Page 28 of The Book That Held Her Heart

Yute translated for Kerrol and translated his reply. “Kerrol says heisin your position. His family are in danger and beyond his reach, and he is surrounded on all sides by those that mean him harm with no means to defend himself against such numbers. He says that what he plans to do is follow the little librarian and hope that something more than just survival will result. Because he agrees with you, that without the prospect of anything more than simply enduring in such a world, it would be better to die fighting, however hopeless the odds.”

Kerrol showed his teeth, which proved to be considerably sharper and more numerous than Anne had imagined when they first met.

“Oh.” Anne hadn’t thought beyond running to the lorry and trying to pull her grandfather out. But Kerrol had the truth of it. She could fight, and lose, or try to endure into whatever grey existence was allowed her. And whilst she wasn’t about to abandon her family, neither of those unappealing options was denied her by exploring this utterly strange and unexpected third option. “This is magic.” It sounded stupid when she said it out loud, but also true. The world had gone mad, broken like a pane of glass. Why should the madness end with ordinary people becoming monsters? She gestured at the length of Kerrol’s body. He wasn’t a human twisted by failures within the womb like Madame Orlova. He wasn’t a human. His strangeness was by design. And it had been hidden from her. His appearance, his body, his clothes, even his language, had all been disguised when they first met, not by artifice of paint, not by smoke and mirrors, but by something that could only be named enchantment. “This…is…magic.” Anne shook her head. “I don’t understand.” And to her dismay, she began to cry uncontrollably.

Yute led them back the way they’d come, showing no hesitation despite the unfamiliar streets and the darkness. Once three men shouted and ran towards them, only to come to a faltering halt as they fully understood Kerrol’s size. Without hesitation, Kerrol grabbed the first two and heaved them over a high wall. The third man stood frozen until Kerrol unleashed a snarl more blood-curdling than anything Anne had ever heard, part wolf, part what she imagined must be tiger. The man ran, not looking back, and all down the street the lights that had flickered on behind lace curtains snapped off.

Yute hurried them on. Around the next corner the library loomed into sight, blotting out stars.

Anne came to a halt. “What are you going to do in there?”

“I’m not sure yet.” Yute frowned up at the walls.

“But you can do something?” Anne persisted. “You can use your…magic. You can repair what’s happening here!”

Yute walked back to her. “I’m so sorry, Anne, but no. The library has never been about taking charge. It’s a memory. It’s ideas. It might havehoped to stop what’s happening here, but it’s too late. There will be blood, and horror, and probably all the worst things that humanity is capable of. The library can make sure that nobody has a good excuse for forgetting what happens and striving to prevent repetition. But it cannot stop even that. People have to want to know. I wish I could tell you that free and easy access to information solves these problems—it doesn’t. People find their own wells of poison to drink from.”

Anne wasn’t really sure what Yute was saying. The library was just the library, and apart from scholars and children, only a minority ever visited it. Yet Yute spoke about the building as if it were a sleeping god. Even so, the conversation felt important. It felt like so much more than logic said it was.

“You could give them only truth,” she said.

“Who judges? Who decides what truth is and which truths to hand out?” Yute shook his head, slow with sorrow. “We take to ourselves the power of the almighty when we control it. So, not intending to rule, the library just gives access. The truth is there on the shelf. You just have to reach out and take it. Information is like water—without it you won’t live long, too much and you’ll drown. And there’s a difference between truth and information. Even correct information is not the same as truth—truth does not mislead—correct information bereft of context can be more dangerous than a lie.”

Anne turned to go, yet again. Yute’s talking had nothing to do with her life. She had to get back to her family, to her grandfather, secure the shop, repair the windows…She faltered.

“The library can’t prevent tonight’s terrors.” Yute spoke the words to her back. “But it is important to note that those preparing to carry out such horror, those who want to lead humanity down the darkest paths it can walk—their first instinct is to burn books, ban books, close the gates of information, allow no voices of dissent.”

Kerrol growled in affirmation, the sound rumbling through him.

“Provision of information might not cure these ills, but it is an impediment to their formation. The wind can’t stop the advance of armies, but eventually it wins. In the end mountains become dust, and the wind still blows. It is my faith that the library will save us in the end. Not you, notme, maybe not even humanity, but it will save life itself, and because of it, someone will climb the heights and know the divine.”

“I don’t care about that,” Anne said, wiping at her nose as she turned to face him once more. “But tell me what happens here, what happens to my family, tell me that won’t be forgotten.”

“If the library survives, then this shame, this stain, this lesson will be preserved. And though people may still forget it, they will at least have no excuse for doing so.”

Anne glanced at the building behind him. She still couldn’t understand what Yute thought he’d find in there, but somehow, she believed it to matter, even on this night. After all, the people who had taken her grandfather had also burned books.

“Let’s go.”

The promise that the meek will inherit the Earth is oft repeated. What is less known is that, in almost all of the instances where this sort of thing has happened, they rapidly cease to be meek.

Power Corrupts, by Ming the Merciful

Chapter 14

Livira

“Ganar leading skeer armies?” Livira stared at Carlotte. “That’sallwe have to deal with? We—as ghosts—just need to lay waste to armies of skeer, and then you’ll come with us?”

Carlotte nodded.

Yolanda and Leetar had come back through the ceiling of the great dining hall when it had become apparent that Livira and Carlotte weren’t following. They stood side by side now, the white child in her white wrappings as if ready to play the part of a ghost to its fullest, and the bedraggled princess, her finery stained and none too fragrant.

Livira shook her head slowly. “We can’t interfere. Yolanda just said you’ve already done too much damage. You’ve altered the course of this nation!”

“I mean…she doesn’t have to come with us.” Leetar eyed Carlotte from on high, as if she were still a lowly house-reader rather than queen of a nation with a huge statue of herself in the main square of the citadel. “If she’s happy being queen—”

“I’m not happy being queen!” Carlotte stamped her foot noiselessly and came forward, taking both Livira’s hands in her own. There had been a lot of touching, but Livira understood that her friend hadn’t been able to touch anything save her own flesh for years—and that was a lonely place to be. “I want to go back. More than anything—wait, there’s something to go back to, right? Not just a burned city and those damned sabbers?”

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