Page 5 of The Book That Held Her Heart

“Kerrol.”

“Kerrol.” Anne had seen him pick up a man in each hand and wave them about as if they were mugs of beer. And the speed with which he’d moved. It didn’t seem possible.

Unlike Hoffman’s Books,which had four large windows with wooden pillars between them, Weber’s boasted a single huge plate of glass. Or had. The whole window had been replaced by two tarps, flapping in the rain-laced wind. Anne stopped at the corner as soon as she saw it.

“I had read that glass was brittle stuff,” Kerrol said behind her. “But if it’s this fragile it seems a poor material to use, unless it’s very cheap to replace?”

“It isn’t cheap,” Anne muttered.

“But one of yours was broken too,” Kerrol said.

“Probably the same hands threw the stone.” Anne stared, unsure whether it was safe to approach the shop. Was it still open to customers? A moment of fear seized her at the thought of grandfather’s place left unguarded.

“Forgive me,” Kerrol said gently. “Are the owners of this shop also worshipers of the Jew god?”

“Everyone here worships the same God.” Anne glanced at him, wondering at his ignorance. “We just do it in different ways.” It was too complicated to explain, or rather it was simple. It was about hate. Hate and difference. Difference only because it was something to hang hate from.

Kerrol nodded. “I know only what Officer Hans told me back in the shop, and Otto said in the alley. I doubt they are unbiased sources. But I’m keen to learn. It seems that persecuting a minority is a regrettably common trait among humanity. King Oanold chose the people from the Dust. He called them dusters. A racially identifiable group—”

“Sadly, it’s not something unique to humanity,” Yute interrupted. “Perhaps we should conduct our business while we still can.” And so saying, he led out across the street, aiming for the bookshop.

Anne followed, glancing from Yute to Kerrol.Humanity?Both of them had used the word, and neither man had spoken it as if it were something they felt themselves to be part of.

“Let me go first.” Anne set her hand to the door ahead of Yute. She turned the handle and pushed on through.

Immediately the familiar smell of books greeted her. Herman and Carl were both behind the counter, standing almost in each other’s shadow. They slumped visibly on recognising her, the tension leaving them.

“Anne!” Herman smiled. He was the older of the pair, perhaps forty, slightly built, already starting to grey. At his shoulder Carl’s smile was more strained. His left eye was blackened, his cheek bruised too.

As Yute followed in behind Anne, and then Kerrol stooped to fit beneath the doorway, both men pressed even closer together, their fear renewed.

“These are friends of mine.” Anne sought to calm them. “Yute and Kerrol. They’re interested in books.” She turned to the pair she’d named her friends, though in reality they didn’t even qualify as customers, not having made any purchase yet. “This is Herman, and this is Carl. They own the shop. But they’re not Webers. That was the founder. He died a long time ago and his son sold the place to Herman.” She realised that she was babbling and stopped. The image of Kerrol swinging a man from each hand returned to her.

The two owners stepped apart with a hint of reluctance. It was Carl who normally manned the counter, and Herman was more often to be found among the aisles, rearranging the stock. But clearly the attack had unsettled them. Anne had never quite understood what it was that singled the pair out for the town’s disapproval. Her grandfather wouldn’t talk about it and even seemed to share some of the same sentiment, though at a much lower level than those who spat at Carl in the street when he ran errands. People said the pair were too close. But Anne thought if you found a friend you could really trust, then that’s exactly what you should do—keep them close.

“You had trouble.” Kerrol approached the counter, making both men look like children. He touched his eye.

Herman shook his head. “The town’s strung too tight. Something’s going to give. It’s going to be worse than a window or two. I think they’re going to kill someone. I really do. They’re saying something big’s coming tonight. That’s the rumour anyway. Lots of brownshirts in from Weiden. Activists in the beer halls…” He shook his head, and then his whole body gave an involuntary shudder. “How may I help you, gentlemen?”

“I’m not sure.” Yute wandered to the nearest shelf and ran white fingersslowly across the offered spines. “I’m hoping it will become clear. The library never sends us anywhere without a reason. But those reasons can be obscure. Sometimes nothing more than coincidence.” He followed the line of books, gaze sliding across titles and author names.

Anne shot an apologetic look at Herman. Yute seemed to be a bit of a mystic, and she was beginning to wonder if Regensburg or indeed any other library had really sent him to her town on this day.

For his part, Kerrol returned to the door and peered out of the small glass panes arrayed in the arch above it. “Forgive me, but I’ve really seen enough books to last a lifetime. I’m more interested in what’s out there. I wonder if there will be snow? I’d like to see snow next. Or maybe a tornado. Do you have those here?”

The ghosts of our past dog each step but it’s the future that haunts us.

Present and Correct, by Colonel R. Sanders

Chapter 3

Livira

She fell through a night not made of darkness. The others plummeted beside her, a constellation of falling stars, all of them pitched into the void through the portal opened by Hellet’s blood.

A flash of sight, gone too swiftly to register. It felt like falling through a gossamer web, or the thinnest of pages. Another barely sensed impact, and another, each with its too-brief flash of vision. Three more, ten more, scores, each barrier feeling a little firmer, glimpses of sky, grey ground, tall trees, white-topped waves, an endless desert of stones.

Livira understood they were falling through places, times, maybe even worlds. A flat greyness tore at her as she punched through it, a mountain range shuddered, almost managing to keep her as her velocity made a hole.

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