Emily knew that Ms. Hallgren must have heard him. But Ms. Hallgren’s expression didn’t change. She just stared at Emily, not moving. Emily gazed back, holding her breath.
A long moment passed.
Then Ms. Hallgren abruptly stood up and clapped her hands.
“Okay, kids,” she announced. “Library’s closed! Everyone out! Out, out, out!”
She marched up and down the line of shelves, shooing kids toward the exit as she went. When the last of the kids had filed out, grumbling—“Why does she get to stay?” “That’s not your concern!”—Ms. Hallgren locked the door, then sat down behind her desk once again and regarded Emily for another long moment.
“What’s your name?” she said.
“Emily Edelman, ma’am.”
“Well, Emily Edelman, why do you have what sounds to me very much like an evil creature from the lowest depths in your backpack?”
“The ‘lowest depths’?” came Gorgo’s indignant voice. “Do you know how much the real estate costs there?”
“I’m not talking to you!” said Ms. Hallgren.
“I mean, we have a very nice view of the lowest depths, but—”
“Hush!”
“Sorry.”
“Emily?” said Ms. Hallgren.
“I don’t know! That’s why I’m here!” said Emily, and then everything came out in a rush: “I was on the beach and I found this thing and then there was the magic show and then there was this daw-guh-guh—”
“All right, all right,” said Ms. Hallgren, holding up her hands. “What ‘thing’?”
Emily unzipped her backpack, pulled out the Stone, and placed it on Ms. Hallgren’s desk.
“Aha,” said Ms. Hallgren quietly, drawing back a bit. She didn’t touch the Stone or move much, other than to carefully adjust her reading glasses so she could better peer at it. She seemed, to Emily, like someone in the presence of something that might explode.
Still without touching the Stone, Ms. Hallgren leaned back a bit more so she could open the wide, flat drawer in front of her, from which she produced what looked like a common, everyday ID card. Then, with a certain amount of ceremony, she held the card up and announced, as if addressing a panel of judges, “I hereby present my Library card and state that I am a duly authorized Librarian.” Emily could once again hear the capital L. “As such, I exercise my right in this neutral zone to examine this magical artifact with no interference from outside powers, good or evil.”
“So it’s true,” whispered Emily. “It’s true about libra—Librarians.”
“Of course it’s true,” said Ms. Hallgren crisply, returning the card to the drawer and shutting it. “But that will remain our secret. Can you imagine the chaos that would result if students knew that libraries were magical places and if they understood the true role of Librarians? But enough of that. Let’s take a look.”
Gently lifting the Stone from the desk, Ms. Hallgren turned it in her hands to examine it from all angles, mm-hmm-ing and aha-ing to herself. After about a minute, she gently placed the Stone back onto her desk.
“This, Emily, is a very rare and very powerful—and I might add, very dangerous—item. This is a Mobile Spellstone.”
“I told her that,” said Gorgo.
“Ah, yes,” said Ms. Hallgren. “And then there’s our friend.”
“Hi,” said Gorgo. “Can I come out now?”
Ms. Hallgren looked at Emily. “You’ve summoned this creature?”
“Yes.”
“All right, let’s see it,” she said.
“Abrakadonkulous,” said Emily.
“Aaaahhhh,” said Gorgo after he did his unfolding thing, stretching his limbs. “Much better.”
“State your name,” said Ms. Hallgren.
“Baelmadeus Gorgostopheles Lacrimagnimum Turpisatos Metuotimo Dolorosum Tenebris Morsitarus, ma’am,” he said.
“You were imprisoned in this Stone?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And I assume you are bound to serve its owner?”
“Yes’m.”
“And I further assume that your servitude will continue until you are somehow freed, at which point I also assume you intend to devour your master—in this case, Emily?”
“Uh . . . yes. Yes, ma’am. That is, in fact, uh, the plan.”
“Mm-hmm,” said Ms. Hallgren, gazing at him disapprovingly.
