Page 33 of Her Shadow so Dark and Lovely
I take two steps for every one of Sila’s and even with two days rest, the walk to the Library tires me. I don’t know how I’m going to make it through an endless labyrinth. I only hope Sila doesn’t intend to take it at the same hurried pace.
The hall lets out into a common area, and I keep my eyes fixed on the hem of Sila’s cloak, determined not to make eye contact with anyone else in the room. The last thing I want is to find myself surrounded by Librarians or whatever else lives in these halls.
The balcony edge of the common area looks out over the Greater Library. There are books here that I have helped make, somewhere among the towering shelves, but there is no opportunity to appreciate the view as I hurry to follow Sila.
She waits for me at the bottom of the stairs, imperious and even a little bored.
“Come along, scribe,” she says, sharp. She turns on her heel and keeps up her pace.
If the intent is to have me look like an unfortunate scribe conscripted to assist her, then it is surely working. Though she hardly needed to make such a show of it.
The stairs spiral down behind the curved walls of the Greater Library, crowded with researchers, their assistants, and Librarians and their students. Sila pushes through, and they make way for her, stepping swiftly out of her path. A researcher flinches when she comes up behind them. I watch three different people turn pale and pointedly walk in the opposite direction. As we descend, the crowds thin, until finally we are alone in the stairwell, and Sila slows her pace. The darkness grows oppressive and thick. I can feel the tingle of magic on my tongue and against my skin, and I know it is my first contact with the Heart of the Library.
It’s a shock, no different from missing a step in the dark, to come to the end of the stairs. The ground smooths out into worn down stone, opening onto a large chamber. The magic here is thicker, though not by much. It is as if the large circular door at the other end of the room keeps it contained, barely. Worse than all that is that it feels… familiar.
The curse in my chest shifts, as if settling into a patch of warmth. And it is warm. I press my hand against the curse mark and feel the heat against my skin.
“Sila, you have surely not wasted your time dragging a scribe here with you,” drawls a voice across the chamber. I startle at the other Librarians' sudden presence.
“Poor Mercias. Are you on guard duty today? How very dull for you,” Sila replies, striding out into the room to meet him.
Mercias stands idly, inspecting his nails and barring her way. “I’m afraid I can’t allow you to take a scribe into the Heart, Si— Librarian.”
Sila goes very still, giving him a dangerous look. “Do you think you have any authority over me, Mercias?”
“I cannot in good conscience allow you to takethatscribe into the Heart. Not when she was so recentlypoisoned, and has been reported as absent.” Mercias stares Sila down and I wonder if that’s a skill he’s had to learn.
He ignores me as I wander past them both, staring at the ritual marks carved into the floor. I’m hardly a danger, since I can’t open the Heart’s door.
What are these marks?
They feel familiar too. There is something strangely comforting about them.
“It’s the key,” says Sila, absently. “Step out of my way, Mercias.”
“How are you—” Mercias starts.
I miss the rest of it because when I crouch to press my hand to the activation sigil, the ritual marks light up, pale blue like a binding spell. I squint against it, a loud rumbling noise filling the chamber as the door to the Heart slides open. There is nothing on the other side but thick, dark magic. It calls to me, tugging at my being. The curse is alert in my chest, all keen and eager senses.
Sila and Mercias stare at me when I look back at them.
I didn’t mean to.
“You shouldn’t beableto,” says Mercias with all the tone of a man who had only allowed me to walk past because he hadn’t yet learned to identify me as a problem, and now regrets it. And I honestly hadn’t thought I would bethiskind of problem.
Sila looks more pleased than anything else. “So it is the Library,” she says.
“What do you mean, Librarian?” says Mercias darkly.
“It’s calling to Lorel,” Sila says. I turn back to the dark, watching the way it curls and eddies as if reaching out for me.
“She is ascribe,” he says, sounding curious in spite of himself. “The Librarycannotspeak to her.”
“Do as you will Mercias. I will be taking her into the Heart. You’re welcome to wait till we return. I’ll try to make it this side of the century for you.”
He doesn’t put up much resistance as she breezes past him. She catches me up with her body and pushes me over the threshold into the Heart of the Library.
For a moment, it is disconcerting to walk. As if perhaps my hands have been replaced with feet, and my feet with elbows. And for some reason, my eyes are on the side of my head, instead of where they sensibly should be. The walls of the hallway seem to be walls, and the floor is a floor, but something about them feels wrong. Perhaps because they seem to be on an angle. Sila’s body presses against mine, and the feel of it, cold and solid, grounds me. Tips the world back to rights. Brings my thoughts back to where they should be.
