The warm glow of the infernal fire fell over the long corridor where books were stacked along the walls broken up by the many doorways, most closed and no light came from any of them, not rare, but useful. “There is a night shift who cleans up and tends to projects, but I know their usual rounds,” Amma said, voice very low as she inched her way forward. “Less predictable are the keepers who stay late on a whim. They can pop up anywhere, and you don’t want to get caught by them.”
“What do either of us have to fear from a librarian?” Damien asked, voice similarly low as they came to the corridor’s end.
“Many of them are mages, like you, blessed by one of the gods of knowledge or reading or whatever,” she said, looking both ways in the dark and then scurrying down the path to the left and its end. “And almost all of them abhor rule breakers.”
“Something we absolutely don’t have in common.” Damien’s voice crawled up the back of her as he stood closer than her own shadow. She shivered in the dark like he had breathed right into her ear, having to take a moment before going on.
Peeking around the corner of the wide archway that led out into the main entry of the library, the place was as imposing as last she saw it. The main room off the Athenaeum’s foyer was octagonal, its center an open, hollow space with tiled floors and mosaics laid into it, and near the ceiling there were long windows that let in the static moon’s violet glow. Each wall was filled to the point of bursting with books to the height of the room itself, three stories, ladders set against them to reach higher tomes. The shelves were built from liathau wood, filling the air with a mixture of its soft, floral smell and the musky scent of old parchment and ink.
Amma associated that smell, however, not with reading, but stalking. The many, many nights she had spent sneaking out, coming here, and learning all of the things she was never meant to, at first for fun, and then for knowledge, and finally with the singular goal of protection.
“This is odd,” said Damien, reaching out to touch a small branch that was sprouting out of the bookcase closest to where they were hiding.
“It’s their magic,” she said, watching his fingers delicately run over a pink leaf. “Once liathau are harvested, they try to manifest their new purpose. This one understands it’s too full of books, so I bet it’s making new shelves.” Amma’s jaw hardened, eyes slicing down the room as she heard a sound. “Kaz, kill the light.” The imp obliged her, the tone she used harsh enough for him to confuse it with Damien’s voice.
Footsteps, soft but clacking on the marble came toward them as, from another archway, four figures emerged. Amma recognized one of them, an older night shift worker called Watchwoman Aretta who would cause them no trouble if they remained unseen, but with her was a man, face too shadowed for Amma to make out, though he held himself regally and dressed exceptionally well, and trailing behind them were two Brineberth soldiers with full armor and weapons. Nowthatwas odd.
Damien raised a hand up beside Amma’s face, his dagger in it, but she held up a finger for him to wait. The elder woman was speaking to the man, carrying a book, and beside her hovered a gentle, teal ball of light. It followed the small group instinctively as she brought them to one of the shelves. “I’m not sure this is exactly what you’re looking for,” she said in her soft, leathery voice, “but I’ve an idea that could act as a companion to the restricted tomes you’ve already taken out.”
“Taken out?” Amma whispered almost inaudibly. The restricted tomes were not allowed to leave the library.
Watchwoman Aretta ran fingers over the spines that were lit up by the light she carried until she found what she wanted, plucking it off the shelf and handing it over.
The man opened the book with a displeased sigh. “That’s it?” Amma recognized the voice and held her breath.
Folding her hands before her, the night shift worker showed no sign of being annoyed. “There are perhaps a few things in the head archivist’s office, but you would need to speak with him. As I said, he is not in until the morning.”
With another unsatisfied grunt, the man who Amma now knew was Gilead snapped the book shut. “Take me there. I will leave him a message.”
Returning the way they had come, the light disappeared with them. Amma tried to calm her nerves, hating that they were in the same building as a mage of Brineberth, and one so high up, but felt a little safer with a blood mage beside her.
Damien sheathed the dagger and made a quiet sound in the back of his throat, and Amma heard it almost too well with him so close. He had bent down to watch, leaning over her back to stay close to the wall. She almost regretted having to move on, but more night shift workers would be about, and it wasn’t a good idea to stay in one place for long.
“There are two ways to the restricted section,” she told Damien, turning her head just over her shoulder, “one is needlessly up those wide stairs right in the center of the library and then down again once you reach the offices up on the balcony. That’s the public way you’d be taken if you were given permission to visit.”
“And the private passage?”
“Is this way.”
They crossed out into the main room, but only for a moment, Amma taking them to another alcove along the wall adjacent to them. There was a narrow door laid into the side that would be missed if one didn’t know about it, and she flexed her fingers. Blowing out a steady breath, she turned the knob carefully, eyes squeezed shut, and there was that predictable squeak that made her cringe but pull the door the rest of the way open. She gestured for them to go in ahead of her, slipping inside herself, and pulling it closed behind, shutting out all of the light.
Stepping backward, she bumped right into Damien then stood straight. The hall there was narrow, and she was suddenly very warm. “Light would be good again,” she said in a wavering voice.
Kaz’s tail lit up once more. Here, the walls were a sand-colored stone, and the pathway curved downward. Amma looked up at Damien who was watching her very carefully, lips pressed together tight. “Hopefully no one heard that, and if they did, they’ll just think it was Aretta,” she said, squeezing past him. “Regardless, we need to get to the restricted section fast in case someone else comes.”
Amma hurried along the corridor as it turned, heartbeat pounding in her ears. This was the worst part, the part where someone could be coming the other way, and there was nowhere to hide to avoid them. She had never run into that particular issue, but it always loomed over her. Thankfully, they got to the foot of the winding ramp where a single door stood, simple, arched, and made up of liathau, a keyhole set into the knob.
“Lucky you have that key,” said Damien, still close in the cramped space.
“The key doesn’t open this lock.” She placed a hand on the door, spreading out her fingers. “There are keys that do, but we don’t need them.” Pushing her palm down flat, she felt the liathau under her hand, warm like it was alive. It tickled her palm and traced around the edges of each finger in turn, and read from her what she wanted. At least, that’s how she assumed it worked, because what she wanted was for the door to open, and with a click, it did.
Amma grinned, satisfied anew every time, but especially after so long. She stepped through, but the light of Kaz’s tail didn’t follow, so she glanced back. Damien was standing in the open archway, ducking slightly, jaw slack. Up on his shoulder, Kaz’s underbite was similarly hanging open.
“What?”
“You just,”—Damien flicked a hand in gesture to the open door and then to her—“You used arcana.”
“No.” She shook her head, chuckling lightly and scrunching up her face. “I just asked the door to let us inside. It’s the wood that’s magic, I told you that already.”
