The Winter Long
Page 30
Either she could read lips or she knew what I was likely to be saying, because she sighed, starting across the floor to the three of us. As she drew closer, she said, “Remember, there is no fighting in the Library. Simon Torquill has a Library card. He hasn’t done anything that would cause me to rescind it.”
I stared at her. “He turned me into a fish.”
“Did he do it in the Library?” Mags shook her head, not waiting for me to reply. “I don’t make judgments about the character of the people who come here. This is a neutral place, and for it to remain so, the rules have to apply equally to everyone, with no consideration for what they may have done outside these walls. Consider your own history. You’ve killed a Firstborn and overthrown a Queen. Against your record, turning someone into a fish is positively friendly.”
I stared at her. Tybalt’s hand on my shoulder saved me from doing anything I might have regretted later. As in “immediately,” since we still needed access to the books.
“Even so, given their history, it would have been considerate to warn us,” said Tybalt.
Mags frowned at him. “This is my Library,” she said, in a colder tone than I had ever heard her use before. “You are guests here, using someone else’s card as a pledge against your good behavior. Simon Torquill has his own Library card, and has been a patron for over a century. Exactly why should I be warning you? If anything, I should have refused you entry until he said he was done. Be glad that I’m more charitable than you appear to be.”
I took a deep breath, trying to force my nerves to stop sounding danger bells in my head. When I was sure that I could speak civilly, I said, “We really do appreciate you letting us come here. The rule about no fighting in the Library . . . does it apply to everyone? I mean, is he going to attack me if I get too close to him?”
“Not unless he wants to be reminded that the Libraries are more than capable of protecting themselves when they have to,” said Mags. She shook her head. “If you can’t be civil, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. I’m sorry. Rules are rules.”
“As long as he doesn’t start anything, I can behave myself,” I said, looking past her to Simon. He was still sitting on the couch; it didn’t look like he had moved an inch since we walked in. I couldn’t tell if that was arrogance—showing how little of a threat he considered us all to be—or if he was actually being considerate.
Fighting was forbidden inside the Library. For the first time, it occurred to me that this was something I could use to my advantage.
“Good,” said Mags, folding her wings again. “Now, what is it you needed to research? Hope chests again? Did you lose another princess?”
“Probably—they’re like loose change, we’re always finding them between the couch cushions. But today’s topic is ‘people who were in the Kingdom twenty years ago, who could be commonly found in either San Francisco, Pleasant Hill, or the corresponding parts of the Summerlands, who would have encountered me, the Luidaeg, and Simon Torquill.’ You got a book on that?”
Mags blinked at me, and for a split-second, I actually felt somewhat hopeful. This was a magical Library, after all, operated single-handedly by a woman with dragonfly wings who looked like a teenage girl, despite being a hell of a lot older than that. If miracles could happen anywhere, it was probably here.
“That’s a bit more specific than we tend to carry on the general shelves,” she said. “How about we start with the last Kingdom census, and see where we can go from there?” She turned and vanished back into the stacks before I could say anything.
“I think milady Librarian is anxious in our company tonight,” said Tybalt. His voice was mild, but there was a dangerous edge to it. I knew that if I looked over, he would be staring at Simon, as fixated on his prey as any cat has ever been.
“Yeah, well, I’m a little anxious, too,” I said. I bounced slightly on the balls of my feet, wishing Mags would hurry up. “I didn’t even know we had a Kingdom census.”
“They’re not very useful,” said Quentin. “They omit changelings as transitory, and it’s really easy to lose track of people.”
Given how easily we’d lost track of Arden and Nolan—the children of our rightful King—I could believe that without trouble. I shook my head, saying nothing as I started across the floor toward Simon.
To his credit, Simon didn’t move. He remained exactly where he was, hands visible, no weapons drawn, unless you counted the large, leather-bound book that he’d been reading from. I stopped in front of him, cocking my head to the side in order to read the title.
Geasa and Bindings, it read. I raised an eyebrow and looked at Simon, waiting.
There’s an art to staring someone down. It takes practice to find the right combination of bravado and unconcern, that line where “screw you” becomes “whatever.” Once you find it, though, you can stay there forever. I maintained eye contact with Simon until his cheeks flushed slightly and he looked away, eyes dipping to the book in his lap.
“I thought there might be a method for dispensing with the trouble I currently find myself grappling with,” he said. “As it turns out, bindings of this magnitude are surprisingly difficult to undo, unless you were the original caster.” He looked up again, his veneer of superior calm settling over him like a cloak as he turned his head to study Tybalt and Quentin. It was too late. I’d already seen the man beneath the charade, and as I watched him, I realized something that stunned me.
Simon Torquill was afraid.
“I know the King of Cats of old, although he was a Prince when last we had any discourse,” he said after a moment, inclining his head respectfully to Tybalt. I glanced to the side in time to see Tybalt bare his teeth in answer. “Your Majesty. I was unaware the Library of Stars had opened their doors to the Third Court. A pleasant surprise.”
“I have always been an exception,” said Tybalt tersely.
“Indeed, you have proven yourself an exemplary breaker of rules time and time again.” Simon turned a smirk in my direction and said, “He may be too shy to tell you this himself, but there was a time when my parents were quite concerned about my sister’s honor, all on account of this lovesick tomcat. Dear Rand and I were acquainted in Londinium, long before any of us dreamt we’d meet again in the Americas.”
