Page 83 of The Book That Held Her Heart

“It didn’t feel like he was opening doors,” Livira said. The blows she had felt had seemed to rock the city’s foundations, but hardly anyone save her appeared to have noticed. The screaming hadn’t started until the Escape had turned up at the tavern door. “Opening doors wouldn’t make the library bleed.”

“Bleeding? I suppose you could call it that.” The Saviour inclined his head. “I hesitate to describe a book as a blunt weapon, but reports are that the potentate isn’t using knowledge from inside the book to gain access to new chambers. Instead, he is—”

“Punching through walls?” That’s what it had felt like.

“Correct.” The mask hid any surprise. “The book is a source of great destructive power where the library is concerned. The potentate appears able to focus that destruction. His aim is far from perfect, however. Cracks are reported to be spreading from the passageways he has opened up, and those cracks are not confined to the library. Fissures are running beneath the city and one in particular looks to have connected the palace sewers to the main system. Allowing the possibility of sending a task force through to strike a blow for—”

“If you know about it, then they’ll know about it too.” Carlotte seemed unimpressed. “The fact you need this breach at all tells me the main access points are monitored.”

“None of the sewer system is guarded anymore,” Tremon growled, looking daggers at Carlotte for interrupting the Saviour. “It’s too dangerous to go down there. Which also means they don’t need guarding.”

“Instead, they’ll guard the exit points with three times the numbers,” Carlotte said.

“The fissures are where the Escape came from.” Livira understood why they wanted her now. “The blood monster,” Livira clarified. “There are more of them down there?”

“Many,” the Saviour agreed. “But you have a magic that works against them.”

“It’s not magic.” Livira didn’t want to explain further. Perhaps it was magic.

“And Narbla”—the Saviour mimed a pipe—“said you turned it away, ordered it to leave.” He paused, as if expecting confirmation. “If you can not only clear the way for us but turn what had been impediments into allies, then you may be the salvation of this nation.”

Livira waited for Carlotte to say,So you mean she’ll be the saviour and not you. It felt too perfectly teed up, too completely Carlotte, for her not to say it. But she didn’t.

“You’ll help me secure the book?”

“If you promise to take it far away.”

Livira eyed the mask. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to read the truth on the man’s face if it were exposed to the light, but the mask brought the fact home. Few of those who sought power would willingly pass up the chance of more. Perhaps the Saviour would have a change of heart when it came to letting the book go. On the other hand, were Livira to refuse to help, would he let her and Carlotte go? Or seek to compel them? Or simply discard their bodies in a ditch?

Livira exchanged a helpless glance with Carlotte. She hadn’t expected or wanted to be hauled into the middle of a bloody intrigue, let alone intrigue on which the fate of a nation stood. She knew next to nothing aboutthis potentate. The man might be a saint, painted as a devil by those who sought to overthrow him. “I…” She looked around the room, at the frowning faces of the four guards, at Tremon’s blunt curiosity, at the Saviour’s blank mask. “I need to be on the right side of this. Or at least, the least wrong. Make me believe this potentate of yours needs to die. Don’t use words. I’ve heard enough words.”

The Saviour nodded slowly. He turned to Tremon. “Let Narbla show them.”

The cart tripafter leaving the stables hideout was shorter than the one that brought them to the Saviour, but no more comfortable.

“Bugger this. If he jolts us over one more pothole, I’m—”

“Ssssh!” Livira reached out under the sacking to cover Carlotte’s mouth.

The cart slowed to another stop and someone clambered on to join or replace the driver. They rattled on around another couple of turns, through busier streets, then down a long incline. A low growl from the driver’s seat. “This looks promising…”

Finally, they drew up somewhere quiet. Livira caught a whiff of pipe smoke.

“Out you get.” The sacks were swept away to reveal a starry sky and the midnight silhouette of their original canith guide.

“Narbla, I assume.” Livira edged off the cart, looking around.

The canith sniffed and took a pull on her pipe.

They were in a small loading area behind what seemed to be a smith’s forge, closed for the night. Their original driver appeared to have abandoned them.

“I need somewhere to go,” Carlotte complained.

Narbla shook her head. “Hold it.” She puffed out a cloud of noxious smoke. “Come on.” The glowing ember in her bowl led them through the dark. Behind Livira, Carlotte stumped her foot on something and hopped on, cursing.

Around the corner the light of scattered streetlamps replaced the starlight’s efforts. The librarians of New Krath must have found different textsthan those of Crath City, for their lamps had a different glow to those of Livira’s youth, a whiter light but with a hint of blue and prone to sudden fluctuations. The street they illuminated wasn’t crowded but a handful of citizens were in sight even at this late hour, all of them heading in the same direction. Narbla joined the flow. “Don’t bring attention to yourselves.” She cast an eye over Carlotte’s tattered gown and shook her head. “If you can help it.”

Livira and Carlotte followed, clutching themselves against the night cold. A strange urgency had taken hold of the citizens around them: they walked with the brisk determination of people not prepared to miss an appointment, a curious mix of seriousness and suppressed delight on their faces.

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