Page 51 of Tiger's Tale
“The day I went to church was the day God destroyed my life,” Nik said. “So I’d prefer it if the two of us stayed on opposite sides of the universe. I’m sorry if that offends you.”
“My new friend, don’t apologize for your feelings. You are not the first I have met, nor do I expect you will be the last to impugn God for worldly sorrows. I do not condemn you for doing so, nor do I imagine does He. What griefs you have experienced in life only He and you know. Someday I hope you will look upon Him as I do. For me, it helps to picture God not as a destroyer or as a negligent, withdrawn figurehead but more as a kindly grandparent or as a wise old monk.”
“I... I don’t have any experience with any of those,” Nik replied. “The only men I’ve ever known older than myself have been evil.”
“Well then,” Zakhar said, “I will think on this further and pray for you, my friend. Perhaps an answer will come to one of us when God, or you, is ready to share more, da?”
Nik gave Zakhar a nod, and the priest turned back to the drawing.
“Now, where was I? Ah, right. Where you would normally enter is here, at the porch through the main doors. The area just beyond that is called the narthex. Then you hit the main body of the building, called the nave. You’ll see the bishop’s throne there and two wings; this area is called the transept. You’ll be entering the building at that door with my key. The east transept contains a picture gallery. There’s a hidden door on that side that opens behind some curtains.
“Once inside, you’ll head into the nave, turn right, and then instead of entering the sanctuary—where you’ll find the altar, the candelabra, the censer, and so forth—you’ll head up to the second floor through a door hidden in the mural of Saint Peter. This will take you to the bishop’s living quarters. His key will be on a leather strip hanging about his neck or on the bedside table next to him. I’ll bring you some shears to cut the string.
“After you obtain the key, assuming you haven’t woken him and caused an alarm, then you head to the west transept. Use the key to open the vault containing the cathedral library. Head down the stairs. Once inside, you’ll find shelves and shelves of books and the tables and chairs we use for our study. When Bishop Rudimov showed me the box, he locked it up in a large cabinet on the far back wall. It was approximately here.” Zakhar quickly drew a series of bookshelves, desks, and the cabinet and circled it.
“That’s fine,” Danik said. “But what I don’t understand is how one key can open the door, the cabinet, and this box. That doesn’t make sense. Did you see him open the box?”
“No,” Zakhar said. “The same key opens the vault and the cabinet. It’s the master key to everything inside the cathedral. Some of us, like me, have keys to the outer building. As to the box, he didn’t open it, so I don’t know if his key will work with that.”
Nik asked, “Is it built like a music box?”
“A music box? I’m not sure. Why?” Zakhar asked.
“I have a little experience with those,” Nik explained. “My mother had one. The key is sometimes stored inside the box itself, in a hidden compartment.”
“That would be helpful,” Danik said. “So when do we do this?”
Zakhar sucked in a breath. “Tonight.”
* * *
That evening the wind and snow blew only lightly. Danik hoped it was enough to cover their tracks by morning. He’d accompanied Nik to the side door of the east transept, and they’d used Zakhar’s key to enter the building. The cathedral was quiet; the seminary students, cooks, and priests were all asleep, as it was well past the midnight hour.
Wind rattled the windowpanes as they slunk through the dark passageway lit by nothing but fleeting reflections of moonlight peeking through clouds reflected off the snow-covered ground. Finally, they entered the nave, and Nik, invisible while wearing his tunic and magic boots, took hold of Danik’s arm. “Meet you on the other side,” he whispered, and then he was gone, heading up to the bishop’s apartment to secure the key.
Danik heard the soft snick of a door and saw a passageway open and close behind the bishop’s throne, then he quietly made his way across the room and through the west transept, stopping to wait by the locked door. He estimated it would take Nik approximately the same length of time it would for him to complete a song, so he tapped one out with his fingers on his leg. When he finished the first song, a second, a third, and began a fourth, he started to worry.
Nik headed up to the apartment, proud of the fact that he was quieter than a mouse tucked into his winter bed beneath layers of white snow. There wasn’t even a stutter in the bishop’s soft snores to indicate his sleep had been disturbed. The problem wasn’t Nik. It was the sleeping posture of the bishop.
Zakhar’s information was accurate in that the bishop wore the key around his neck. The issue was that the bishop apparently slept on his stomach, and he was a bit on the beefy side. That meant removing the key from around his neck was going to present something of a challenge. It wouldn’t be impossible; it just meant waiting until the bishop rolled over.
Nik did exactly that, but the bishop was soundly, deeply, comfortably asleep. After several moments of waiting, Nik decided he needed to take further action. Looking around, he found a quill and tried tickling the man’s nose with the feather tip. All that accomplished was eliciting a sneeze and a rather phlegmy snort.
He knew then that more drastic means were necessary. Taking hold of the man’s quilt, he gave it a little tug. The man tugged back. Nik pulled again, this time removing the quilt to the other side of the bed. With eyes still tightly shut, the bishop reached out, grasping at nothing until at last he found the blanket and yanked it back over himself, then proceeded to snore as before.
Frustrated, Nik slowly removed the man’s pillow in tiny degrees until his head fell, startling him awake. “What? What was that? No, sir. Not in my church,” he mumbled, grabbing his pillow from the floor where Nik had dropped it. He stuffed it beneath his head and rolled to his side. Nik mouthed a thank-you to the universe and waited a beat for the man to start snoring again before moving closer.
The gold key hung on a leather cord tied about the man’s neck, and Nik examined it from a few different angles, trying to see where he could slip the shears against it without having the cold metal touch the man’s skin. Finally, he found a good spot. Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward and made the cut.
Sadly, the key slipped down the man’s nightrobe before Nik could catch it. The strip of leather still hung outside his neckline, so, very slowly, he took hold of the tie and pulled it up, up, up until it came free. Just in time, too, because the bishop giggled, rubbed his chest, and rolled to his other side.
Nik got out of the apartment with his prize as quickly as he could and headed down to the rendezvous point only to bump into Danik at the door. He took hold of the other man’s arm, guiding him as quietly as he could toward the west transept, and the two made their way over to the vault.
“What took you so long?” Danik hissed as Nik removed his boots.
“He was sleeping on top of it,” Nik replied. “You have to know that things aren’t always going to go easily and account for it.”
“That’s easy for you to say when you aren’t the one waiting.”
