At last they reached a set of thick volumes with well-worn spines that showed signs of having once been richly colored. Strands of green or blue or red stood out in the cloth, which was worn or rubbed away in places so they now mostly hinted of long-ago dye. Some of the books were leather, and on these, glimmers of gold marked the dark spines, tracing the faded imprint of letters that must have once been bright.
“This one,” Mistress Bianna said, choosing a thin leather volume. “Always a favorite. Take it along to your room. I think you’ll find it explains things quite nicely.”
Nell studied the title in her hands. Legends of the Ancients. Her heart sank. She’d been seeking more than fairy tales and bedtime stories. But the woman looked so pleased, she didn’t want to disappoint her. She’d come back another day and keep looking.
“Thank you,” she said to Mistress Bianna. “I appreciate it.”
She slipped back into the girls’ hall and was nearly at her own door when she heard her name.
Heart sinking, she turned to find Wista peeking from one of the rooms. The girl looked guiltily behind her, then quietly slipped out the door and joined her.
“Zirri said you were out. I didn’t believe it. Where’d you go? Weren’t you scared?”
Nell felt a tick of annoyance. Zirri certainly had sharp eyes, she thought. Wista glanced back at the door.
“Don’t worry about Zirri,” she said. “She doesn’t mean too bad. It’s just hard, you know, being halfway. Anyway, she’s asleep now.”
Nell looked up and down the hall. Nobody was in sight. She showed Wista the book. “Just went to try to see what this place is about,” she said. “Mistress Bianna gave me this.”
Wista looked at it and flushed. “I don’t read as well as I should yet. What exactly does it say?”
Nell’s face grew hot. Another mistake. She seemed to keep making them here. But Wista was nice about it.
“It’s all right; I don’t feel bad about it. My ma couldn’t read, either. She said she’d have liked to. She’d have taught me if she could. I know those small words anyway — of and the. Right? It takes a while, but I’m getting it!” She smiled, and Nell, still blushing, smiled back.
“Is your mother here?”
It hadn’t occurred to her that whole families would come.
Wista’s smile faded a little, and Nell saw her call it back with effort. Her hand had strayed to the copper pendant, and she fiddled with it. “Oh, no,” she said. “She couldn’t come. But she told me about this place. She’d have liked it. Especially all the stories. Here even the pictures are stories!”
She motioned to the nearest tapestry, a wide scene of an old man standing on a rock, hordes of people below him, raising their faces as he lifted his hands to a stormy sky of yellow and gray wool.
“They’re probably more interesting than this one,” Nell said, hefting the book. “It’s called Legends of the Ancients, which I think is probably Mistress Bianna’s way of telling me to go to bed.”
Wista laughed at that, then caught herself and lowered her voice. “Well, if they’re good, maybe you could tell me some,” she said. “Maybe at lunch? I like stories. Every time I learn one, I feel like I fit here a little better.”
She waved and then slipped back down the hall, to be in the room before Zirri woke up. Nell watched her go. She doubted the stories in this book would make her fit here any better, but that was okay. She didn’t need them to help her feel better about staying. She needed them to help her get home.
Back in the room, she found Jean and Kate awake again and playing with the weathered Barbie, which had lately been given a bath and a hair wash. Its feet were grass stained, its hair a knotty mess, but now Nell could see once more its bright painted eyes and the perpetual mild grin it wore. The girls glanced every so often at Susan, frowning. Their older sister had moved from the bed to the window. Bleary-eyed, she sat there looking out at the valley and the hill beyond as if she’d left something up among the trees. Nell had thought to keep the book to herself awhile, but she changed her mind abruptly and handed it to Susan.
“I went looking for something to explain this place,” she said. “It’s not the greatest, but here’s what I found.” She pressed the volume into Susan’s hands.
Susan looked down at the worn leather, and Nell noted with pleasure the way her expression sharpened. The look of distraction evaporated, and Susan brought the book up near her face.
“Smells like an old library,” she said. “Like everything here, but more.”
Susan smiled, and some of the tightness that had gripped Nell’s chest for hours seeped away. She watched her sister study the title.
“Legends,” Susan said. “This was a good choice. You can tell a lot about a place from its stories. Let’s see. . . .”
She flipped the book open on her lap. Jean and Kate left off their playing and came to join them.
“A book!” Jean exclaimed happily. She reached over Susan’s shoulder, her Barbie a pointer now. She poked its blond head at the inscription on the first page. “Hey, that’s the song they taught us today — in the class!”
Nell pushed the doll’s hair out of the way and read the words: “‘Take hope, for the smallest
