“I like this one.”
“You aren’t horribly deformed or some hairy otherkind monster?”
“Nope. Just a man.”
“A man who isn’t a psychologist, right?”
“Actually, I’m a bartender.”
Chapter 28
Hazel pushed back from her desk, closing her ship’s log and setting it on the shelf overhead.
Both Yukiko and Astrid were in her quarters, Astrid on her stomach on the floor, drawing, her box with the glass sphere beside her. Yukiko was curled up in a chair, reading. Their own shared quarters were cramped and damp, though they had hammocks, blankets and enough storage for their belongings. The captain’s quarters boasted a sturdy table, comfortable chairs and a rug on the floor. The crew didn’t care much for human comforts, and though Neil hadn’t cared about a drab, tiny space below decks, Yukiko and Astrid had.
“If you don’t like your quarters, I can tie up another hammock in here, maybe two,” said Hazel, surveying the space.
“That’s all right,” said Astrid. “I can sleep in there. It’s just that there’s not enough light for drawing and it’s a little cold.”
Yukiko didn’t say a word, which Hazel thought intolerably rude. She had never much cared for the Kitsune, but their paths hadn’t crossed too often, so her personal feelings were of little consequence. Elliot had been fond of her, but he liked almost anything pretty and female. Sister adored Yukiko, but she also adored Santiago, so her taste in companions was questionable.
Yukiko was disgraced among her people by the loss of her tail, which might explain why she stayed with the Time Corps. She had a reputation for being quiet and standoffish, but basically decent. Perhaps she stayed in Los Angeles because she had nowhere else to go.
“Will you grow another tail?” asked Hazel.
Yukiko looked up at her in surprise. It had been an indelicate question, but Hazel wondered about the strange woman who appeared human but was really a fox spirit.
“A century, maybe less.” Yukiko’s voice was soft. “I can earn another through service, though that’s rare.”
“Is that why you’re helping us?”
“No. I owe Neil and Elliot a favor. I met them long ago in San Francisco, when I was young.”
“Wait,” said Astrid. “Does that mean that Neil will come back? He still needs to see you in your past.”
“He might have already done it,” said Hazel. “How old was he when you met him?”
Yukiko looked like she was thinking about it. “In his thirties or forties, I’d guess. Hard to tell.”
Well, that was no help at all, thought Hazel. If only she knew that Neil would live beyond his forties, then she’d know he would return from his stone form. It would give her hope.
“How old are you, anyway?” Hazel asked Yukiko. “Were you born in Japan?”
“I was. And I’m not that old, not for a Kitsune.”
The ship lurched hard, and Hazel popped her head out the door to consult with Mr. Escobar.
“Rough seas tonight, ladies,” she said, turning back. “I hope you don’t get seasick.”
Astrid grabbed at her pencil as it rolled away and then continued her sketch. It was a drawing of a monkey, one of the crew perhaps, but it had no background or scenery yet, just the rough shape of its body and head.
“How did you end up in San Francisco?” Hazel asked Yukiko.
“You’re full of questions tonight,” said Yukiko.
“We’re stuck on a ship. Might as well swap some tales.”
“I came to San Francisco as a bride, a mail-order bride. I didn’t have much choice.”
“What was your husband like? Did you grow to love him?”
“He died,” Yukiko said flatly.
Astrid glanced up but then went back to her drawing.
“I’m going to go up and study the monkeys’ hands,” said Astrid. “I can’t get this one detail right.”
She closed the door behind her and the ship tilted, sending Astrid’s box with the orb sliding across the floor. It banged into the wall hard and Hazel grabbed it and opened it. The simple glass sphere lay on its bed of Styrofoam packing material, unbroken and whole.
“It’s fine,” she said.
“Here, let me see it,” said Yukiko.
Hazel handed over the box. “Can you use your magic on it?”
Yukiko took the ball and studied it. “I already tried. I tried seeing through any illusions put on it, but I didn’t find anything.”
“Do you think it’s made of some rare material? Is that why it’s valuable?” asked Hazel.
“It looks like glass to me, but I suppose that’s possible,” said Yukiko, eying the ball. “After all, if a dragon wants it, it must be worth a lot.”
The ship heaved and Hazel grabbed onto her desk to keep her balance. A sharp bang came from the cargo hold, and she was glad that Neil’s body was in her quarters, safe. She listened as crew members headed down to tie up the cargo more securely. Any loose items might damage the hull, and though Skidbladnir was strong, she was not unsinkable.
She loved the ship, as grouchy and disagreeable as she could be at times. But if Hazel had been imprisoned in a tiny glass bottle, as Skidbladnir had, she might be grouchy too. She wondered what it had been like for the ship and crew, all those years, trapped in glass.
Trapped in glass.
Son of a gun.
“There’s something in it!” she cried, startling Yukiko. “It’s not the glass ball that’s valuable. It’s the thing inside it!”
“There’s nothing in it. It’s glass all the way through,” said Yukiko.
“Skidbladnir looked like a model ship when she was in her bottle. It wasn’t until she got to her own home world, the hub world, that she returned to her normal living state and her monkeys became visible. Perhaps this glass ball is similar.”
