by C. A. Pack
“I will set the table, no?” the waiter asked. Within seconds, the table was set for one with a hamburger, french fries, a glass of ice and a bottle of cola. There were individual bowls of condiments, a linen napkin, and silverware. “Will there be anything else?”
“Can I get one of those?” Ava asked.
“You’d better send up three more of those.”
“What about Johanna?” Mrs. Roth asked.
“Make it four,” Jackson said, handing the waiter a twenty-dollar bill.
“Twenty dollars is an awful lot to spend on one burger,” Mrs. Roth said.
Jackson handed her the room service menu. “That was just a tip. The burgers, plus a cola, cost about sixty euros each.”
His mother blanched.
“Don’t worry about it.” He winked at her. “The Library of Illumination is picking up the tab.”
“Really?” his sister asked.
“Really,” he answered.
“Then can I have dessert?” She gave him her most charming smile.
★
Even though Ingur’s face was creased with age, the old witch’s eyes were bright with the accumulated wisdom of her years. She held up her hand in greeting. Pru Tellerence did the same. The witch’s eyes took in the Illumini constellation embedded in the dean’s palm. “What have you brought me, Overseer?”
★A child in need of protection.
“What atrocity pursues this bittle?”
★She has special powers and someone seeks to take them away.
“Is the seeker a witch?”
★A wizard, it is true, so substantial precautions must be taken.
“What do you offer in trade?”
Pru Tellerence looked around the cottage. Her eyes came to rest on a bunch of purple flowers laying on a table. The overseer performed an alchemy charm and turned the blossoms into gold.
The old witch walked over to the table and picked up the now-metal bouquet. She bit into it with the few teeth that still populated her mouth. “This will do, for now.” She looked at Izabella. “Wake up child. We must proceed immediately.”
Bel’s eyes opened. She stared at the witch, but tenaciously clung to Pru Tellerence.
★Her name is Bel. Izabella.
“Not anymore. If you wish her to be shielded, her name must change. I will call her Selestra.”
★Selestra. It’s a beautiful name.
“I suggest you wipe it from your consciousness immediately, so no one knows whom to seek. Just ask for ‘the child’ when you visit here next year to pay another tribute. I suggest you provide something more substantial, so you can decrease your visits. Every time you visit here, the possibility of the child being discovered increases.”
★Then I must take precautions now. She focused on a plate of biscuits sitting on a counter and turned it into gold. She spotted a scuttle by the hearth. Soon, each individual lump of coal and the scuttle that held them, glowed like the precious metal they had become. ★That should take care of the near future.
“Now you must disapparate. You cannot risk being seen leaving here without the child.”
★I can’t. She had forgotten her key in her mitre.
“You have to.”
★There must be a way I can avoid being seen.
“You could wait until after the sun sets, but there’s no guarantee you will not be noticed.”
★It’s a chance I must take. Besides, it will allow me to stay with Bel a …
“Selestra. Bel no longer exists.”
The overseer sighed. She gently stroked the youngster’s face. ★You have a new name, and it’s a very pretty one. Selestra. It’s the most beautiful name in the universe.
The old witch brought out a basket filled with balls of yarn. “We will finger weave, Selestra, for you must learn a trade early on. It is the way on Romantica, even though I sense you are not Romantican. Still, you are fair enough to pass for a citizen and we will introduce you as my great grandchild from the Wellendra region. Your mother is gravely ill, and I have taken your care upon myself.” She kissed the child’s forehead. You will call me natta because I am now the matriarch of your family.” She picked up both the youngster’s hands. “Say ‘natta,’ Selestra.”
The newly named child said, “Nada,” in an extremely low voice.
“That will work just fine,” the witch replied as she took Selestra’s hand and taught her how to weave yarn using only her fingers.
