“Hm, that’s quite the talent, young Maria. It’s an honor to be in your presence,” the Centaur said, grinning.
“Don’t suck up because you want me to scale the shelves. I’m already gonna do that—but you better not go back on that information you’re gonna share with us.”
The Centaur raised a human hand covered in a thick brown hair. “How do you say on Earth…scout’s honor?”
“That’s real nice. Did you learn that from—”
“A book, yes. There are many books on Earth culture here.”
“I wonder how updated they are,” Maria said. Then she shook her head. “No, doesn’t matter. I’m going to get the book and then you’re going to tell us what we need to know.”
“I admire your tenacity.”
“Yeah,” Gramps said, “she’s just like her mother.”
“I never knew my mother. She was trampled by a pack of drunk Centaurs shortly after my birth.”
Harsh, but my mother was eaten alive by wolves, Sherlock said.
Maria snapped in his direction. “No, she wasn’t, you big buffoon. She lived out the rest of her life on that farm in Hartville. Nice dog. I remember her.”
Gramps nodded, already knowing what the subject was.
Hey, you don’t talk about my mother!
“I’ll talk about whatever I want!” Maria shouted back.
“Quiet!” roared a Gnome from somewhere.
“Sorry,” Gramps whispered.
Get your ass up those shelves so we can get out of here. I gotta pee, and I can’t make any promises I won’t tinkle on some books or, God forbid, a Gnome!
“I’m going, I’m going,” Maria said. She handed the dagger back to Gramps. He shook his head.
“No, you may need it.”
“He’s right. Nasty little buggers in those books,” the Centaur said.
Maria tapped the hilt of her sword. “I have this.”
“That sword requires two hands, and climbing requires at least one,” Gramps continued. “The dagger can be wielded with only one hand. It’s much lighter, and just as deadly at close range.”
Duh! Sherlock said.
“Screw you, Bloodhound.” But Gramps was right. She removed her sword and handed it to Gramps, keeping the belt and the sheath. “Time to kick some ass,” she murmured.
Chapter Six
Maria got up high enough that, when she looked down, Gramps, Sherlock, and the Centaur looked like dots.
“Okay, this was probably a bad idea,” she said to herself.
But not as bad of an idea as looking down, Sherlock said distantly in her head.
“You can hear me?”
I’m a Bloodhound, I can hear what’s going on back home. Now move your ass before my bladder bursts.
“I’m trying, I’m trying.”
The truth was that Maria’s arms were starting to ache, and some of the wooden shelves had given her splinters. It seemed the Gnomes were not too particular about their upkeep the higher they got.
“I gotta take a break,” Maria said, her voice only a little higher than before.
No, dammit, Maria, I can’t hold it! Oh, God, I’m gonna have to go find a Gnome.
“You better not. Just a few seconds…or would you rather have me fall?”
Uhh…
“I’m totally putting you on a vegan diet, Sherlock. You’d rather have me fall. Wow!”
She could hear him snickering inside of her head. Make that a few minutes’ break instead, she thought bitterly.
The shelf she was currently standing on was large enough for her to pull herself up and sit with her legs dangling over the faraway floor. Her hands were sweaty and sore from the few splinters she’d gotten, and her breathing was ragged. Yes, a break; that would be nice. She pulled herself up and sat, and total weariness suddenly washed over her. She hadn’t slept voluntarily since she’d woken up from her fight with Malakai. And even when she’d passed out, she was only out for about an hour. That wasn’t much, considering all she’d been through in the last few days. She leaned forward and caught herself before she could lose her balance.
With a sore hand, she slapped herself in the face. Gotta keep moving. If I stop for too long, I’m gonna pass out and never wake up, because I’ll have fallen. What a way to go out, after coming this far, Maria, she thought.
She was right, though. Had she rested any longer, she would’ve indeed fallen asleep, and then fallen off the towering bookcase. She turned to lay on her stomach, noticing the books in front of her—Oriceran World Maps, Fairhaven Fairies and Why They’re Not as Cute as They Look, and A Troll’s Night Out—and their odd placement, which was neither alphabetical nor numerical in anyway. She also noticed a large gap between the books, and an odd smell. It smelled like Earth, like the forest and the trees and fallen leaves.
She ignored it and started to climb again, but that smell was overbearing. She was almost to the right shelf when she just couldn’t ignore it any longer.
Maria paused, making sure her feet were firmly planted on the shelf below. Between the books where another large gap was, she thought she saw something move.
Just avoid it. Be on your way, she thought.
But then that something tweeted like a baby bird, and all thoughts of why she had to bring a dagger up with her were gone. That tweet was not a happy tweet; it was a tweet of anguish.
“Hello?” Maria called.
Two glowing eyes shone in the darkness; they were small and quite close together. The creature that tweeted stepped forward from a nest made out of ripped book pages and strips of leather hardcover.
“Hi there, pretty,” Maria said, cooing.
The creature reminded Maria of Tweety Bird from The Looney Tunes shows that she used to watch when she was younger—ah, who was she kidding? The Looney Tunes shows that she sometimes still watched. Except where Tweety Bird was yellow, this creature was multicolored—red, orange, green, soft blue—and its feathers were all ruffled.
There were tears in its big glowing eyes.
“Are you okay?” Maria asked, aware of
