The devotional day within the Citadel was divided into twelve different offices, with the four nocturnes breaking the night into quarters; the second of these was Compline. It began two hours after dusk and marked the moment when the mountain effectively went to sleep and the curfew began. No one was permitted to wander the tunnels, save for the guards who patrolled them, the monks on prayer rota on their way to or from the private chapels, and monks of a high enough rank to grant them exemptions from many of the rules that governed the rest.
Consequently, half an hour after Compline had begun, all was quiet – but not all slept.
Father Thomas was still awake, working alone in the library running endless systems checks to try to mend the faults in the security and environmental systems that had kept the library closed for so long. So far he had managed to fix the problems in the reading rooms and offices, but the main chambers, interlinked and vast, remained faulty – so he worked on.
On the broad stone balcony that formed part of the Prelate’s staterooms and overlooked the walled garden at the heart of the mountain a dark and ragged figure in a green cassock was also stirring. Dragan paced. He could not sleep. The Sacrament was not due to return to the mountain until just before dawn, yet already he could feel it drawing closer, bringing its life force with it. It had been taken from the mountain by traitors and heretics, but he had been chosen to return it – and so he would. By the end of the nocturnes it would be back in the chapel and locked in the Tau, its human vessel a necessary captive of the divine process. Only then would his strength return and the mountain be healed. Once that had come about he would deal with the traitors.
On the other side of the mountain in a windowless cell cut into the rock by the Abbot’s chambers, Athanasius was also awake. He had listened to the mountain quietening beyond his door, carefully folding and refolding his spare cassock to give his hands something to do. His senses felt keen, sharpened by adrenalin born of fear and apprehension. Soon he would have to leave the safety of his room and venture through the darkness. He had broken curfew before, but always on the Abbot’s business. However there was no Abbot now. This time he was on his own, and the business he was about was fraught with danger. So he folded and refolded his clothes.
And he waited.