The room beyond the door was about as big as Leaf’s living room back home. The far wall was dominated by a full-length window, the first Leaf had seen. It looked like frosted glass so Leaf couldn’t see anything through it, though it did admit a great deal of purple-tinged sunlight that was bright enough to wash out the ubiquitous blue-flamed gas jets in the ceiling.
An old wooden table with one chair was in the centre of the room; there was a bed in the corner, and a man – a normal mortal human from the look of him – was asleep on top of the covers, fully dressed in the same kind of green hospital uniform the cleaner back in the ward on Earth had worn.
‘Is that her?’ asked Feorin.
‘Him,’ said Milka. ‘I told you they change them all the time. Wake up!’
The man sat up with a startled cry. He was quite old, Leaf saw. Older than her grandfather, his short hair white as paper.
‘What?’ he said. ‘I only just lay down!’
‘We’ve brought you a sleeping waker,’ said Feorin.
‘A waking sleeper,’ corrected Milka. ‘We need a receipt.’
The man rubbed his eyes and looked at Leaf.
‘Hi,’ he said. ‘I’m Harrison. I expect they’ve stuffed up again. You’re a Piper’s child, aren’t you?’
‘No …’ said Leaf. She tried to act puzzled and disoriented, which wasn’t hard. ‘I was in the hospital …’ Harrison got out of the bed with a frown.
‘But She never takes anyone under fifty!’
‘We need a receipt!’ interrupted Milka. ‘And quickly. We’ve got better things to do.’
‘Like drink tea,’ said Feorin.
‘All right, all right!’ Harrison shook his head several times, blinked, and wiped his eyes, then went over to the desk and quickly wrote something on a piece of paper, using a ballpoint pen. Milka took it and pursed her lips in distaste.
‘Poor penmanship,’ she said. ‘Those pointy things are not proper writing instruments!’
‘Will it do as a receipt?’ asked Harrison.
‘I suppose so,’ said Milka. She folded the paper very precisely into a square one-eighth of its original size and put it in her pocket. ‘Feorin! Come on.’
The two Denizens stalked out, leaving Leaf standing in front of the desk. Harrison rubbed his eyes again and leaned forward, propping his chin on his hands for a moment, with his eyes closed as if he were asleep. Then he shook himself awake again, pushed the chair back, and stood up.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘You’d better sit down. This is going to be a shock.’
Leaf took the chair.
Harrison paced in front of the desk, scratching his head. Finally he stopped and turned to face Leaf.
‘Look, I don’t know how to tell you this. Uh, let’s see … how can I put it? The two … ah … people who brought you here. Well, they’re not human. They’re like kind of aliens, called Denizens, and normally they live in a place … a world I guess … called the House. Only this isn’t there, it’s another planet somewhere in maybe the Lesser Magellanic Cloud, I think, or maybe … oh … I’m too tired to even think, let alone explain. Anyway, most of the real people here are asleep and they’ll stay asleep until … but there are a few normal humans like me who are awake … but we’re prisoners too … Ah, I bet none of this is making sense …’
‘You say you’re a prisoner here?’ asked Leaf. She wanted to be sure he wasn’t a willing servant of Lady Friday.
‘Yeah,’ said Harrison. ‘I was dumb enough to take a job in ‘Dr Friday’s’ hospital back on Earth. Next thing I know …here I am, and here I’ve stayed. What year is it back home?’
Leaf told him. Harrison asked her again and she repeated it. He stood completely still the second time, the muscles working in his throat as if he were holding back a sob.
‘Then I’ve been here for fourteen years … I thought it was longer. Weird stuff happens when you go through the House between Earth and here.’
‘We got here via this House place?’ asked Leaf.
‘According to Axilrad,’ said Harrison. ‘One of the Denizens. She talks to me sometimes. Ah, what does it matter … I’m stuck here, you’re stuck here, we’re better off than the sleepers …’ ‘What happens to the sleepers?’ Leaf felt her whole body tense up with that question, because she really meant ‘What’s going to happen to my aunt?’
‘You don’t want to know,’ muttered Harrison. He kept pacing. ‘Really, you don’t. You’re bound to be in shock already; I don’t want to make it worse.’