They spent the afternoon planning their nighttime excursion, talking about it in low voices as they worked on the cataloging of the books, aware that Rufus Pinch was never far away and always listening. They decided they would go in around midnight, when everyone should be sleeping and no one would be working in the Stacks. They would take glow sticks to give them light, since the shelf torches were always extinguished at night, and they would make their way back into the shadowy recesses of the cavernous room until they found its end. If they were lucky, they would hear the voice while they were doing so. If not, they might at least find the back wall and see what was there.
Several times, as their conversation drifted on to other subjects, Thom remarked again that some of the books from the library seemed to be missing. It was impossible to tell which ones because all he had been given to work with by His Eminence was a list of catalog numbers. The only way he could even tell that books were missing was because he couldn’t find a match for some of the numbers on the list, and occasionally he noticed gaps in the books on the shelves.
“Why don’t they give you the titles instead of just the numbers?” Mistaya asked him.
He shrugged. “I don’t know. His Eminence said I didn’t need the titles, only the numbers. Maybe he was trying to save on ink.”
“Did you tell him that there were books missing?”
“I told him. He said that maybe they weren’t really missing, that they were just misplaced. But finding any of them would have meant searching the whole of the Stacks, and I don’t have that sort of time. I try to keep an eye out for them, but I haven’t found any yet.”
She thought about it a moment. “Do the catalog numbers have any relationship to one another? If they did, maybe we could figure out what section the missing books came from.”
“The numbers are all different. They don’t share any common points that I can determine. Hey, would you hand me that book right there? The one with the red lettering on the cover?”
The subject was dropped again, and they continued with their work in silence. Mistaya soon found herself thinking about how long ago and far away her time at Carrington seemed. It wasn’t really either one, but it seemed that way thinking on it. From studying the literature, sciences, and history of a world that wasn’t even her own to cataloging ancient books in a library no one ever used in a world no one outside her own even knew existed struck her as bizarre. Neither endeavor seemed particularly important to her, nor compelling in a way that made her feel she was using her time well. She had felt trapped at Carrington and she felt trapped all over again here at Libiris. Why couldn’t she find a way to make herself feel useful? Why did she feel so adrift no matter what she was doing?
For a moment, a single moment, she thought about leaving and going home. How bad could it be, if she did? She would have to face up to her father’s disappointment and possibly his anger. She would have to prepare herself for a heated discussion about what would happen next. But what was the worst that could come out of that discussion? Maybe she would be sent back to Libiris, but maybe not. If she could manage to keep her temper in check and argue logically and forcefully, perhaps she could manage to talk him into having her do something else. Wouldn’t that be better than what she was doing now?
Still, that would mean leaving Thom, perhaps for good, and she wasn’t quite ready to do that. She liked being with him; even though most of what they did was work, she was having fun.
“Have you ever asked His Eminence for a copy of his master list of the books shelved at Libiris?” she asked after a while, frustrated by finding yet another set of gaps in the shelves.
Thom shook his head. “I don’t think he would give it to me.”
She stood up abruptly. “Maybe not. But I think it’s worth asking. Let me try.”
“Ellice, wait,” he objected.
“I’ll just be a minute,” she called back to him, already on her way. “Don’t worry, I won’t cause trouble.”
Without waiting for his response, she crossed the room to the far wall and followed the aisles through the shelving back to the door leading to Craswell Crabbit’s office. The Stacks felt huge and empty, and even her soft footfalls echoed in the cavernous expanse. She could not quite shed her distaste for the feelings the library engendered in her.
As she drew closer to her destination, she heard voices from inside. To her surprise, the door was cracked open.
She crept closer, curious now, taking slow, measured steps so as not to give herself away. She could hear Crabbit and Rufus Pinch, their conversation low and guarded. As if they didn’t want anyone to hear, she thought. She slowed further. If she was caught sneaking around like this, she would no doubt be tossed through the front door of Libiris instantly.
“… easier if we had them on this side of the