★
Terrorians couldn’t move fast enough when a public announcement stated Nero 51 had important information to share regarding the detention of General Lethro 814. The news traveled like wildfire, and within the hour, the square outside the library overflowed with Terrorians. They lined the surrounding streets and hung out of building windows surrounding the area.
Nero 51 kept them waiting, feeling empowered by their uncontrollable interest in what he had to say. They might be disappointed by his initial speech, which would be short and sweet. However, his follow-up speech would be more in-depth and political. He patted himself on the back for his stroke of brilliance, before striding out of the library and standing at a podium one of the soldiers had erected on the top step. He tested the microphone and heard the rubbing sound of his tentacle against the metal. The abrupt sound caused the crowd to quiet.
“My fellow Terrorians, I have searched my heart—without abandoning intellect—concerning the incarceration of General Lethro 814, and I have determined he is not morally responsible for the death of Ilio 22. His crime is withholding his culpability from you and trying to cast blame on me. Many of us would prefer that our mistakes remain hidden and I cannot, in all conscience, condemn a man for a shortcoming we all possess. There is also his more blatant crime of trying to cast aspersions on me. That was willful and unfortunate. While I believe he brought his tribunal upon himself, in a spirit of magnanimity, and because he possesses incomparable strategic acuity, I am dismissing charges against General Lethro 814, effective immediately.” He nodded at a contingent of military police. “Release the general.”
A roar from the crowd clearly indicated the general possessed many supporters.
“While we’re waiting for the general to reappear, I’d like to once again map out my plans for our future. As you well know, we have …” For the next half hour, Nero 51 droned on about expanding the current war against Dramatica until it encompassed all the realms.
★
Dusk had settled around the Dramatican Library of Illumination, and the air had rapidly cooled. In the square, soldiers built a bonfire to warm themselves. Berra’s appearance darkened Furst’s doorway, which remained open even in the chill. Furst hoped it would reach the soldiers guarding the portals and keep them alert.
“Another weapon, I have.” Berra delivered the words in a taunting singsong manner.
“Test it, then we must,” Furst replied, happy for the distraction. He followed Berra to the square and looked for something to shoot. The only obstacles in the square, besides soldiers, were the bonfire, the fountain, and an outhouse that had specifically been built for the troops. The curator knew he couldn’t destroy the fountain or the outhouse, so he targeted the bonfire as soldiers scattered. He took aim and fired. The bonfire disappeared. The crowd gave out a roar of appreciation. They had done it. The Dramaticans had crafted a weapon that worked as well as the Terrorian decimator.
Furst grinned at Berra. “Very good it is. More, we need.”
Berra nodded. “More, we’ll have. Soon.”
★
That night, Pru Tellerence left the witch’s cottage under cover of darkness. She stealthily made her way through the streets, most of which were quiet, and avoided the squares where denizens of the dark plied their trade.
The Library of Illumination on Romantica sat in the center of a verdant park. Rose-like bushes surrounded it and glowed in the moonlight. Small clusters of trees were spaced widely apart with benches for rest and contemplation. Many locations on Roman
tica looked like settings out of storybooks, but there were just as many neighborhoods that had dark cottages clustered together without space for gardens.
Pru Tellerence snuck into the library’s vestibule and hoped the curator had settled down for the night. She whispered “illumination” and the door slid open to the dimly lit main reading room. A spill of light came from the vicinity of the curator’s residence on the second floor, and the dean chanced making her getaway rather than waiting until the light went out. She tiptoed to the cupola stairs and noiselessly crept up the spiraling treads, careful to step lightly. It was only when she reached the top that she realized her miter and robes were in the curator’s closet. It would be a long night, although in relation to the span of an overseer’s life, it wouldn’t be bad at all.
She had two options. She could wait until the light went out and curator Natalia Dalura had sufficient time to fall asleep, and then sneak into the woman’s bedroom closet to retrieve her possessions. That option seemed too risky to consider. The second option required her to wait until after Natalia had risen and dressed the following morning and became so engrossed in a task, she wouldn’t notice the overseer sneaking into the residence.
