by Sheila Grau
I walked out and stood next to the bag. When she returned with more books, she saw me and gasped.
“Higgins,” she said, putting a hand to her chest. “You startled me.”
“Professor Zaida. You’re a CLOUD, aren’t you?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Uncle Ludwig’s been looking for a covert librarian, but a covert librarian wouldn’t be a librarian in real life.” I walked around the table and stood right next to her. “They’d be other things in real life, and a librarian in secret.”
“Don’t you have a gift bag task to get to?”
“Frankie overheard your conversation with that fake maintenance man. He poisoned you, didn’t he? He wants to know where the Great Library is.”
“Runt, this doesn’t concern you,” she said, dropping books into her bag. “Please, just forget you saw me.”
“Professor Zaida, I have to find it,” I said. “I have to find out who I am and who cursed me.”
She softened, reaching up to touch my shoulder. “Runt, I’m so sorry.”
“Let me come with you.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” she said, but that didn’t convince either of us.
“The old lady in the capital told me. ‘Z is an A.’ You’re an Archivist. Please.”
“Oh, Runt. I guess it doesn’t matter if you know now. I don’t have much time—two weeks, apparently—but you can’t come with me. I’ve taken an oath. I don’t mind dying to protect the library. It’s what I’ve sworn to do. I’ve also pledged to keep it a secret. The protection of the Great Library is more important than our two lives.”
“Why haven’t you told Uncle Ludwig?”
“We rarely admit new members. Candidates have to prove themselves worthy over years and years,” she said. “And that man couldn’t keep a secret to save his lunch. Look how many kids roam around his ‘secret library.’ But what’s even worse is that button over there.”
“The self-destruct button?”
“He would destroy these books to save himself. These beautiful, important books. The life’s work of historians and philosophers and economists. He would burn them all to save himself. That’s why I’m not ashamed to take them from him. They are going to be protected at all costs.”
We stood there for a moment.
“Please let me help,” I said. “I don’t want you to die.”
She zipped up her bag. “There is something you can do. Our enemies are getting very close, and I think desperate measures are needed here. I’m going to do something I’ve sworn not to do. I’m going to tell you about another CLOUD. He’s not an Archivist, so he doesn’t know the location of the library.”
“Like you do?”
“Yes. If Xena revealed me to that man, she might have told him about Yipps. Yipps is a Bundler. Collectors bring books to him, and he bundles them up and passes them to me, or another Archivist.”
“ ‘Know your ABCs,’ ” I said. “That’s what she meant. Know your Archivists, Bundlers, and Collectors.”
“We thought that having many layers of operatives, each with only their specific knowledge, would protect us from the EOs trying to find the library. We’ve been able to fend them off, mostly by feeding them false information. But Cera Bacculus and Tankotto have upped their game. Using this poison is just the latest proof of that. And it’s working, because they found me out.
“At any rate. Yipps works at Westvolt Academy in Yancy. You have a tackle three-ball game there this afternoon. Find him and warn him about the mole-faced man. Tell him I’m going to the Great Library. It must be protected.” She pulled a coin out of her pocket. “Give this to Yipps. It will assure him I sent you.”
The coin had writing similar to my medallion, but with a book in the center, rather than a wolfish creature. I pulled my medallion out and showed it to her.
Her eyes went wide. “Runt, how long have you had this?”
“Since I can remember.”
She stared at my medallion for a few seconds before releasing it. “Wow,” she said, shaking her head. “Okay. I have more I want to tell you, but there’s no time. Find Yipps and tell him that I’ve been compromised. Tell him I’m going to activate the safety measures before it’s too late. And don’t tell anyone else about this. That’s vital!”
Darthin peeked out from the stacks, holding a book. “Sorry, Professor Zaida. I overheard your conversation.”
Professor Zaida sighed. “Darthin, I should have known you’d be down here. Okay, both of you keep quiet.”
