He snagged the first footman who passed him. “Take me to the queen,” he ordered.
The redheaded footman, who wore a black-and-gold-striped waistcoat that made him look like a honeybee, gave Alex an astonished look. “Huh?”
“The queen,” Alex said impatiently. “You know, the one who’s in charge of all of this.” He waved his hand, taking in the hallway and all the people, but meaning the palace—and beyond.
“Ri-ight,” said the footman slowly. “The one who’s in charge.” He looked Alex up and down. “You’re the new librarian?” At Alex’s nod, he shrugged. “This way, then.”
Alex followed as the footman led him through mirrored passages that he remembered from when he’d first arrived, past the office where he’d met the queen, down another staircase, to a room with a heavy wooden door standing open. The footman paused there, knocked on the open door, and leaned in. “Someone to see you, ma’am,” he said. “All right if I show him in?” He must have gotten a nod in return, because he stood aside, gave Alex a nasty smile, and said, “Go ahead.”
Taking a deep breath, Alex stepped into the office and saw—not the queen. It was the steward, sitting at a desk piled with papers. Two secretary-like men stood behind her, as if awaiting her orders.
“Ah, Librarian,” the steward said, setting down her pen. “It has only been five days. Giving up already?”
“What?” Alex asked. He shook his head. “No.”
“Well, then. What do you want?”
She had already tried getting rid of him once. He wasn’t going to talk to her. “I wanted to see the queen.” He glanced at the door, but the footman had gone. “But I was brought here instead.”
“Her Royal Majesty is busy this morning,” the steward said smoothly.
“Oh.” Alex remembered something else. “And I wanted to talk to you, too.” He fixed her with his most deadly gaze.
Calmly, she folded her hands on her desk. “Yes?”
She was still breathing, so clearly the gaze wasn’t deadly enough. “Somebody else has keys to the library,” he said.
“No, there is only one set of keys,” she replied.
“Someone,” Alex insisted, “a man—a courtier, I think—has been sneaking around in my library. So there must be another set of keys.”
“There is not,” she said, and she sounded absolutely sure about it. “The only keys are on the ring that you were given. Well, and a key for the main library door, which is in my possession at all times.” She stood and jingled the set of keys she wore on a chain at her waist. “Now, will that be all?”
“No,” Alex answered. “I told you. I need to talk to the queen.”
“And I believe I told you,” the steward answered, sitting down again, “that she is busy this morning.”
Alex kept a grip on his temper. “I’m the royal librarian. She’ll see me.”
The steward raised a faintly amused eyebrow. “The servants have been given orders. You are not to see the queen. They will not take you to her.”
“Fine,” Alex said through gritted teeth. “Page!” he ordered.
There was a long, awkward moment where nothing happened.
Then, slowly, one of his pages materialized at his shoulder. It was barely visible, just the faintest outline of a page, but it was definitely there.
“Take me to Queen Kenneret,” Alex ordered.
And as the steward stared, her mouth dropping open with astonishment, Alex spun on his heel and left her office, following his page. He tried to slam the door behind him, but it was too heavy.
11
Alex’s page floated before him, leading him through the palace until they reached a side door that opened to the outside. There, a wide stone stairway led down to a huge, walled garden that was spread out below the castle. Beyond it, the city began.
Alex stood on the steps and surveyed the garden. Near its center was a two-story greenhouse with fogged-up windows. Nearer he could see vegetable beds that were only humps of dirt now that winter had arrived, gravel paths, and little ponds slicked with ice, statues with moss growing on them, and bushes trimmed into elaborate shapes, like bears and other wild animals, with here and there a pumpkin or an ear of corn to keep things interesting. Just coming around the corner of a high hedge was a group of people, all dressed in finery that, he knew, was supposed to reflect the wealth and prosperity of a kingdom that hadn’t been all that wealthy or prosperous for the last sixty years.
