Page 108

"You could've lied." He says when she's far away. "You told her I gathered the books."

"You did gather most of them."

I begin stacking the books into his arms. He stares as the pile rises.

"What are you doing?" He asks.

"Consequences."

"This seems excessive."

I look at him. "Leadership." His own word.

He narrows his eyes. I hand him another book. We return the volumes floor by floor. The upper bridges are nearly dark now. Lanterns brighten only as we approach, then fade behind us.

Rhyven complains exactly three times. Once about the weight. Once about the architecture. Once because I place a history volume on the wrong shelf and he notices.

"You said I read poorly," I remind him.

"I was right."

"You broke into an archive."

"Also right."

I almost laugh. The sound catches in the quiet space between shelves. Rhyven looks toward me. Attentive. We reach the western history shelves last. The blue field record belongs in a section that officially does not exist. No label marks its place. Rhyven studies the shelf.

"I took it from here." He points to a narrow space between two volumes. There is no gap now. A different book occupies it. He removes the replacement. Behind it, carved into the wooden shelf, is the same broken-circle symbol.

My heartbeat slows. "Was that there before?" I ask.

"No." Rhyven says.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." He touches the carving. Nothing happens.

I look down the aisle. Empty. The lantern above us dims slightly. Then steadies.

"We should report this," I whisper.

"To whom?"

"Professor Aldren." I answer.

"Why him?"

"He knows the history."

"So do half the archivists."

I look at him. "He taught us about the Hollowborn." The name sounds too loud, even whispered.

Rhyven's gaze hardens. "We don't know this is connected."

"No." I admit.

"And once we say that word, this stops being a ward irregularity."