“What?” said Gorgo. “What do you expect? I mean, look at me.”
“I’d prefer not to. Emily, do you know why you came into possession of this Stone?”
“No.”
“Are you perhaps the seventh daughter of—”
“I’m not the seventh anything of anything,” said Emily.
“We’ve already been through this,” put in Gorgo.
“Well, no matter. What matters is this: You, Emily Edelman, are now the proud owner of this incredibly powerful and dangerous item. It is bound to you, and you to it. Not to mention that you are now coincidentally the unwilling master of an evil creature from the lowest—”
“Mid,” inserted Gorgo.
“Middepths, who must obey your commands for now but will make a minor snack of you at its earliest possible convenience.”
“Oh, great, make me feel bad about it,” said Gorgo.
“I will speak with you in a moment,” said Ms. Hallgren. “And put down that book—it’s smoldering.”
Gorgo hastily put down a picture book that was indeed starting to smoke.
“Sorry,” he said. “I get a little nervous around Librarians.”
“Ms. Hallgren,” said Emily, “someone tried to take the Stone.” Then she quickly told her about the dogg and the Venomüch family.
“I see,” Ms. Hallgren said. She carefully handed the Stone back to Emily, then stood up. “Come with me.”
Emily followed her, Gorgo trailing behind, to a small, ornate bookshelf made of dark wood.
“What’s this?” said Emily.
“It’s where we keep the magical volumes,” said Ms. Hallgren. “Every school library has one—most students just never notice it. The more books you read, the more chances there are that you’ll see it.”
“Nice one,” said Gorgo. “Clever bit of moral instruction there.”
“Shush.”
“Why don’t you tell her how broccoli is a magic vegetable.”
“Broccoli is a magic vegetable. Everyone knows that.”
Ms. Hallgren crouched in front of the bookcase, running her finger along the spines of books as she searched for one particular title.
“Let’s see . . . Spell Hacks Everyone Should Know, no . . . Curses Cured: Core Curriculum, nope . . . Enchantments with Broccoli, no . . . Aha. Here we go.”
With some effort Ms. Hallgren pulled a very thick leather-bound book off the shelf and set it down with a thump on top of the bookcase. On the cover in embossed gold writing was the title: A Veritable Who’s Who of Prominent Magical Families.
“What’s that?” said Gorgo.
“It’s a veritable who’s who of . . .” began Ms. Hallgren. “You get the idea.”
She opened it and began flipping through it. Emily caught glimpses of coats of arms and family crests and text handwritten with a quill and ink. “Vaaaaaaan, Vantl, Veber . . . aha. Venomüch.”
There was a descriptive paragraph written in old-fashioned writing underneath a coat of arms overflowing with hydras and other vicious-looking creatures. When Emily leaned forward for a closer look, they started snapping and striking at her.
“Whoa!”
“All right then!” said Ms. Hallgren, slamming the book shut. She turned to Emily, her expression grave. “Emily, I don’t need to tell you what would happen if creatures like the Venomüches came into possession of a Stone like yours. It would be a disaster. And whether you want the responsibility or not, it’s your duty as a Stonemaster to prevent that from happening.”
“But that’s just it: I’m not a Stonemaster! I don’
t even really know how to use this thing!”
“Have you read the user’s manual?”
“I didn’t even know there was one!”
“Hold on a moment.”
Grimacing with effort, Ms. Hallgren lifted the Who’s Who and placed it back onto the shelf. Then she ran her finger along more spines until she located a very thin volume and pulled it out. It was barely thicker than a comic book.
“User’s manual. Come with me,” she said, and Emily and Gorgo once again filed after her until they reached one of the shared tables.
“Hopefully this will be sturdy enough,” said Ms. Hallgren, eyeing the long desk.
“Sturdy enough?” said Emily. “For that?”
“Yes,” said Ms. Hallgren, and placed the booklet onto the table.
Emily blinked.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she said.
