Page 47 of The Mirror of Beasts

“Oh?” I said weakly. “Have people not been coming in?”

“Many in the guild have gone to England,” he said. “To see what they might find in the ruins that appeared in Glastonbury.”

Of course they’d gone to Glastonbury—to the ruins of Avalon. Of course. They wouldn’t respect any boundaries set up by investigators or researchers as they studied the site. I could see them now, circling the remains of Avalon like the jackals they were, waiting to rip whatever meaty relics were left among the bones. Them, and every other Hollower guild in the world, no doubt.

The thought inevitably stirred up the bloodstained memories of the isle’s final days, and made me sick to my soul.

“Are you well?” Librarian asked. “It has been some time since I last saw you.”

It had. In the short time we’d been in Avalon, three months had passed in this world.

I cleared my throat, trying to collect myself as I took the vacuum and walked back toward the tiny office he kept. Stashing the device in its usual corner, my heart swelled at the sight of his tidy desk and the shelves of objects lining the wall. Feathers, interesting crystals, lucky charms—all things Cabell and I had collected on jobs and brought back for him.

“You kept them,” I said softly.

“Of course,” he answered. There was no emotion to the words, but I felt his confusion anyway. “They are treasures.”

It was a moment before I could speak again. “I know this is a lot to ask, but could we possibly use the attic upstairs for the next few days—just for sleep?”

“This is your home,” Librarian said simply. “It will always be your home.”

The irony didn’t escape me that an ancient automaton, unpossessed of a human heart and mind, had shown more compassion to two orphaned children than the whole of the guild’s membership.

Instead of casting us out into the streets, he had allowed us to secretly live in the attic, had brought us food and water, and had even given us some basic schooling. Maybe he’d somehow intuited that, like him, we were not equal to the other members of the guild and would always be treated that way.

“It will be such a pleasure to sit and read with you beside the fire once more,” Librarian said.

I smiled faintly at the thought. Each night, after the last Hollower left, Cabell and I would come down and help him feed the library cats, and then we’d sit in front of the hearth, the three of us, and read to one another. It had been an easy, peaceful sort of existence, the kind I would kill to one day know again.

The thought left me uneasy, but for Cabell, I knew I’d do worse.

He deserved to have that kind of life again too.

Librarian spotted the soft gray head peeking out from my pocket and pointed to it. “A new treasure?”

Carefully, I extracted Griflet from my jacket and passed the trembling kitten into Librarian’s bronze hands. Griflet gave me a look of utter terror, but I knew Librarian wouldn’t hurt him. He’d never harm an innocent creature.

“The other cats don’t seem to like him, so I’m not sure he can stay,” I told Librarian.

He gently stroked a single finger down the kitten’s back. “It is very difficult when others only see our differences.”

“Yes,” I agreed.

The quicksilver that flowed in his body whirred softly through the veinlike glass tubes visible at his joints. I stared at it—that liquid—and felt my breath snag as I realized for the first time how similar it was to the molten silver I’d seen in the cauldron in Avalon.

Not similar. Identical.

What you see is death magic distilled into physical form, the Bonecutter had told me. It can be used for more specific purposes this way, such as the creation or repair of a vessel.

Or, perhaps, to animate a man made solely of metal parts.

The Bonecutter had claimed that death magic wasn’t innately evil, despite its source and the corrosive effect it had on your soul. Seeing the tenderness Librarian showed to Griflet, I was starting to believe her.

“Librarian, have you ever heard of something called the Mirror of Beasts?” I asked. “It would have some connection to Annwn and its king.”

“An intriguing phrase, the Mirror of Beasts,” he said, his head tilting as far as it could on its neck. “In what context have you heard or read it?”

I repeated the prophecy—the riddle, really—from Merlin.

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