The Library - The Complete Series (20 page)

"Ever's a long time," he replies. "Best not speculate about things like that, but I know what the Librarian told me, and I've passed as much of it along to you as I dare. The rest is up to you and Vanguard."

"Does he know? About me, I mean. Did you tell him?"

"The Librarian didn't tell me to fill him in, so I kept quiet," he says. "As to whether you're supposed to tell him, I have no idea. The instructions given to me by the Librarian only covered us up to this point. I don't know what happens next, but I hope everything's going to be okay."

"What about my journey home?" I ask. "I don't want to stay here. I want to go home."

"You're already home," he says. "Like it or not, this is where you belong." With that, he turns and heads out the door, leaving me standing alone in the empty chamber. I look down at my trembling hands and try to imagine what it must have been like when I was a book. I try to think of my body as a bunch of pages, bound together under a cover, but it's just impossible to comprehend. I guess I'm still clinging to the hope that in some way, maybe Sharpe's story is wrong. Or maybe the story's right, but he got the wrong girl? Then again, it's pretty clear that the details match. Taking a deep breath, I force myself to accept that right now, I have no choice but to accept that there's at least a possibility of his claims being true. In that case, I need to decide what to do, because right now it seems that the Forbidders are willing to rip apart an entire world in order to get hold of one thing.

Me.

Except...

It can't be true. I'm not a book. I just have to keep telling myself that over and over again. I'm not a book. I'm not a book. I'm not a book.

Vanguard

"Tell me exactly what happened when he came in here!" the Elder says, his face ashen as he stares at the empty box. "When the Librarian came down here all that time ago, what did he say?"

"I wasn't paying attention," Caliko replies. "I tend to prefer ignoring people unless they make a direct request for my attention, so I just got on with my business. He seemed very panicked, though. I could hear him knocking things over and smashing into tables. Once he was finished, it took me quite a while to get the place straight again."

"And you didn't think to mention this to anyone?" the Elder continues. "You didn't think to check to see if something was wrong?"

"Something was always wrong with him," Caliko says. "If it wasn't one thing, it was another. You remember what he was like. Always losing things and bumping into things and forgetting things. To be honest, I'd have been more concerned if he hadn't been in a state. He seemed to be his usual self, and -" He pauses for a moment. "Actually, now I come to think of it, there was one slightly strange thing. He asked me if I had a cardboard box. I told him to look in the storeroom, and off he went. After that, I heard him hurrying back out the door, but I didn't even turn to look at him."

"He must have known that the Forbidders wanted the book," the Elder says.

"And he must have known that giving it to them would be a mistake," I point out. "Why else would he go to such great lengths in order to keep it from them?"

"But then he turned and ran," the Elder says.

"Did he?" I pause for a moment. "Or did he leave because he wanted to make sure they could never find the book? Perhaps even now he's out there, trying to keep one step ahead of them at all times?"

"That would be madness," the Elder replies. "He must know he can't run from them forever. Besides, why would he not see reason and just hand the book over? Think of all the lives that could have been saved if only he'd seen sense. Think of all the pain and horror that could have been averted. It barely bears thinking about that he would make such a catastrophic mistake."

"It wasn't a mistake," I say. "We might not understand his motives yet, but I'm quite certain he had a plan."

"A plan that will destroy us all," the Elder says.

"Do you still need me?" Caliko asks. "I was in the middle of cataloging some old slides, and I'd like to get back to my work. I'm almost halfway through; another five hundred years and I should have it done."

Without answering him, the Elder turns and hurries away. He clearly doesn't trust the Librarian; to him, the Librarian's decision to run away with the book is almost an act of treason, whereas I trust the Librarian with my life. Whatever happened all those years ago, I'm certain he had a very good reason for acting like this. The only question is whether there's any way we can stall the Forbidders and save the Library; the alternative would be to accept that the destruction of this entire land is in some way preferable to a situation in which the Forbidders get hold of the first book.

"I suppose you'll let me know if I'm needed," Caliko says, turning and lumbering back along one of the tunnels. "If no-one's been down in a couple of centuries, I might pop up and see what's going on. I should probably be more involved in the life of the Citadel." He continues muttering to himself as he gets further and further away; eventually, I'm left standing alone, staring at the empty box that once held the first book. It's hard to believe that such a simple thing could be the cause of so much bloodshed, but the Librarian clearly felt that the first book held too much power to be simply left for the Forbidders to claim. I can't help thinking that their emissary is being disingenuous when he claims that the book holds no intrinsic power.

