"There are many Archivists who believe that magic is a result of the various systems and rules that come into our world from the other. That those rule sets form the frequencies, linking different kinds of magics by similarities, and drawing them close together like magnets toward the places in the After whose own frequencies are most similar to it."
Scholar Credence tilted his head upward, only slightly, like he was honing in his focus in on me. "Yes, that theory gets a lot of traction around here. We librarians are a fan of rules and predictable patterns." He tilted his head slightly, challenging me with an unspoken question.
"But that's not the theory you believe?" I asked, hazarding a guess. It was then that the councilor’s face really lit up with a smile.
"No. Although I'm the first to admit that I don't know anything for sure, my way of thinking is more in line with that of many of my Keeper friends. Magic, like so many other things in both our world and the other, I suspect, is powered by belief. And by the impact it has on those who are touched by it.
“The more of a success a book is in the other world, the more people that read it and are shaped by the stories they experience, the more a specific type of magic will resonate here. It's possible that the passageways that exist in our city, and in other places throughout the After are as effective and consistent as they are because of the number of children and adults alike in the other world who have read stories about innocuous objects taking characters from one place to another. Locked doors, rabbit holes, wardrobes. Thankfully, the system we use here in Sanctum is a little more mundane.”
I nodded along enthusiastically, and the councilor continued. “But there have been multiple instances and reports of people getting swept up in tornadoes and landing in new places that they can't explain. And those reports are only coming from the people who managed to get back to where they started to tell anyone else about what they went through. I think it comes down to the same principle as the one that leads a character who has lived out their natural life here in the After to start back at the beginning of their journey here once they die. People in the other world are still reading their story, still affected by their actions. So they continue to exist here.”
Now I was grinning right back up at Scholar Credence, knowing what I was about to ask next would make me sound like a complete dork, but hoping that it was something he might appreciate. "Are there any books on those theories you would recommend? I'd love to read more."
Scholar Credence considered me for a moment and gave a sharp nod. "I'll have a list sent to you through one of my assistants as soon as I can. Minds like yours need to be cultivated, people like you are exactly the kinds of librarians the Archive needs most. I suspect you’ll do big things, and I can’t wait to see it happen."
The rest of the class passed in a blur, and I could almost feel everyone’s eyes on me at some point or another as Archivist Rowe tried to go back to the original lesson plan after Scholar Credence’s departure.
I suspected that more than one person was a little jealous of me right then. I knew I would be if I was in their shoes. It didn't seem possible that that conversation had actually happened, and that it had happened to me. It felt like I had day dreamed that same scenario a million times before.
Not only now did one of the councilors know who I was, but now they would quite possibly make a point of paying attention to my career and what I did with it.
It was great news. Or at least it should have been. I wanted to believe it was great news. But the more I thought about it, the more the other side of the scenario made itself obvious to me.
More and more, as the clock above the blackboard ticked closer to the end of the class, the more I had to consider that I'd made a mistake. That I should have kept my mouth shut.
I couldn't afford to be noticed, to be watched. The absolute last thing I needed was for anyone, person in power or otherwise, to look too closely at who I was or where I’d come from.
There was no room for me to stand out in the crowd, to excel in my class.
I wouldn't be able to risk falling too far down in my grades either, since that would draw much of the same attention, and might even risk my losing my space in this program.
But I promised myself that from then on out, I would try to stay solidly in the middle of the pack. To be average. To pass my classes, and maybe do well in a few areas, but no more.
I loved to be able to talk theory, and to share my ideas about the world we lived in. I even liked to show off. But none of that was worth the risk, or the potential consequences.
No. From then on out, I would need to be more aware of the impression I was leaving on the other librarians, both my teachers and my classmates. Archivist Rowe had already taken notice of how much I was picking up without me even realizing it. And that couldn't happen again.
I would take the book recommendations from Scholar Credence, and always remember our conversation as one of my proudest moments. But I'd go out of my way to avoid a repeat in the future, and hope that soon he'd forget our encounter.
I knew It would go against my every instinct, but when it came down to it, it was absolutely my only choice if I wanted to make it through my time at the Archive.
Chapter 7
The sun was high in the sky when Steph, Gennie and I started our walk to the Archive.
From the looks of it, we weren’t the only ones who had decided to make the journey on foot rather than driving or waiting for the bus. And since there were still a few hours left before our class rankings for our first year were supposed to be posted, we also weren't the only ones with a lot of anxious energy as we waited to see how we had fared, both in our classes and on the hands-on experience we had in the library.
I was looking forward to starting our second year, but there was a part of me that would miss the routine we'd gotten into over the last twelve months. It had been grueling, but in just the right way that challenged me and always left me wanting to put in that little bit of extra effort to go above and beyond.
