The Queen's Librarian (18 page)

Lucas only squinted at him for long seconds, trying to come up with what Parry might have said on which Lucas might have needed to spend some thought, or at least why the conversation had taken such a sharp turn. The available parts of Lucas’s brain, with which he sometimes entertained Parry’s various fripperies, had been shrinking steadily over the past two days that somehow felt like forever.

Parry huffed a sigh and rolled his eyes. “The Circle, Tripp. Have you thought about asking the-Queen-your-cousin for the rights?”

“The… why would… the
Circle
?” Lucas threw out his hands. “What has that got to do with…? God, Parry, if you only knew everything that’s been….” He trailed off then shut his eyes and pinched at the bridge of his nose. Mistake. It only stretched at the bruises on cheek and temple and made him hiss. “The Circle is very nearly the last thing on my mind right now, Parry. There
is
actually something I need to talk to you about, but I haven’t the time for—”

“Then make the time, Lucas, or I promise, you’ll—”

Whatever Parry was about to say was cut off by Bramble’s happy barking as Brent steered the carriage out of the yard, Auntie Del leaning out the small window with a last wave and a call to Lucas to “Get some supper, young man, you’re looking peaky!”

And whose fault is that?
Lucas didn’t retort.

“Everything all set?” Alex asked as he ambled back across the yard, flicking a look between Lucas—fond—and Parry—narrow with a touch of smug.

“God,” sighed Lucas. “No. I haven’t even gotten to that part yet.” He turned to Parry. “I need to talk to you about a book I’m looking for. It’s very important.”

“Book,” Parry said, mouth abruptly set in an unhappy line. He stared at Lucas for several long moments, measuring, then he glared at Alex for no reason Lucas could discern, before he puffed a long breath and shook his head. “Damn,” he said, low and with feeling, “I didn’t think it would get to this already.” He didn’t give Lucas time to suss it; he merely jerked a sharp nod and said, “I don’t have your book, Tripp. But I know where it is.” Fortunately, before Lucas could unleash the girly squeak of relief that wanted to climb out his throat, Parry took Saffron’s lead from the post and pushed it back into Lucas’s hands. “And I will tell you, provided you swear to heed a piece of very sincerely meant advice.”

“Tell me you didn’t give it to Cráwa.”

Parry startled a little and snapped his eyebrows up, but to Lucas’s relief, he shook his head. “I didn’t.”

“It’s safe, then? You can lay hands on it if you need to?”

“I can.”

“Oh thank God.” Lucas leaned against Saffron’s barrel when his knees went a little wobbly. “Parry, I really need to see it. You don’t understand how important it is that—”

“I’ll tell you exactly where it is, Lucas, and anything else you want to know, but you have to do something for me first.” Parry paused, leaned in, and folded Lucas’s hand more firmly around Saffron’s lead. “Come with me to the Circle. And once you’ve seen what’s there, go see the Queen.”

Chapter 8

T
HE
day had disappeared, and Lucas hadn’t even noticed. He still hadn’t recovered from the morning, and yet somehow the gloaming was upon them. Bonfires speckled the crazy-jane patchwork of distant fields—some of the villagers already celebrating the first day of harvesting—while the smaller specks of torches in between indicated that some were still laboring. Lucas didn’t blame them—he didn’t trust the good weather to last, either. The straw and grain crops had been cut and laid in the sun to dry today, but if it rained again before they were able to stack and bale it….

Right.
Stop thinking, Lucas
.

At least the vineyards and orchards were safe, according to Auntie Del. Which would have been unbelievable before this morning—Lucas had been out to the vineyards only days ago; he
knew
there had already been mildew, and mildew didn’t just magically go aw—

Argh. All right, perhaps mildew did just magically go away. At least when one was apparently dealing with magical beings not seen for so long they’d almost become half-remembered legend. So. Not so much with the disbelieving thing now.

“The Faulkes’s potatoes were suffering blight only a week ago,” Lucas murmured to Alex.

Alex took a moment to reply, “You said,” in a cautious tone.

“And now they’re not.”

“You said that too.”

