I try for a deeper, slower breath and look down at my chrono again, turning over my wrist and studying the display. I do it out of habit—it’s still not offering anything other than its off-line functions. I can see my bio readings are all still elevated, which is no surprise. I can read the time, and not much else.
I’m about to start counting the tiles again when the door swings halfway open. The woman standing in the doorway is a solemn-faced guard clad in black and gold, her dark braids drawn back from her face, with cheekbones you could cut yourself on. She’s strong too, muscles showing on her bare arms. Nimh seemed pretty quick with her spear thing, and she certainly handled those cultists in the forest, but I’m pretty sure this woman could snap me in half without breaking a sweat. Her light brown face is littered with a constellation of freckles, the only thing about her that’s not perfectly ordered.
But when she smiles, she’s suddenly much more human. “I’m here to take you to guest quarters,” she says. “You can wash there, change your clothes.”
This is my chance. I cast a farewell glance at my giant Nimh statue—wish me luck—and risk a smile in return. “Actually,” I say, walking toward the door, turning on my princely charm despite the fact that I’m completely filthy, “I was wondering if you could show me where the archives are. Ni—the Divine One told me they’re very impressive. I’m dying to see them.”Or rather, I’ll die here if I don’t get to see them.
She studies me for a moment, considering this. “You do not wish to eat first?”
My stomach tries to turn itself inside out in response.Yes!it yells.Yes, feed me!
“I can wait to eat,” I reply.
She inclines her head. “This way, then. My name is Elkisa.”
“North,” I offer in return.
“Your accent’s strange, North,” she says, studying me sidelong. Waiting for me to fill in the blanks.
“You think?” I reply, all innocence, shifting the topic. “So you work for the housekeeping team?” Her uniform is the same as those of the guards I saw before—if she’s anything like the security team at home, that question ought to divert her away from who I am. I’m far more interested in whosheis.
She shoots me a sharp look. “I am one of the Divine One’s personal guards,” she replies, turning a corner with precision. “I volunteered to escort you.”
“Then I owe you.” I try to keep my tone light, as if I’m not relieved someone actually came to get me out of that place. “There were only so many laps of that room I could walk.”
“I am the one who owes you a debt,” she replies. There’s an intensity in her face that sobers me. She clears her throat. “You escorted her home safely, when we had failed. I wanted to meet you.”
She cares deeply for Nimh. That much is clear. “I’m generally less impressive in person,” I reply, fishing for another smile. I could use allies right now, and something tells me she might be one, if I play this right.
She opens a tall wooden door, pushing it inward and gesturing for me to walk through ahead of her.
I make it exactly three steps before I slow to a halt, my brain shorting out. The archives are like nothing I’ve ever seen. Vaulted ceilings soar at least three stories up into the air, lined with intricately crisscrossed brick patterns. The shelves run almost as high, wheeled ladders positioned along them at intervals so the archive workers can climb up to access the shelves upon shelves uponshelvesof books and scrolls. Stained glass windows dye the top levels green and blue and gold, and lower down there are lamps at the end of every aisle, puncturing the darker shadows.
I’ve been comparing this world to home, counting the tech they don’t have, but this place would give any room in the palace a run for its money.
Vastwas underselling it.
My mouth falls open, and a beat too late I snap it shut again, trying to smooth out my expression, hide my hope.
Elkisa steps around me, her footsteps echoing as she makes her way up the central walkway, and I scurry along behind her. Finding a single technical manual among all these texts could be the work of a lifetime.
She halts at a desk just a little way in, where an old man with a shock of white hair, wire-rimmed glasses, and a face the same color and wrinkled texture of a walnut sits scowling up at us.
“Matias, this is the Divine One’s new guest,” Elkisa says. And then to me: “I’ll be outside when you’re ready for that bath.”
She turns for the door, leaving me alone with the old man. He adjusts his glasses and looks me up and down. What he makes of my filthy clothes, bandaged arm, and dirty face, I can’t imagine.
“Well,” he says eventually, just as I’m reminding myself not to shift my weight like a fidgety student. “You’re the talk of the temple, lad.”
“North, sir.” I nod at him, uncertain about the protocol.
“You have a familiar air about you, North.” Matias’s eyes narrow a fraction, his expression thoughtful for a long moment before it clears. “I hear we have you to thank for bringing the Divine One home safely.”
I resist the urge to correct him. “She said I might use these resources to do some research?”
“A scholar, hmm?” His white eyebrows rise as he looks me over a second time. “And such an eager one that you don’t stop to rest before seeking out the library. Tell me what you’re looking for, and I will do my best to assist you.”
Though the words are welcome, the tone is proprietary—these arehisbooks, at least in his mind. I take a steadying breath. “N—the Divine One said there were documents here on flight.”
