“The Library is the only place the mortal world and the Night City exist together. As equals.”
The reception was buzzing with life. A figure in a monk’s cowl trailed by, taloned feet scritching over the marble floor. Groups stood debating and waving books at one another. Emma saw several silver collars like her own. Saskia ushered her through the crowd and into the dim glory of the reading room beyond.
“We can walk around the mortal streets and buildings out there. But we don’t own them. We pass through, leaving marks mortals can’t see. And most of our own spaces are like pockets, hidden from mortal eyes and feet.”
“Like the Court.”
“Right. But here”—Saskia turned soft eyes upon the shadowy shelves—“it’s both. Magic and mortal, at the same time. Like two floor plans laid over the same space. Technically, we have our own rooms with our own books, but really there’s nothing to stop a mortal wandering in. They can stroll into a room that shouldn’t exist in their world, and which won’t be there again when they come back the next day.Centuriesof scholars have found this place baffling.”
Her voice was full of glee.
Emma remembered her first visit to the Library with Nat. Walking into reading rooms she’d never been able to find again. The way the readers had glanced up at her, all sporting the timeless academic uniform of tweed patches and beetle brows, as though she were the first person they’d seen in a century.
Perhaps she had been.
And in a place where the two worlds overlapped, Emma realized, there might be more odd edges like that. Frayed seams, tinygaps where a patient, determined person might wriggle through to the mortal world, leaving their debt behind.
“We’re mostly meant to come at night, after the mortals are gone. Since they can actually see us here, and we stick in their memories.”
“They can see me here?” said Emma, her heart lifting. “Remember me properly, in the daylight?”
Nat came to the Library all the time. He could bring her mother. And together, surely, they’d find some way around her debt to the Night City—
“Don’t get your hopes up.” Saskia led them up a warped staircase. “The punishment for courting mortal attention here is something fierce. I’ve had to make a run for it before, when a mortal’s got too close. Only the Sister and the Librarian are allowed to talk to them, and that’s because of their jobs.”
“Shelving books?”
“They’re more like guardians. The Library’s precious to the City. One of the few things I like about our ruling power.”
“Why?”
“Because a proper appreciation of books is a mark of decency. Oh, why’s it precious to the City, you mean? Best ask the Librarian. He explains better than I can. I was going to drop you at his study up ahead. I’ve a few more books I wouldn’t mind borrowing, and I don’t want to have to drag you round with me.” She pointed to a door in the shadow of a tapestry.
Emma felt a flash of warmth in her chest. She realized that she did not want Saskia to go. Instinct urged her to trust this spiky-haired, spiky-tongued stranger. In fact, it told her that she already trusted Saskia. That she could ask the question burning in herthroat. Emma lowered her voice. “Saskia—the Turnbulls. Do you know anything about them?”
“Only to stay away from them.”
“The Judge said that they made a bargain with the Night City, and made me part of it. But they’re only mortals.Boys.How would the Turnbulls even know the Night City exists? What would they bargain for? I thought—you had all of those books—maybe you’d know where to look…”
“Yeah, I could take a look for you. Maybe.” Saskia inspected her chipped nail polish with an air of unconcern. “It’s not like I’m going out of my way. Whatever.”
Behind her, the little door flew open. The scent of toast floated out.
“Child. It is you.”
The Librarian’s delight cleared the gritty feeling from Emma’s throat. The Turnbulls had owned enough of her thoughts.
“And young Saskia. Well met, both. Will you take some tea with me?”
Saskia begged off, but Emma stepped into his study. Tea sounded excellent. And she would not feel guilty for having a second purpose. The Librarian knew so much of the Night City and the contents of the Library. If there was a secret weak spot in the City’s barriers she might creep through, or a book that told of illicit crossings to the mortal world, he would know it. But she could not let him know what she intended. With his scattered wits, he might let it slip. And he would suffer punishment along with her, if it was found she had escaped and that he had given her the tools to do it. She saw him dragged away by Boars, bruises flaring under his brocade waistcoat, childlike eyes puzzled at thehurt. She could not bear to think of it. It was safest for them both to keep her hunt hidden.
The Librarian bowed her into the best armchair in his study: the one that still had both arms. He shuffled about with an air of joy, fetching teacups and fussing at butter dishes. Books were piled in a waist-high labyrinth. A little old-fashioned Primus stove sat atop a desk, a smoking toaster beside it.
“You carry your token, child?” A dish of hot buttered toast was put down in front of Emma. She fell on it, tearing with her fingers.
“Yes,” she said, through a dripping mouth. Butter was sogood.She wiped her hands on her cloak, thinking an apology to the Sister, and pulled out the slip of parchment with the fanged eye.
The Librarian settled in the armchair opposite. “That is well, child. Keep it with you always.”
