by Amy Cross
"So we can leave?" I ask hesitantly, as the torch continues to burn down. There's still a part of me that worries we might be tricked.
"I have always been a man who sticks to his word," he replies. "If you try to pass back the way you entered this place, you will find the route unblocked." He runs his hand over the cover of Table's book, and it's clear that he's happy with his haul. As he makes his way slowly over to one of the nearby bookshelves and slots our three books into place, I swear there's a faint murmur from all the other books, almost as if they're welcoming some new arrivals. "There will be others," the old man says quietly, "and they will not be so wise."
"Come on," I say, grabbing Table by the arm and starting to pull her toward the hole in the wall. "We have to get out of here."
"It's not my soul, though, is it?" she replies, clearly reluctant to leave. "You wrote it. Not me."
"But it's about you," I point out, keen to hurry her along. "You couldn't see your own soul, but I could, so I wrote the words for you. It works out as the same thing. When you told me that story about how you lost your soul originally, I could immediately tell that part of it had come back to you."
She opens her mouth to argue with me, but at the last moment she seems to understand that there's no point. As we make our way through the hole, helping Nodby along the way, it's clear that Table isn't entirely happy with how things have gone so far, but she clearly knows better than to risk arguing too firmly in front of the old man. We hurry through the rubble until we reach the large stone slab that slammed down earlier and sliced one of Kiran's men in half, and sure enough the slab itself has been raised, leaving a messy, bloody pile of blood and bones on the ground.
"Now there's someone who definitely doesn't have a soul anymore," Table mutters as we make our way along the cold stone passage, with the torch barely providing enough light to guide us back to the entrance.
"Aren't you curious about what I wrote?" I ask.
"Why would I be?"
"It was about you," I continue. "I mean, do you still believe you don't have a soul?"
"I believe you tricked that mad old guy into believing that I do," she replies, glancing at me with a smile, "and I think we should get out of here before he realizes that all his marbles aren't rolling in the same direction, if you know what I mean."
Figuring that there's no point arguing with her, I turn and see that Nodby is struggling to keep up. Hurrying back to him, I pick up his box and start carrying him along the passage.
"You really don't understand how things work in the Library, do you?" he says quietly after a moment.
"I'm the one who made sure all three of us got out of there," I point out, unable to hide a faint smile. "If I hadn't been with you, Table would never have been allowed to leave."
"But you don't know how you did it," he replies. "Do you?"
"I showed them that Table still has a soul," I tell him. "She didn't even realize it herself."
"Yep," he replies with a sigh. "Just like I said. You really don't understand how things work in the Library."
As we continue to make our way back to the surface, I can't help but wonder exactly what he means. Table does have a soul, and I could see it even if she wasn't aware that it had come back to her. I might not understand everything about the Library, but maybe that's a good thing sometimes if it means that I can look past the assumptions that other people make and see the truth. For now, though, all that really matters is that we're on our way again, and hopefully we can still catch up to my parents.
Thomas Never
"First," the Grandapam Marshal says calmly, "I wish to congratulate the pair of you. It has been many, many long years since anyone escaped from a Grandapam garrison. You, Carstairs, have managed it twice in one day. This is an impressive achievement, even if you had certain help along the way."
"I always like to accomplish two impossible things before breakfast," Carstairs replies. "You must listen to me, though. There's no point trying to take us back with you. There's -"
"I know," the Marshal says, interrupting him. "I'm not a fool. We found the remains of our men, and I'm quite certain that there's no way you could have killed them all so quickly, or with such ferocity. It's clear that you have help, when necessary, from certain quarters, and I'm not going to send endless streams of my brethren to be slaughtered by the..." He pauses, as if he doesn't quite want to say the word. "I should have known this would happen when the Emissary showed up," he adds. "Any time the Angel sends one of his representatives to meddle with our affairs in person, trouble always follows."
