by Amy Cross
“The Book of Libraries?” I say, before holding the book up for her to see. “You mean this one?”
She allows herself a faint smile, and I see tears in her eyes.
“You wrote this?” I continue, as I look at the spine. “C. Mathis. Claire Mathis, that's you?”
“I always thought that one day I would meet Rinth, and that I would learn the final truth from her. I tried searching for her, for a while, but eventually I understood that it would be better to let her come to me. I suppose that happened in the end, in a way, but by then I had lost control. Darvill and his men got to the citadel first, and I was powerless to stop them as they killed all my guards and took over. I tried to find a way to warn Rinth not to come here, but there was nothing I could do. I fear that all the old prophecies are going to come true, and that Rinth will bring about the end. She seems somehow linked to the life of the Great Library itself. Sometimes I think she even...”
I wait, but her voice has faded
“You think what?” I ask finally.
“It's too late,” she gasps. “It's all far too late. I have failed and...”
Again I wait.
“Where did Rinth come from?” I ask. “What kind of -”
“Be quiet,” Cromer says.
“No, she has to tell us!”
“She doesn't have to do anything,” he replies, interrupting me. “She's gone. She's dead. Be quiet, Alex, at least for a moment.”
“But...”
Looking down at Claire's face, I realize that Cromer's right: she's dead. We all sit in silent contemplation for a moment, before Cromer gently closes her eyes. I want to say something to help him, to make him feel better, but deep down I know that there are no words that can actually do that. We just have to figure out what to do next.
“It's over,” Cromer says suddenly.
“What is?” I ask.
“All of it,” he replies, still staring at Claire. “Look around. We lost.”
“No, we just -”
“Darvill has Rinth,” he says, cutting me off. “Claire knew what that meant. We... I was duped, by that goddamn overgrown grasshopper. We delivered Rinth right into Darvill's hands, and now he's taken her away. They'll be far from here by now.”
“Then we have to go after them,” I reply.
“Which direction did they go?”
“I don't know, but we can find out!”
“It would take too long,” he tells me, “and besides, he has an entire army.” He turns to me. “We tried our best, and there's honor in that. We failed, but at least we tried. I'm sorry, Alex, but I have absolutely no idea how to get you home. I'm sure there's a way, there'll be portals somewhere, but I don't know how to begin to find them. Besides, there might not be time. Whatever Darvill's planning to do with Rinth, I imagine the future of the Great Library is at stake. It's over. He's won.”
“You can't think like that!” I stammer, but he simply looks back down at Claire.
Turning to Christian, I see that he has his head in his hands. I scramble over to him, and I grab his arm.
“Hey, we need to think of something,” I tell him. “We need to come up with a plan!”
“My parents are dead,” he replies.
“I know, but -”
“My parents are dead!” he shouts angrily, pushing me away. “Can you just give me some space? Nobody can bring them back! We fought, and they fought, and we lost! I should have just run away and joined Darvill's army anyway. At least my parents would still be alive!”
Sighing, I step back as I try to think of something else I can say. Cromer and Christian seem so deflated, so lost in defeat, that I figure I need to find a way to persuade them to keep fighting. At the same time, as I look around, I see only ruins and rubble, and I realize that I can't even find a way to make myself feel better, let alone anyone else. I try to think of something, but I can feel my optimism finally draining away, and as I take a seat on a nearby rock I realize that maybe Cromer and Christian are right after all.
We lost.
“Ahem,” a voice says nearby.
I turn and look, but there's no sign of anyone.
“Down here.”
Looking down, I still don't see anyone. There's only The Book of Libraries, resting on my knees.
“I will let you read page one hundred and twenty-nine,” the voice says, coming from within the book, “and only page one hundred and twenty-nine. Do you understand? Any attempt to read any other pages will result in the immediate retraction of this privilege.”
“What?” I whisper.
“Do you understand?”
“You're... talking...”
“I've talked before.”
“I thought I imagined that.”
The book sighs. Somehow.
“I'm making a very generous offer,” the voice continues. “I don't have to do this, you know. You called me stupid!”
“I was only -”
“I don't want to hear excuses. If you think I'm that easily swayed, then that's just another insult on top of the other ones, isn't it? I've been listening to the general discussion, and frankly I'm shocked. You all seem so willing to give up, but... Claire Mathis wrote me, and I think maybe she sold herself a little short. She might not have come to some big revelation, but there's information in my pages that I think could be very useful. That's why I'm willing to let you read page one hundred and twenty-nine. Is that an offer that you'd like to take up, or would you rather wallow in self-pity for a little while longer?”
“I...” I think for a moment. “Sure.”
“Geez,” he continues, “don't act grateful or anything.”
Before I can reply, the book opens itself, and I see page one hundred and twenty-nine. The first thing I notice is that the text is pretty small.
“Eyes to the right,” he says. “I'll know if you so much as glance at page one hundred and twenty-eight. It'll tickle.”
“It tickles to be read?”
“In a nice way. Now get on with it, I'm laying myself very open right now. Come on, what are you waiting for? Read the damn page!”
