The Accidental Keyhand (10 page)

Here, Marcus had to cover his quickly reddening face with both hands as tears began to stream out of his eyes. Dorrie looked helplessly at Marcus and then back to Hypatia. “My name is Dorothea. Dorothea Barnes. And that,” said Dorrie giving Marcus a baleful look, “is my brother, Marcus.”

Marcus drew in a deep, shuddering breath, as if trying to call himself back from his hysterics.

“Ah,” said Hypatia. “So not…” Here she again consulted her paper. “Mr. Solo?”

Another wheeze escaped Marcus, and he bent over double.

Hypatia put the paper down.

Even in her terror at the thought of being marooned at any moment, Dorrie felt idiotic. “We just weren't sure at first. We just didn't know whether—”

“—you could trust us?” finished Hypatia. “Thoroughly understandable.”

Gratitude and relief filled Dorrie. “Exactly.”

Mistress Wu shifted a stack of papers on the table slightly to line up parallel to the table's edge.

Francesco grabbed the edge of the table hard and leaned toward Hypatia. “The connection with the Spoke Library is all wrong. It's just a gaping hole. And where are its companion archways? They always form within days of the first. There should be six or seven others, and we shouldn't need a bloody zeppelin to reach the first one. Then this book coincidentally appears! Something is very wrong. We must consider the possibility that a newly strengthened Foundation is behind this, and that these two are in their witting or unwitting service.”

“If you're going to keep accusing us of working for the Foundation,” said Marcus, “you could at least tell us what it is.”

Hypatia nodded slowly. “One upon a time, long before Petrarch's Library came into being, the Foundation had complete control of the written word wherever they ruled, and they held it jealously. By 1300 CE, a good portion of what you would call Europe, the Middle East, and Northern Africa was under the Foundation's complete sway.”

“Then how come I've never heard of the Foundation or the Founders?” asked Marcus.

“Because the history you know,” said Hypatia, “is not the history that has always been. It only seems that way to those living it.”

Dorrie felt that the floor had turned into a water bed.

“The lybrarians spent many centuries chiseling away at the Foundation's power,” said Mistress Wu. “Until it broke into pieces. History changed as a result.”

Hypatia drummed her fingertips on the table. “Though the Foundation has receded from sight, and the world's memory of it has dwindled into legend, it's still possible that there are those who dream about its old power. Francesco's greatest fear is that someone might desire to use Petrarch's Library as a means of reasserting that power.”

“That hole is proof that someone's gone beyond dreaming,” said Francesco.

“Perhaps,” said Hypatia. “Perhaps not.” Gazing first at Dorrie and then Marcus, Hypatia picked a quill out of a pewter mug and ran its feather along her finger. “Has anyone yet explained to you what a keyhand is?”

Dorrie and Marcus shook their heads.

“Keyhands occupy a special position here within Petrarch's Library,” said Hypatia. “For one thing, travel into and out of the Spoke Libraries is only possible with the cooperation of a keyhand.” Hypatia put the quill down. “May I have some ink and a bit of paper, Francesco?”

Dorrie felt a pointed stillness enter the room, as though everyone in it but she and Marcus was thinking the same thought.

Francesco hurriedly handed Hypatia a bottle and a piece of rough paper from a drawer. Hypatia poured a drop of the ink on the paper and then looked up at Dorrie and Marcus. “Touch the ink and then try to make a fingerprint.”

“Why?” Dorrie asked.

“It's not poisonous,” barked Francesco.

Dorrie and Marcus each pressed an index finger down in the tiny spreading puddle of ink and then pressed their fingertips down onto a clean section of the paper. Dorrie leaned forward to look at the result. A chillness crept across her shoulders. The pressure of her finger had left a solid black oval on the paper. No pattern of whorls or lines. Nothing. She tried it again and again. Her fingerprint was gone.

Hypatia leaned across the table toward Dorrie and Marcus. “The first three persons to pass through a new archway in the moments after it forms attain the power to navigate that particular archway, and bring others back and forth with them. Losing one's fingerprints is a side effect of acquiring a keyhand's unique time-slipping abilities.”