Syke stepped out from behind him. “Um, I was hiding from the fashion show police.”
Professor Zaida threw up her hands. “Anyone else in here?”
Frankie peeked out and waved. “I chased after that guy. He was driving an expensive car that was faster than me.”
“Frankie? Darthin?” I asked. “How do you guys know about this place?”
“Daddy told us,” Frankie said.
“Runt,” Professor Zaida grabbed my arm. “You know how important this is. Make sure they understand too.”
“I will.”
She shouldered her bag and turned to leave.
“And, Professor Zaida?” I said. “I think you’re wrong about Uncle Ludwig.”
“Hmm?”
“He wouldn’t destroy these books. Not ever. Look at how he cares for them. This library, it’s the most beautiful room I’ve ever seen in my life. He treats the books like they’re his children. He probably put that button in because Dr. Critchlore made him do it. I bet it doesn’t even do anything.”
“Runt, that’s admirably loyal of you—What are you doing?”
I stood next to the button.
“Don’t do it, Runt.”
I pushed it. Nothing happened.
“And you know what? He can keep a secret too. He hasn’t told anyone that Mr. Griphold has a voodoo doll for everyone at the school.”
They all looked at me, jaws dropping to the floor.
“Oops, secrets are hard.”
Professor Zaida nodded. “You’re right. I’ve been sitting in this library for years, listening to him research the Great Library. I think I was insulted that he never imagined that I could be a CLOUD, or any woman for that matter. He’s a terrible misogynist, but I guess he has his good points.” She hugged me. “Take care, Runt Higgins.”
“Good-bye, Professor Zaida,” I said, my voice catching because I realized that this was good-bye. She wasn’t ever coming back. She was going to die rather than tell that man what he wanted to know.
My friends huddled around me.
“How could you do that?” Darthin asked, pointing to the button. “What if it really was a self-destruct button?”
“I knew it wasn’t. I accidentally hit it when I was reshelving books the other day. I screamed, but Uncle Ludwig told me it was fake and not to tell anyone.”
I thought about what I’d just said.
“Secrets are really hard.”
I started a new to-do list, partly to focus myself, and partly to deal with the mountain of anxiety that was making me shake. At the top, I wrote:
1. Warn the professor in Yancy.
2. Find the antidote for Professor Zaida.
I had no idea how to do the second one. Maybe that guy in Yancy could help. Next came:
3. Save Sara.
4. Figure out the gift bag situation.
5. Redeem myself for losing The Top Secret Book of Minions.
6. Find out where I came from.
7. Find out who cursed me.
8. Get him/her to lift the curse.
My to-do list looked entirely impossible. If only writing things down was the same as actually doing them, my life would be so much easier.
It’s funny; I used to worry that my school would close. Now it looked like Dr. Pravus was going to take it over and turn it into a torture camp. Professor Zaida was close to death. I’d lost the one clue to my identity, and the sirens were going to destroy my sc
hool if the takeover didn’t. It just goes to show you, never think that things cannot possibly get worse, because they can. They always can.
Necessity is the mother of invention, but threats of great bodily harm work good too.
—CERA BACCULUS, SPEAKING AT THE EVIL OVERLORDS OF TOMORROW CONFERENCE
Usually, on the bus ride to a game, we laughed and joked and sang songs. This time was different. With Professor Zaida gone, Coach Foley had taken over. On the ride to Yancy, we listened to him lecture about strategy, grittiness, and how we were going to switch our defense to a 3–4 instead of the 4–3.
We eventually made it to Yancy, home of the Westvolt Academy. Yancy is located southwest of our school, where the land turns dry and the hills are jagged, dotted intermittently with green sage bushes. Red rock pillars, etched by eons of wind, stand like giants practicing “sitting still so nobody notices you.”
The Westvolt Academy trains all kinds of minions, just like Dr. Critchlore’s, but they have a reputation for training the more brainy types, and for sending a lot of humanish kids to the universities in the capital.
