The Pale Locksmith

CHAPTER 6: THE RETURN OF RANCE

The second he left the square, it was as if a weight upon his shoulders shifted, but did not get any lighter. He was no longer Rance Loh, awkward husband. But instead he was now Rance Loh, unsuitable Lawkeeper. His walk to work was a simple one - once he made his way through the piece of C.T. he called home, he soon came to the main thoroughfare of the city. Now he could see the same old comforting faces. Every day, he would pause outside the printer's building, hand over a coin to the mute vendor standing there and receive a news-sheet in return. All part of the routine. The journey was one he could almost do blindfold, for it had been part of his life for the last twenty-four years, since his very first day working within the Ministry. His route took him past a theatre, probably the most significant place on the whole island for those who considered themselves cultural to go for entertainment. The building was intricately decorated, standing proudly as a beacon for the elite of Antolund to congregate in the evenings.

He was drawing near to one of his favourite shops. Through the window displays could be seen a row of boxes, each with a different type of candied fruit. A long-standing weakness of his, and just part of the reason for his heavyset figure. But today he had not a coin to spare, so he moved on past without so much as a fourth glance.

As he walked he thought; it seemed like a good idea. He thought about the time spent in Dejana, and tried not to think about that broken knife. He also tried not to think about the Ministry and how he did not fit in with the other Lawkeepers. Instead he thought about his old Department, and how easy life had seemed back then. He wondered how many guests they had received since his last visit, and if they had been appropriately dealt with now there was only one Deathnoter. Of course they would have done – Jarud was always thorough.

A warning sign about an unstable wall forced him to cross to the other side of the street. There always seemed to be some masons at work along his route – the older buildings seemed to crumbling away. He automatically raised his foot over the uneven cobblestone outside the Bakery nearest the Ministry. He went there sometimes for lunch, but he did not find its goods as appealing as back home, especially now Adiniah was more involved than ever. Anyway it felt like betrayal going to another Bakery, even if no one would ever find out.

If Rance were to look up now, he would be able to see the Ministry building in front of him, where the Lawkeepers of the city worked - when they were not patrolling the streets, reassuring people with their presence. The structure stood tall and proud above its neighbours, all stone and severe angles. It was commonly known as The Old White, a description that could also have been applied to those who worked on its upper floors. For as well as being home to Lawkeepers, one could also find the opulent offices of all the Ministers of Antolund there - from the eerie, elusive Chief Minister himself down to all the Sub-Ministers. One more path to crossover and now the building was right there ahead of him, with its tall, stout doors protected by tall, stout guards. Rance walked through the entrance and turned left.

"Hello, I'm back."

The man, who had been sitting at the same table every day since at least before Rance became a Lawkeeper a year ago, raised his head from the pieces of paper on the table. He looked at Rance blankly, apparently not realising that he had even been away. Rance decided the conversation had already gone on long enough.

"Rance Loh L-O-H, Lawkeeper."

This the man knew how to respond to. From the piles of paper, he pulled one out. Meticulously finding the right name, he made a little note.

"Go in."

And that Rance did. He went through the door next to the table, to a large room where some other men, similarly dressed in their black coats, were already waiting. They were standing in a circle, talking about something or other. Clearly an entertaining topic, the way they were all so engrossed in their conversation. Too engrossed to give Rance any more than the most cursory of glances. Rance went to the side of the room at his usual chair. He began to read the daily reports, a list of everything that people had seen fit to report to Lawkeepers since the previous morning. He appeared unconcerned as the room gradually filled up with more and more men in their long black coats. Soon the air was filled with words from dozens of mouths, but Rance remained silent. He acknowledged nobody, and nobody tried to get his attention. All the while, he felt sick inside.