Dorrie's heart seemed to come to a jolting halt.

“What a colossal waste,” muttered Francesco bitterly.

“So are we keyhands?” Dorrie felt a spasm of fear mixed with wonder.

“Falling through a hole,
if
that's what you did,” growled Francesco, “does not make you keyhands!”

Mistress Wu patted at the back of her neck with a fresh handkerchief. “You see, usually, long in advance of a new archway forming, the Lybrariad chooses two very skilled and experienced lybrarians to become keyhands.”

“In other words,” said Hypatia, tapping the inky piece of paper, “you are keyhands in the sense that you now have a keyhand's ability to navigate an archway. You are not keyhands in that you do not possess the customary experience, wisdom, and skills typically possessed by those we train for the job.”

“But why train only two lybrarians for the job?” asked Dorrie.

“Yeah,” said Marcus. “You said the first
three
people through the archway get keyhand powers.”

“Well deduced, well deduced!” cried Mistress Wu, beaming as though Marcus and Dorrie had ferreted out the answer to the riddle of the Sphinx. “And here's your answer: Because there's always someone just on the other side of the archway who quite likes the idea of people saying or writing what they please. We rarely have to search far for them, and they've almost all made capital keyhands.” Her eyes shined. “It's as if they came looking for us in one way or another. We think they're why the archways open where and when they do.”

“Did you come looking for us?” asked Hypatia, looking first at Marcus and then at Dorrie.

Dorrie's heart beat faster. She glanced at Marcus, who only gave her an almost unnoticeable shrug. Dorrie racked her brain.
Had
she
come
looking
for
Petrarch's Library?
She glanced at Francesco's grim face, sweat trickling down her back. She had a feeling she and Marcus would be safer if she had but… “No,” she finally said, simply unable to concoct a believable story beneath Hypatia's gaze.

“As if Petrarch's Library would open for a child,” muttered Francesco.

“The fact that you have attained a keyhand's power,” said Hypatia, “presents a bit of a problem for the Lybrariad.”

“To say the least,” said Francesco. “The sooner we get rid of these two and let the hole close, the better.”

Dorrie and Marcus exchanged panicked glances

Savi looked stunned. “And abandon the twenty-first century?”

“How else to protect Petrarch's Library?” snapped Francesco. “We can probably take care of it by tomorrow.”

Dorrie felt her knees begin to shake. She felt as though she were drowning in a nightmare ocean, her fate in the hands of others. She forced herself to think, to not go under. If she and Marcus were ever to get home again, they had to avoid being marooned. They had to at least convince the lybrarians to allow them to stay within the walls of Petrarch's Library, even if it had to be as prisoners. “Wait!” she cried out.

Everyone in the room looked in her direction. “Why maroon us when we could be useful to you? We could live in Petrarch's Library. We could do work. We could, uh…shelve books or mop floors or…”

“Yes!” Marcus threw a hand up in the air. “Genius idea from the little sister! I was just going to suggest that.”

Mistress Wu looked horrified. “Oh, I don't think you—”

“Or we could…” Dorrie interrupted, desperate to convince them. An idea with stubby wings and a ridiculous ungainly body took clumsy flight within her. An idea fueled by her sudden realization that, beyond avoiding a marooning, there was a much, much bigger and more breathtaking goal to strike out toward.
Why
couldn't…
She felt her heart catch fire.

“Why couldn't we join the Lybrariad? Why couldn't we become apprentices? Other kids do. You could train us so that we wouldn't be a danger to the Lybrariad. Then you could still do your work in the twenty-first century!” Dorrie stopped speaking, out of breath. She looked pleadingly from face to face.

Hypatia pushed the ink-stained paper to one side. Mistress Wu, her mouth open, didn't even check to see if it lay exactly perpendicular to the edge of the table.

“That is so ridiculous,” said Savi, “that it almost makes a kind of sense.”

Francesco rounded on him. “Are you mad? We know nothing about their characters. We have no guarantee that they would have the mettle to succeed. They have no particular concern for our principles!”

Marcus looked indignant. “I have never burned a book in my life! I mean, maybe I've written in a few. But only in pencil!”

