The Lost Books

  She frowned at the change of subject. Four months ago she would have answered the question automatically. Now . . . Uncle Patch had been behaving strangely, and he’d become so controlling. He was doing it, she felt sure, to protect her. “I trust him,” she said slowly.

  He nodded as if he’d expected her answer. “That’s what I thought,” he muttered. “He’s the one who wrote to the duchess at Purslane, too?”

  “Yes,” she confirmed.

  He rubbed his wrist some more, thinking. Then he shrugged and shot to his feet, as if he’d decided something. “The librarian’s assistant that I met today, Miss Bug, is the one who told me about the Lost Book that is hidden in the royal library. Until we find it, it’ll keep marking the other books, and the library itself will become even more deadly.”

  “Deadly?” Kenneret exclaimed. “It’s just books!”

  “I’m not exaggerating the danger,” Alex said sharply. His hands, she noticed, were clenched.

  “Why not just search the library, then?” Kenneret asked. “And find the Lost Book?”

  He gave her one of his gray-eyed glares that was like being doused in icy water. “If it was that simple, Your Majesty, don’t you think I would have done it already?”

  “All right,” she said. “So you’re searching the library for this Lost Book. When you find it, will it be like that weather book with the mark on it?”

  He wouldn’t meet her eyes. “It’ll probably be worse.”

  “I know what he’s not telling you,” Charlie put in, and took a slurp of his tea.

  “Leave it, Charlie,” Alex said sharply.

  “Yesterday, in the weather room,” her brother went on. “Did you notice, Kennie? All of the books, the marked one and the others, they all went after him.” He nodded at Alex. “Not me, and not you. Him. And that other book attacked him, too.” With a finger he drew a line on his face, in the same place that Alex had a scabbed line where he’d been cut by the marked book. “They don’t like librarians, that’s what I think.”

  Kenneret remembered something Alex had said at their very first meeting, in her office. “Ohhh. You think the previous royal librarian was killed by one of the marked books.” Her heart gave a thump. “And your master at Purslane Castle?”

  He frowned. “Yes.”

  “Why haven’t they killed you?” Charlie asked.

  “They’ve tried,” Alex said darkly.

  “Yeah, but why haven’t they succeeded?” Charlie went on. “Are you special or something?”

  Alex shot him an inimical glare, but Kenneret nodded. “He’s right, Alex. You’ve admitted that you don’t have much training. You’re making this up as you go along, aren’t you?” She met his level gaze. “So am I, to tell you the truth. But it means I have to ask: If the marked books are targeting librarians—killing them—how have you managed to stay alive this long?”

  He was rubbing his wrist again. “I don’t know.”

  Charlie rolled his eyes. “Sheer random chance? Blind luck? Your brilliance with the sword?” His face went suddenly serious. “Or maybe you’re not really a librarian at all.”

  Kenneret thought Alex might burst into flames at that. “I am a librarian,” he bit out.

  “I’m just saying,” Charlie said, raising a hand, as if he’d just lost a point in sword practice. “Two librarians are dead, and you’re not.”

  “Three librarians,” Alex corrected him. “I got a letter the other day. The one at the Far Wrothing library was killed, too.”

  “Three,” Kenneret exclaimed. “Alex! You’re in terrible danger, aren’t you?”

  This was a lot more serious than she had realized. And Alex . . . she studied him. He was a librarian, she had no doubts about that. But he was Charlie’s age. He’d admitted that he’d hardly apprenticed with the old librarian at Purslane Castle, and he didn’t know the librarians’ secrets. Clearly, despite his best intentions, the job was too big for him. “I think,” she said slowly, “we need to call in reinforcements.”

  “More librarians,” Alex said, nodding. “That’s an excellent idea. I can write to the—”

  “No,” she interrupted. “We need soldiers to deal with this. I want to call in the Swift.”

  Alex blinked and stared at her, his face horrified.

