Page 9 of Her Shadow so Dark and Lovely
I rub my glasses clean before setting them back on my nose. Librarian Mercias’ dark eyebrows twitch in irritation, as if he can hear my thoughts. Impossible, but for the fact my face has always given me away and my own lack of patience is clear even in my hand signs. I grit my teeth. This whole conversation has been painful, and not just because of my injured hand.
No. That’s all the information I have.
“Then I’m afraid I cannot help you, Scribe Lorel,” he says. He settles back into his chair as he says it, lounging. I know this Librarian well. He often watches the scriptorium, and he’s always an absolute prick. “Knowing that it may have been returned to the Library in the last six weeks isn’t enough to go on.”
You must have a record of returns.
“Perhaps,” says Librarian Mercias, examining his nails. “I hardly see the value in the request if you can’t tell me the contents.”
If you would just look?—
Librarian Mercias holds up his hand. “No. You lack information, have no request permit and arenota researcher. Move along, scribe.” He returns to shuffling at the papers on his desk. A clear dismissal.
I refuse to move. I will bore a hole through his wretched head if I have to. He sighs as he looks up and there is a fracture of something like pure fatigue in his expression— but his eyes aren’t on me. They’re on someone behind me.
No. Surely not.
“Mercias,” croons Sila, draping an arm over my shoulder. I freeze as her fingers caress the side of my face. She’s haughty, in a way someone can only be when they so entirely outrank another. “You cannot possibly be denying my scribe her request?”
Her body is cold where it rests against mine and I feel my heart kick up again. This woman is going to kill me. Librarian Mercias crosses his arms over his chest.
“Sila,” he says coolly. “You cannot expect me to grant this so-called request without the appropriate paperwork.”
Sila laughs, and it’s as cold as she is. “Oh, of course I wouldn’t. No, I will take Scribe Lorel’s request from here, unless you have any objections?”
I cannot see Sila’s face, but hearing her say my name makes me feel like I’ve walked over my own grave. So shedoesknow my name. I direct my spark of irritation at Mercias, who could have just allowed my request and spared us all.
Librarian Mercias’s face is nearly unreadable, but there is something of Elris’ warning in his eyes when they flick to my face. I don’t need the warning. What I need is to get out of here before Sila drags me off into the depths of the Library and feasts on my heart or something.
“None, but you are wasting your time, Librarian Sila,” he says.
I feel the way Sila’s fingers press against my skin a little at that. Flexing. How curious. “We shall see,” she says. Her grip on my shoulders tightens as she turns me towards the door to the Greater Library.
I should be thrilled to walk through them. Instead, I’m only concerned I won’t be walking out of them again.
I’ve only ever seen the edges of the Greater Library from the reception that sits at the entrance. It is not for the likes of scribes to wander about the Greater Library or anywhere beyond it.
The central chamber soars up high. The tall stained glass dome must break the surface far above, and dim light filters down. The walls are lined with shelves full to bursting with books and layers upon layers of these balconies spiral high up the chamber, and all the way down into the dark as well. I itchto look over the edge to see how deep it goes. The Librarian’s fingers are firm as she directs me up the nearest set of stairs.
We walk until she is satisfied, though I could not say if sheissatisfied. She simply decides to stop at some point, finally letting go. It feels like I might have bruises where her fingers have pressed into my skin. I back myself against the nearest bookshelf, and instantly regret it as she angles her body to block me in.
“Now, little mouse, why are you scurrying through my Library? I was under the impression I had instructed you to rest.” She runs her finger along my jaw, tipping my chin up.
I had been trying not to look at her directly because it makes me feel breathless. I scowl back at her and raise my hand to sign.
Aren’t you meant to be watching the scriptorium?
Sila laughs softly. It’s joyless, doing nothing to soften her expression. “Why would I bother today?” She lets my chin drop and steps back slightly. “Tell me, what book are you seeking?”
I don’t want her help. I didn’t want to involve her. She makes my skin prickle and my heart race, as if all of my senses are telling me to get as far away as possible.
It might seem she is being kind. Helpful even. But it will come at a cost. It always came at a cost with Librarians.
Why do you want to help me?
Sila tips her head. “Why should I not help?”
You’re a Librarian. Being helpful isn’t usually in your nature.