Page 129
An extract from The Book of Libraries
by Claire Mathis
And what are we to make of the story of the Hidden Library? This tale has been handed down from generation to generation, and for most scholars it's just that: a tale, with no substance to it. Like many myths, it comes dangerously close to being an act of wish-fulfillment. Wouldn't it be nice if a hidden trove of hitherto undiscovered books really existed, somewhere beneath the Great Library? Wouldn't that solve so many of our problems? For the daydreamer, this prospect is enticing. For the scholar, it seems too good to be true.
If the Hidden Library exists, it could very well contain books that explain everything about our world, and about other worlds too. Is that why the Hidden Library might have been kept away from prying eyes? Is it possible that the knowledge it contains is too powerful to be read by anyone? No two versions of the myth agree as to exactly what is contained in the Hidden Library, and ultimately this is one of the reasons why it's so difficult to believe that this place might actually exist. There is no evidence for it, anywhere, so one must conclude that it is most likely a fantasy, albeit one that tells us a great deal about our own wishes. Again, it seems too good to be true.
There is, however, one scrap of information that brings me back over and over to the idea of the Hidden Library. The great scholar and adventurer James Bartleby once claimed to have found an entrance to this wondrous place. He said that he dared not go through that entrance, and he said that for the good of all creation he would never reveal where or how it had been found. Bartleby was a wise and distinguished man, and nowhere else in his body of work does he pay any attention to flights of fancy. If Bartleby believed in the Hidden Library, does that not give the rest of us pause for thought? Why, in a lifetime of rigorous work, would this scholar sprinkle in a moment of madness? Did James Bartleby really discover such a
n entrance? We shall never know, for he of course disappeared long ago on another expedition, but the possibility is enticing.
Chapter Eleven (part 2)
I start turning to the next page, only for the book to snap shut with such force that it almost crushes my fingers.
“No more reading!” the voice says firmly. “What did I tell you?”
“But -”
“What did I tell you, Alex?”
“That I could only read page one hundred and twenty-nine, but -”
“But nothing! Anyway, the next page contains nothing that will help you. You've read everything there is to read about the Hidden Library, at least in my pages. The point is, I remember when Claire Mathis wrote those lines. I felt the anticipation in her soul, the belief she held that perhaps there might be something to the idea. She forced herself to be skeptical, because she was afraid of coming across as a fool, but I think deep down she thought it was true.”
“Okay,” I reply, “but how does that help us?”
“Claire tried everything,” he explains. “She was smart, and she was wise, and she was never defeated in any other situation. Then all of this happened, Darvill went on his rampage, Rinth suddenly became more important, and Claire failed. And Claire should never have failed. The one thing she didn't do, is she didn't manage to bring herself to believe that the Hidden Library could actually be real. I'm not a betting book, but as far as I'm concerned, that means that there must be something to the story of the Hidden Library. That was how Claire should have succeeded, by finding it.”
“Fine,” I say, struggling slightly to follow his twisted logic, “but if she couldn't find it, they what hope do we have?”
“You can open your eyes and accept that it's real, that there are entrances. And you can go ask the one man who apparently found one of those gates.”
“That James Bartleby guy? But the page just said -”
“I know what the page said,” he sighs. “I also know what Claire was thinking as she wrote those lines. She was afraid, and she didn't allow herself to admit the truth, but she was certain that she knew where Bartleby could be found. He disappeared while he was searching the ruins of Shadar, except deep down Claire felt that maybe he didn't disappear at all. She thought maybe he was guarding something.”
“Guarding what?”
“Don't be a dummy.”
“I don't...” I pause for a moment, as I start to understand what he means. “You think this Bartleby guy is hiding at Shadar, because he's guarding the entrance he found to the Hidden Library?”
“Claire thought that too, she just never dared to admit it to herself. Nobody's perfect, right? But do you wanna know something else interesting? Claire moved to this particular citadel about thirty years ago, and this citadel happens to be the closest to the site of Shadar. I think she was considering going to look for James Bartleby, but she never plucked up the courage.”
“This all seems kinda desperate,” I tell him. “What if it's a complete waste of time?”
“More of a waste of time than sitting around sulking and moping on a rock in the sea?”
“I guess,” I reply, “but how do I persuade the others? I can't go to this Shadar place by myself.”
“Maybe you'll have to,” he says. “If that's what it takes.”
“The Hidden Library doesn't exist,” Cromer says suddenly, and I turn to see that he and Christian are watching me. I guess they've been listening to every word. “If you start believing in fairy tales, you'll end up losing your mind. Fools have been chasing the Hidden Library for as long as I can remember, and they've never managed to get anywhere. And Shadar is a dusty pile of ruins in the middle of nowhere, it's the kind of place where idiots go to die. There's nothing but rocks, a big hole in the ground, and some bones that have been bleached by the sun. There's no hope there.”
“Okay, but...”
Before I can finish, I spot something moving out in the water, and I'm shocked to see Dooma's boat coming closer. Eanu must have been waiting for us the whole time, even after Dooma died.
I hesitate for a moment, and then I get to my feet.