Making my way back to the Great Hall, I find the Elder and the emissary locked in a heated, though hushed, discussion over by the window. At first, they don't notice my arrival, and I loiter by the doorway for a moment, keen to hear their conversation. After a moment, however, the emissary glances over at me and smiles, and I realize that my attempt to eavesdrop has been unsuccessful. Still, it appears that the Elder and the emissary have some kind of understanding, and I'm suddenly forced to consider the possibility that Elder Reith perhaps can't be entirely trusted.

"Vanguard!" the Elder says, smiling as if he's pleased to see me. "I've just been explaining the situation to the emissary, and he has proven to be most understanding."

"It seems you have mislaid the book," the emissary says. "In normal circumstances, I would be rather suspicious of such a story. After all, it seems rather convenient. However, I am going to be generous and accept that the tale is true. I can't imagine what might have caused the Librarian to act in such a cavalier manner, but I'm certain we can all work together to resolve the problem. My masters still want the book, so I am going to advise them to a wait a little while longer. The Citadel will remain safe for another week, while you make arrangements for the return of the item in question -"

"A week?" I say, shocked by such a proposal. "A week is barely enough time to leave the Citadel."

"I have it on good authority that the Librarian has not ventured far from this place," the emissary replies. "In fact, my masters had the Citadel under observation for quite some time before they made their presence known. From what I've been told, the Librarian never left, despite repeated claims to the contrary. I'm quite sure you'll be able to find him, if you work hard enough, and hopefully you'll then be able to get the book back. After all, if he is still here, then the book must also be somewhere close."

"And if we choose not to do as you ask?" I say, suspicious of his motives.

"We will!" the Elder says. "Ignore Vanguard. He's a warrior; he doesn't understand that there can be much better ways to resolve a problem. I can assure your masters that we will turn the Citadel upside down in our search for the Librarian, and we will find that book."

"Within a week?" the emissary asks.

"Within a week," the Elder replies obsequiously, glancing over at me as if he's terrified that I might contradict him.

"Excellent," the emissary replies. "I shall report to my masters that a deal has been struck, and that the book will be in their hands soon. They will hold off from attacking the Citadel for one week, but I must warn you there will be consequences if this deal is broken. My masters tend not to look favorably upon anyone who tries to deceive them."

"No-one is trying to deceive anyone," the Elder says quickly. "I think we all understand one another very well."

"Perhaps," the emissary says, walking quickly toward the exit. "I'll be back in a week. I hope I won't be disappointed."

"Are you serious?" I say, walking over to the Elder. "You're going to risk the future of the entire land?"

"What choice do I have?" he replies. "If we don't give them what they want, they'll attack us and the entire Library will be destroyed. At least this way, there's a chance that they'll turn and leave. After all, they only want the book. Who are we to be concerned about a single book? We have plenty of others."

"And you accept his claim that this book has no real power?" I ask.

"Why would he lie?" the Elder asks. "What reason would he have? If the Forbidders merely wanted to kill us, they'd have attacked the Citadel long ago. They'd have torn down the walls and ripped us all to pieces. They're not just after destruction for its own sake, Vanguard. They're here for something specific, and we can give it to them. Why would they spend more time here if they've got what they want?"

"And you don't think the timing is a little strange?" I say. "After all, they've had hundreds of years to come and issue this ultimatum, and yet they wait until today. I also can't help but note that they made no effort to stop me from reaching the Citadel. It's almost as if they were waiting for me to arrive before they could put their plan into action."

"So you think this is all about you?" the Elder asks.

"I think someone is setting a trap," I tell him, "and I don't trust these creatures. Are we really expected to believe that all this carnage, and all this mayhem, is caused by an irrational desire to get hold of a simple book? Is that truly the story they want to make us believe?" I pause for a moment. "I'm not a fool. I won't be tricked so easily. Before this is over, I will face them and I will know what they truly want. After all, everyone wants something."

"And what do you want?" he continues.

"I want peace."

