“Idiot.” Livira whirled round to face her. “This is all for me. I thought you knew that!”

“What...?” Carlotte blinked. “You learn so fast. They’d never get rid of you!”

“Algar wants me gone. When that girl, Serra Leetar, told him I was here even though Yute didn’t take his bet... well, he came to the library himself and pressed Master Logaris, and here we are.”

“The bastard.” Of her four companions Livira would have picked Meelan as the last to stand up for her, but instead he looked ready to do murder on her behalf.

A meaningful cough to one side reminded them that they were criticizing a relative of the king within earshot of the Library Guard. Arpix put a hand to Livira’s back and propelled her gently but firmly into the vast room.

He steered her towards the stairs on their left. “Careful. There’s no rail.”

The steps were broad, a good three yards wide, so by sticking close to the wall the group could pretend the undefended drop wasn’t there. The steps were also rather too big, so that each one turned into more of a jolt than anticipated.

“Why does he hate me?” Livira jumped down another step, landing heavily on tired legs. She’d been thinking about it for the whole descent. A lord who must live in a great house and have bags filled with gold. Why had he taken the time to hate her and to pursue that hatred? It made no sense. His wealth could purchase endless pleasures to divert him. Had their roles been reversed Livira imagined she would have forgotten about the girl in the black cloak even before she reached the streets again.

“Politics.” Arpix dropped beside her.

“Because you’re not doing what you’re supposed to.” Jella thumped down with a gasp. “I hate these steps!”

“Because you’re a duster and he’s a bastard.” Meelan jumped down on her other side, took two strides and dropped off the next edge.

Duster. Livira had first heard the expression on the day she entered the city, and it had haunted her ever since. She understood when people in the streets had called the children dusters as they followed behind Malar in their rags, fresh through the gates. They were literally dusty. But by the time she’d entered allocation she’d had her first bath and was wrapped in Malar’s cloak. “So, whatever I do, I’m a duster? It never washes off?”

Arpix, Jella, and Carlotte exchanged glances.

“Well?” Livira demanded as their silence dragged out.

“You look different,” Meelan called up from two steps below. “Black hair with a reddish sheen. Most of you have it. And something in the shape of the faces. You can just tell.”

“They say your people aren’t the same as us.” Arpix found his tongue. “Not as clever.”

“They say you’re a breed.” Jella nodded. “Coyoye blood in you.”

Livira laughed out loud. “Coyoye? Coyoye are a kind of dog... how could—” Suddenly she was furious. First dogfaces, now dog-fuckers. “Who says? Who’s saying it?”

Carlotte pointed up with one finger held close to her chest.

“The king, his brothers, his cousins, all of them,” Meelan said. “If you’re not properly human then we shouldn’t have to risk soldiers to defend you from the sabbers.”

“And why would anyone believe them? I mean, you don’t. Do you? It’s stupid talk!” Livira looked around at the others, seeking any challenge.

“It’s written.” Carlotte dropped her gaze. “There are books... The house readers have them on their lists.”

“Books from this library?” Livira blinked, aghast.

“Yes.”

“So, you being here and learning to read and write better in one month than most manage in their first three years at school...” Arpix shook his head. “That’s reason enough for Lord Algar to want you to fail. As far as he’s concerned, you’ll serve the king’s aims far better in the sewers or the mines than you will in the library, no matter how clever you are.”

When asked to pick from the treasure chest of the divine and take just one power, it is often that of flight or of invisibility that prove to be the most popular choice. The power to find that which has been lost is commonly overlooked. But when one considers just how much our kind have lost, and how often, then the wisdom of such a path is...

Dewey Decimal Classification, by Henry M. Stanley

CHAPTER 17

Livira

Tell me there’s an index.”