I stared at her. “He turned me into a fish.”
“Did he do it in the Library?” Mags shook her head, not waiting for me to reply. “I don’t make judgments about the character of the people who come here. This is a neutral place, and for it to remain so, the rules have to apply equally to everyone, with no consideration for what they may have done outside these walls. Consider your own history. You’ve killed a Firstborn and overthrown a Queen. Against your record, turning someone into a fish is positively friendly.”
I stared at her. Tybalt’s hand on my shoulder saved me from doing anything I might have regretted later. As in “immediately,” since we still needed access to the books.
“Even so, given their history, it would have been considerate to warn us,” said Tybalt.
Mags frowned at him. “This is my Library,” she said, in a colder tone than I had ever heard her use before. “You are guests here, using someone else’s card as a pledge against your good behavior. Simon Torquill has his own Library card, and has been a patron for over a century. Exactly why should I be warning you? If anything, I should have refused you entry until he said he was done. Be glad that I’m more charitable than you appear to be.”
I took a deep breath, trying to force my nerves to stop sounding danger bells in my head. When I was sure that I could speak civilly, I said, “We really do appreciate you letting us come here. The rule about no fighting in the Library . . . does it apply to everyone? I mean, is he going to attack me if I get too close to him?”
“Not unless he wants to be reminded that the Libraries are more than capable of protecting themselves when they have to,” said Mags. She shook her head. “If you can’t be civil, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. I’m sorry. Rules are rules.”
“As long as he doesn’t start anything, I can behave myself,” I said, looking past her to Simon. He was still sitting on the couch; it didn’t look like he had moved an inch since we walked in. I couldn’t tell if that was arrogance—showing how little of a threat he considered us all to be—or if he was actually being considerate.
Fighting was forbidden inside the Library. For the first time, it occurred to me that this was something I could use to my advantage.
“Good,” said Mags, folding her wings again. “Now, what is it you needed to research? Hope chests again? Did you lose another princess?”
“Probably—they’re like loose change, we’re always finding them between the couch cushions. But today’s topic is ‘people who were in the Kingdom twenty years ago, who could be commonly found in either San Francisco, Pleasant Hill, or the corresponding parts of the Summerlands, who would have encountered me, the Luidaeg, and Simon Torquill.’ You got a book on that?”
Mags blinked at me, and for a split-second, I actually felt somewhat hopeful. This was a magical Library, after all, operated single-handedly by a woman with dragonfly wings who looked like a teenage girl, despite being a hell of a lot older than that. If miracles could happen anywhere, it was probably here.
“That’s a bit more specific than we tend to carry on the general shelves,” she said. “How about we start with the last Kingdom census, and see where we can go from there?” She turned and vanished back into the stacks before I could say anything.
“I think milady Librarian is anxious in our company tonight,” said Tybalt. His voice was mild, but there was a dangerous edge to it. I knew that if I looked over, he would be staring at Simon, as fixated on his prey as any cat has ever been.
“Yeah, well, I’m a little anxious, too,” I said. I bounced slightly on the balls of my feet, wishing Mags would hurry up. “I didn’t even know we had a Kingdom census.”
“They’re not very useful,” said Quentin. “They omit changelings as transitory, and it’s really easy to lose track of people.”
Given how easily we’d lost track of Arden and Nolan—the children of our rightful King—I could believe that without trouble. I shook my head, saying nothing as I started across the floor toward Simon.
To his credit, Simon didn’t move. He remained exactly where he was, hands visible, no weapons drawn, unless you counted the large, leather-bound book that he’d been reading from. I stopped in front of him, cocking my head to the side in order to read the title.
Geasa and Bindings, it read. I raised an eyebrow and looked at Simon, waiting.
There’s an art to staring someone down. It takes practice to find the right combination of bravado and unconcern, that line where “screw you” becomes “whatever.” Once you find it, though, you can stay there forever. I maintained eye contact with Simon until his cheeks flushed slightly and he looked away, eyes dipping to the book in his lap.
“I thought there might be a method for dispensing with the trouble I currently find myself grappling with,” he said. “As it turns out, bindings of this magnitude are surprisingly difficult to undo, unless you were the original caster.” He looked up again, his veneer of superior calm settling over him like a cloak as he turned his head to study Tybalt and Quentin. It was too late. I’d already seen the man beneath the charade, and as I watched him, I realized something that stunned me.
Simon Torquill was afraid.
“I know the King of Cats of old, although he was a Prince when last we had any discourse,” he said after a moment, inclining his head respectfully to Tybalt. I glanced to the side in time to see Tybalt bare his teeth in answer. “Your Majesty. I was unaware the Library of Stars had opened their doors to the Third Court. A pleasant surprise.”
“I have always been an exception,” said Tybalt tersely.
“Indeed, you have proven yourself an exemplary breaker of rules time and time again.” Simon turned a smirk in my direction and said, “He may be too shy to tell you this himself, but there was a time when my parents were quite concerned about my sister’s honor, all on account of this lovesick tomcat. Dear Rand and I were acquainted in Londinium, long before any of us dreamt we’d meet again in the Americas.”
