"How long have you sat there, waiting? Judge Brimble is ... well, he's so huge, it's hard to tell his age, and I'm very sure he dyes his hair and paints his face."
"Well, perhaps two centuries since my master was defeated and exiled, and maybe thirty years or so since my pages were entirely ripped from my spine."
Merrigan winced at the imagery. "And no one has seen you, even come near you?"
"Well ... I have my suspicions. Several people with magic have visited this house. I'm very sure Cook has inherent magic, but chooses not to use it. Although, some would say that cooking is a kind of magic all its own."
"Certainly far more useful than most magic," Merrigan retorted. That earned another rippling chuckle from him. "How do you know Cook has magic?"
"He used to come up here. Streamers of magic would follow him around, soaking into the books that were sleeping—that's what magic books do when no one has used them in decades. They sleep. Cook has enough magic to leave a trail, and it ... I don't know, it soothed the other books. Made it easier for them to sleep. You don't want a magic book to wake up from a bad dream or simply wake up cranky or furious at being ignored. No, indeed, Mi'Lady. A few times, he stopped and put a hand on the glass, and he looked right at me. He never said anything, but there was such sorrow flowing off him, through the wards of my prison."
"Bib ... what if Cook is your original owner, but he couldn't get through the glass to take you out and repair you?"
The silence from the book lasted so long, Merrigan feared she had said something to offend him. Or worse, hurt his feelings.
That just showed how low she had fallen, to be concerned about the feelings of a book.
"I think ..." he said slowly, when he finally did speak, "I think, Mi'Lady, I should like to get out and see the world, when the time comes for you to leave."
"We still don't have a plan yet to punish the judge and Swickle." Merrigan lay down again and snuggled up under her blankets. There was that warm spot again, pure pleasure that Bib wanted to go with her.
Perhaps it was pitiful, to be happy a book wanted to be with her. Then again, she had always preferred books over people when she was a child.
"We can't leave until we do something about them," she continued, as a yawn thickened her voice. "And time is running out, if you consider how quickly the sewing is coming along. That was you again, helping me, wasn't it?"
"Always delighted to oblige, Mi'Lady."
"I think you just enjoy showing off."
"What I enjoy is being able to do things, move things, help people, after sitting idle for so long. There's nothing more dreadful, more depressing and destructive to the soul, than being unable to help others, unable to fulfill my purpose in life."
Merrigan swallowed hard, to keep down the urge to ask what exactly her purpose was. Had she ever had a purpose, other than to be a queen, standing beside a powerful king? Now it seemed ... well, not useless and empty, but limited. Lonely. Truth be told, there was something cozy about being here in this library, her world made so very small, surrounded by her handiwork.
I'm sleepy and worn out from a long day of work, that's all. Merrigan turned her mind toward the challenge of finding proof to use against Judge Brimble and Swickle.
"We need an excuse to get into his office and look through the papers," she murmured, after a long, comfortable, deep silence had fallen on the library. One nice thing about Bib was that he didn't feel the need to keep talking when there was nothing to say.
"You get me into the office, Mi'Lady, and I will take care of searching all the papers right under the big buffoon's nose. He'll never notice. My master once remarked that ordinary, un-magical people have a remarkable talent for blinding themselves to magical, un-ordinary things around them, so they don't have to admit that magic is everywhere. Some people are happier believing magic always happens to other people, in other kingdoms."
"Bib, you're brilliant." Merrigan smiled at the sleepy, muffled tone of her voice.
"Thank you, Mi'Lady. In what way, exactly?"
"I'll take you with me to the office and insist the judge has to be fitted for his new clothes there, instead of his bedroom." A shudder worked a chill through her comfortable, sleepy warmth. "I certainly wouldn't want to go into his bedroom, even looking as I do now."
"Don't be too certain about that. Your hair seems more gray than white now. But yes, Mi'Lady. Brilliant idea."
Merrigan couldn't get her eyes open, couldn't seem to drag herself awake enough to think about what he said. Something about her hair? Then a moment later, she forgot what it was as sleep claimed her in a long, luxurious, comfortable slide down into dreams.
JUDGE BRIMBLE WAS DELIGHTED, effusively so, when Merrigan knocked on his office door midway between breakfast and luncheon, and announced she was ready for the first fitting. Bib suggested she not only ask the seneschal to help her bring the clothes to the judge's office, but be present
