Page 25 of The Book That Held Her Heart

Finally, equipped with a loaded stand, a collection of small plates decorated with poppies, and four little forks, Anne made to return to the others. She paused at the doorway, listening to the conversation.

“—don’t seem overly surprised, Madame Orlova?” Yute’s voice.

“It appears that the whole world is starting to come apart at the seams.” Anne couldn’t see the shrug, but she could sense it in the old woman’s voice. “When the world breaks, should we not expect new things to come through the cracks?”

“Kerrol says that when he spoke with the policeman and the others, they expressed a hatred for difference, the belief that anything which is in their eyes ‘imperfect’ should be destroyed. He feels it is only a matter of time before this society turns on its sick and disabled.”

“For someone who has only just arrived, he sees with a clear eye. Amberg, this whole country, is tinder waiting for the flame. I worry for Anne—”

Anne pushed in, cake stand in hand, feeling guilty for eavesdropping, even though in her experience it was often the only way to truly know whatwas going on in the world. The people who loved her were, by and large, unwilling to weigh her down with harsh truths, and those who didn’t seemed to feel that lies and insults would do her more harm.

“Have you seen our library yet?” Madame Orlova changed the subject.

“Not yet.” Yute straightened in his chair. “When was it founded?”

“We’ve had the provincial library for well over a hundred years.” Madame Orlova inclined her misshapen head. “Since my grandmother’s childhood. It’s not as grand as some, of course, but I like it.”

Anne offered the cakes around. Only Madame Orlova declined. Kerrol’s looked comically small, almost lost in the expanse of his hand. He studied it with interest, sniffing deeply, then consuming it in a single mouthful. The growl that followed was nearly as unsettling as the length of the tongue that searched his muzzle of a mouth for crumbs.

“Kerrol says your cakes are delicious, Madame,” Yute interpreted, though in truth it had sounded like a combat challenge.

“We should visit this library of yours, Anne, as soon as we’ve finished our tea,” Yute said. “I’m thinking that must be the place that called us here.”

Anne laughed, nervous in case they meant to break in. “It will be shut now, of course. Tomorrow is Thursday. I think it opens to the public at nine.”

Yute’s white eyebrows elevated. “The library…closes?”

“Yes.” Anne didn’t know what else he was expecting.

“Still, we must go there, and I don’t think we can wait. Better to take our chance now before word of our presence circulates.”

“I’ll come with you,” Anne said.

“You won’t. We will escort you back to your home.” Yute didn’t seem the type given to firmness but on this he sounded firm.

Kerrol growled his agreement.

Having finished their tea and cakes, and like visitors to an island of calmness amid the raging storm, they took their leave of Madame Orlova. The old woman pressed something from her knob-knuckled hands into Anne’s palm as they paused at the shop’s front door.

“I can’t take this.” Anne tried to give back the silver charm on its silver chain.

“I insist, child.” Madame Orlova closed her hands. “It’s from the old country, back when we Orlovs wandered from town to town entertaining everyone from serfs to princes. A ward against evil, for evil times.”

Anne saw the futility of refusing, and instead offered her thanks.

It had grown dark outside. Pools of light dotted the high street around infrequent gas lamps, and shadows twitched to the dance of flames.

There were too many people around, crowding the corner by the butcher’s shop, others smoking and talking in front of Fischer’s hardware store. “Follow me.” She let some urgency colour her voice. “Don’t run. Don’t look at anything.”

She angled across the street, threading between the lamps’ spheres of influence, aiming at the dark alley between the shoe shop and the milliner’s. Kerrol’s great height would be hard to miss, but perhaps she and Yute looked like children beside him, and perhaps all people would glimpse in the gloom was a father with his youngsters.

An exclamation of surprise followed them into the alley but no sounds of running feet came after it.

“Quickly now.” Anne sped up. She led Yute and Kerrol by a much longer route, through unlit streets, squelching down alleys that were scarcely more than slots where buildings failed to quite reach each other. They passed people in twos and threes, groups of men mostly but not just younger ones. Even in trios though, none of them seemed foolish enough to take exception to a giant looming out of the thickening night.

By this method, combined with a degree of luck, Anne led her two guardians back to the street their journey around Amberg seemed to have begun in. The pair’s mysterious appearance at the back of Anne’s grandfather’s bookshop still troubled Anne, and she resolved to question Yute about it before letting them take their leave of her. Had they broken in through the back door? It seemed to be the only possibility.

“Nearly there.” Anne glanced back at the others.

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