“It's very safe,” she assured. “Admittedly, the cathedral serves many of the devout, and therefore there are always unfamiliar people on the grounds of the church due to the archbishop’s open door policy, but they have no physical means to approach this door. Apart from flight or by use of a siege ladder, the only way to access the saint’s walk is by going through St. Anne’s door and St. Mary’s door, and they're both locked, always. That’s what you need your cathedral keys for. It's a rare privilege to be entrusted with them, even among people who live on the grounds of the cathedral,” Lumina said, shifting the books in her arms so she could again exhibit the small, bright keys that hung on a silver chain around her neck. “And I know all the side corridors and secret ways,” she confided. “So it's easy to avoid the crowds, even during mass on major religious holidays. I can teach them to you, if you like.”

“Thanks,” Demi said with a brief smile, then her brows drew together again. “Going back to the doors on the ground floor,” she said, “Couldn't they have somebody make a duplicate key by studying the lock?” she wondered. “I'm pretty sure it's possible to do that. It really doesn't seem safe to live in a tower with only one exit on the fifth floor. What if there’s a fire?”

“I'm told the locks are too intricate for a duplicate key to be made using that method,” Lumina said. “It's one of the reasons that the doors and the locks themselves are under protection as important relics.”

This was really an unnerving conversation to have with a seven year old girl, and Demi felt badly about grilling her, but she was the only source of relevant information Demi had about her strange and unexpected new home.

And it was clear that it would be both foolish and rude to underestimate the capabilities of her young guide based purely on her age.

“In case of fire, we do have a few precautions,” Lumina explained.

“Such as?” Demi asked with honest curiosity. Maybe the diocese had installed fire escapes or sprinklers in the ancient building — although she sincerely doubted it. If not even the locks could be changed, then greater structural alterations were surely disallowed, even in the interests of public safety.

“We’ve been presented with several very fine rope ladders,” Lumina said, stonefaced. “We have enough of them that there are two on every floor of the chapterhouse, including the attic floor, where we’re going to be sleeping. They’re simple to operate,” she said matter-of-factly. “You just break a window, throw the ladder out, and climb down to escape from the burning building.”

Demi couldn't tell if the little girl was attempting to be funny or not.

She decided to respond with a similar level of dryness.

“We’re allowed to smash the windows in this historic building?” she asked blandly. “That seems like it would definitely break the rules.”

“I imagine that they're already resigned to damage if the building is on fire,” Lumina said with a shrug. “Their hopes of continued preservation depend upon the idea that a fire can be avoided in the first place.” They had at last arrived at the opposite end of the saint’s walk. Lumina announced, “We’re here,” and pushed open the carved green door with her shoulder.

They were suddenly in a small, quiet, dusty room. Motes danced in the moonlight that came through the transom window above the door to the saint’s walk, and doors of various sizes led off in multiple directions.

This was a between place.

It smelled of books and history and neglect. It smelled of solitary nights. It smelled of loneliness.

There was a sign on the far wall, two words in large, unmistakable san serif font: NO EXIT.

Which was funny, because there was definitely an exit. It was right at their backs.

Lumina saw that she was studying the sign and laughed quietly behind her hand.

“This place has a sense of humor,” she said wisely.

Demi wasn't sure what to make of that, but decided to accept it at face value.

This place had a sense of humor.

Before they went any further, Lumina rummaged around in her shoulder bag and pulled out a flashlight. It was comically large in her hands, all metal, very professional. She flicked it on.

“You’ll have to get your own flashlight,” she advised. “There are lights in this building, but they're strangely placed and they only work when they feel like working. It’s dangerous to depend on them.”

Indeed, the room they were in wasn't lit at all that Demi could tell, apart from the moonlight coming through the window, and what appeared to be green emergency lighting that illuminated the no exit sign.

Lumina gathered her books again, and with the flashlight in one hand and the books balanced on her arms, she set off again, and Demi followed.

The archbishop had been right. This was certainly an adventure.