Page 106 of Ink Blood Sister Scribe

Richard waved his free hand dismissively. “There were a lot more Scribes in those days.”

Esther was still watching Maram. She couldn’t help herself. Despite everything, despite the gun pointed at her head and the one dangling from Maram’s fingers, despite the fact that Maram seemed barely to notice she was there, some treacherous part of her brain was still cataloging: the shape of the fingers, the curl of the nostrils, the wide forehead, the rosy undertone of her skin, which was a few shades darker than Esther’s but if mixed with Abe’s...

Esther blew out a hard breath, frustration mingling with fear and turning to anger. She had a gun in her face, and meanwhile the silly, dreaming child in her head was trying to splice two mismatched fibers together, waiting for a spark that might never come, instead of looking for the right wires, the real connections.

But the child spoke again. “What’s in this for you?” Esther asked Maram, because she wanted to know and she wanted Maram to look at her, just once.

Maram turned back toward Richard, as if asking permission to reply.

Richard nodded. “No harm in telling them.”

It was Nicholas who answered though, his voice nearly unrecognizable, mangled with rage. He said, “He’s going to write a new spell for you. Isn’t he? He’s going to make you live forever.”

“For a long, long time, anyway,” Maram said. She smiled, wide and satisfied. “Yes.”

“She’s the only person I’ve ever met who loves the Library as much as I do,” said Richard. “It’s an enormous responsibility, taking care of all of this. I couldn’t admit how hard it was to do alone until Maram came alongand I realized I didn’t have to. You can’t imagine how lonely it’s been, all these years. Seeing my family and loved ones die, one by one, leaving me to carry this all on my own shoulders.”

“Responsibility,” Nicholas spat. “Invented. No one asked our family to do this.”

They spoke but Esther wasn’t listening. She was still staring at Maram and Maram was still looking fixedly at Richard. Too fixedly? Was she avoiding Esther’s gaze entirely? That was a tell itself, wasn’t it?

And because Esther was watching, she was the only one to see Maram’s face change.

Her expression had been attentive, composed, but suddenly her eyes went wide and her hands flew to her throat, her mouth opening as her cheeks went dark with blood and a rattling hiss leaked from her parted lips, like a slashed tire. She curled over, gasping for air, but just as Richard broke off midsentence and glanced at her with concern, she sucked in an enormous, rib-rattling breath, and sat up so straight she looked as if she’d been electrocuted.

“Are you all right?” Richard said, his composure giving way to such clear anxiety that Esther almost felt sorry for him.

“Ah,” Maram rasped. One of her hands was still curled loosely around the base of her throat, but she held the other up in a gesture of placation. “I—swallowed—and it went down the wrong way. I’m all right now.” She took a careful breath. “Eyes on the target, darling.”

Richard turned his gaze back to Esther and Nicholas and made a visible effort to relax. “You can understand why I’m a little on edge,” he said, almost like he was excusing himself. “It would be a brutal irony for her to die now.”

“I wish you would,” Nicholas said to Maram, but without conviction. The rage had bled from his voice and he sounded more exhausted than anything. Esther, on the other hand, was aflame with energy. She was still seeing Maram’s face as she choked on nothing, the way her eyes hadflown open, still hearing that hiss of breath and then the full-lunged suck of air. She’d seen a similar face that morning, had heard a similar hiss and gasp. Collins, right when the silencing spell had lifted.

“What a thing to say, Nicholas.” Richard’s tone was reproachful, the practiced echo of a thousand chastisements. “You’ve known this girl, what, a few days? Meanwhile Maram’s been here, caring for you, your whole life. You don’t actually want her to die.”

“I don’t actually want anyone to die,” Nicholas said. “I want you to stop this madness and let Esther go and let Maram live a normal life and die an old lady, like a human being.”

“Maybe we could strike a deal,” Richard said. “Esther lives for a few more years, enough to bear you a couple children and see if any are born with your talent, and then—”

“Stop,” Nicholas said, raising his hands as if to clap them over his ears. “Jesus Christ, stop.”

Richard laughed, not without affection. “I didn’t think that would be to your taste.”

Maram rose from her chair and went to stand at Richard’s side. Like Nicholas she looked expensive, her silk blouse perfectly tailored to her body and her skin expertly made up, her hair chignoned and shining.

“Maybe it will help you understand me,” Maram said, “if you think of the Library as one of my children. Everything I’ve done to bring you here today has been to protect my child.”

At Esther’s side, Nicholas stiffened slightly, the ears of his attention pricking. She herself was suddenly finding it difficult to breathe.

“Nicholas of all people knows that I’m not what you might call maternal,” said Maram, and Richard chuckled his agreement. “But like it or not, I’m still a mother. And as a mother, if you think someone might point a gun at your child...” Maram shrugged. “You take the necessary steps to protect her. You do your best to make certain any threat is a harmless buzz, and any possible wound is nothing worse than a sting.”

Richard glanced at her, his brow creasing.

“I imagine,” Maram continued, “that being a mother is like being on a path. And the path brings you to the natural next step.”

Esther stepped forward. Richard whipped his gaze from Maram and said, “Don’t move.”

Esther took another step. She felt Nicholas reach out and clasp her wrist with his cold fingers and she shook him off.

---