  “The Guardian of the North,” Charlie put in, perking up. “Yes. That’s just who we need.” He nodded eagerly at Alex. “You should meet him, Alex. The Swift came to Starkcliffe one time. He’s an amazing soldier and leader, one of the old nobility, so he’s completely honorable and brave, and he—”

  “No,” Alex said suddenly, snatching up the book he’d taken from under the parsley pot. “Soldiers? Tromping all over my library with their big feet?”

  “Your library?” Kenneret asked.

  “My responsibility,” he amended. She noticed that his knuckles were white where his hands were gripping the book. “Look, Kenneret, you can’t fight this with swords.” He paced toward the fogged-up windows, then back again.

  “You used a sword before,” Charlie put in.

  “Shut up, Charlie,” Alex muttered, still pacing.

  Her corner of the greenhouse felt suddenly too small, not big enough to contain him. Coming to the windows, he turned and came back again, straight to her, where he held out the book. “Have you read this?”

  She took the book and looked at the spine to see the title. A Compendium of the Insect Species of the Itascan Subcontinental Region, Volume 13.

  “The Itascan subcontinent is thousands of miles away from this country,” Alex pointed out. “Why is there a book about its insect species in here?”

  She shook her head. “I have no idea. I have no interest in insects.”

  “Neither do I,” Charlie put in.

  Alex pointed at the book. “It should be in the library. It’s like . . . it’s like the library is extending its tentacles into the rest of the palace, and farther—even out here in the middle of the gardens. A soldier wouldn’t know that this book is not supposed to be here. Not knowing that sort of thing could be very dangerous.”

  “Dangerous how, exactly?” Kenneret demanded.

  He was gritting his teeth as he answered. “Yes, all right, fine. The marked books have only attacked me. So far. That doesn’t mean other people aren’t in danger, too. Anybody who opens a book to read it could be attacked. The library has to be kept locked up while I look for the Lost Book and figure out how to protect the books that haven’t been marked yet, and put them back to sleep, if I can.”

  “To sleep?” she interrupted.

  “The books are waking up. They’re unsettled. Think of it this way, Kenneret. The marked books are the ones that are most awake. And a bunch of noisy, clod-footed soldiers are the last people we need messing around in there. They’ll only make things worse.”

  Silently Kenneret held out the book about insects, and he stalked across the slate floor and took it from her hands. Alex had that ability to warp reality around him, to make what he wanted seem like the most logical thing to do. But was it? Was it really?

  She shook her head, decided. “We have to put an end to this,” she said firmly. “I’m calling in the soldiers. And we have a bit of luck on our side. Three of the Swift’s men arrived at the palace this morning. I will send them—”

  “They’re here?” Alex interrupted.

  “Yes,” Kenneret said, and continued. “As I was saying, I will send them back to the Swift at once with a message to bring more soldiers, well armed. He can be here within a few days, I should think. I will have them dismantle the library.”

  “Dismantle?” he said sharply.

  “Yes.” She nodded. “And if necessary, they will burn the Lost Book and the books that have been marked.”

  His face went stark white. “Burn the books?”

  “I know the library is important to you, Alex, but—”

  “Kenneret, it’s the library,” he said wildly. “You can’t destroy it.”

  ??
?Oh, can’t I?” She leaned forward, gripping the arms of her chair. “Have you forgotten, Alex? I am the queen. We are the queen.”

  “So what does that mean?” His voice was bitter. “That you get to do whatever you want?”

  “No,” she shot back. “Being queen does not mean doing whatever I want. It means that I’m the one who has to make the hard decisions.”

  “You’re making the wrong decision this time.” His eyes blazed with fury. “I’m a librarian, and I will not let you destroy my library.”

  Before she could reply to that outrageous statement, he whirled and stormed out of the greenhouse, slamming the door behind him so hard that the teacups rattled in their saucers and the fronds of the seedlings trembled.

  She sat staring at the door, her heart pounding, still gripping the arms of her chair. He wouldn’t let her? How . . . how dare he?

  “Well, that was interesting,” Charlie said. He was slathering butter onto another piece of toast. His face was blank again. It meant, Kenneret had figured out, that he was thinking hard.