"Please," Carstairs continues, almost as if he's pleading with the Marshal, "you need to leave us alone. If the Angel even suspects that you're threatening me, there'll be consequences."
"I'm fully aware of the Angel's determination to protect you," the Marshal replies. "Such efforts are rarely subtle, and have drawn the attention of many."
"I thought you were scared of the Angel," I say to Carstairs, trying to get my head around whatever's happening here. "You always talk about it as if it's trying to hurt you."
"It's complicated," he mutters.
"You have free passage through Grandapam territory," the Marshal continues, evidently ignoring my comments. "No-one from our garrison or any other Grandapam garrison will interfere, but I wish to make something very clear, Carstairs. This situation between you and the Angel has to stop, and it has to stop soon. The longer it goes on, the more likely we are to seek an alliance with others who would be interested in bringing the Angel to its knees."
"You don't know what you're talking about," Carstairs says bitterly. "No-one can stop that thing."
"Perhaps not," the Marshal replies. "Perhaps the combined forces of every Grandapam garrison in this part of the Library would be insufficient. But what if we called upon other Garrisons? What if there were ten thousand of us?"
"Still not enough," Carstairs replies.
"And what if we brought in other species?" he continues. "Golvs, Joths, Loom People, werewolves... We could grow our number to more than a million."
"And still you couldn't destroy the Angel," Carstairs says darkly. "Why do you even bother to entertain such fantasies?"
"What about the Forbidders?" he adds. "What if we called upon every beast in all the seven worlds, and what if we instigated the greatest conflagration that has ever been witnessed in any land? What if we sent hundreds of billions of warriors burning across the Library, all of them determined to destroy this precious Angel of yours? Are you still so certain that we would have no chance of defeating it?"
Carstairs pauses, and it's clear that he's not so sure.
"All of this could be solved," the Marshal continues, "if you would just go and face the creature and give it whatever it desires. The Angel only wants you, so why allow such carnage to rage? The Angel might have killed those Grandapams earlier, but it would never have done so if you'd just faced up to your -"
"Enough!" Carstairs shouts, with more anger in his voice than I've ever heard before. "It's not for you to tell me what to do, and if I've refrained from going to the Angel, it's for my reasons and my reasons alone. The best response from you and your men would be to keep well away from me. That way, there's no danger that the Angel's wrath might accidentally end your lives."
"And you'll keep running?" the Marshal asks. "Forever?"
"Why not?" Carstairs replies. "I'm rather good at it."
"Eventually the Angel will tire of waiting," the Marshal points out. "Other methods will be used to draw you closer."
"And I shall deal with them," Carstairs says firmly, "one by one, as and when they arise. For now, I'm afraid you'll have to excuse me. I must take my young friend through the Library and help him find his parents. This, and only this, is my priority at this moment. Talk of the Angel can wait until later." He pauses, as if he's waiting for a reply. "You can't stop me," he adds eventually, with a faint smile on his lips. "Go ahead. Make your move. I dare you."
"You're a fool, Cars
tairs," the Marshal replies, stepping aside, "and a coward. Try to move through Grandapam territory as quickly as possible. We'd rather not have the Angel's gaze fall upon our activities."
"Remember who you're talking to," Carstairs mutters, before pushing past the Marshal and his men. "Come on, Thomas!" he shouts back to me. "We can't waste any more time talking to these green-skinned idiots!"
"You should be careful," the Marshal says quietly, turning to me. "The Angel will view you as a threat too."
"What is the Angel?" I ask. "Does it hate Carstairs, or is it trying to protect him?"
"Both," the Marshal replies. "Or perhaps neither. Only Carstairs truly knows the nature of his relationship with that thing, but whatever the truth, he's a dangerous man to be around. I'd advise you to locate your parents as quickly as possible and then ensure that you get as far from Carstairs as possible. He can't, and probably won't, protect you from the Angel forever."
"Thomas!" Carstairs shouts, having reached the end of the next aisle. "Are you coming or not?"
