“Yes. The lumomancers and their dragons.”
I scoff. “The children’s books are full of stories of war dragons and knights.”
“But those are stories, Fox. Not historical accounts. Mere fairy tales. Show me any historical account at all that explains the disappearance of dragons.”
“Dragon pox,” I tell him.
“Merely a theory. It’s not written anywhere.” I sigh and the professor smiles indulgently at me. “I don’t know. This is all speculation. There maybe nothing at all that binds all these events together.”
“Do you think there’s a way to destroy the demons?” I ask him – my real reason for visiting him today. “To destroy them once and for all?”
“If there were,” the professor says, “don’t you think we’d have found it by now?”
“Not if the demons have become a convenient excuse to keep the shadow weavers in power and the rest of the people of this realm in squalor and poverty.” Bitterness fills my voice – the bitterness of a boy raised in the cold, bare streets of Slate Quarter.
The professor nods. “What did you find out there in the demon wastelands?”
“There was this… thing,” I explain. “Like a tornado, close to where Bardin was keeping me prisoner. It felt like we were right on the very edges of the demon realm.”
“A tornado?” the professor asks.
“It was huge,” I explain. “Reaching right from the ground all the way up into the heavens. A spinning, churning monster of what looked like shadow magic, sucking in and spitting out demons all the time. And it’s where Bardin fled to when she escaped our clutches.”
“You think it was their power source?”
“I don’t know what it was, but it felt evil. Truly dark.”
“I’m sorry, Fox,” the old man says. “I don’t have the answers you need. I’m not sure if anyone does.”
I hang my head, unable to hide my disappointment.
“I suppose you’ve heard,” the old man tells me, “that the Empress has ordered the execution of Lincoln, Eros, and Cadieux?”
“What?” I cry, lifting my gaze back to his.
“This afternoon. They will be executed this afternoon.”
Chapter Eight
Briony
“I’ve never actually been in here before,” Fly whisper-confesses as he huddles behind me and Clare in the entranceway of the library, his gaze darting around suspiciously as if he expects the library to start flinging books at his head any moment now.
“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” Clare says, blinking behind her glasses.
Which is easy for her to say. She’s never had the library attack her before. She is literally the library’s little pet. I think the library would do anything for her, although Clare seems to disagree.
“Library,” Clare announces, taking a hold of Fly’s arm and forcing him to stand beside her. He shifts on his feet, looking so awkward it’s untrue. “This is my friend, Fly. I don’t think he’s ever been to a library before.”
“I have,” Fly says in outrage.
“We wanted him to come and see how amazing you are, how beautiful, how truly well-stocked.” The library lights flickerwith obvious pleasure. “And you’ll remember my friend Briony too.” The atmosphere in the library seems to turn instantly more frosty. “Library,” Clare says, stepping forward and holding out her hands. “We’re in trouble and we need your help. In fact, I think you’re the only one that can help us. Please hear us out.”
The lights above our heads flicker again, and I take it the library is considering Clare’s request. Then the shelves slide away and we follow the path they’re creating right to the very back of the building.
“Thank you,” Clare whispers as we’re safely entombed by high bookshelves stuffed full of books of all shapes and sizes. I think it would be impossible for anyone to find us hidden back here.
Clare repeats the story I told her earlier this morning in hushed tones, and the library is so still and quiet there’s no doubt that it’s listening to every word she has to say. When Clare comes to the end of the story, the point where we’ve made a decision to come to the library for help, that silence and that stillness continues. My heart and stomach drop. Maybe this isn’t going to work after all. The library is probably still angry with me for ripping that page from the book; after all, the library never exactly liked me in the first place.