“I'm going,” I say firmly.
“What?” Cromer replies.
“I'm not just going to sit here and think about how everything went wrong,” I continue, feeling a strange sense of certainty in my chest. “We have a chance. It might not be much of a chance, it might be a million to one shot, but it's better than doing nothing!”
“Sit down,” Cromer says with a sigh, “and shut -”
“I'm not asking for permission,” I tell him, cutting him off, “and if you won't come, then I'll just have to go alone.” I turn to Christian and I see that he's staring at me with a shocked expression. “If I fail, then at least I'll know that I did what I could.”
“We've all traveled so far,” Cromer replies, “and -”
“Not as far as I've traveled,” I point out. “We might well fail, we might die, but at least we'll be able to say that we tried! Or, we'll be dead, but other people can say it about us!”
Stopping suddenly, I realize that I could easily end up dying out here in the Great Library. I've come close a few times already over the past couple of days, and now – as the sun begins to set in the west, or wherever it sets around this place – I'm about to set out alone into this crazy world. I'm terrified, but at the same time I can't just sit here on this rock and do nothing.
“I'm scared,” I tell Cromer, “but I figure I've got to try to be brave. You know the saying, right? I'm gonna fake it 'til I make it.”
I wait for him to respond, but he simply furrows his brow. Realizing that he's not going to help, I turn and watch as Eanu gracefully swims closer, and then I wade out into the water until I'm waist-deep and I try to haul myself onto the boat. I struggle, not quite managing each time, until suddenly two hands grab me from behind and launch me up and over the side. Startled, I turn just as Cromer and Christian climb into the boat with me.
“You don't have to come,” I tell them breathlessly.
“Well, you made a good point about not just sitting around,” Cromer says, “and besides, you'd be dead by sundown if you went alone.”
“I know,” I reply, before stepping closer and giving him a big hug. “Thank you so much for coming. I was bricking it.”
“Whatever that means, you're welcome.”
“What about Claire?” I ask, stepping back and then looking over at the shore. “Shouldn't we -”
Before I can finish, I realize that her body is gone, although after a moment I spot what looks like a tattered old book resting on the rock where she died.
“Bury her?” Cromer says. “No, I think we'll late fate take its course. One day, if the Great Library survives long enough, I figure someone'll come along and find this place, and maybe that chance discovery will set off a whole new chain of events. Now come on, let's get moving. I might be coming with you, but that doesn't mean reaching Shadar is going to be easy. It's at least two days away, although hopefully Darvill's army won't be around to bother us anymore if they think we're dead. Wherever that Great Barrier place is, I'm sure they've got a long march ahead.”
As Eanu starts carrying us back to the shore, I look down at my copy of The Book of Libraries.
“Thank you,” I say quietly, before turning to look ahead.
“You're welcome,” the voice replies.
I look back down at the book, and I allow myself a faint smile.
By the time we're underway, Cromer reckons he has a plan. He's heard enough stories of Shadar to know roughly which way to go, and he says that he's got an idea about how to hopefully skip some of the more dangerous parts of the route. He actually sounds pretty confident, and he seems much more motivated now that we've left that little island. I look back at the ruins of the citadel, and I still find it kind of hard to believe everything that's happened over just the past few hours, let alone the two and a half days since I arrived in this world. I no longer expect to
suddenly wake up and find that it's all a dream, however. I know this is real.
We stop at the shore, and Cromer insists on bringing the horse on-board. Dooma said before that there'd be no space, but I guess we're two people down now, and somehow we're able to get going again, this time not straying too far out.
“So we're going along the coast?” I ask.
“The quickest way to Shadar is across the sea,” he explains. “That way we can save weeks of walking. Unfortunately, the journey to the far shore would be too much even for Eanu, so we're going to have to find passage on one of the vessels that regularly cross this route.”
“And where are we going to do that? Do we need to find another Joth?”
“Joths don't do the big trips,” he replies, before turning to Christian. “You can guess where I'm going with this, boy, can't you?”
“Me?” He pauses. “No, why? What kind of -”
He pauses for a moment, and then I see a flicker of panic in his eyes.
“You can't be serious!” he stammers. “Cromer, no! That's suicide!”
“It's not suicide if we make it,” Cromer replies with a faint smile. “Eanu has already guessed our destination.”
“Where are we going?” I ask, waiting for one of them to fill me in. “Guys? Can I get a little information here?”
“You're insane,” Christian tells him. “We'd be better off walking! Hell, we'd be better off drowning!”
“There's no time for any of that that,” Cromer says, before looking past me. “There! I was right, we are close.”
Turning, I can't see at first what he's looking at, but then I realize that there's something glinting in the distance, where the shore begins to curve around. I squint, and finally I'm able to see that there's seem to be a whole lot of people up ahead. Hundreds, maybe thousands, with lots of boats in the water, and there are structures on the land too, as if the aisles are absolutely rammed full.
“You asked how people live in the Great Library,” Cromer tells me. “Well, here's your answer. We need to get a boat for the first part of our journey to Shadar. And to get a boat, we need to go to the pirate city of Budocktar!”