The school was nothing much to look at, a series of clay buildings connected by gravel paths. Only the main building rose higher than a single level, at three stories tall. It faced a huge open field that they used for tackle three-ball when they weren’t using it for minion drills.
As the team jogged to the field, I told Coach Foley I needed to use the bathroom. I detoured into the main building and ran right for the secretary’s desk.
“I’m looking for Professor Yipps,” I said. “I have an important message to give him.”
“Oh dear,” she said. “I’m very sorry to tell you this, but Professor Yipps is in the infirmary. They don’t think he’s going to make it.”
Curses! I was too late. Still, he might have some information on how I could help Professor Zaida. “Please, can I see him? I think he’ll want to know what I have to say.”
She smiled. “He’s on the third floor,” she said. “Go down the hallway to room three forty-five.”
“Thanks.”
Professor Yipps looked gray and shrunken when I saw him lying in his bed. The room was bright; the windows opened to the front of the school. It smelled like a mixture of disinfectant and bad breath. The acrid sourness of the air made me think the Grim Reaper was hiding in the corner of the room, waiting.
“Professor Yipps?”
“Yes, son?” he whispered.
I walked closer. “My name is Runt Higgins. I’m from Dr. Critchlore’s. Professor Zaida sent me.” I showed him her coin. “She’s been found out. A man poisoned her, so she left to protect the library. She wanted me to warn you.”
“You’re too late,” he said. “I, too, have been poisoned. Two weeks ago to this day.”
“They want you to tell them where the library is, or they won’t give you the antidote,” I said. He nodded. “Is there any way to find a cure?” I asked.
“No. It is a new poison. It’s making me feel numb. First my toes and fingertips, then the numbness inched up my legs. Now I feel it creeping up my arms. I don’t have much time.” He looked out the window and sighed. From his bed, he could see the field in front, where my teammates were warming up.
“I’m so sorry,” I said. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to die,” he said. “Professor Zaida is going to die. It’s what we have pledged to do. We will never betray the library. To have people such as that man who poisoned me gain control of it is unimaginable.”
I knew what he meant. It was like imagining Pravus taking over Critchlore’s. A complete travesty. I swallowed over a lump in my throat as anger and sadness overtook me. This wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair that this good man should die for someone else’s greedy ambition.
We heard a commotion in the hallway outside the room. Professor Yipps seemed to recognize the voices, because his eyes went wide. “He’s back,” he whispered. Then he motioned for me to hide under the bed.
I dove under just as the door opened.
“Yipps,” a deep voice said. “I see you’re resting comfortably. Thank you, nurse. We’d like to be alone now.”
“Professor?” the nurse asked.
“It’s fine,” Professor Yipps said. The door closed.
It was him. The murderer. His sinister presence filled the room like a cloud of fear, and it felt suffocating. I couldn’t breathe, and my heart thudded. His footsteps clicked across the floor. In the silence of the room, they sounded like a timer on a bomb, ready to blow.
“You don’t have much time, Yipps,” the smooth voice said. “A day at most. You can feel the poison now, can’t you? Filling your chest, squeezing your heart. It’s getting hard to breathe, isn’t it?”
It had to be Mole Face, and he talked like he was describing Professor Yipps’s outfit, not his slowly progressing death. It gave me chills that a person could be so cold.
“Yes,” Professor Yipps said.
“Last chance, Yipps. With one sip of this, you’ll live. Just tell me what you know.”
Slowly, slowly, I peeked out. It wasn’t Mole Face; it was another guy. This one sported a bushy mustache. He was taunting Professor Yipps with a small vial filled with amber liquid.
“Never,” Yipps said.
“We’ve found it, you know,” he said.
“Then what do you need me for?” Yipps’s voice was barely a whisper.
“The entrance. My boss is impatient, and he will start blasting soon. Tell me where the entrance is, and I’ll be able to save some valuable books. It would be unfortunate if an important document got destroyed.”