Taking a deep breath, Alex rushed down the last few steps and onto a gravel path. He had time to glimpse the queen in the center of the group, her head cocked as if she was listening to something the woman next to her was saying, when he was suddenly seized from behind.
“Back off,” he snarled at the guard who had grabbed him.
The guard responded by trying to twist Alex’s arm up behind his back.
A moment later, the guard was on the ground, moaning and clutching his tender bits.
His father had at least twenty men-at-arms living with him at all times. Alex knew how to get out of a grip when he wanted to.
With gravel crunching under his feet, Alex went along the path to meet the group of people. He heard rapid footsteps coming from behind him and got ready to fight off another guard when the queen lifted a bejeweled hand. “Let him pass,” she said to the guard.
He gave Alex a dirty look. Alex returned it, with interest. They’d settle up later, he guessed. The guard bowed to the queen and went to help the other guard get on his feet, then they went and took up menacingly alert positions nearby.
Queen Kenneret was examining Alex, her face carefully blank. He hadn’t seen her standing up before, only sitting. She was, he realized, shorter than he was by quite a bit. It made him feel gleeful, and he wanted to make a rude remark about it, but he didn’t. You won’t get what you want by being obnoxious, he reminded himself.
So instead, he bowed.
“Royal Librarian,” she greeted him.
He straightened. This was going well so far. “I need to talk to you, Your Majesty.”
She gave him a tight smile. “Go ahead, Librarian Farnsworth. Or perhaps we should call you Temporary Librarian? Or Interim Librarian?”
“I don’t care what you call me,” Alex said abruptly. Perhaps this wasn’t going well after all.
At that, one of the people with her gave a tittering laugh. She was a young woman dressed in finery that complemented her tall, dark-haired, golden-skinned beauty. Next to her, the small, brown-haired queen looked like a badly dressed mouse. “Oh, Your Majesty,” the courtier said brightly. “This is the royal librarian! We’ve all been talking about him.” She gave Alex a sneering smile. “How many days do you have left before you are asked to leave?”
Alex gave her a look of keen dislike. “Eleven,” he answered.
“We believe it is ten,” the queen corrected him.
She was right, of course.
Then the queen narrowed her eyes, studying Alex. “We are wondering where you got that coat.”
Oh, the royal we. He’d forgotten about that. He looked down at himself. He didn’t know where his pages had found the coat, but he liked it. Even though it was a little big, it made him look librarianish, he thought. But he didn’t want to talk about what he was wearing.
“Never mind the coat,” he said. “I need to talk to you.”
“We asked you,” she said, as if through gritted teeth, “a question.”
“I know”—Alex gritted back at her—“that you did.”
For a long moment, they exchanged glares.
Then a man stepped out from behind the beautiful courtier and cleared his throat, demanding the queen’s attention.
It was the man, the same courtier who had, somehow, gotten into the library.
The lurker. The sneak.
Alex saw a flicker of some emotion cross the queen’s face. Fear? No, it couldn’t have been. Worry, maybe. Whatever it was, she controlled it immediately. “This is the new roya
l librarian, Merwyn Farnsworth,” she said to the man. Turning to Alex, she said, “Librarian Farnsworth, this is our uncle, formerly our regent, Lord Patchedren.”
Oh, so he was the queen’s uncle. Formerly her regent. So that explained it. Her uncle had ruled the kingdom while the queen had been too young, and then she’d taken over. They probably had an . . . interesting relationship.
“We’ve met,” Alex said, and gave her uncle the kind of edged smile that said I don’t like you and I know you don’t like me, so don’t even bother, all right?
Lord Patchedren smiled right back at him, but it was a bland smile with no edge at all. “I rather suspect, my dear Kenneret,” he said to the queen, “that this . . . ahem . . . young person has come here to beg you to give him some help. As we know, it is a job that requires a librarian of great wisdom and experience.”
Which was not Alex, obviously.