A moment ago the thin booklet had been, well, a thin booklet. Now, however, Emily was looking at the most absurdly thick book she had ever seen. It was like the pages of a dozen of the thickest dictionaries stacked atop one another, mocking the cover that tried to contain them. It was less a book than a rectangular pillar, the top cover so high it was even with Emily’s nose.
The table, which was bowing slightly in the middle, creaked ominously.
“That’s the user’s manual?” said Emily.
“I’m afraid so,” said Ms. Hallgren. “Here—I’m usually telling students not to do this, but why don’t you stand on this chair.”
Emily did, bringing her to a height that allowed her to open the cover. Which led to another, equally unpleasant discovery.
At first glance she thought that the page was simply covered with gray-black blocks. But looking closer she realized that those blocks were indeed made up of letters, letters in type so small and dense it merely appeared to be a uniform mass.
“Oh, dear,” Emily said.
“Take these,” said Ms. Hallgren, offering Emily her reading glasses.
“Um . . . will these work for me?” said Emily. “We probably don’t have the same prescription.”
“They’re Librarian reading glasses, Emily. They’ll let you read anything.”
Emily took them, gingerly put them on, then looked down at the book. It said:
Congratulations on your acquisition of a Mobile Spellstone, if you haven’t already been skewered, dissolved, cubed, puréed, turned to stone, turned to sand, turned into a sandwich, turned into a turnip, and/or eaten! Please be sure to read all of these instructions, as improper (and even proper) use of the Mobile Spellstone can be exceedingly perilous and cause many serious consequences (please see appendices 1479–2562, “Lists of Very Serious Consequences,” and the appendices to the appendices, “Lists of Even Worse Consequences,” as well as the supplemental insert, “Nooooooo!”).
“How am I ever going to read all of this?” said Emily.
“It does seem rather daunting,” admitted Ms. Hallgren.
“Really? It doesn’t seem that bad to me,” said Gorgo, reaching out a claw.
“No, don’t—” began Ms. Hallgren.
There was a very bright flash and a sound like FWOOOF.
“—touch that,” finished Ms. Hallgren.
When the colored blobs stopped dancing in front of her eyes, Emily realized that there was now a pile of ashes on the table.
“Oops?” said Gorgo.
“Now what am I going to do?” wailed Emily.
“Well, at least you don’t have to read it,” submitted Gorgo hopefully.
“There is a dustpan and a broom over there in the corner,” said Ms. Hallgren to him.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said politely, and went to fetch them.
“Ms. Hallgren, what am I supposed to do? You have to help me!”
“I’m afraid I can’t, Emily. The rules are very strict. Helping you any further would be a violation.”
“Can I just hide in here forever? Isn’t this, like, a safe zone?”
“I wish you could, Emily. But that, too, would be a violation.”
“So what do I do? I feel completely alone!”
“You have to learn how to use the Stone properly. You have to become a true Stonemaster. And unfortunately, I don’t think you have much time to do it. But you have to learn, do you understand me?”
“Yes, ma’am. But how?”
“You’ll just have to do it by what we call trial and terror.”
“You mean ‘trial and error,’ right?” said Emily.
“Umm, sure. That, too,” said Ms. Hallgren.
Ms. Hallgren gazed after Emily as the girl left the library, the door closing behind her.
“Poor kid,” said Ms. Hallgren aloud to the empty room. “I wish I could help her. I hope someone does, because she’s going to need all the help she can get if she is to succeed. And she’d better succeed, for her sake.” She paused, then added, “For all our sakes.”
Then she gathered her belongings, shut off the lights in the library, and locked the door behind her as she left. She had little doubt that the occupant remaining in the library would quickly figure out that the door could be opened from the inside. Still, when Ms. Hallgren had rounded the corner down the hall, she waited a bit until she heard it: the sound of the library door being gently opened again and then eased shut, followed by footsteps receding down the hallway.
Ms. Hallgren smiled and went on her way.
