Page 3 of The Book That Held Her Heart

Anne covered the smirk that escaped onto her lips. It wasn’t funny. None of it was.

“I didn’t see you come in.” It seemed the most logical place to start.

The albino bowed his head. “My apologies. I am Yute, and this is Kerrol. We came from the library.” They were both foreign, they had to be. They spoke the language too well, their grammar too perfect to be from anywhere nearby, and yet untainted by any regional accent.

“Anne Hoffman.” Anne felt she should offer her hand but resisted theimpulse. She realised that she was staring and tried not to. Clearly neither man worked for the town’s small library. Possibly the scientific library at Regensburg, but Anne found it hard to believe that the institute would employ such unusual characters, especially in the current political climate. Mr. Yute was at least respectably dressed…She wanted to thank them for putting in an appearance and somehow taming Officer Schmidt, but to do so would be to admit that she had been in danger from a policeman in her own shop, and that would make what had nearly happened far too real. Under the expectant gaze of her new customers Anne shook off her confusion and asked, “What was it you were looking for, Mr. Yute? I think I must have misheard you.”

“And I think I must have misspoken.” Mr. Yute inclined his head, his hair as white as Great-grandmother Ruth’s. “We’re here on a…what shall we call it? A discovery trip. And I think that our first task should be to learn what kind of place we’ve found ourselves in.”

“The best bookshop in town.” Anne folded her arms and grinned. Even though Mr. Kerrol had yet to speak to her, something about his presence made her feel safe, and that was a thing she’d not felt for a long time. There was no real sense to it. A dozen inches of extra height would do nothing to save you from a thrown stone, a club, a knife, or a bullet. But there it was, she took comfort from his being there.

“And how many bookshops are there in town?” Mr. Kerrol’s voice rumbled out as he walked past her, so deep that it almost seemed to reverberate in her chest.

“F— Three.” She had been going to say five, but Werner’s went bust the previous year, and the Saveenys had left town only last week, boarding up the windows of their shop.

“Remarkable.” The giant stood with his hand set to the window glass, his fingers splayed, the raindrops on the other side running past them. “An invisible barrier.”

If it hadn’t been for Mr. Yute saying they came from the library, or the way Mr. Kerrol had dealt with the policeman, Anne might have imagined the giant to be a native of some primitive country, brought to civilisation only recently by an intrepid explorer. But the explanation felt a thousand miles from fitting.

“Glass,” Mr. Yute said, raising his voice slightly.

“Ah,” Mr. Kerrol turned away from the window. “Glass. I should have known. I’m afraid I was the same way when I first saw fire. I thought it was some strange red flower.”

Anne laughed nervously, not entirely sure that the man was joking.

“It occurs to me”—Mr. Yute rested his pink-eyed gaze on the street—“that we should perhaps visit these two other bookshops first. The manner of our arrival has…clothed…us appropriately, but it won’t last. I’m afraid your uniqueness won’t pass unnoticed for long, Kerrol.”

“My impression from Hans was that this is not a time when differences are well tolerated in this kingdom,” Mr. Kerrol rumbled.

Anne took the opportunity to retreat behind the counter and closed the divider. She wasn’t sure she’d been following the conversation properly, but that last part she understood. She understood it to be understatement. “It might be dangerous for you to wander the town.” She paused. “But you got here without trouble. Maybe I’m being silly.”

Mr. Yute flexed his jaw. “I wouldn’t say we had no trouble…”

Mr. Kerrol came and leaned on the counter with an easy smile. “Perhaps you could give us directions to these two other shops?”

Anne took a piece of notepaper and with the stub of a pencil began to sketch out a map of the streets the pair would need to take. “And don’t go talking about the kingdom. Not where anyone will hear you. We’ve not had a king for a long time. Not since before I was born. It doesn’t do to talk about kings. That will get you into politics, and that will get you into trouble faster than punching a judge in the face.” She started to label the streets they would have to follow. First to reach Weber’s shop, and then the antiquarian Madame Orlova whose upmarket emporium sold leather-bound tomes of the sort prized by scholars, collectors, and by bankers who bought them by the yard to fill their shelves with the necessary gravitas for men set in charge of vast sums of money.

“I would come as your guide,” Anne apologised. “But I can’t open that door.” She nodded to the street.

“I’m familiar with such restrictions,” Mr. Kerrol said, with no hint of complaint.

“I mean, I can, obviously.” Anne felt the need to explain even if noexplanation had been asked for. “Only, I promised my grandfather. He worries when I’m out. Says it’s not safe for us these days.”

“And where is your grandfather?”

“Out…” Anne shook her head and bent to finish the map. She handed it over. “There you go, Mr. Kerrol.”

He accepted the page. “Just Kerrol. And my thanks.” For a moment something seemed wrong with his hand. The shape? The way the fingers divided? Thenumberof fingers? Anne shook her head and looked again. It was a perfectly normal hand, just very large. She suppressed a sudden desire to set her own hand against his palm and see how the size of his swallowed hers.

“Kerrol,” she said.

“Just so.” He straightened, waved the paper at his companion, and strode towards the door.

After a moment’s fumbling they had the door open between them and a cold, damp blast rattled round them.

“Rain,” grumbled Mr. Yute. “Better than the sun, I suppose.” He led the way out, head bent, not choosing to pit his umbrella in an unequal battle against the wind.

“Rain!” Kerrol seemed delighted. “Another first!” And, dipping his head to avoid the doorjamb, he followed out, closing the door behind him.

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