Ordinarily, Alex would be more than happy to argue that point, but he wasn’t stupid enough to start an argument with the queen’s uncle in front of all these courtiers. Instead, he nodded. “Yes,” he said to the queen. “I do need your help with something.” And because her uncle and the other courtiers were watching avidly, he added, “Your Majesty.”
“We are busy just now.” With a hand, the queen gestured toward the lavishly dressed people around them. “Can’t you ask the steward?”
“No,” Alex answered. “She doesn’t like me. It has to be you.”
At that, the queen sighed, just the tiniest bit.
And Alex saw that he was making a mistake. He had a feeling that her uncle did this. He demanded her time and attention, whether she wanted to give it to him or not.
Well, he was sorry. But he had to do it. It was for the library. For the books.
“Look, it’ll only take a moment,” he said quickly. “Just two things. The first is, I need better light to work.”
“Candles,” she said, enunciating the word, as if he was stupid for not thinking of them before. “Surely my steward can give you a box of candles? It is not something that we can supply you with, at the moment.”
As if she’d made a joke, her uncle and the courtiers standing around them tittered.
Alex ignored them. “Candles?” he repeated.
“Yes, of course,” she said sharply.
“Candles.” He shook his head. “In a library?” He kept a grip on his temper. “We can’t have candles. We need light-wells.” We, he was saying. The librarian we—he spoke for himself, and for the books.
She was already shaking her head. “Light-wells are too expensive.”
He stared at her, outraged. She wore jewels on every finger, and she thought a few light-wells would cost too much? “Candles make no sense at all,” he said. “Open flame? The library is full of books. Paper. Lots of it. And you want me to use candles? Why don’t you save some time and go burn the library down yourself?”
As he grew more furious, she seemed to grow calmer, more controlled. “You are dismissed,” she said.
“What?” he asked, feeling as if he’d been slapped. “You can’t dismiss me. I’m a librarian. And you gave me until the end of the month.”
“From our presence,” she clarified. “Not from the palace. We are not dismissing you from our service, we are telling you to leave us. Now.”
“Oh,” Alex said, and as much as he wanted to argue with her, he didn’t want her to decide she’d better get rid of him before his trial period was over. “All right. Your Majesty.” He gave an awkward bow. “Thank you for your time.” He gave Lord Patchedren a sharp stay out of my library look, and turned to leave the garden.
“Librarian,” the queen said, and he turned back. She raised a hand, holding him in place. “Wait.”
She cocked her head, studying him, and then seemed to come to a decision. “Two things,” she said. “You said you had two things to speak to us about. Light sources was one. What was the other?”
Alex was impressed. She didn’t miss much, did she?
He stepped closer to her, aware of how the guards at the back of the group went on high alert. “I wanted to talk to you about something strange that happened in the library,” he said in a low voice, completely serious.
“Surely, my dear,” her uncle put in smoothly, “this is not something that should concern you.” He put his gloved fingers on her arm, as if to guide her away.
To Alex’s surprise, the queen gave her uncle a polite smile. “Surely, Uncle, the queen should be concerned with everything?” And she neatly slipped her elbow out of his grip and took a step toward Alex. “We will walk with the librarian,” she said, all brisk business. “Uncle, Lady Arriss, my lords and ladies, you may continue without us.”
More murmuring from the courtiers, as Lady Arriss said something rude, mimicking Alex’s northern accent. Led by Lord Patchedren, the rest of the group laughed mockingly as they moved off in a bejeweled, laced, sneering group.
Alex glared after them. “Are you always surrounded by people you don’t like?” he asked the queen.
“What makes you think we do not like them?” she responded.
“Because they’re awful,” Alex said. “Especially that slippery uncle of yours.”
“Our uncle,” the queen said sharply, “not only faithfully served us as regent for ten years, but has always taken most tender care of us.”
“Oh, sure he has,” Alex muttered.