Once she had her miter back, Pru Tellerence could transport off world, but it looked like she would have to settle in for the night to get to that point. She prayed nothing troublesome had occurred on Dramatica in her absence.
★
Johanna looked through the vault, but didn’t see the Master Compendia of Sorcery. She locked up and made her way to the elevator when she heard Jackson shout her name. “I’m downstairs,” she called out and ascended the stairs to meet him. “We’ve got a job to do.”
“That can wait.”
“Tell that to Myrddin.”
“The burgers will be ready any moment, and we have one for you.”
“Your mother cooked dinner already? That was fast. Did she use my kitchen?”
“Not exactly.”
“You ordered take-out.”
“You’re getting warmer.”
“Jackson.” She used her don’t mess with me voice.
“We ordered room service.”
“You’re able to do that?”
“Apparently. Come on. I’ll help you right after dinner.” He led Johanna up to the room, where they found the waiter setting the table for everyone’s meal.
“Good. Johanna’s here,” Chris said. “Let’s order dessert.”
The Roths had already committed the dessert menu to memory and knew what they wanted. Jackson and Johanna ordered the same sweets as Chris and Ava and settled in for dinner.
“Best hamburger ever.” Chris pushed his dish away. “That white sauce was really good.”
“What white sauce?” his mother asked. He pushed a small white ceramic bowl towards her. She dipped her fork in the sauce and tasted it. “This is good.”
“What’s it called?”
“I don’t know, we’ll have to ask the waiter when he returns.”
“I didn’t get any,” Jackson complained. He tasted it. “And I’m glad I didn’t.”
“Why?” Johanna asked as she tasted it too. She grinned. “Its Béarnaise sauce.”
“How do you know?” Jackson asked.
“Because I had it once at Le Chat and loved it. I never thought of having it with a burger.”
“Suit yourself,” Jackson said. “I’m not having any. When it comes to burgers, I’m a purist.”
“You don’t know what you’re missing,” Chris said.
“I’m with Jackson,” Ava said. “I’m not having any stinky old Béarnaise sauce.” She bumped fists with her brother.
Johanna enjoyed every bite of her Béarnaise burger, and for just a while, Myrddin’s request faded into the background. After dinner, Johanna and Mrs. Roth took their coffee out onto the balcony. The lights of the Eiffel Tower glowed in the distance.
“I don’t understand how that can be there,” Mrs. Roth said. “Although Jackson once told me he couldn’t talk about the library because it’s very special, and now I’m starting to understand why.”
Johanna sipped her coffee as she gathered her thoughts together. “This is not like a neighborhood library. It’s not open to the public, and it’s not easy to find, unless you’re invited to be here. When I first saw it, I remember being surprised, because I thought I knew about every library in the area. I worked for a place called LOI Book Services, and we sent books all over. Then one night, I was told to pick up some books here and deliver them to a client. That’s when I met Mal. I made more and more deliveries for him and over the course of a year he taught me all about the library, and bookbinding, and the very special charms this place holds.
“Then, when he decided to retire, he left me in charge. I was young. Still am,” she said with a smile, “and it seemed like an awfully big responsibility, but I had nowhere else to go. I had no family. My friends had deserted me, because I abandoned them first. I’d just lost my job. And my home. And Mal literally handed me the keys to a new home, new friends, and a new career. It was a lot to take on, so I asked the high school if they could recommend someone for part-time work, and that’s how I met Jackson.
“This place has been such a blessing.” Johanna sighed. “But it also makes unusual demands on us, and we never know when that’s going to happen.” She shivered.
“It’s getting chilly,” Mrs. Roth said. Let’s go inside. They entered the living room and heard a blood-curdling scream coming from the library.
Johanna ran to the main reading room and found the back of the library engulfed in flames. The heat stunned her.
Ava stood immobilized in the center of the room, screaming.