Figuring that I've got no choice, I turn and run after him. There's a dark side to Carstairs, a side that I'd never really seen before, and I can't help feeling as if we're being watched as we make our way quickly along the aisle. Remaining silent, Carstairs seems to have a lot on his mind, and as I glance over my shoulder, I can only hope that no more Grandapams try to sneak up on us. I've seen enough death for one day.
Alice Never
"This isn't where we were earlier," I say, shielding my eyes against the sun as we emerge from a cave set into a large rock-face. "This isn't the Valley of Dead books!"
"It is," Table says, squinting as she looks in all directions. "I guess we took a wrong turn down there, or maybe even a right turn. We've come out a little further ahead, at the end of the valley." She turns to me. "It's a good thing. We've taken a little shortcut."
"But this is a desert," I say, stepping forward and looking out at the vast, flat expanse of bleached sand before us. There are a few bookshelves dotted about, but they seem old and faded, almost as if no-one has paid them any attention for years. Before I can go any further, I feel something against my foot, and when I look down I realize that there's part of a broken skull on the ground. "Where the hell are we?" I ask, taking a step back. "I thought we were supposed to be heading to some kind of city, but there's nothing here. There's nothing for miles!"
"I told you," Table continues with a smile. "We're at the end of the Valley of Dead Books. This is the great desert of the Library. It's said that few souls have ever been able to make a complete crossing. Out there, buried in the sand, are the remains of a hell of a lot of people who've tried, though." She turns to me. "According to legend, this is the spot where the Forbidders were driven away from this land. Of course, that was a very long time ago, so no-one really knows if it's true."
"There's nothing here," I say, convinced that I can already feel my skin starting to burn.
"That's not strictly true," she replies. "There's the city of Papyr in one direction, and if you're really adventurous, there's a port called Cohm about fifty miles to the east." She pauses. "I guess Papyr is the only logical destination."
"We can't walk across a desert," I reply, shocked by the idea. "We'll die."
"Totally," she says, "and that's why we're not going to do it." She pauses, and a hint of darkness seems to flicker in her eyes. "You think you're really something, don't you?" she adds after a moment. "You think you really came through for me back there and saved the day. I can see it in your eyes, Alice. You're all puffed up on a sense of your own importance."
"What do you mean?" I ask, shocked by the venom that seems to be creeping into her tone.
"You think you saved my life by showing me that I still have a soul," she continues, "but all you really did was condemn me to more pain and misery."
"No, I -"
"You really don't get it, do you?" she shouts. "You've screwed me over twice now! First you dragged me away from the yard where I was perfectly happy being a table, and now you found a way to make my soul stronger than ever. I was better off without it, even if I'd have had to have stayed down in that tomb! At least..." She looks over her shoulder, and once again she seems to be worried that someone might be following us. "He's suspected for a long time that my soul might have started to regrow," she continues, turning back to me, "and now you've just gone and proven it. He's going to be hungrier than ever. I was hoping he might have given up eventually, but there's no chance of that now."
"Who?" I ask.
"The man who took my soul in the first place. He's been trying to find me for years. I guess he thinks our deal covered not only the soul I had at the time, but any more soul I manage to develop for the rest of my life. And now, thanks to you, he's only going to be more determined to catch up to me and rip it out all over again. Hell, he'll probably just follow me around forever now, taking more and more." She pauses. "All I want to do is find somewhere safe to hide. Somewhere he can't get to me."
"I'm sure he's not -"
"Shut up!" she shouts, clearly starting to lose control. "You really don't have a clue what you're talking about, do you? It's all a game! You get dropped into this place and you go running after Mummy and Daddy, and then when you eventually find them you'll all head off together into the sunset and the Library'll just be a nice memory. Meanwhile, we're all still here..." She pauses. "This is why humans are usually prevented from leaving their own world," she adds eventually. "Grandapams, vampires, werewolves, Golvs, Joths... They all hate humans. Your species has a terrible reputation, and now I can see why. You treat everyone else as some kind of plaything."
