by Terry Brooks
By now, she had told Thom of the conversation she had overheard between His Eminence and Pinch, and together they had puzzled over the identity of the unknown allies and the origins of the books taken from the Stacks and the nature of whatever magic was being used, but had been unable to come up with a reasonable explanation for what it was all about. Someone was using magic, someone was trying to get out, and somehow Crabbit and Pinch were involved. That was about all they could agree upon.
She had said nothing to him of the visit from Questor Thews. Nor could she think of a way to speak to him of what the wizard had confided about the origins of Libiris. Doing so would require an explanation of how she had come into possession of such knowledge, and she couldn’t think of one that didn’t necessitate her telling him who she really was.
She considered doing that, but quickly dismissed the idea. If he found out she was a Princess of Landover, it would change everything between them, and she didn’t want that.
“We have to give it a few days, at least, before we try to go back there again,” Thom was saying as time wound down toward the close of the day. By then the discussion had been ongoing for hours.
“I don’t think waiting is going to help,” she replied, sorting through the stack of books closest at hand. Another one was missing, she noticed. Another in an ever-increasing number. “Pinch won’t give up watching us no matter how long we wait.”
“He’s like that,” Thom agreed. He brushed his dark hair out of his eyes. “Maybe he’ll get sick.”
“Maybe we could make him sick.” She gave him a look.
“Maybe,” he agreed. “But he never eats anything he doesn’t prepare himself.”
“We could get around that.”
“We could.”
They were quiet for a moment, thinking through various scenarios that would allow them to poison Pinch’s food enough to render him temporarily unable to function. But poisoning was an uncertain science, and neither wanted to do anything worse than make him sick.
“This would all be much easier if we had a way to make ourselves invisible,” Thom said finally. “If they couldn’t see us, they wouldn’t know what we were doing.”
Mistaya nodded absently, thinking that her magic would allow her to make them invisible, at least for a short time. But using her magic might give her away. Then again, maybe that didn’t matter anymore. Her father and mother would know where she was by tomorrow at the latest, and they were the ones she had been worried about before. Still, she also found herself thinking suddenly of Craswell Crabbit, of whom Questor had told her to be especially careful. If he had the use of magic, he might be able to detect hers and determine its source. Not a pleasant prospect when you considered the consequences of being caught out.
She sighed. Questor had told her not to use her magic except in an emergency, and their hunt for the source of the voice probably didn’t qualify. At least, not yet.
They didn’t talk after that, concentrating on the sorting and cataloging of the books, their thoughts kept private until it was time to quit and they were walking toward the kitchen.
“We’re not going to give up on this, are we?” Thom asked her quietly, giving a quick glance over his shoulder for what might be lurking in the shadows.
“I’m not,” she declared firmly.
“Then I’m not, either. But we have to find a different way.”
“What if we don’t find a different way?”
Thom shook his head. “Sooner or later, we’ll have our chance. We just need to be patient.” He frowned. “You didn’t hear the voice again, did you? It didn’t call out to you or anything?”
She sighed. “Not since the last time. But I think it will. Soon.”
“I do, too.” Thom’s mouth tightened into a thin line. “There has to be a way.”
As it happened, he was right, but when opportunity knocks, it doesn’t always appear the way we expect. Thus, as Mistaya was walking back to her bedroom after finishing her dinner, already dreading tomorrow’s workday in the stables, she was surprised to find herself suddenly in the company of Edgewood Dirk. As usual, the Prism Cat appeared out of nowhere and with no warning. One moment he wasn’t there, the next he was. For a moment, Mistaya just stared, not quite believing what she was seeing.
“Where have you been?” she demanded, recovering herself sufficiently to demand an explanation.
The cat’s face was inscrutable as he glanced over at her. “Here and there,” he said, showing no inclination to offer anything further by way of explanation.
“Well, you certainly were quick enough to disappear once you’d brought me here!” She was steaming and not the least bit interested in keeping it to herself. “What about all those promises you made about keeping me safe and hiding me from discovery?”
The cat didn’t even glance at her. “If I remember correctly, I never said anything at all about keeping you safe. What I promised is that you wouldn’t be discovered through use of another magic. I didn’t promise that Questor Thews wouldn’t figure out on his own that you might be here and come looking for you.” He paused, reflecting. “Although such initiative is quite unlike him, I admit.”
“At least he offered to try to help me!” she snapped back. “He listened to what I had to say and then he tried to do something about it. At least he talked to me. What have you done lately? Disappeared and stayed disappeared, is what!”
“I wasn’t aware that I was under any obligation to do anything other than what I had promised.” The smooth, silky voice was infuriating. “I didn’t promise to help you or talk to you or do anything else. I’m a cat, in case you hadn’t noticed, and cats don’t do anything for people unless they choose to. I didn’t so choose. Or at least I didn’t before this and may not still if you don’t keep a civil tongue in your head.”
She forced down the retort she wanted to make and kept quiet a moment, considering her options. They were almost to her bedroom door now, and she glanced up and down the hallway to see if anyone was watching. Rufus Pinch came to mind.
