“Sounds too good to be true,” Maria said.
The Centaur motioned to Maria’s sword and satchel. “Oh, it’s not, fair maiden. I will give you information—a proverbial map, let’s say—but your road to success will not be any easier. In fact, where this information takes you may make your journey even more difficult.”
“Okay, you’ve got my attention,” Maria said.
Out of nowhere, the Centaur stood on its hind legs and whinnied softly. A sign of happiness, she thought, if Centaurs were anything like Earth horses.
“Wait for it,” Gramps said, crossing his arms but still smiling.
No sooner did Maria look at her grandfather than the Centaur landed and spoke up.
“There is one thing.” He raised an index finger.
“Ah, there it is.”
Never trust a horse, Sherlock said. They’re almost as bad as squirrels. A lot bigger, yeah, sure, but that doesn’t mean a thing.
Maria tried to ignore him, but couldn’t. “First Gnomes and now horses? Do you like anything?”
Naps, ice cream, garbage, and roadkill…not necessarily in that order.
“You’re gross.”
Hey, it’s in my DNA. You can’t blame me!
“I can and I will,” Maria answered. She turned back to the Centaur. “Okay, what’s the one thing you need from us?”
“It’s easy, really, I promise.” He rose on his hind legs again to point. The shelf nearest him stretched high to the ceiling, easily a few stories high. Maria looked on confused.
“What are you pointing to?”
The Centaur had a sheepish smile on his face, which was quite ironic, considering the fact that he was part horse.
“A book. It’s called Centaur Warfare Through the Ages by Mogman Furlock.”
“Okay?” Maria said, still confused.
Gramps was shaking his head. “Should’ve known, should’ve known.”
“Known what?”
“He wants the book.”
“Then why can’t he get it? Or ask one of those grumpy Gnomes to get it for you?” E’olin’s nickname for the first Gnome they saw now made complete sense after their run-ins with the other two Gnomes.
The Centaur twiddled his thumbs and looked down at his hooves. “Centaurs aren’t supposed to be in the library, let alone to be able to read. If they see me, they’ll throw me out. I’ve been able to read almost every book in the Centaur section—except for that one, because I haven’t been able to reach it.”
“Why didn’t you ask someone before?”
“Because there are so many books! I never thought I’d run out; yet here I am.”
“Can I just ask a Gnome to get it for me?”
“No! No Gnomes must be involved in this! They can smell Centaur the closer they get. Please! If you get it for me, I’ll tell you how you can get the information you need.”
Maria looked to Gramps. He nodded solemnly.
“How do you even know what information we need?” Maria asked.
“I overheard. I may be a barbaric beast by nature, but I’m not hard of hearing, Maria.”
Maria narrowed her eyes then looked up the towering shelf. “I suppose I’m the one who has to do it?”
“My bones are too brittle,” Gramps said. Funny thing, since she’d just seen him fight Malakai not long ago, and he’d looked like he was seventy years younger when he did it. “And Sherlock would have a tough time going up there.”
He’s right. I hate heights almost as much as I hate books.
“Only because you can’t read,” Maria said.
You know me so well. Sherlock grinned.
“Don’t they have ladders or something? Surely the Gnomes don’t just scale the shelves. That could be dangerous,” Maria said.
Gramps chuckled. “Oh, it’s quite an intricate process that involves ropes and harness and ladders and magic.”
“Where can I get some of that?”
“Nowhere, I’m afraid,” Gramps said. “Those are almost as secretive as the Gnomes’ vault.”
“Well, dammit.” Maria stepped forward and pushed the side of her fists into her lower back until her spine crackled. She tilted her head back and forth until her neck popped, too, then, to top it all off, she laced her fingers together and pushed outward to crack her knuckles. “Let’s do this. Centaur Warfare Through the Ages, you say?”
The Centaur nodded. “Third tallest shelf.”
Maria stepped toward the shelf. Luckily, the wood was about as thick as the steps they’d used to reach the library. It had to be, to support so many books. If it could support them, it could certainly support her.
“I wish I could do it myself, but—”
“Yeah, hooves and all that,” Maria said. Just as she planted her feet on the bottom shelf, knocking over a book on cauldron cooking, Gramps called her name. “Yes?” she answered.
He dug into his robes much the same way he had done to bring his wand out when facing the Arachnids in Dominion; instead of the wand, however, he pulled out a small, white dagger. “Here, dear, you may need this.”
The blade was sharp on both sides, but only one side was notched. Maria didn’t think it was designed that way. No; for some reason she thought the dagger was like that because it had been used so much. Oh, Gramps, there is still so much about you that I don’t know, isn’t there? She took the dagger and another question came to mind.
“Why will I need this? It’s just a library, just books.”
“Oh, Maria,” Gramps answered. “There’s so much about this world you don’t know.”
“Like what?”
The Centaur looked at her with a hint of amusement on his face, as if Maria was the butt of some joke that had completely gone over her head. She didn’t like it, not one bit.
“The books, my dear, can sometimes be as dangerous as they are useful,” Gramps answered.
That’s a load of squirrel crap, Sherlock said. Books aren’t useful!
“Spoken like a true scholar,” Maria said, leaning down to whisper at the dog. The Centaur gave her a crooked look. “Aw, don’t mind me. I’m not crazy.”
Says the girl who’s talking to a— Sherlock began.
“Yeah, yeah, a dog. I’ve heard that one before,” Maria said, cutting him off.
Now the Centaur really was looking at Maria and Sherlock as if they were aliens. Gramps had to cut in and explain the situation.
“Maria’s a bit telepathic