"No. You want your old status back, and peace is just a way to get it. If true peace came to the Library, Vanguard, a man like you would be obsolete. You need war, or you're irrelevant. You have nothing to offer apart from the ability to kill those who stand in your way. Perhaps a smarter man would be able to adapt to an era of peace, and carve out a new role for himself. But you? You're always going to be like this. The only question is when you'll die in battle, and whether it'll be for a cause that means anything."

I stare at him, infuriated by his attempt to reduce me to the level of some common, easily-understood animal. There is a part of me that would like to remove his head, but I know I must show a little more respect to someone of his stature. Nevertheless, there is something about him that I don't trust; he seems too eager to hand the book over to the emissary, and too willing to engage in hushed conversations with those who would normally be seen as his enemies. If I am a man of war, then he is a man of peace; we both have our weaknesses, but at the end of the day, and as the sun sets over the battlefield, only one of us would have the strength to continue the fight.

"I shall find this book," I say firmly, "and then I shall know its nature. I shall not hand it over blindly to the Forbidders. Instead, I intend to determine its true nature. The very fact that they desire it so strongly might be a reason to keep it from them. If I have to fight to keep it from their hands, I will take any necessary measures to ensure that they are not successful."

"When you find the book," he replies, "you will hand it over to me. I have seniority here, and I will decide what is to be done."

Without answering him, I turn and walk away. Technically, he's correct: my duty would be to turn the book over to him and trust him to make the right decision. However, I am certain that he has made some kind of arrangement with the emissary, and I am not about to allow this book to be passed to the Forbidders unless I am certain that it would be the best thing for the Library. But these are problems for another day, because right now I have no idea where I might even begin to look for the book. If the emissary was telling the truth, and the Librarian never left the Citadel, then both he and the book must still be somewhere within these walls; unfortunately, the Citadel is vast and it would take many months to search its entire range. I will need help if I am to have even a chance of locating the book, and at this moment there is only one person who I believe could be of use to me.

Claire

I reach out and carefully slide the dusty old book from the shelf. Turning it over in my hands, I feel the texture of the cover: the leather is pocked and worn, with stains and marks, and the spine is heavily creased. When I open the book, I find that it's full of faded, lightly browned pages, some of which are dotted with small stains. I don't know how old this particular volume happens to be, but it's clearly well over the hundred year mark. It's such a solid thing, held together by strong binding along the spine, and after a moment I carefully slide it back onto the shelf and take a step back.

Is it true?

Was I really, a long time ago, a book?

I close my eyes and try to imagine what it must have been like. I think of myself as a small, rectangular object resting on a shelf along with a load of other books; I think of myself being slid out and opened; I think of someone reading my pages, occasionally turning from one to the next, and perhaps putting a bookmark in me before setting me on their bedside table while they sleep; I think of myself being carried in a satchel as someone goes about their daily business, perhaps pulling me out to read me on a bus. It all feels so strange and weird and alien, and yet at the same time I have a sense that perhaps I have some affinity with the sensation of being something so simple.

So it's true.

I was a book.

I hold my hands out and spread my fingers, imagining that they're pages. There are so many questions that I didn't think to ask Sharpe. Was I conscious when I was a book, or is that something that came later? What kind of book was I? What was I about? Was I fiction or non-fiction? Did I get read a lot, or was I the kind of book that sits unnoticed on a shelf and gathers dust? Was I hardback or paperback? Did I have thick pages or thin? Did I have a dust jacket? Perhaps most importantly of all, is my human form a permanent change, or am I destined to one day go back to being a book? Sighing, I realize that I should have asked him all these things, but I guess his answers would probably have been typically inscrutable and, most likely, not at all helpful. Even if -

I pause for a moment.

This is crazy. I'm not a book! Have I really been in the Library for so long, that I'm willing to believe such a crazy idea? I mean, the whole thing makes no sense. How and why would someone take a book and turn it into a baby? Sharpe's clearly just a bullshit merchant, peddling a load of rubbish to cover up whatever truth he wants to keep hidden. He probably just wants to distract me, or to make an excuse to hide the real reason for his departure. I'm no more a book than I am a camel or an aardvark. Smiling, I realize how easily I allowed myself to be fooled. I mean, how stupid can I be, right? How did I ever manage to believe such an insane thing?

But.

