It was proof that they wouldn’t just take the Governor’s supplies without recorded progress of their research.
Still, when Roy got to the first floor and gave the Governor a sheaf of several papers, torn out of the notebook he’d been writing in, he could neither hold back nor explain the frisson of unease that went through him.
“If the weather wills it,” the Governor told Roy, one of the Droves opening the doors to the Basilica behind him, “I’ll be back in four weeks.” He tucked Roy’s sheaf of papers in the same pocket where he’d placed Percival’s. “Best of luck to you both.”
* * *
A little later that day, Roy went up to the sixth floor, where he had been tailed by the creature, in the hopes of finding an artifact from the Age of Scribes that might hold relevance to the Old Ones. This floor, like those beneath it,wascrowded with manuscripts, but it also featured the exhibition of relics Roy had looked through on his first night. After seven hours of picking through the shelves and cabinets, he almostwantedthe Old Ones to raid the library, if only so he could be reminded they existed and maintain his sanity.
“Do you plan to stumble and fall again?”
Roy looked up from the astrolabe he’d been observing, which he’d placed on the low-lying table in front of him.
Percival strode toward Roy, his boots rapping against the floorboards. He pointed at the bookshelf past Roy’s shoulder. “It happened over there. I would know; I remember it quite clearly.”
Roy remembered it, too, almost as well as he remembered what Percival had said some few days ago.There is a line between us, Roy, and crossing that line would not do well for either of us.
Roy had skirted that line by admitting that he’d heard whispers when he’d entered the Orphic Basilica, and although the game was over, discontinued shortly after it had begun, he couldn’t remember being accosted by the ghost without remembering the brief impression he had seen of Gabriel’s leering grin. Hewantedto tell Percival about the ghost, because he was sure it had its own place in this conspiracy somehow. But each thought and memory of Gabriel drew a new line of blood over Roy’s scars, and he didn’t think he could go through with it if Percival saw and knew what evil had been done in that old, cold manor Roy had once called home.
Just tell him about the ghost, Roy told himself.Just the ghost. That’s all you have to do. Simple, no?
Not so, he thought, because he had only now fully come to terms with his attraction for Percival. These feelings were fresh and therefore fragile, and he could not trust himself to tell Percival the necessities without letting slip somethingabout Gabriel,somethingabout the true thing haunting him.
So he said nothing.
Percival surveyed Roy from head to foot, then dropped his gaze to his book again. “You haven’t found anything, have you?” He sounded accusing, but also faintly sad.
Roy saw no reason to lie. “Nothing.”
Percival nodded, the palest shade of red forming on his cheeks. “I’ve been looking for any more references to black chest plates inThe Lost Records of Old Wynairand any reports on the Elder Scribes’ agenda with, and banishment of, the Old Ones. But that’s about as much as I included in my report to the Governor. Otherwise, all I managed to find were other books on Wynair, but—”
“What?” Roy exclaimed.“Where are they?”
“That stack over there,” Percival said, pointing over his shoulder to a pile of books on one of the tables lining the nearest wall. He smirked at Roy, whose eyes had gone wide. “Oh, don’t bother, darling. I’ve already checked; I couldn’t find anything. They’re purely there for safekeeping, should I discover any other connections that link back to those books. Besides, I wouldn’t want anyone to misplace my research materials.” He quickly winked at Roy, then looked around, his expression introspective. “There are quite a few ancient documents here, though. Here’s hoping this library is willing to be a tad more lenient.”
Percival took his feet off the ottoman, stood, and walked toward the glass displays surrounding the star-shaped reading benches. Above the benches, the orrery emitted bright bangles of orange light, which radiated from torches mounted on the walls.
Roy stood and followed Percival. “The last time I was here, I...”
But he stopped. For some reason, contrary to what he’djustthought, he felt compelled to tell Percival, to blurt out,I saw something I cannot properly explain, something I have not yet fully wrapped my mind around.Was that impetus because he wanted to ingratiate himself with Percival? Guilt? Or, perhaps, something else. Something Percival had said, about the library being a tad more lenient...
And alsoinsistent?
But then Gabriel’s face sprang into his mind again, his smile as wide as the cuts he’d made in Roy’s skin, and the words died on his tongue.
Instead, Roy said, “One of the first times that I came here, I was drawn to the relics—the abacus, the journal... I think this level houses the oldest manuscripts of the library.”
Percival, who was poring over a half-crumbled journal, raised a brow. “Why have you returned to this specific area, then, if you weren’t as successful as you’d hoped? Trying your luck again?”
Roy shrugged. “I’ve been thinking recently about how many books I must’ve walked past, books that I once thought would hold no pertinent information, while wandering about these shelves the first time.” He deliberated cautiously on the phrasing of his next words, believing there might be some way to state them without sounding irrational, then decided he was overthinking it. The truth was hard to admit, but there was no other answer. “Earlier, I thought there weren’t any visible systems of organization in this library, and to a point, I was right: There aren’t anyvisiblesystems. It’s unseen. It’s intangible. And it’s ludicrous, but maybe with each crucial piece of information we uncover, the Basilica guides us,pushesus, toward our intended destination. The place weneedto be.”
“Nearly being trampled by that rolling ladder truly convinced you that the library is alive, then?”
“Yes,” Roy said, and in spite of the unshakable confidence with which he’d once claimed otherwise, he felt his answer to be deeply true. “And I’m not sure if it or the Elder Scribes are responsible for the layout of the building and the placement of the books and the artifacts, but regardless, a design exists and we just have to find it.”
Percival glanced over his shoulder. “Do you feel the same as you did when you entered the Basilica? Around this level, I mean?”
Roy is running, sprinting. His hair blows and whips about him in the air, so stale, so dry, not because of this antiquated building and its old, yet seemingly pristine, walls but because of the thing gliding after him on its silent shadow-feet. He senses its nearness like the stench of a corpse in its later processes of decomposition. His heart is pounding with a feral terror. He is an animal. He is prey. He sees books and moonlight and other wondrous, holy sights, but the thing advancing toward him spoils it all. It is his doom, his dark mirror, and once it has its hands on him, he will have no breath with which to scream—
