Page 3 of The Deadliest Candidate

Fern was just starting on the third report when a crisp knock on her door disturbed the silence of her office. Before she could respond, the door opened, and Oscar Eyck, Director of Library, strode in, brandishing a book in his hand.

“What’s this?”

Fern raised an eyebrow.

“It’s Sheldrake and Schuster’sSymbolism of In-Between Doors. We spoke of it.”

“Oh, Iknowwe spoke of it,“ Oscar said with barely contained exasperation. “We spoke of it at length, in fact. We spokespecificallyof the fact that it would be too dangerous to retrieve.”

“And I retrieved it,” Fern said, sitting back. “I don’t see the issue.”

“The issue?” Oscar threw his head back. “Theissueis that you were supposed to go to Santico to take notes, not to have standoffs with black-market book dealers. Theissueis that you could have been harmed—the Lautric House has been coveting this book foryearsnow.“ He shook his head. “I’m surprised they didn’t send someone to intercept you.”

“They did.”

Oscar was speechless for a moment. In the small space of Fern’s tidy office, amongst her collection of impeccably kept books and manicured alpines, he towered like a giant. Once, Fern had been so intimidated by him that she hardly dared speak in his presence.

With his sharp features, hawk eyes and crooked nose, his face often seemed to thunder and brood even when he was in the best of moods. His shoulder-length hair was mostly grey now, and a white streak in the middle of his beard seemed to spread and grow exponentially the longer he worked with her.

Of course, Fern knew now that despite his fearsome features and menacing height, Oscar was incapable of harming even the smallest creature. A man of strong morals and gentle heart, but more importantly, a true scholar who dedicated his life to his library.

“I’m well, Oscar,” Fern said in a softer voice. “I’m safe. I’m here.”

All the anger and frustration seemed to seep from him. He slumped down into one of the small felt seats facing Fern’s desk. She drew the tin box of sweets she kept in the top drawer of her desk and pushed it towards him. He glared at her but picked his favourite flavour—pear—popping the sweet into his mouth.

“Well?” he said. “What happened?”

“Not much. They found me on the train back from Santico. This time there were two of them. Our old friend Hector Boussard and some other man.”

Fern reached into her drawer and produced the card she had taken from Hector’s pocket. A white card with three black symbols: a raven, a fleur-de-lis, a crown. The symbols were really a pictograph of the Lautric House words:Savoir et Souveraineté.

Knowledge and sovereignty.

She handed it to Oscar, who cast a long, dark look at it before handing it back. “And?”

“And, I reported them to the constable in charge of the train and brought the book back here. With neither damage to myself nor the book—as you can see.”

“Were they sent to retrieve the book, or to hurt you?”

Fern shrugged. She had not waited long enough to find out.

“Probably both.”

Oscar rubbed his hand across his face. It was the exact same gesture she had herself made earlier, the weary wiping of the eyes and the cheeks. She must have subconsciously picked that up from him.

“It’s not the first time they’ve tried, Fern,” he said quietly.

Fern answered with a slight smile. “No, nor the last, I’m sure.”

They watched one another in silence for a moment. Her attempt at lightening the mood must have failed, for Oscar exploded.

“Fern Eulalia Sullivan, you took a stupid risk and you know it!”

Fern shivered. “Donotcall me Eulalia.”

Oscar thundered onward. “What on earth possessed you to gonow? It’s been missing for years, we’ve had plans, we spoke of putting a team together.”

“I didn’t need a team,” Fern answered mildly. “Retrieving books is what I do best, you said so yourself when you hired me.” And then she added the truth. “I really need it for my research.”

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