“No one but you can see me,” Dirk advised, obviously reading her mind. “Spying is poor form, even for humans. I don’t allow that sort of thing.”
She sighed. “Of course you don’t.”
They reached the door, and she opened it. The cat walked inside, jumped up on her bed, and assumed a Sphinx-like pose, forelegs extended, head raised, rear haunches tucked against his lean body. His fur glistened in the dim candlelight, as if encrusted with diamond chips or dappled with morning dew.
“Shall we start over again?” the cat asked.
She nodded. “Please. Do you know what’s happened to me since I arrived? Do you know about the voice and the darkness in the back of the Stacks?”
Edgewood Dirk closed his eyes in contentment. “I am a cat. I know everything that happens. Did you think that because you couldn’t see me, I couldn’t see you?”
“I just didn’t know if you would bother.”
“Oh, Princess, you cut me to the quick! I bother with anything that engages my curious nature. You do know about cats being curious creatures, don’t you?”
“I believe we already established that in an earlier conversation.” She gave him a look. “What about the old saying that curiosity killed the cat?”
“Lesser cats, perhaps. Not Prism Cats. We are not the kind to let curiosity kill us. Which is not true of young girls like you, I might point out. Especially in situations like this one.”
“Are you saying I’m in danger?” she asked quickly. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“Lots and lots,” he replied. “But most of it does not pertain to your present circumstances, so we can skip all that. Let’s start with something pertinent. For example, your efforts at exploring the darker regions of the Stacks have not met with much success to date, although they have placed you in a tenuous situation with the library’s present administration. Perhaps you would like to see that change?”
She brightened
instantly. “Of course I would. Can you do something to help?”
“Perhaps. If you are serious about this.” Dirk rose, stretched, and yawned. “I’ll be back at midnight to see if you are awake.”
He hopped down off the bed and walked over to the door. “Be alone when I come. The boy may not go with you. Do you understand?”
She understood well enough, although she didn’t much like it. But what choice did she have if she wanted to learn something more about the voice? She could always tell Thom later what she had discovered.
“I understand,” she replied. “He’s not to know anything about you.”
The cat nodded, and the door opened of its own accord and then closed behind him as he strolled out. Mistaya sighed and decided she might consider coming back as a Prism Cat in her next life.
At exactly midnight, the bedroom door opened anew and there was Edgewood Dirk. She was sitting on the bed waiting for him, dressed in dark clothing and wearing soft boots to muffle her passage. The cat gave her a quick glance, then turned away without a word. Eyes forward, he started down the hallway toward the Stacks, not waiting to see if she would follow.
She caught up to him quickly but didn’t say anything, preferring the quiet. She kept glancing around for Pinch but didn’t see any sign of him. Even when they reached the Stacks, entering the cavernous room and crossing to the beginnings of the shelving, the odious little man had not appeared.
“Nor will he,” said Dirk, apparently reading her mind. “He fell asleep in his room a while back. I believe he wore himself out earlier in the day, keeping watch over things. Now he needs to sleep. Come with me.”
They worked their way down the aisles and deeper into the Stacks. While there were no lights lit on the shelving units and they carried no glow sticks, they had no trouble finding their way because Dirk’s fur radiated a pale silvery light that let them see where they were going. Mistaya kept glancing around, unable to shake the feeling that someone must be watching. The shadows surrounding them were impenetrable beyond their small light, and her imagination was working overtime as she tried to detect a presence that wasn’t there. Not only was Pinch absent, there was no sign of the Throg Monkeys, either. Apparently Dirk was as good as his word.
“What are we doing?” she whispered finally.
“Exploring,” he whispered back.
“Exploring for what?”
“Whatever we find that looks interesting. Keep your eyes open. That is what cats do; humans should learn to do it, too.”
That wasn’t much of an answer, but she decided to let it go for the moment. She concentrated instead on wending her way through the shadows, keeping close to the Stacks on her left as she progressed, wary of the sucking wind that sooner or later would try to draw her into the deepest part of the blackness waiting ahead. Although the Throg Monkeys were not in evidence, she kept looking for them, thinking they must be there, hiding and watching. She glanced repeatedly at Dirk for some sign that she should start worrying. But the cat seemed unconcerned, ambling down the center of the aisle, tail twitching and eyes shining like bright, tiny lamps.
After they had gone a long way back, although not as far as she had gone with Thom, and there was still no sign of the black tunnel or the sucking wind, her patience gave out.
“Why aren’t we encountering the tunnel or the wind that was here before?” she asked the cat. “What’s happened to them?”
“Nothing,” he said. “They are still here. But we don’t see or feel either because they are dormant.”
“How can that be?”
“The magic that sustains them is unaware of us.”
“Unaware of us?”
“I am shielding us. I told you I could hide us from other magic when I chose to do so.”
“Well, why didn’t you shield Thom and me when we came down here before? Wouldn’t that have saved us both a lot of trouble?”
The cat arched his back, and all his fur stood up on end. Mistaya backed away, afraid suddenly that she had stepped over an invisible line.
