He nodded, apparently too exhausted to speak.
Emma closed the study door. She could not think of the pain in the Librarian’s voice or she would start to cry. No, she would focus on her plan. The Library held every book ever printed. As much knowledge as a building could contain. It would have the secret to returning to the mortal world.
Emma straightened. The book-lined archway at the end of the corridor was calling her. With or without the Librarian’s help, the knowledge she sought was somewhere in these rooms.
She had work to do.
CHAPTER 24
Emma had walked through the reading rooms quickly at first, trying to get a feel for what they held. The problem was, as soon as she turned back, the rooms behind her had switched themselves round. She recognized none of them. It had been worse once she’d thrown stairs into the mix. Tired as she was, she had to smile. The Library had a sense of humor, it seemed.
And then this room had turned up. Tall windows, a tapestry of a river winding around a fruit tree. And shelf after shelf of books titled things likeMortal Theory: Man and Manifest;orPerish the Thought: A Brief Philosophy of Mortality.Magical texts devoted to mortals, written by residents of the Night City. She hadn’t dared leave for fear the room would disappear on her.
But after hours of backbreaking work, she had covered exactly a tenth of the upper gallery. Nothing had held the secret to crossing into the mortal realm. She slumped on the top step of a spiral staircase. Perhaps if she hadn’t spent so long dodging Nat’s attempts to take her to the Library, she might have had a more realistic idea of the task she was undertaking.
But then, if it were easy, then anyone might have done it. And if there was one thing Emma knew about herself, in the flood of her returning memories, it was that she was patient. As a mortal, she had sat unmoving for hours, until her stillness set the creatures around her at ease. She had watched a seal colony until her fingers wrinkled from salt spray. She had seen a Guilder deer and its fawn pick their way to the river’s edge, even as the current numbed her feet. She stayed when others admitted defeat and went home to hot drinks. It was why the otters had danced for her alone, in the bend of the river outside Gabriel College. Seeing what was hidden from others had been a wonder, equal to any of the Night City’s. And she had only ever needed her own mind and eyes to do it.
“Loved your speech.” The velvet moss voice came from behind her, in the gallery.
Emma jerked round, spilling books from her lap. The messenger—her messenger—lounged against a stepladder.
“Quitea showing, your trial.”
“You were at my trial?”
He widened his eyes, which did nothing to hide the dancing mischief in their depths. “I? Would this humble vassal miss the trial of my own dear lady fugitive?”
At her hearty scowl, his grin widened.
“Oh yes,” he continued, fingering his curly beard. “I was there. To face down the Judge with a bargain of your own, and win? La! My dear.”
He produced an apple from nowhere and tossed it high into the air. Catching it in one hand and biting down, he said, “Sh’been a long time sh’ince I’ve seen old Misery enjoy himself that much. But you’ve got that nasty extra debt now—a whole mortal life, no?”
“I’m not going to think about it yet,” Emma said firmly.
“A thousand extra years of service? You should.”
“Youshould try not abandoning people on the street.”
“I prefer to think of it as delivering people back to the bosoms of their friends. Are you not a fox maiden now, and among sisters?”
Emma was on her feet before she knew it. The remaining books in her lap cascaded down the spiral staircase. She ignored the protests from the reading room below. Her eyes were narrowed on the messenger.
“You dropped me outside the Court on purpose.”
“Perhaps I did leave you where it might be—ah, easier for you to find your way in. But no good would have come of your avoiding your summons.”
Emma turned to pick up her fallen books, hoping her silence conveyed the full chill of her disdain.
“But itwouldbe a mistake, you know,” the messenger said quietly.
“What would?”
“Not to think about how you can pay off that debt.”
Emma’s eyes snapped to his. “Why would you care?”
“There are ways, you know.” Tossing the apple up and down, he looked at the ceiling, at the walls, anywhere but at Emma. “For someone who’s clever. There are things they could do.”