“Oh my God!” Mrs. Roth ran to grab her youngest child. “We have to get out of here.”
Johanna stooped down and picked up a first edition of Margaret Mitchell’s Gone With the Wind. She closed it and the flames disappeared, although the heat and smell of smoke remained.
Mrs. Roth turned when the roar of the flames suddenly went dead. “The fire? Where did it go?”
“As I was saying on the balcony, the Library of Illumination is a very special place, where books literally come to life.” She showed her the cover of the book. “That was Tara burning.” She reopened the book, just for a second, to illustrate what she meant, and then closed it again.
Mrs. Roth’s eyes grew wide, but not as wide as Ava’s. The girl reached for the book, but Johanna moved it away, and in a very calm, even voice said, “We do not open books in here unless we—one—know what to expect and—two—have a very good reason. Many of them are old and valuable and meant to be treasured, and we must treat them with the respect they are due. But most importantly, we never speak about what these books are capable of, outside these walls.”
“But …”
“So I must ask you to take the library oath.”
“What’s that?” Ava asked.
Johanna placed Gone With the Wind on the circulation desk and grabbed the keys to unlock the Gutenberg bible.
She looked at both Mrs. Roth and Ava. “Place your right hands on top of the bible.” She half-turned, “Come on, Chris, you too.”
“An oath,” Chris said with a hint of sarcasm. “Really?” But he put his hand on the bible.
“Raise your other hand and repeat after me.” Johanna raised her left hand and the Illumini Constellation glowed. “I solemnly swear …”
“I solemnly swear …” three voices repeated as their owners stared at Johanna’s palm.
“To keep the secrets of the Library of Illumination …”
“… to treat every book with the respect it is due …”
“… and to protect the wealth of knowledge that lives within these walls …”
“… so help me God.”
Chris smirked. “So now do we get decoder rings or something?”
Johanna held up one finger as a gesture for him to wait. She unlocked the drawer where she had stashed th
e library board president’s gold ‘LOI’ pins and removed three. She pinned one to each of the Roths. “You’re now sworn protectors of the library. If anyone sees the pin and asks what ‘LOI’ stands for, you can tell them it stands for the Library of Illumination. But you’ve just sworn yourselves to secrecy, and I beg you not to tell anyone anything more.”
“What happens if we do?” Chris asked.
“I’ll beat the living tar out of you. And then we’ll watch in horror as the greatest library in the world falls apart, because you’re a stupid twit who broke his oath.” Jackson grabbed a book off the circulation desk that he had checked in earlier and opened it to a page he had bookmarked for later perusal. A lion roared to life. Jackson closed it just as quickly, but not before he had scared the devil out of his brother. “These books are very real and very special and must be treated as such. But don’t think I won’t use one against you if you ever shoot off your mouth about the place.”
Mrs. Roth was aghast. “Jackson!”
“Just making a point, Mom, just making a point. Did you get the point, Chris?”
“Yeah,” his brother said.
“Good.” Jackson yawned. “It’s time to turn in.”
“What kind of book is that?” Chris asked.
Jackson opened it up to the title page. “Circus Life and Circus Celebrities by Thomas Frost. It was written in 1897. You’ll be happy to know that lion is long-dead.”
“He looked pretty alive to me.”
“As long as you don’t needlessly open books, you don’t have anything to worry about.”
“I don’t know if I want to sleep in the same room with you.”
“Not a problem. Besides, I think I should sleep on the couch, in case Johanna and I get called away on a mission.”
“A mission?” Chris asked. “Now you’re spies?”
“Called away on a work emergency.”
“So it’s not like you’re going anywhere,” Chris pointed out. “You work here.”
“Not always,” Jackson replied. “Sometime we need to work … elsewhere.”
“Fine. I’m not going to mess with you as long as you’re holding that book,” Chris said.
“And I won’t mess with you, as long as you don’t mess with these books,” Jackson answered. “Good night.”
