Andrew hooked our ladder onto the edge of the rail and sat down, hooking his legs and arms through the bars and around the sides of the ladder. I did up the buckles on my harness, slipped the canvas bag onto my front, pushed my knife into my boot, and swung myself up onto the edge.
“You be careful,” Andrew warned me, tying the rope to the back of my harness. “I got us this ladder for a reason. Use it until it runs out.”
“Don’t I always?” I replied, giving him a sweet smile. Before he could answer, I was climbing down the ladder, overtaking the other Shelvers who had already started.
Sounds like I’m boasting, but I’m the best climber we have. I’m happier with my feet off the floor. Andrew always says that one of my parents must’ve been a monkey. I always clout him when he says that, although it’s about as much use as a gnat swatting an elephant. I don’t know anything about my parents – none of us do – but I do think my dad might’ve been a sailor, or a builder. Something where they’d need a good climber. As for my mum, well, it’s an easy enough guess, and she probably wanted a better life for me.
I reached the end of the ladder, about a floor above Scripture, and stopped, judging the distance and the angle. I swung myself down so I was gripping the bottom rung, kicked my legs back, and threw myself forwards.
My hands jarred as I caught the rail and my feet slammed into the bars. A
moment to catch my breath and wait for my heart to slow back down to normal, then pulled myself up.
It was much worse than I’d thought. A wall of books faced me, shelves leaning splintered and drunken, pages ripped, covers torn.
“Angels above,” muttered Callum as he landed beside me. “How are we going to shift this lot?”
“One at a time,” I replied, and started dropping books into my bag.
They’re huge books, the ones from the Scripture floor. For all their fighting, the different religions have at least one thing in common – they’ve all got a lot to say for themselves. Three books and my bag was full.
I kicked off from the rail and started climbing up the rope, slower than usual thanks to the weight of the bag. Up the ladder, handed the books to Andrew, back down again, same as I’ve done a hundred times before. Only this time it was going to take forever.
It was the sixth time down when I heard the voice.
I nearly dropped one of the huge books. I only just managed to catch it in time.
“Steady, Anna-”
“Shh!” I hissed at Callum, slipping the book quickly into my bag and listening hard.
There it was again. Faint, but definitely a voice. Sounded like a man.
“Did you hear that?” I stared at Callum. “There’s someone in there!”
“What?” Callum shook his head. “No-one.s ever in the Library at this time.”
“I heard someone. I know I heard someone!” I swung away from the rail and hauled myself up the rope as fast as I could.
“Quick, take this!” I practically threw the bag at Andrew as I pulled myself over the rail. “Andrea! Andrea!”
Andrea was directing the Llamas who were loading the trolleys. I ran over and pulled on her sleeve.
“What?” Andrea snapped, glaring at me.
“I heard a voice! There’s someone under the books!”
Andrea sighed. “It’s echoey down there, Anna, you probably heard one of the Shelvers talking and got confused-”
“I know what I heard,” I said stubbornly.
Andrea stared at me for a couple of moments, then sighed again. We might not always get on, but Andrea’s fair, and she knows when I’m telling the truth.
“All right. Any idea where on the floor they are? Any landmarks that.ll narrow it down?”
I tried to remember. “It was around where I was working – well, of course it was – but...there were two shelves that had kind of fallen together,” I made a steeple shape with my hands. “It sounded like it was coming from there. I couldn’t see anything, though, there were too many books in the way.”
Andrea nodded. “I’ll tell Thomas. If there.s someone in there, it changes
everything.”