Gloing!

The tiny sound flew past, a moment of liquid gold in the stygian silence.

Silence ruled again above stairs, until it was interrupted by the shuffling ofthe official thick-soled carpet slippers of Smeems, the Candle Knave, as hemade his rounds throughout the long night from one candlestick to another,refilling them from his official basket. He was assisted tonight (although, tojudge from his occasional grumbling, not assisted enough) by a dribbler.

He was called the Candle Knave because that was how the post had been describedin the university records when it was created, almost two thousand yearsbefore. Keeping the candlesticks, sconces and, not least, the candelabra of theuniversity filled was a never-ending job. It was, in fact, the most importantjob in the place, in the mind of the Candle Knave. Oh, Smeems would admit underpressure that there were men in pointy hats around, but they came and went andmostly just got in the way. Unseen University was not rich in windows, andwithout the Candle Knave it would be in darkness within a day. That the wizardswould simply step outside and from the teeming crowds hire another man capableof climbing ladders with pockets full of candles had never featured in histhoughts. He was irreplaceable, just like every other Candle Knave before him.

And now, behind him, there was a clatter as the official folding stepladderunfolded.

He spun around. ‘Hold the damn thing right!’ he hissed.

‘Sorry, master!’ said his temporary apprentice, trying to control the sliding,finger-crushing monster that every stepladder becomes at the first opportunity,and often without any opportunity at all.