aside while a fight was in the offing.
Typraille did not have to look to know that Carth had moved down the alleyway. They heard no sounds of a struggle. Carth was soft spoken in all his dealings.
A tense few minutes passed, Tirielle occasionally asking j’ark if their silent observer was still there, j’ark answering in the affirmative each time. Tirielle found her shoulders bunching, waiting for an arrow to pierce her neck, or her back…but to convince herself of the possibilities was foolish. She made herself relax, and concentrated on reaching the door, now in sight, unscathed. In this, she had to trust j’ark’s reflexes, and his instinct.
No arrow came. They reached the door unharmed. Tirielle knocked, and waited, and itch between her shoulders.
“Open, damn it,” she whispered between clenched teeth.
“Relax, Lady. I have our watcher in sight.”
It was unspoken, but Tirielle believed j’ark meant to snatch any missile from the air with his bare hands. She almost believed he could do it.
As she rapped on the door again, it opened a crack. She pushed harder than she intended to. The door swung wide as she shouldered her way inside. J’ark stepped in and pushed her away roughly.
“Back!” he said. She moved instantly, recognising her mistake. J’ark stepped around the door in one fluid motion, checking the blind spot, but only found a bewildered reader rubbing a sore shoulder.
Typraille stepped inside more calmly, watching their backs.
“Sorry, old chap,” said Typraille, closing the door on the night and their unwelcome observer. “Sudden chill. Couldn’t wait to be inside.”
“It’s not the kind of behaviour we condone,” said the reader, hurt, as j’ark pulled him to his feet. “Lady Belvoire,” he stated, as he rose. “Lord Resnor.”
There was little respect in his voice, the simple statement of their assumed names sounded more like an admonishment.
“My apologies, master reader, for the brutal entry,” said Tirielle, and by way of consolation offered him a dazzling smile.
He melted under the heat of that smile, even though for him it must have been somewhat muted, considering his myopic eyes.
“Well, I suppose it was just a mistake.”
“Just that, my good man. Our coin, for the night, and a little donation. I hope that makes up for this… mishap.” Typraille tossed the man a gold coin, which the reader fumbled and bent to pick up. When his back straightened, Tirielle and her guard for the night were already striding into the depths of the library.
They stopped when they reached the cloistered passage to the rear rooms, containing priceless scrolls. The architecture differed subtly from the rest of the library. Erosion worked mystery into the carvings. Forgotten faces that peered from the stone — perhaps patrons, or lords, or figures out of legend — were worn thin, blurring what once had no doubt been fine features. Vines were carved into the archways, what looked like Orwain leaves, and three-dimensional bulbs that looked like rough fruits. The marble floor was no longer smooth, but pitted and dimpled with wear.
Typraille dumped the pack he had been carrying unceremoniously on the stone floor, and said, “Time’s wasting. Shall we?”
Tirielle nodded with a smile. “Why not?” she said, and loosened the drawstrings to draw out a candle, and a ladylike pick. They lit their candles from one burning at the reading tables, and began their search.
Tirielle wandered off on her own, her features as blurred as the carvings in the dull flickering glow of candlelight. She walked slowly one way around the hall, while j’ark followed the line of the other wall. Typraille stood guard, ensuring none of the readers disturbed them. He would concoct a story to dissuade them from entering the back rooms — failing that he would knock them insensible. With regret, Tirielle knew, but without hesitation.
The candle roamed across the wick almost as if it had a will of its own. From a study of the outside of the library, and comparison to the inside, it seemed as though the wall she examined was unnaturally thick. There were no windows, so no one would ever notice this disparity from inside or out…but something was there. She just had to find it. If only the candle would remain still. There was such a draft in the building she was unsure if she would even notice if she found a hidden opening.
Scrolls in leather tubing were stacked on shelves all along the wall, tagged with their title, or subject, date and author if known. She would have loved to take the time to peruse them. It was amazing to her that so much had survived the years. But peace had a way of preserving knowledge. In the years before peace had come to Lianthre, in the age of dissent, much had been lost. For a thousand years or more, much more had been preserved. Unfortunately, none of it would be of any use in the hunt for the red wizard. Tirielle was sure that if mention remained, the Protectorate would have expurgated it from the records. The red wizard could be their undoing, and the Protectorate allowed no threats.
She almost forgot the candle she was supposed to be watching. It had gone out and for the last few minutes she had been searching by distant candlelight only.
She returned to the tables and relit her candle, then walked her own trail through the library, this time watching the flame and holding it close to the shelves. The readers would be sore if they could see what she was doing, but not for long.
The candle flickered and she felt a breeze against her cheek. She tried to hold in her excitement.
She held the candle out in front of her and examined the area. It took a while to see, but there was a curved scratch leading outward from the edge of the bookshelf closest to her. She wet a finger and held it close to the join between wall and shelf. It was definitely cooler. The candle flickered more strongly. She shielded it with her free hand, and peered along the join. There was no gap, nothing out of the ordinary. But there would be no scratch if it did not move. The join provided no purchase for fingers. She searched the inside of the shelving, pushing aside priceless scrolls with increasing excitement.
Finally, she found what she was looking for. A plain brass handle, carefully concealed behind a dusty scroll. She thought of calling her guard over, but what danger could lay behind the secret door?
She pulled, gently at first, and then with gradually increasing strength. She had to put one foot against the wall, but it inched wider. She could see the hole behind it now, but she did not have the strength to open the gap further.
“j’ark!” she whispered urgently. He hurried over, taking care to shield his candle. Seeing the gap his eyes widened. With dark shadows around his eyes, it made him look like a surprised badger. Tirielle covered her smile quickly.
“You found it!” he exclaimed, taking her shoulder in a friendly embrace. She wished he would just once forget himself and kiss her, even if it was only on the cheek.
“I can’t open it any wider,” she said, setting aside her daydreams. “I’m not strong enough.”
“Here, let me,” he said, and bunched his shoulders, pushing against the shelf instead of pulling. It slid out easily, and Tirielle could finally see the door behind it.
They looked at each other for a moment.
“Let’s see what’s in there, shall we?” said j’ark with a smile. “After you.”
She blushed at his smile, as she often did. He never noticed. She pulled the crumbling tapestry covering the secret passageway aside, and pushed a creaking, small door set into the wall inward. The darkness inside was pitch. Her candle did little to illuminate it. She stepped carefully inside, and looked around.
Candles, rich in dust and cobwebs, were set into sconces in the wall. She lit each as she passed, and descended worn stone stairs. She wondered how long it had been since anyone had walked these stairs. Surely none of the readers still living. It had been long forgotten, this passageway. She reached the bottom of the stairs, facing another door, and looked back to make sure j’ark had followed her. She could easily make out his reassuring smile now that the stairway was well lit.
She took a deep breath and turned a rusted handle on the door, pushed and stepped inside.
She clapped her hands in unashamed delight.
“We found it!” she capered for a moment, and then coughed when she saw j’ark watching her, a small smile playing on his lips. “Well, I’m happy,” she explained, unnecessarily.
“As am I,” said j’ark, still smiling slightly, and turned to look around the room.