It was an instinct that had been hard to push down as I struggled to let my grades fall from As to Bs, hoping my teachers would simply think that my initial enthusiasm had made way for more realistic results.
Inside the Archive, the library was mostly quiet. It didn't tend to get a lot of visitors during the nicer weather, though there were always dedicated bookworms among the stacks, they were just fewer and harder to find.
Like everybody else, my friends and I slowly made our way toward the back of the building, and pushed through the door marked private into the Academy section of the Archive. It was easy to hear more students upstairs, people in later years who still shared the same end of year ritual. It was fun to think that by this time next year I would be halfway through my time as an apprentice.
Passing the time, waiting for our results to appear, was far easier when surrounded by my classmates – all with stories to recount from the previous year, and theories to share about what was coming next – rather than it just being Steph and I in our apartment, trying not to annoy each other too much with our nervous energy and constant puttering.
From across the room, Tommen gave me a friendly wave, still chatting with a group from his half of the class. I waved back then looked away, still a little nervous around him. We had shared a few more lunches over the course of our first year, but it never became a regular thing.
According to Jericho, Tommen would frequently disappear to unused classrooms during his lunch, always claiming he needed a little more time to himself to unwind.
Too soon, a hush came over our class and the crowd parted as a single piece of paper appeared from thin air, posted on a far wall. The rankings for our year, as promised. In theory, it was supposed to be an official day off, like the rest of this week, a time to relax before starting our second year. It was one of only two weeks off we had every year, and we'd been encouraged to take advantage of it.
And yet I was sure that absolutely everyone had sh
own up to see how they had fared compared to their classmates. I noticed Keeper McMullenn, one of our instructors, sneak in through the main entryway between the academy and the Archive, watching the excitement.
I'd been tempted to sit it out, knowing that whatever results I got would be reflected in the full academic report that I'd get on Friday, and either way neither set of information would truly reflect what I was capable of. Merely what I'd been comfortable showing to my teachers. But ultimately, I hadn’t been able to pass up a chance to visit the Archive.
In a matter of moments, it was done. The sheet was posted up on a corkboard by the stairwell and all forty-two of us clambered around it, trying to get a glimpse of our names. It wasn’t unlike our first night at Porter House when we’d been waiting to see who we’d be living with. Now it was a matter of learning just how much of our effort had paid off.
I quickly lost Steph and Gennie in the crowd, and was in no rush to find out where I'd landed on the list. Or, at least that was what I was telling myself, not really believing it. There was a big part of me that worried I had pushed myself back too far, and that I'd find myself near the bottom of the list. Or maybe that I hadn't taken it far enough and that I’d draw fresh attention from my second-year teachers. Right from the day I’d decided not to go above and beyond academically, I’d known there were a million ways my plan could fail, but I was still determined to try.
Off to the side of the room, out of the corner of my eye, I caught Jericho giving Tommen a high-five, while the two of them were talking excitedly over one another.
Eventually , as enough people made it to the front of the group, found their names and left, I made it to the corkboard.
My eyes immediately settled at the top of the list where Tommen's name sat prominently above all the others. I was surprised, but also a little pleased. Knowing he was brainy made me even more interested in getting to know him better.
And this probably explained where he disappeared to on his lunches, sneaking in extra studying while the rest of us ate. Clearly, if that had been a strategy, it had paid off.
In the end, I had to read through the list a second time to find my name, skimming through it too quickly on my first go around to really retain much of anything. But there I was, right where I expected to be, in the top twenty of the class, but not much higher than that.
It wasn't great, but it was something I could live with so long as I wasn't actually missing out on any learning opportunities. I still wanted to gain all the knowledge I could during my four years as an apprentice, it was just a matter of keeping some of that knowledge to myself. Once I established myself as a librarian, I had to think there would be even less of a chance that anyone would take an interest in my past – I was probably deluding myself to think it was important enough for anyone to take an interest in it while I was an apprentice either. But at least once I graduated, I would have a little more freedom to settle in and be myself in whichever order I decided to dedicate my life to.
So I only had to get through three more years of mediocrity. It didn't sit well with me, and already I could feel a pang of jealousy forming in my heart toward Tommen. I was sure he deserved his ranking, but I wanted to be where he was. I wanted to be there more than I wanted almost anything else. Almost.
But what I was doing was for my greater good, and I could remind myself of that every single day if I had to. With a sigh, I pried away from the corkboard. Only a second later, someone else from the group behind me had taken my place.
A few clusters of students had situated themselves around the first-floor academy lobby. I found Steph and Jericho talking to Keeper McMullenn in a corner and wandered over to join them.
"Well, thank you," Keeper McMullenn said to Jericho. "It's been a pleasure having all you as students. This has been an exceptionally great class of librarians, and I'm sure you're all going to do great things in your careers here."