“That,” Dirk declared in a voice that brooked no argument, “would have put you in a good deal more trouble than you’ve gotten into so far. If you don’t know what you are doing—and you don’t—then it is best that you leave it to those of us who do. Shielding with magic is tricky business, and doing it for one is difficult enough without trying to crowd in two. Besides, if left on your own, you and that boy wouldn’t have found your way to what’s waiting.”
She compressed her lips into a tight line. “What is waiting, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“I don’t mind your asking, but I think I’ll leave it to you to find that out for yourself.”
Stupid cat, she thought, furious all over again. “Some kind of monster, I suppose?”
“That would be monsters, plural,” said Edgewood Dirk.
She sighed. “Can I ask you something else? Are these monsters the ones causing the blackness and the wind?”
She didn’t really expect an answer, but he surprised her by providing one. “No, the monsters have nothing to do with either one.”
“Well, who does, then? Someone must!”
The cat stopped where he was, turned toward her, and sat. “It appears your impatience cannot be contained a moment longer, so perhaps it is best if we satisfy it here and now. This is just one more example of why cats are vastly superior to humans. Cats understand patience. You never see a cat unable to wait. Humans, on the other hand, cannot stand to be put off even for a moment. If the delay goes beyond their limited ability to cope, they implode. I will never understand.”
Nor would she ever understand cats, she supposed, especially this one. “We are fragile vessels in many ways,” she conceded wearily. “But you were about to say?”
The cat gave her a long, steady look. “You are quite bold, Princess. Even for a child of Ben Holiday.” Its strange eyes glittered. “Very well. Listen carefully.”
It lifted one paw and licked it, then set it down carefully again. “Libiris is a living creature, though of limited ability and intelligence. You already know this. But all creatures share a commonality, no matter their origins or talents. If they are injured, they will be in pain. And if they lose purpose, they lose heart. The former is self-explanatory, the latter less so. Purpose is individual to each creature. Purpose gives meaning to life. Take away that purpose, and the creature starts to wither inside.”
He gave her a moment to digest this, now licking the other forepaw. “Let me give you an example. Sterling Silver was created to serve the royal family. When there was no King, as when Ben Holiday came into Landover, the castle ceased to function as she should. She was both injured and bereft of purpose. Holiday found her tarnished and emotionally damaged. Yet when he entered her and became her new King, she came alive again and began to heal. So it is with Libiris. Do you understand?”
“So the wind and the blackness are symptoms of injury and loss of purpose? Symptoms generated by Libiris?”
“Just so. They are a reaction to both conditions. But can you guess what injury she has suffered and what purpose has been stolen from her?”
Mistaya had no clue. She shook her head. “I don’t know.”
The cat stood up and started walking. “Then we’d better hurry on so you can find out.”
They moved ahead once more, penetrating deeper into the Stacks, and for a long time Mistaya was convinced that they were simply going to slog ahead forever without finding anything. Nothing around them changed; nothing suggested it ever would. There was no wind and no tunnel of blackness into which it could suck you, but there was nothing else, either. There was a gloomy sameness to things that filled her with an unexpected sense of despair.
“Why is this taking so long!” she hissed at Dirk in exasperation.
“It isn’t all that long; it just seems that way.” The cat barely glanced at her. “The distance is an illusion; Libiris seeks to protect herself.”
“Protect her
self from what?”
But the cat had apparently lost interest in the conversation and did not answer. Letting the matter drop, she trudged on.
Finally, she caught a glimmer of light from somewhere ahead. She felt an urge to run toward it, to escape the darkness. But Edgewood Dirk kept moving at the same maddeningly unchanging pace, as if it made no difference whether they reached the light in the next few seconds or the next few days.
Then, as the light grew nearer and brightened sufficiently, it took on a crimson hue. She could see that it marked an opening in the library’s rear wall that was ragged and cracked all around its edges. The light seemed to emanate from the breach itself rather than from whatever lay beyond; the air was thick and misty and concealing. More disturbing to her, the light’s crimson hue suggested a wound.
Edgewood Dirk stopped abruptly and sat down. “This is as far as I go. You have to go on alone from here.”
She looked at him doubtfully. “Why is that?”
“I cannot pass through that opening. It would be much too dangerous for me. I will wait here for you to return.”
“I can go somewhere you can’t?”
“Because I am a fairy creature, I am at much greater risk than you. Once you pass through, you will understand.” He gave her another expressionless cat look. “You need not worry. I shall still be shielding you. Just be careful. Don’t go too far in. Touch nothing. Just take note of everything you see. It will be interesting to discover how much you understand.”
Thanks ever so much, she wanted to tell him. But she didn’t. She just nodded. “Go straight ahead, through that opening?”
“I believe I have already made that clear. Is there a problem? Are you too afraid to go through? Was I wrong when I said you were a bold girl?”
She felt like spitting at him, but instead she simply looked ahead again, studying the ragged, red-tinged rent in the wall and the deep gloom beyond. Well, she was either going to do this thing or turn back. Turning back was not an option.
She took a deep breath to steady herself and started forward.