  “What was interesting?” she asked, taking a deep breath to steady herself. “Alex getting mad? It seems to be his usual state. It’s not the first time he’s slammed a door on his way out.”

  “He wasn’t mad,” Charlie said through a bite of toast. “He was terrified.”

  “What?” She blinked, surprised. Then she nodded, realizing. “He knows that the marked books want to kill him.”

  “Nope.” Charlie took a swig of tea. “That’s not what he’s afraid of.” He set down his cup. “Let me tell you something, Kennie. I’m reckoned to be pretty good at the sword. Hardly anybody at Starkcliffe could give me any trouble. You saw my duel with Alex. It lasted about ten seconds because he is way, way better than I am. The best I’ve ever seen, actually. You don’t get to be that good at the sword without working at it.”

  She knew that, of course.

  “Good fighters train every day, for years,” Charlie went on. As proof, he held out his hand and pointed at the white scars that crossed his knuckles.

  Alex, she knew, had the same scars on the back of his hand. “Oh,” she breathed. “So . . . you think Alex was trained to be a soldier?”

  “Not only that,” Charlie said. “Did you see his face when you mentioned the Swift?” When she nodded, he went on. “You’ve met the Swift before, right?”

  “Yes, of course,” Kenneret replied. The Swift was one of the most powerful people in the kingdom, and an important advisor to the queen, though he’d been distracted by family matters, or so his letter had said, so he had not had time to meet with her since she’d become queen. As the Guardian of the North, the Swift had a fortress near the border, where his main duty was to keep the Greylings from raiding the farms and sheepfolds of that part of the kingdom. He was very tall and had the rich, brown skin and dark eyes of the old nobility, and a scar across his forehead; he was loud, as if he was used to shouting orders at people, and he was rather terrifyingly competent. A leader who did not put up with any nonsense. Everything she’d heard about the Swift made her inclined to like him, but whether they could work together remained to be seen.

  Charlie leaned forward. “I asked Alex who taught him the sword and he got all snippy about it. I think he was probably one of the Swift’s Family. It’s this elite group of soldiers that are specially chosen to live with the Swift at his fortress, and train there.”

  “I know about the Family, Charlie,” she reminded him.

  “Right, well. I’m guessing that Alex ran away from them. I think he’s a deserter. That’s why he’s so afraid. The Swift demands absolute loyalty from his chosen ones. If they catch up with him, Alex will be in a lot of trouble.” His face grew suddenly serious. “When they catch up to him, I mean. A lot of trouble.”

  20

  Well, he’d pretty much blasted everything into pieces so tiny he’d never find them all.

  Alex left the queen’s greenhouse, following the paths through the gardens and into the palace, his hands jammed in his coat pockets, the book under his arm. Instead of going straight back to the library, he walked off his temper, scowling at the floor as he wandered the halls.

  The business with the soldiers, and all of that—it was bad enough.

  But worse—far worse—was Kenneret’s plan to burn the marked books. Yes they were dangerous, and yes the Lost Book behind it all was surely even more dangerous, but burning? No.

  Didn’t she understand what it meant to be a librarian? All of the books were alive, in a strange bookish way. But it was like Miss Bug had said. The books didn’t do. They didn’t act. He had to act for them. He had to protect the books that hadn’t been marked, and try to save the ones that had. That was a librarian’s true purpose.

  He wasn’t sure how he was going to manage it. He had to find the Lost Book and prevent the marked books from attacking him while saving the library and all the other books before the soldiers arrived.

  And Charlie hadn’t been wrong about the marked weather book attacking him specifically. They don’t like librarians, Charlie had said.

  Charlie, who was just as clever, in his own way, as his older sister, even though he couldn’t read. He’d seen straight through to the truth of it. For some reason, the Lost Books hated librarians. Hated him, Alex, in particular. Why? He wanted to protect the books, not harm them!

  And then there was Lord Patch, who was clearly searching for the Lost Book. Why did he want it? Alex had no idea. And he couldn’t cast any doubt on Patch, because, as Kenneret said, she trusted her uncle.