Even though her words hadn’t been directed at me, they helped a little to distill some of the sadness I'd been feeling. I was going to have a career as a librarian, and that was exciting, even if the route I had to take to get there wasn't exactly my ideal choice.
"I'm sure you say that about every year," Steph joked.
"Perhaps. Most years. But we do make a point of picking the best and the brightest. And your class does have the distinction of being the first in a few years that hasn't had anyone drop out before finishing up the first twelve months. All forty-two of you are still here, and that's something to be proud of. It has been a while since we had any class get through all four years with the same number of students it started with. The workload is a lot to take, and inevitably there are always a few that can’t handle it."
Before long, Steph and I had said our goodbyes and were walking back through the library toward the front doors. The back entrance to the library was closer but would add at least ten minutes onto our trip home. And it gave me one last chance to wander the library, even if I would never admit out loud that being away from it for the remaining four days of my time off had me a little bummed.
"Where you guys going?" Charlene asked, stopping from the near jogging pace she’d been moving at, coming from the front doors. Her black hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail that looked far more casual than how I was used to seeing her.
"Home," I answered, with a question in my tone.
"No way. A bunch of us are downstairs in the cafeteria. There’s kind of an impromptu end of term party. Zack was even able to bribe a pub nearby to fill a few of the spelled-fridges with beer. You guys can’t miss this."
Steph and I shared a conspiratorial look, and right away I could guess what she was thinking. We both grinned, raising our eyebrows in unison and followed Charlene to the stairs leading to the basement.
I would get to spend a little more time in the Archive after all.
As we approached the cafeteria we passed two librarians, Archivists decked out in their full robes laughing and shaking their heads at one another. From the sound that was coming from the cafeteria, I could guess at what they found amusing. It turned out that the impromptu party didn't just involve the people from our class, right away walking into the large room I recognized a few second and third year students as well. The fourth years wouldn't get their rankings for the year until their graduation ceremony to full librarians which was happening on the weekend, when the top five in the class would be announced in front of all their friends and family. Other apprentice librarians had an open invitation to attend graduation ceremonies, and I was already planning to do that with my Saturday night, just to get an idea of what it was like, and to remind myself of what I was working toward.
But as we found Gennie, already walking over to us, balancing three mugs of beer in her hands before handing them off to us, I was more than willing to think about that later.
"We made it," I said, beer in hand. We clinked our glasses together and all three of us let out a few whoops and hollers. Our voices were soon joined by others nearby. Even once the initial cheer died down, it seemed like the general volume in the room had permanently gone up a few notches as a result.
Soon, someone managed to find a way to bring music in and the party was in full swing. We'd all made it through our first year as apprentices, and it was time to celebrate!
It hadn't been easy. In fact, it had been so much harder than I'd ever imagined.
I'd made new friends and learned a lot about myself. I'd learned a hell of a lot more about the Archive and the After. And was working on a growing list of places I wanted to visit and people I wanted to meet.
The first step in my journey was complete, and I’d loved every second of it.
Chapter 8
Hours later, the party was still going strong. A few girls I didn’t know had even taken to dancing on top of one of the tables, before a few of the older students had quietly suggested that maybe that wasn’t the best way to attract the attention of the more senior librarians.
; The warning to the dancing apprentices had been enough to sober me a little, and so I was still nursing my third bottle of beer. I had always been a chatty drinker, and this was exactly the wrong crowd to start sharing my life story with.
I couldn’t quite bring myself to leave the party in the name of safety, but I could be a little smarter about how I handled myself.
I was leaning up against a wall, catching my breath and watching as Gennie and Steph did a do-si-do around a group of bewildered guys, dancing in tune to the music in their heads, since whatever it was they were going for certainly didn’t match the rhythm of the poppy-dance music blaring from the microwave that had been enchanted to play music. They had their eyes locked on one another, laughing and ignoring the world around them.
Moving my hips slightly to the rhythm, I did just the opposite, watching everything that was happening but quite happy with the few minutes of solitude I’d carved out for myself.
I was about to go searching for food when a startled shriek rang out from across the room, followed by a sickening thud.
I was moving before my brain even caught on to the fact that someone was calling for help.
I registered the blood on the ground before I recognized the person it belonged to. Vince was laying, spread-eagled on the floor, conscious and already trying to sit back up.
“Hey, hey,” I said, kneeling by his side as quickly as I could. “Don’t move, okay? You hit your head.” It took all my strength to hold Vince in place as I looked up to the gathering crowd. “You,” I said, making steady eye-contact with a middle-aged-looking man I didn’t recognize. He was wearing a white t-shirt under an open, button-up plaid shirt. “I need your shirt. Now!” I said at the top of my voice as he looked on at me, uncomprehendingly. That was enough to get him moving, and a second later he had tossed me the shirt off his back. I used the fabric to press against the obvious gash at the side of Vince’s head, just above his ear.
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