"I wrote that book for you," I say firmly, hoping to calm her anger a little. "I wrote it to show you that you've still got a soul, and that no-one can ever take it away from you. How can that ever be a bad thing?"
"All you really showed me is that you've got enough soul for all of us," she spits back at me. "The great Alice Never has so much goddamn soul, she can fill up a book of her own and then have some left over for her poor, soulless little friend. The problem is, now I've got nowhere to run. He's coming for me, and now he knows my soul can regrow, he'll never leave me alone. I'll spend the rest of my life being drained."
"No-one can do that to you," I reply, trying to reassure her. "Can't you go to the police or something?"
"Police?" She laughs. "There are no police here, you naive little idiot. There are a few Grandapams that try to act all tough, and some of the citadels offer refuge from time to time, but most of us are on our own. And that's why..." She pauses again, this time with tears in her eyes. "I should never have helped you," she adds. "One thing's for certain, though. This is over. I can run faster and further without you, so you're on your own. There's no way I'm going to let you hold me back anymore. I'm out of here."
"Please," I say, starting to panic, "you can't -"
"Or maybe he can help you," she adds, nodding toward something behind me.
I turn and look across the vast desert, but there's no-one in sight apart from Nodby.
"Who?" I ask, before starting to turn back to her. "I don't think we can -"
The last thing I see is Table swinging a rock straight at my head, followed by a loud thud and a jolt that knocks me down to the ground. Even before I've landed, I can feel the pain blossoming through my head, and everything quickly turns to black.
Thomas Never
"Are you tired?" Carstairs asks eventually, having not spoken for an hour or two. "Do you need to rest?"
"No," I say quickly, keen not to show any signs of weakness despite the fact that I'm exhausted. "I just want to keep going. I need to find my parents as soon as possible." The truth is, I also want to get away from Carstairs; he's clearly not quite as wise and sure of himself as I'd previously assumed, and I'm worried that the longer I stay with him, the more likely I am to be drawn into whatever mess he's trying to avoid. It's pretty clear that the Angel is determined to get hold of him, an
d Carstairs can only hold him off for so long. Then again, if I set off on my own, I've got pretty much no chance of finding my parents.
"You're human," he mutters. "You'll get tired eventually."
"It might help if you tell me where we're going," I continue, wary of this sudden change in his mood. "Are we out of Grandapam territory yet?"
"Of course," he replies with a faint smile. "Haven't you noticed a sweeter smell in the air?"
I take a sniff, but nothing seems different to me.
"We're going to one of the Library's greatest cities," he continues. "Well, at least in the lands that have been charted so far. For thousands of years, people have been traveling to Papyr in search of success, or happiness, or even information. We had to take a slightly longer route, mainly because there's no way I want to go through the Valley of Dead Books or the desert. Still, I'm convinced we're on the right path now. If anyone's ever going to know where your parents have gone, I'm sure we'll get a few pointers once we're at Papyr."
"I didn't know there were cities in the Library," I reply. "How big is this place?"
"Papyr is one of the oldest cities in this world," he says, glancing down at me. "For many centuries, the Setters of Papyr had a monopoly on the printing processes that were used to create every book in the land. As you can probably imagine, this made them overwhelmingly powerful, to the extent that they became corrupt. Times have changed a little, of course, and technology has moved on, but the Setters are still revered by many. Anyone who doubts the power of Papyr is in for a rude awakening." He stops suddenly, before turning to me. "Before we reach the city, though," he continues, with a weary look in his eyes, "I must be honest with you, Thomas. There's a good chance that we'll find your parents eventually, a very good chance, but there's also a chance that..."
I wait for him to finish.
"I'm not an idiot," I say after a moment. "I know they might be dead."
"And your sister too," he adds. "If she's here, I mean."