“I’m a Bundler—you know that,” Yipps said. “I don’t know where the entrance is. Why don’t you tell me where the library is?”
“You really don’t know, do you? It’s much closer than you’d think.”
“I’ve always wanted to know.”
Me too! Tell him where it is. I need to know! I held my breath, waiting for the answer I’d been searching for. Please please please please please.
“A trade, then,” the man said. “You may not know the location, but you do know something. The name of another Archivist. Not Zaida, we know about her. Or perhaps you could tell me a story, Yipps. You CLOUDs with your poems and fables. Tell me about the Great Lady of Wisdom. Tell me where she hides her children.”
“Those fables are old, useless,” Yipps said.
“Oh no. We’ve learned so much from the ones we’ve found.” He ran a finger up Professor Yipps’s arm. “You can’t feel that, can you?”
“Numb.”
“That’s the problem,” the man said. “It’s not painful enough. I’ve adjusted the poison. I realized it would be much more effective if my victims were writhing in agony. If the pain built slowly until it felt like thousands of tiny ants were nibbling at your skin, from the inside. Yes, I think Professor Zaida should be feeling it in another few days.”
“You’re evil.”
“You could save her. And yourself. Just tell me how to get inside. Given your age, you must know the old ways.”
“Never!”
“Hoarding knowledge is tyranny, and we won’t stand for it anymore,” he said, and I nearly gasped out loud. That was exactly what the poisoner had said to Professor Zaida. But that guy had a mole, and this guy had a bushy mustache.
I risked another look.
The old beggar woman had been poisoned by someone she called the chameleon. This guy must be employing the stealth techniques that Professor Murphy had described while pointing out Tankotto’s henchman in the capital. Wear something outrageous and that’s all people will remember. Tankotto’s henchman, with those small, stick-out ears and his . . .
Wait a second, not only is this guy using the stealth techniques of Tankotto’s henchman. I think he is Tankotto’s henchman!
It had to be him—the flashy suit, the huge mole, and now the bushy mustache. Professor Zaida said that Tankotto was desperate to fi
nd the library and the proof of his claim to Burkeve. And this guy was worried about blasting into the Great Library, because they might destroy the one thing they’re after.
“We will find them all,” he said. “Phillips, Niormi, Turnhook. They will all suffer. Why not save yourself, and them? You have lost. We will gain access to the library, but we don’t want to accidentally destroy anything . . . valuable.”
“You think that knowing where the library is will get you inside? You know nothing, and you will die trying,” Professor Yipps said.
The man sighed. “Such a pity. Good day, Mr. Yipps.”
In tackle three-ball, the pitcher has two balls to choose from: the light breezi ball or the heavy thud ball. The third ball is carried by the base runner, and can be lateraled to his blockers if he gets tackled.
—FROM THE TACKLE THREE-BALL RULEBOOK
I waited for the door to close before sliding out. Mr. Yipps looked paler, and I didn’t think that was possible.
“Mr. Yipps,” I said, “that man works for Tankotto! If he knows where it is, others are going to figure it out too. Please, I have to help Professor Zaida.”
“Young man,” Yipps said. “Zaida is prepared to die, as am I. We will not break our vow. I’m sorry. I cannot help you.”
“I’m sorry too,” I said. He closed his eyes, telling me that this conversation was over. I left.
I ran out of the building and across the street to the field. I could see the evil poisoner talking to someone by the gate. I looked past him and saw his fancy car in the parking lot. And then I got an idea.
“Frankie!” I yelled. He raced over. “That’s the same car, isn’t it? And the same guy you chased?”
He squinted. “Yes, definitely.”
“Syke, Eloni, Fingers!” I huddled with my friends and told them my plan.
“What’s going on?” Coach Foley asked. “Get in the dugout, Higgins. The game’s about to start.”
I didn’t have time to tell him everything. We had to move!