Hazel took the ball from Yukiko, but the Kitsune was correct, the thing was just glass. But perhaps the thing was not from this world.
“Astrid!” she called up the steps, and the girl joined them.
“This sphere, we think it might be like the bottle that Skidbladnir was in. It might be a container.”
“It’s possible,” said Astrid. “I’ve considered it. But I wouldn’t know how to open it, short of breaking it.”
“Not to open it, just to see what’s in it. If it’s from a different world, then taking it to that home world would reveal what’s inside.”
Astrid looked at her, eyes widening as the idea sunk in. “It’s from the Seelie, so it probably originated in their world.”
Hazel handed the ball to her. “Can you open a Door to Seelie?”
“I can, but I’d rather not go back there if I can avoid it. We’re not on good terms.” She glanced around Hazel’s quarters, then ordered Yukiko and Hazel to stand back.
A cloud of mist appeared in front of Astrid, dilating open to reveal an empty beach. The sky was pale orange. It wasn’t the orange of a sunset, but was the differently colored sky of another world.
Astrid held the sphere through the Door, and Hazel pressed close to see. Once the ball was in Seelie, something became visible inside. At first, it looked like a pile of cloth, but then she saw that it was three women, all asleep.
“Slaves,” said Yukiko. “They’re being sent as slaves.”
Astrid pulled her arm back and closed the Door. “How can you be sure? Is it possible they’re going willingly?”
“As willingly as I did,” said Yukiko. “There might be a trade, a deal or some kind of threat. Whatever it is, they’re trapped in there.”
Hazel grabbed the ball over Astrid’s cry of protest. The interior was empty and it looked like a simple glass ball once more. But if there were people inside,
they weren’t going to stay there for long. She had aided the Underground Railroad during the Civil War and she had helped free Neil from his master. She had no tolerance for the buying and trading of human beings, even if they weren’t really humans, but Seelie.
“What if they’re willing?” asked Astrid. “What if they asked to go?”
“Then why put them in this if they can travel normally?” said Hazel.
“Some of the Seelie can’t travel in our world.”
Hazel held up the ball. “Honestly, do you think those girls are in there of their own free will?”
“There’s no way to know without asking them,” said Astrid. She did not try to reclaim the ball.
“Then let’s ask them,” said Hazel and hurled the ball at the bare floor where it shattered with a lovely musical sound. For a moment, nothing happened and the shards lay exploded on the wooden floorboards. Then, Hazel leapt back as three full-sized women materialized on the floor, curled together like a pile of puppies. They roused quickly and huddled with their arms around each other. All three were identical, from their pale skin and violet eyes to their black hair that they wore tied back. Even their robes were identical.
“Where is our master?” asked the one in the center.
“Do you mean the drake?” asked Hazel.
“We were meant for Yelbeghen. Where is he? Has something changed?”
“You could say that,” said Hazel. “We’re days away from him. And you’re free people.”
Her words did not have the expected effect. One of the women burst into tears. Another comforted her, saying words that Hazel could not understand. The third stood up and approached Hazel.
“If we’re free, then we’d be better off dead.”
Chapter 29
Elliot did not have time to ponder the irony of a time traveler being short on time. Bennu would only be back once more, and then his opportunity to smuggle anything out of the Library would be lost. He had to hurry.
The thought of never seeing Bennu again twisted like a serpent in his stomach. Yet, through all their time together, nothing he had said convinced her to abandon her duty to her people. Her entire life, she had been groomed for the possibility of being traded in marriage, and though she had never anticipated being so far from her desert home, she had tried to accept the idea with grace. He admired her fortitude, her courage and her devotion to her people. He even admired her desire to bring her peaceful goddess to the warlike Northerners. But none of that would keep her with him. Unless he found a way out, she would be lost to him forever.
He stood at the end of the hallway where the door to the Librarian’s quarters waited, one in a row of doors, unmarked and unremarkable. He wished this place had a standard day and night, then he could perhaps predict when the Librarian would be in his quarters, asleep or out.
Though he had asked the librarians a few discreet questions, no one seemed to know if the Librarian held to any set schedule. The Library seemed to function without him, staffed by the trapped and the willing and maintained by the same. But it stood to reason that the Librarian left his quarters at some point. The creature had to eat and do something other than rattle around in the mad chaos of his maze of rooms.
The twin black marble bowls waited inside, in the room of the animal-faced pillars, the room where he had first heard the Librarian’s wings. He opened the door, listening. Nothing. He pushed it open, wide enough so he could make a fast escape, and then headed for the room with the bowls.
He passed the piles of jumbled objects, stacks of reading material and hanging tapestries, pausing for a moment at the mosaic where a Greek trireme had sailed while pigs dove off its deck. It had changed. Now, the mosaic showed a pastoral scene of green and brown fields dotted with white sheep. On the horizon were gray shapes, wolves, cresting the hill. Behind them the sun burned red, but it could have been either a sunset or a great fire. He couldn’t tell.
