ON THE DANGERS OF LIBRARIANS
Amma felt just about every kind of bad that she could. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to eat, nausea roiling in her stomach every time she went to take a bite. She tried to distract herself by refreshing her clothing and scrubbing her face and body with the fresh water that ran from a tap in the room—at least Faebarrow had not yet lost the arcanely enhanced fixtures all throughout the city that the larger cities were abundant in—but then all she could do was lay on the cot, fail miserably at attempting to sleep, and feel awful. It was in her blood, the guilt, as profoundly as infernal arcana was in Damien’s. And now she had so many more things to feel guilty for.
Foremost was Faebarrow. In the short time she’d been beyond its borders, she had forgotten the way things were here with so many soldiers siphoned in from Brineberth March, but that merchant was a grim reminder. What would become of him? Would he ever see his family again? See another day? She bit back tears at the thought, pulling out the shard of broken pottery she’d rescued from beneath the ancient liathau. There was half an image there, delicately laid into the red, hardened clay: the jaws of a lion pouncing on a tree branch. It was brave to have made this, braver still to sell it on the street, but costly, in the end.
And then there was the lying. Of course, shecouldjust tell Damien why she had to hide her face in Faebarrow—and perhaps he was right that her own cowardice was why she kept her secrets all to herself, but theywerehers, weren’t they? If he knew, she couldn’t imagine things would go much better. He may use the truth to what he would think would be his advantage but really turn out to be a danger. Not telling him was safest for both of them.
But did Damien need her protection? Did he even deserve it? He had abducted her, ordered her around through enchantments—which, for the archives, she wasnotenjoying—and who had threatened tomurderher. Yet she still didn’t want to see him hurt. Was she really that stupid? Or was it because she had stopped believing that he meant her ill will altogether?
Because why—why—did he want this Lux Codex so badly?
The book had nothing to do with his plans in Eirengaard and his mysterious prophecy, he was already on his quest before learning of it, so it was something new that encouraged him to go after it. Damien’s questions for the elf in the Gloomweald were of artifact purging and curse removal. It was perhaps a little self-centered—well, no, it was almost certainly alotself-centered when she truly thought about it—but there was a small chance he wanted the Lux Codex in order to get the talisman out of her without ending her life. And wouldn’t that just be the luck of things if his decision to spare her led to the downfall of them both?
Amma sat up from the bed and went across the room to get a better look at the city from her third-story window. She struggled with its stiff hinges until it popped open so she could see past the grime. Darkness had fallen on Faebarrow, but the static moon glowed over the tops of buildings, and there was a faint smell of liathau even here, a bright twist of citrus with a floral undertone, and she was taken right back into every memory she had of toiling in the greenhouse, running through the orchard with Laurel, showing her parents her work, and simply being happy. Things had changed in the last few years, and then they’d gotten significantly worse after the soldiers’ arrived, but there was still something here. Something worth saving.
Damien’s knock on her door was too cheerful. She answered, and there he stood, leaning on the frame, much too confident for the danger all around him. Kaz was sitting at his feet, bundled in his knit tunic and still a dog, his tail unapologetically wagging. At least they were headed to the library, a place she would feel comfortable wagging her own tail and lounging against every door if there actually were time.
The tavern downstairs was busy and loud but easy enough to slip through and out into the darkened streets. Most had returned to their homes, and Amma told Damien of the curfew that had been imposed on the city as they made their way back to the Grand Athenaeum, keeping to the shadows and avoiding the guards that patrolled the empty roads.
The massive library stood in all its glory like a white copse of birches amongst a dark forest of housing for the students and scholars. They came up around its back this time, hiding in an alley as Amma took a breath, preparing herself. The Grand Athenaeum didn’t call for much protection on its outside, just like most of Faebarrow, until it did. The yard at the sides and back of the building were rung with a stone wall with no breaks in it for even a gate.
“How are we going to—”
Amma cut Damien off, pulling out the key she never went anywhere without from her hip pouch and shoving it in his face.
“To the Athenaeum? Have I gotten things wrong? You’ve been a librarian all this time?”
Amma shook her head. “No, but I did steal this from one years ago.”
“So, thief it is then.”
She supposed, in a way, he was right. But he was very wrong too.
Scaling the wall behind the Athenaeum was easy—Amma already knew a place with good, natural footholds that had been worn in by time and messy masonry. She told him to watch, and with a quick check of the walkway for guards, she sprinted at full speed to the wall and used the momentum to propel herself to its top. She paused a short moment to gesture for him to follow, and then eased herself down the other side.
Damien landed beside her in the grass at just the same time as she did—show off, she thought—and Kaz flitted down with his wings just after, an imp again. Damien glanced back at the wall then to her, cocking a brow. “You scaled that wall much better than the knoggelvi.”
“Knoggelvi don’t have footholds, but they can get hurt if I dig my foot in wrong.”
He thought on that a moment then tipped his head, sincere. “Regardless, I am impressed.”
Amma looked away quickly, glad the dark would hide her face. Disturbingly, she found she liked impressing him with her worst behavior. It was nice to have someone to share it with, at least, but especially someone who appreciated it. And it was much nicer having him impressed with her than angry.
Her key could get them into one of the many doors running along the building’s backside, and she chose the one she remembered didn’t squeak when opened, but it did dump them into a pitch dark, back hall that required careful treading, the place used for storage and cleaning and often littered with old tomes needing mending.
“Now, be careful through here, it’s easy to trip and—”
“Kaz, a little light.”
Amma squeaked as Kaz’s tail caught on fire. “The books!”
But Kaz did not shoot a blast of fire blindly into the hall. Instead, he became a lantern, riding on Damien’s shoulder, tail hanging out to the side, its tip gently alight.
“Whoa, Kaz, very nice.” She grinned at him.
The imp grinned back, then caught a look from Damien, and dropped back into a scowl. “I can set this whole place ablaze with a simple flick of my tail.”
“You’ll do no such thing,” threatened Damien.