  He frowned and kept walking, and realized, with a start, that he was rubbing his wrist. Because it itched. He stopped in the middle of a dim hallway, pulled up his sleeve, and sure enough, the letters were shifting. After a moment they settled into a word.

  CODEX

  “I have no idea what that means,” he said aloud.

  The letters jumbled again, and re-formed.

  CODEX

  “Thank you very much,” he said acidly to the mark on his wrist, and started walking again. “So helpful. A codex is a book. I already know that.”

  And—oh, wonderful. Perfect! As if things couldn’t get any better!—more trouble was waiting for him outside the door of the library.

  Two of the Swift’s Family, in sleek black uniforms, armed with the best swords and daggers.

  They were playing Flinch, that stupid game that tested their reflexes and left the slower of the pair with bruised knuckles.

  Tall, redheaded Jeffen was the first one to spot him as he came along the hallway. “Look who it is!” he exclaimed, jumping to his feet.

  “Alex!” It was long, lanky Franciss, her short black hair sticking up like a bristly brush on her head. “We missed you like a toothache!”

  They were both grinning like lunatics.

  “Aren’t you glad to see us, kid?” Jeffen asked as Alex stepped past them.

  “Overjoyed,” Alex said grimly, and pulled out the key to the library door. He hoped they couldn’t see that his hands were shaking. “Aren’t there supposed to be three of you?”

  “You just missed Perryn,” Jeffen said cheerfully. “He was summoned to the queen not five minutes ago.”

  Alex nodded and unlocked the door. Kenneret would send Perryn straight to the fortress with a message. She really was calling for soldiers. Or for the Family, at least.

  “So it’s just us two to keep you company until the Swift gets here,” Jeffen said, following Alex into the library, Franciss a step behind him.

  “To keep an eye on me, you mean,” Alex said. He tried to keep his voice even, but his heart was pounding. “So he knows I’m here?”

  “Yep. He’s on his way.” Jeffen stood in the middle of the main room looking around at what, the day before, the queen had called a disaster. Stacks of books everywhere, cards and scraps of paper strewn about, the map laid out on the floor, dust and cobwebs. “Nice place you’ve got here, kid.”

  He didn’t bot
her replying. They made no secret of the fact that they thought books were not only snaky and weird, but boring, too. Why read, Jeffen would say, when you could use the time to practice your sword technique?

  “We’ve been looking for you for months,” Jeffen said, suddenly serious. “You’re slippery, Alex. Now that we’ve got you, we’re not letting you get away from us.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” Alex said, just as serious. “I’m a librarian.”

  Franciss snorted.

  Jeffen cast him a skeptical look. “Oh, sure you are.”

  Of course they didn’t believe him. Any more than his father would, when he arrived at the palace. He swallowed down a familiar lump of despair. “So how did you find me?”

  “We stopped at that inn,” Jeffen answered. He stepped around a pile of books that hadn’t been there when Alex had left earlier. “Where was it again, Fran?”

  Franciss had gone to crouch by the map, where she reached out to turn a corner of it to see better. “Pur-something,” she replied.

  “Don’t touch anything,” Alex put in.

  Raising her eyebrows, Franciss got gracefully to her feet and wiped dusty fingertips on the front of her uniform.

  “Purslane, right,” Jeffen went on. “A boy at the inn there told us that you said you were heading west, Alex. Knowing you, we figured that meant you’d gone east. Wasn’t much of a challenge after that to track you down to the Winter Palace.”

  “Why’d he send you two?” Alex asked. “He wanted to get rid of you?”

  “Hah!” Jeffen laughed. “The kid hasn’t lost his edge, has he?” he asked Franciss.

  “He’s all edge, really,” she answered. She hopped up to sit on the reading table, her long legs swinging. “He’s as sharp as a . . . a sharp thing.”

  “If Alex was a weapon, what would he be?” Jeffen said, lounging in a chair and resting his booted feet on another chair.

  Alex gritted his teeth and set down the insect book he’d taken from Kenneret’s room. The Family loved conversations like this. In a minute they’d be talking about where to get the best steel, or arguing about how to fight somebody who had a longer reach than you did.