It didn’t matter, because Elliot knew precisely what this signified. This was a time slip, an anomaly where small details, and sometimes larger ones, changed. Most people were oblivious to them, adjusting their reality to the changes and never knowing the difference. But he was one of the rare people who could detect such time anomalies. His partner, Neil Grey, had told him that the ability would come in handy one day. Perhaps this was that day. He kept moving, heading to the chamber with the columns.
When he arrived, he was actually relieved to find that the animal heads at the tops of the columns were watching him, carved eyes wide open. It made him uneasy, certainly, but it meant that this area of the Library was definitely part of a time anomaly. Technically, this was a time anomaly within a place that existed outside of time. And he himself was a being out of his own time standing at the center of this time anomaly. So was the Librarian, he supposed. Were these rooms of the Library the locus of the anomaly, or was it the Librarian himself?
He would have sworn the twin bowls had been sitting on the table with the stack of woolen rugs. He moved a few things, but they weren’t there. Pulling everything off that table, then the one beside it, he found nothing.
Searching the piles of objects in every corner, he considered the implications of the time anomaly. An anomaly was an instability, and instabilities, both real, like physical objects, and symbolic, like shorelines, could be dangerous. They could also be useful. Any objects from the time anomaly couldn’t help but be connected to the anomaly.
He swore silently, turning in place, searching. The ears on the elephant head were smaller now, elegant and trim, those of an Indian Elephant. The cobra’s mouth had opened, six-inch fangs exposed and forked tongue curling upward at the tip.
Had the Librarian moved the bowls? What if he knew that Elliot wanted them? Had he somehow heard Elliot and Bennu discussing the bowls? Was the Librarian so connected to this place that he knew everything that went on here? That had to be it. After a good five minutes in the room, he knew with certainty that the bowls weren’t there.
They had to be farther in. He walked through other rooms, moving silently on his bare feet, listening and reaching out with his mind, trying to detect what was up ahead. Now that he was inside the forbidden area, he could feel the additional rooms to either side and chose a path through them.
The deeper he went, the more tidy the rooms became until he came to a chamber of neat curios in glass-fronted cabinets, two plush chairs and a fireplace. The fire was out, but the embers still glowed. He looked through the cabinets, but the bowls were nowhere to be found. They had to be farther in, and if the Librarian knew Elliot wanted them, they’d be with the man himself.
Now was the time, he supposed. The time to face the Librarian. What could the thing do to him anyway? Peck him to death? He supposed a great winged thing could very well do that. Or he could have vicious talons to shred his flesh. But what if the Librarian was something else? A griffin, a winged man or just a person who could make illusions, like the wizard in the Emerald City? Whatever he was, it was time to meet him.
He crept into the next room, a place filled with low couches and cushions, so much more welcoming than the exterior rooms. Perhaps the other rooms were meant to keep others out, to distract them with intriguing items so they would not reach the interior. But no, that made no sense. If the Librarian wanted to keep people out, he could simply lock the door.
The adjoining room held a long wooden table set with a gold runner with twin candlesticks at its center. They were lit. There were only two chairs, one at each end of the table, and each place was set. Identical black marble bowls sat at each place, one filled with an assortment of fruit and the other nearly empty. The uneaten fruit was accompanied by a full wineglass and folded napkin, while the other place setting had clearly been used.
Why would the Librarian set two places? Had he been expecting him? Or was this set for someone else? And if it had been
set for a guest, why had the Librarian eaten without the person?
It didn’t matter, because he wasn’t staying. Any being who kept people trapped in the Library for a lifetime and drove them insane if they escaped wasn’t someone who was going to help him. Elliot knew what he wanted.
Elliot grabbed the bowls, dumping the fruit out on the table. Grapes rolled across the table and an apple thudded to the floor. The pointed flames on the candles dipped sideways, flickering and then righting themselves, and Elliot spun around, but no one was there.
Silence.
He was more careful as he left this time, unsure if the Librarian might be around any corner, blocking his exit. Creeping around corners, clutching the bowls to his chest, he finally made it to the room with the columns.
When he saw the things watching him from the top of each column, he ran. Each one was topped with a human face, all with eyes open, each one’s mouth curved into a smile.
Chapter 30
Astrid attempted to offer food to the three women, but they insisted they were not hungry. Hazel muttered something about it being crowded in her quarters and headed up on deck. After some tea, the crying girl eventually calmed down. Once Astrid reassured them that the ship was on its way to Yelbeghen’s island, they relaxed and told her their names were Isadora, Briar and Opal.
“Why did you say all would be lost if you were freed? Did you want to be in that glass ball?” Astrid asked. Opal’s lower lip trembled and Briar put her arm around her.
“We slept inside, so it wasn’t frightening,” said the one named Isadora. “We were meant for Yelbeghen. He was supposed to be the one to release us.”
“Why does it matter how you get out?”
“He wants his gifts intact. He prefers to open them himself.”
“And you three are ‘gifts’ for him.”
“Yes, and I want to make sure that my sisters and I reach him soon.”
The Time Corps Chronicles (Complete Series) Page 103