Ignoring his comment, Queen Kenneret nodded at the guards, who followed at a distance while she and Alex walked side by side down a path between two high hedges. Without speaking, they turned a corner into an open area of the garden. Leaving the guards at the edge of this area, Alex and the queen walked along the gravel path that wound between low rosebushes and still ponds that reflected the gray sky. In this part of the garden, they weren’t protected from the chilly wind. Winter was definitely on its way. The queen was wearing a stiffly formal green brocade dress with a high lace collar and skirts that made her seem almost as wide as she was tall. A fur cape had been tossed over her shoulders, but her ears looked red with cold. Alex was glad for the woolly hat his pages had brought him. Queens, he figured, didn’t get to wear hats with pompons on them. Only cold golden crowns.
He shoved his hands deep into his coat pockets to keep them warm, and tried to think of what he was going to tell the queen. She expected him to fail. He knew it. She thought the library wasn’t important. But now that he’d found the book with the symbol burned into it, he knew that he couldn’t face what he was dealing with alone, even though he had his pages to help him. He needed an ally, and he liked her best of all the people he’d met since he’d left home.
“The library,” the queen said, as they walked along, “does not usually take up so much of our time.”
“Well, it should,” Alex answered.
“Why?” she asked. She sounded genuinely interested.
“You’ve got something weird going on here,” Alex answered. “The library’s been neglected, that’s part of it. Given enough time, I can deal with that.” He looked around, and then led her to an empty vegetable bed. “But there’s something else.” Crouching, he smoothed out the dirt with his hands. “Maybe I’d better not draw it,” he muttered to himself. Then he shrugged. It couldn’t do any harm out here. With a glance over his shoulder at the guards—they were too far away to see what he was doing—he traced his finger through the dirt, drawing the symbol he’d seen on the books that had attacked him and his master. Still crouching, he looked up at her. “Have you ever seen this before?”
She leaned closer to see. “No,” she answered. “What is it?”
He studied the symbol. “I don’t know.”
“Is it important?”
He got to his feet, dusting his hands off on the front of his coat. Was it important? What sort of question was that? “It’s the library we’re talking about. Of course it’s important,” he told her. “I think it might be very dangerous. A book with this mark on it attacked me.?
??
She led him to a marble bench, where she sat, her back absolutely straight. She probably couldn’t slouch; the dress wouldn’t let her. “Dangerous,” she repeated. “Books are inanimate objects. They don’t attack people.”
He took four steps away from her to keep control of his temper, and then paced back. “Books can kill. I think they have killed.”
She blinked, and a frown gathered between her arched eyebrows. “The books in the royal library?”
“Some of them, yes.” He paced again, with his hands clasped behind his back. She didn’t believe him. She’d never seen a book that did anything but sit on a shelf. He wasn’t sure what to do next. “Can I have more time?” he attempted.
She got to her feet and smoothed her skirts. “No. You were given until the end of the month. After that, your performance will be evaluated.”
He kicked a piece of gravel and bit back a curse. “Well, give me a couple of assistants, then.”
“No,” she said in what he was already thinking of as her queenly voice. “We are curious. Why a librarian?”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“Why did you choose to become a librarian?” she asked.
He shrugged and kicked another piece of gravel. It bounced across the path and fell into one of the pools with a plonk. This whole thing was hopeless. The library would still be a mess at the end of the month. It looked worse than before he’d started, because to get it organized he’d pulled hundreds—no, thousands—of books off the shelves, and they were in piles everywhere. To a non-librarian it would look like a total disaster. And when the book had attacked him, he had realized that the approach he’d been using was wrong. He’d thought that cataloging the books would help to settle them, but clearly that wasn’t working. He needed to start all over again. But as soon as the month ended he’d be tossed out of the palace just as winter was starting. He had nowhere else to go, and he wasn’t much interested in freezing to death. Blast it, he’d probably have to go home, which was the last place he wanted to be, even though he missed . . . certain people . . . with an ache that had settled into his very bones. And the royal library would become even more dangerous after he left.