But it's there, in the back of my mind. Twinkling in the darkness, something keeps nagging me; reminding me that, actually, Sharpe's story might be true. No, not that it 'might' be true: it's absolutely true, without a shadow of a doubt. I can't explain the sensation, but part of me seems to know that he was telling the truth. It's almost as if there's a little piece of book left in my head, just enough to anchor me to my old identity. Maybe it doesn't all make sense right now, and maybe I can't imagine my old existence and I have no idea where I'm supposed to go next, but it's almost as if I can sense an underlying quality of truth and logic to the whole thing. I only have pieces of the story so far, but I can tell that eventually they're going to fit together seamlessly.

So I'm back to where I was a few minutes ago.

It's true.

I used to be a book.

"Claire?"

Turning, I find that Natalia is standing in the doorway. She has that same old smile on her face; it's a smile that means she's here to help me, and she won't take 'No' for an answer.

"I was just looking at the books," I mutter, wondering if maybe Natalia knows the truth about me. After all, Sharpe said that he didn't tell Vanguard, but maybe he told everyone else. Perhaps that would explain why Natalia has been so keen to look after me: she knows that I'm not what I seem to be, and that I might need special treatment.

"You must come back to your room," she says. "You need to rest."

"In case my spine gets damaged some more?" I ask wryly.

"Does your back hurt?" she replies, a look of concern crossing her face.

"No," I say, figuring that she doesn't seem to know the truth about my bookish past. I wander over to the doorway. "Sorry. I just wanted to see what was in here," I say.

"You don't have to apologize," she says, leading me along the corridor. "Curiosity is a natural thing. I'd be rather surprised, and a little disappointed, if you just sat in your bed and showed no inclination to explore the Citadel. The only reason I try to keep you confined is that I'm still a little worried about you. Although you've made a remarkable recovery, it's possible that you could still have a relapse. You just need a few more days, so that I can be certain that you're on the mend, and then you can start poking about to your heart's content. Does that sound like a good plan?"

"As good as any," I say quietly.

"There are a few parts of the Citadel that are off-limits," she continues. "I'll explain those to you later, but it's not too complicated."

"Like the parts near the top?" I ask. For a moment, it occurs to me that maybe I could ask her about Fig. After all, Sharpe didn't seem to know anything about her, but Natalia seems to be more of a part of this place. Then again, I still don't know if I can entirely trust her, so perhaps I shouldn't let her know that I've been exploring quite so thoroughly. Deciding to keep quiet about Fig, I smile. "I don't know. It's not like I need to know every nook and cranny. I'm just passing through."

"On your way home?"

I nod, although I don't really know where 'home' is anymore.

"Don't worry," she continues as we walk into my room. "You'll feel better soon. This place isn't really so strange, not when you get used to it. I'm sure you'll start to understand the way we do things around here."

"Do you know where Vanguard is?" I ask as I sit back down on my bed. "I really need to see him."

She pauses, looking a little hesitant. "I'm not sure," she says, clearly choosing her words carefully. "I know I promised he'd come to see you, but I believe I heard that perhaps he's been waylaid a little."

"Waylaid?"

"I think perhaps he's had to go and look for something, but he'll be back soon. Don't worry, if there's one thing you can count on with Vanguard, it's that he always comes back. No matter how long he's gone, and no matter how certain you might be that he's left for good, he always shows up eventually."

"But I need to speak to him now," I say, starting to panic a little at the thought that both Vanguard and Sharpe have left me here. "He wouldn't just go without saying anything to me."

"It was very sudden," she continues. "He was called away on a very important mission, but when it's done, I'm quite sure he'll be straight through to see you." She takes the bed-sheets and drapes them over my shoulders. "Don't worry about anything. If you worry, you'll slow down your recovery. I'm going to go and find some food for you, and maybe something for you to read. I know it can be rather boring being a patient, and that sense of curiosity must be driving you crazy. Just a few more days of bed-rest, and then you'll be up and about."

"Sure," I say, as she turns and hurries out of the room. Even if Natalia's right, I don't understand what I'm supposed to do once I'm allowed to be 'up and about'. If everything Sharpe told me was true, then I seem to be nothing more than a sitting target, waiting for the Forbidders to figure out who and what I am. Is that what I'm supposed to do? Should I just sit here and wait for them to decide that they're ready for me? Feeling a cold chill pass through my body, I take a deep breath. All I want to do is go home and pretend that none of this is real.