Well. Lucas hadn’t really been expecting an answer. Mostly because Alex knew him well enough to know he didn’t actually want to hear the correct one out loud. Which was that Mister-Scontun-who-wasn’t-Mister-Scontun was a Daimin who had done what Daimin were fabled to do and given the Green Warden a little nudge, which was apparently resulting in not only perfect weather for reaping, but also a magically more abundant harvest than had even been possible, considering the condition of the fields only yesterday. It was like everything had multiplied on their various stalks and vines. Which was good.

It
was
.

Lucas pursed his mouth. “It’s good for Orchard Downs.”

“Yes,” Alex agreed.

“And
very
good for Rolling Green.”

“True.”

Lucas bit his lip. “Perhaps not so good for Laurie.”

“You don’t know that.”

“But if the book—”

“Lucas. Love.” Alex set a firm hand to Lucas’s knee then patted it. “You’re doing what you can. And that’s all you can do.”

Lucas slumped in the saddle but nodded and only half noticed when Alex’s horse slowed a little to exchange a few friendly-sounding grunts with Bramble.

They dawdled behind Parry, enough that they could still see him but he couldn’t hear them talking. Lucas didn’t think Parry minded much. He was probably enjoying the peace.

No amount of demanding, cajoling, or even begging had moved Parry to say more. Lucas had even made a misguided attempt at bedroom eyes, but that had only resulted in Alex asking if Lucas had suddenly come over nauseous.

It was small consolation that part of Parry’s preparation for the ride was the ceremonial Buttoning of the Shirt and Donning of the Riding Coat.

“He knows what’s going on; he said as much,” Lucas grumbled. “And he is
not
the boss of me,” he went on with an imperious finger pointed at the sky lacing twilit and blue-blushed as he and Alex plodded along.
Not
because Parry had told them to. It was merely for lack of any other direction, that was all.

“No, he is not,” Alex agreed readily enough.

“And Cráwa—what did he want to see Parry about and why won’t Parry
tell
us? I can’t tell if it’s about the book or about Slade, and I can understand all the secrecy from Cráwa, but Parry knows what this is all about and he won’t say. Why won’t he say?”

That last was rather plaintive and whiny, but considering what this day had been like so far, and the fact that the ground kept refusing to open up and swallow him, Lucas couldn’t bring himself to care.

“What was he saying about the Bloody Millstone, anyway?” Alex asked.

Lucas rolled his eyes. “It’s the Circle, Alex, stop calling it the Bloody Millstone. It’s all I can think of now when the subject comes up, and one day I’ll slip and say it to the Queen.”

Alex snorted. “Well, you’ve already said ‘arse’ to your mother. How bad could it be?”

“Oh my god,” Lucas groaned. “Don’t remind me. I’ve no doubt I’ve yet to hear the end of that. Especially after all of….” Lucas waved his hand around in a vague circle. “
This
.”

Bramble huffed a muffled
woof
under his breath and nudged his nose into Lucas’s heel, as though in support.

“Mm,” Alex hummed. “Which brings us to what, exactly, all of ‘this’ might be.”

“Well, I expect that depends on which ‘this’ we’re talking about.”

“Does it, though?”

Lucas peered back over his shoulder to where Alex had lagged a bit behind, apparently lost in thought. “Come up here where I can see you. I’m getting a crick in my neck.”

Alex smirked, but it was halfhearted. “Parry has always had a bit of a thing for you,” he said as he urged his horse even with Saffron. “So I can’t imagine that any of this is badly meant.”

Lucas rolled his eyes. “He does not have a
thing
for—”

“Yes, yes, whatever you say, Lucas. No thing, and Parry is not a lascivious rake sniffing after what’s not his.”

Awwww. It always made Lucas go warm and fuzzy when Alex got ranty.

“Honestly, Alex, he’s not sniffing after anything, he’s just—”

“I know very well what ‘he’s just’,” Alex retorted with a pinch to his mouth Lucas couldn’t see in the dark but could most certainly hear. “If he wasn’t almost married to his own ego, I might be worried. As it is, I’m merely slightly annoyed. And vigilant. You forget who my brother is. I’ve been watching his sort for years.
Not
that Anson is like that anymore,” Alex hastened to add. “He’ll be good for Tress, I swear.”

