Because the magic of Hearts was tied to memory as well as emotions. They could draw out buried emotions, and they could manipulate them, evenerasememories if the Heart was powerful enough. They couldn’t create an emotion from scratch, but they could amplify or lessen an existing one, depending on their magic. Back home they used to say, if you fell in love with a Heart, you never knew if it was real, if it was allyou,or them, the memories and emotions in you, and your perception of them altered.
Had March somehow taken my memories, and given me his?
I didn’t see how—he was my age, and he’d need years andyears of magic practice to be able to pull that kind of thing off. Most Hearts never did, according to what they taught us in school.
Most importantly, though, I didn’t seewhy.
Either way, I didn’t have the courage to face him, not this morning. That’s why, after I showered and got dressed, I took my sketchbook with me, my little mushroom, and I went straight for Master Talik’s workshop. Yes, I was hungry, but I figured I could get breakfast when the others had already left. I could stop there on my way back to my room.
Except when I got to Master Talik’s workshop, the door was locked.
I knew knocking wasn’t going to get me anywhere, but I still tried. I waited. Knocked again. If he was in there, I didn’t hear him. And if he’d locked his door because he didn’t want me to bug him again, he was very successful.
With my sketchbook against my chest, I made my way down to the second floor to find the library Elida told me about.
It was easy. All I had to do was ask a man who was carrying plastic boxes down the other end where the library was, and he said, “Two corridors down from here, take a left, and another left.”
When I got there, one of the library doors was open almost all the way. The closer to it I got, the better I saw what was in there, and by the time I stopped at the threshold, I wasn’t even breathing.
It rose in tiers, each balcony stacked with books that climbed so high they vanished into the dim vault of the ceiling. Iron ladders clung to the walls like skeletal vines. Long wooden tables painted red and white stretched across the floor in perfect parallel lines. Lanterns shaped like clocks were mounted on the pillars between shelves and lamps thesize of my fists hung on delicate chains, swaying a little to the sides all over the long tables.
Near the shelves, these large velvet recliners were scattered everywhere, two or three in one place, with a low table between them stacked with books and scrolls. They were so big I could hide in them if I sat there—and I would. With a book, and with my sketchbook on my lap, I could sit there and draw and read for days at a time.
So many books.
Some volumes had clasps shaped like gears. Others were chained to the shelves with golden clock chains. The scent of aged paper and oil hung in the air, and it was heavy, but it was perfect. Exactly the right scent for a place that looked likethis.Compasses, hourglasses full of timesand, clocks in all sizes were positioned everywhere, on shelves and tables, even on the floor that was set with a thick carpet my feet sank into when I took a step forward.
The library was not empty. Helen, Levana and Seth were already in there, the first bent over one of the long tables, with two books open in front of her. The other two were on the first set of recliners, each with a big stack of books over the armrests.
They looked at me when I walked in—just looked. I briefly considered turning around and walking away but decided against it. Yes, I was uncomfortable being in a place with the other Hands because of how they looked at me, but I needed this library. I needed the books and the peace and quiet. The room was huge, and I planned to go all the way to the other end, so I sucked it up and I walked with my head up.
They said nothing but they kept their eyes on me until I made it all the way to the other side. The two dark purple recliners in the far left corner were perfect for me. They evenhad a clock lamp on the low table because the lanterns on the shelves were far away. It suited me perfectly.
I left my sketchbook on the table, and I finally approached the first shelf to look at the spines.
Gorgeous colors, most leather-bound with golden and silver letters.Atlas of Impossible CorridorsbyN. N. Nower,said a title, and the next wasGears of Governance: The Royal Courts.They hadThe Shade Treaties,Volumes one through four, all written and prepared byThe Ledger,which is what the governing body of our court was called. I’d studied these books in school like all other Spades. They had a couple of volumes onThe Heart Court Lexicon,andThe Diamond Harvestby aJerry Daide; Sparetime: The True Storyand evenThe Anatomy of a Club, which could be very interesting. We all learned about the main traits of Clockfolk from each court, and about Timekeepers as well, but only the very basics. It had always fascinated me how the same environment behaved differently around certain groups—like Clubs, who could age fast if they stayed in one place for longer than a few hours. The same air, the same gravity, the same time—yet for them it was different than it was for us. And how Spades were supposed to live longer than all others, and how Diamonds were quick to cast out their own if they couldn’t prove they were worthy when they matured. Fascinating that we shared the same world yet were so different.
There were separate sections full of fiction work as well, but for now, I had to skip those and keep searching for something that might help me understand whatever madness I was part of—because the White Queen wasn’t coming back, apparently, and Elida was most definitely not going to give us answers, and Master Talik may or may not have locked his door for the sole purpose of keeping me away.
Books were my only hope. My last hope.
So, I searched the shelves until my eyes started to sting—Iwas exhausted from the day—until I came upon a title by Eric Vonder—Clockwork Bestiary: Creatures of Metal and Pulse.It was exactly what I imagined the Labyrinth to be—abeastfull of magic, with a mind of its own, free to take life with impunity.
I picked up the book and went to the recliner. It was more comfortable than I’d imagined. I even toed my boots off and pulled up my legs, and it was so big that I was almost lying on it.
Like that, with my back turned to the table so the light of the lamp could fall on the pages, I pulled the cover open.
A map of the Clockrealm was drawn in perfect detail, with the Great Clock and Neverwhen in the middle, and the four courts around it.
Releasing a long breath, I began to read.
18
Her face was pale, or perhaps the bloody red of her lips drained all other colors from the rest of her. But her eyes—I doubted they had a color of their own. They were black, like ink. They were wide and round, and both dull andfullat the same time.
Her thin lips moved but I didn’t hear anything she said. Was she whispering? I didn’t think so, but she was speaking. I saw her teeth, slightly crooked, a crisp white. I saw her tongue, a pale pink, rolling out words I couldn’t understand.
But Ifeltthem. That’s how I knew I was dreaming.