Chapter
Nine
When Emily got home, Hilary was parked barefoot in one of the armchairs in the living room. Their mother had started her new job, so Hilary had to babysit each afternoon until one of the parents came home. Which suited Hilary just fine, because that meant she could text to her heart’s content. She was doing that now, using her pinkies because she had essentially burned out every other finger.
“I’m home,” said Emily.
Hilary briefly unstuck her eyes from the screen.
“What’s wrong with you? You look awful,” she said.
“Nothing. I’m just worried about a few things,” said Emily.
“What do you have to worry about? You have no idea what it’s like to worry. Jennifer is back with Alex, and Alex’s brother Eric is now, like, totally blowing up my phone, and then there’s this cute guy who . . .”
Emily sighed while complicated details of interpersonal relationships streamed past her. Every so often Hilary’s phone would ping and she’d quickly read something and text back, her monologue hardly slowing.
“That sounds terrible,” Emily said, when Hilary had come to what seemed like a potential stopping point. “Where’s Dougie?”
“Dunno. I think he’s downstairs or something.”
On cue, Emily heard a smashing sound, followed by giggles. “Oops!” said Dougie from the basement.
“Maybe you should check on him?” suggested Emily.
“I’m sure he’s fine,” said Hilary. There was another crash. “Oops!” said Dougie again. Emily wasn’t sure what was getting broken downstairs, but she knew she’d somehow be blamed for it.
“Sounds like you have it all under control,” she said to Hilary. “I’m going to go up to my room and do my homework.”
Hilary didn’t answer, her attention once again on her phone.
When Emily got to her room, she closed the door, sat on the bed, and took out the Stone. You have to learn, Ms. Hallgren had said. Fine. She would learn. She’d practice, and she’d learn.
“Awaken,” she said.
“What are you doing out there?” came Gorgo’s voice.
“Practicing.”
“Good idea,” he said. “But be careful. Remember, ‘Pride goeth before—’”
“‘A fall,’” Emily concluded.
“Is that the saying in your world?” said Gorgo. “Where I’m from, it’s ‘Pride goeth before a series of huge unintended explosions and lightning bolts and the accidental transformation of yourself into a filbert.’”
“Either way,
it doesn’t matter,” said Emily. “I don’t have any pride.”
She focused on the Stone’s screen and swiped her way past endless apths. What should she try? What would be something relatively harmless to experiment with? She did more swiping. Her concentration kept being broken by the annoying whine of the hedge trimmer that Mr. Petersen was using in his backyard. She did her best to ignore it, but the sound was pitched just right to penetrate the walls of both the house and her skull. I wish he’d stop, she thought.
Then: aha—what’s this? A tiny owl was owl-scowling at Emily from the screen. She focused on the runes under the apth, which transformed themselves into FURIOUS AVIANS. The apth seemed like a game. A game! That would be harmless. Let’s try it, Emily thought. Outside, the hedge trimming continued. How annoying.
Still irritated by the noise from next door, she touched the icon and felt the tiny thrill of a spell taking effect. But then nothing happened.
“Huh,” she said.
“You try something?” said Gorgo.
“I don’t think it worked.”
Except it had.
Outside in his backyard, Mr. Petersen had a moment to register that it had suddenly gotten much darker, and then another brief moment to wonder if a cloud had passed in front of the sun and if it was going to rain. And then he was surrounded by a squawking, flapping, pecking nightmare, as ten thousand very upset sparrows—furious avians, you might say—swarmed about him as if he were a predator trying to rob their nests.
In her room, Emily furrowed her brow and examined the Stone. She was aware at some level that the hedge trimmer had stopped, for which she was thankful. She wished all those birds would stop their excited chirping, though.
Mr. Petersen was flying. Or, more accurately, was being flown, lifted into the air by the swarm of determined birds.
“AAAAHH!!!” he shouted, but as he was surrounded by several layers of birds, it came out as “AAAAHH!”
Emily, her back to her window, heard an odd rustling noise pass rapidly behind her. She turned, but there was nothing. She shrugged.
Emily and the Spellstone Page 8