Lucas smirked. “I note your attempt at a save and deem it almost acceptable.”

“The
point
,” Alex continued, “is that Parry does not dislike you. I think I can say with confidence that he actually likes you very much”—he raised his hand when Lucas opened his mouth—“in whatever way you choose to define ‘like’. You are free to go with your own definition, but I’m sticking with mine because I am not a ridiculously handsome, capable yet naïve man who has no idea why anyone could think him handsome and capable, ever.”

“
Naïve
?” Lucas spluttered, then, “Wait, say the ‘handsome’ part again.”

“Handsome,” Alex said agreeably. “Very, very handsome. And let me pause to reiterate the ‘capable’ part, O Master of Rolling Green, who did not
lose
his cousin, but was merely caught in the unhappy circumstance of vicinity when said cousin managed to lose himself. Which, you must admit, is really not all that surprising, considering who said fluffy-headed cousin is. If he
is
with the Daimin, I’ve no doubt they’ll be conjuring a portal at their first opportunity and crawling through, white flags waving, and offering us lordships and piles of gold to take him back.”

Lucas should not snort. He really shouldn’t.

“
Any
way,” Alex plowed on, “to get back to my point: it seems to me that, whatever Parry is trying to do with this little drama-induced road trip, he thinks he’s somehow helping you.”

Lucas frowned and stared down at his fingers, loosely wrapped in Saffron’s mane, then he peered up and watched Bramble trot away to catch up with Parry, riding ahead of Lucas and Alex through the murk. “And he knows about the book,” Lucas mused. “He
has
the book. Or at least he knows where it is, or so he says. Which… maybe that’s why Cráwa went to see him. Maybe he figured out that Parry has the book. All Parry will say about it is that he didn’t give Cráwa the book.”

“And you believe him?”

“I do.” Parry might have his faults, but Lucas had known him for a very long time, and he’d never known Parry to be a liar. Lucas squinted over at Alex. “Dorset said that one who receives the book would have had instruction with it. It isn’t as though anyone who had it wouldn’t know what it was.” It was probably why Cráwa hadn’t believed Lucas at first when he’d said he didn’t know what Cráwa and Dorset were talking about.

It was all right in front of him, somehow, but he didn’t know where the connections lay.

“Parry knows about the book,” Lucas repeated slowly, thinking.

“He does,” Alex agreed.

“And, from what I could glean from the cryptic conversation between Cráwa and Dorset back at the inn, the book has everything to do with Daimin.”

Alex’s low “Mm” was encouraging. “As does the Circle.”

“To which Parry has insisted we accompany him.” Lucas paused with a frown. “The Circle was a portal.
Is
a portal, I suppose, but it’s been shut against the Daimin.”

“Of which, it appears, your Mister-Scontun-who-isn’t-Mister-Scontun is one.”

“And he stole Laurie.”

Alex was silent for a long moment before he asked, “Do you suppose Parry knows how to open the portal and he means to help you get Laurie back?”

As much as Lucas would like to believe it might be that easy, “I never told him Laurie’s missing. Did you?”

Lucas could just barely make out Alex shaking his head in the dusk. “Unless Cráwa did, but he doesn’t strike me as the talkative sort.”

“Right,” Lucas huffed then he scowled. “I noted more than once how much Mister-Scontun-who-isn’t-Mister-Scontun looks like Slade. And Parry
does
know about Slade. And if I have to accept that Mister-Scontun-who-isn’t-Mister-Scontun is Daimin, I have to at least acknowledge that Declan Slade, who apparently doesn’t actually exist, might be too.” He squinted over at Alex. “Do you suppose Parry knows and means to help us find Slade?”

“
That
,” Alex said with feeling, “would be a boon in a day sorely lacking them.”

“Depends on how you look at it, I expect,” Lucas mused then nodded, resolute. “If Parry somehow opens the portal looking for Slade, nothing says we can’t also look for Laurie. We’ll worry about the book when we have to, but for now, we’ll simply go—”