Hypatia leaned back, as if to better take in everyone in the room and all that had been said. “First off, I'm very sorry that you've been under the impression that a marooning was being considered.”

“It's not?” stammered Dorrie.

Hypatia raised her eyebrows slightly, a shadow of a smile playing on her lips. “In Petrarch's Library's centuries-long history, only two maroonings have ever taken place, and those for extremely good reasons. The Lybrariad has no current intention of doubling that number in one fell swoop.”

A wave of relief coursed through Dorrie. She glanced at Marcus, who flashed her a sickly grin.

“No,” said Hypatia, with a little half-smile. “If you were looking forward to the rumored trip to Outer Mongolia, we must disappoint you. Assuming you mean us no harm, the choice as it stands is only between sending you home and letting the hole close up, or leaving it open and maintaining some sort of relationship with you two.” For a long moment she was silent and then, almost to herself, she murmured, “There would be much to lose by closing ourselves off from the twenty-first century.”

Francesco whipped his head around to face Hypatia, a vein throbbing in his neck. “You can't seriously be thinking that such a…such a…risky scheme should be considered?” Each word sounded to Dorrie as though he'd chipped it separately out of a block of ice.

“It would be a bit of a mad gamble,” admitted Hypatia.

“It would be outright folly,” Francesco said through clenched teeth.

“It would be ninja-tastic!” cried Marcus. “I mean, for me.”

“Ninja-tastic?” growled Francesco. “You're not in a storybook, boy. The lybrarians of Petrarch's Library risk their lives every day. Sometimes just so a madman can safely proclaim that the universe is ruled by a blind fairy or a dancing goat or a talking soup ladle.”

“Dude, that is so cool,” Marcus said.

“It's extremely dangerous is what it is,” fumed Francesco, his hands gripping the edge of Hypatia's desk.

“But we'd get to travel across time!” said Marcus.

“You think it's such an adventure now,” muttered Francesco.

To Dorrie's surprise, Hypatia slid her hand over Francesco's whitened knuckles and then turned her eyes on Dorrie and Marcus. “The powers of a keyhand are rare. Rare things are sought after. Often violently. I don't exaggerate when I say that continuing an association with us could put you in mortal danger. Tell me,” said Hypatia, shifting her gaze to Dorrie. “Why would you want to make such an offer? Only to avoid a marooning?”

“And to have a chance to really use a sword,” burst out Dorrie. “I've been practicing forever but I can't do anything real with it in Passaic. You know, anything that counts.”

“May we assume then that the sword has failed to make a comeback in the twenty-first century?” asked Savi, his mouth twitching.

“Only for sport,” said Dorrie, “or pretending in plays and stuff. But in another time I could really…” Her words trailed off as a breathtaking image of herself driving back a cloaked villain flitted in front of her eyes.

“I see,” said Hypatia, after a moment.

Dorrie wasn't exactly sure why, but she felt somehow that she'd given a wrong answer.

“Hypatia,” said Francesco, fixing her with an intent gaze. “It would be years until they could function as lybrarians, let alone and if
ever
as keyhands.” He turned to Dorrie and Marcus. “Would you be willing to abandon your family and home for the duration of years of training? To stay always within in the confines of Petrarch's Library until we've trained you well enough to have some measure of confidence in your abilities not to guarantee our downfall?”

Dorrie's heart sank. “No. We couldn't.”

“Of course! You'd want to have it all!” barked Francesco. “Time out in your Passaic to enjoy loved ones and your nice normal little lives, and then, when it was convenient, you'd deign to do a little training here.” He whirled back to face Hypatia. “If they can't cut ties, they would present an incalculable daily risk to the Lybrariad's safety.”

Hypatia looked steadily at Dorrie and Marcus in turn. “There's truth in what Francesco says. It might indeed be best for us to part ways.” She sat up straighter and brought her hands together. “Well, Mistress Wu has called a full staff meeting for tomorrow morning. We'll discuss the situation and reach a decision then.”

“That hole could be passable within hours,” said Francesco. “Confine them to the Apprentice Attics and set a watch on them until after the meeting.”