by Amy Cross
"You know why the crops are so good?" Marsha asks suddenly.
I sigh. "No," I say, "but I bet it's got something to do with -"
"It's the war," she says, as if she knows everything and I know nothing. "The blood and remains of so many dying people have sunk into the soil, and enriched the whole library. It seems good now, but mark my words. The war's going to reach us eventually, and there's no hope for us. We'll be dead faster than you can swing a sword."
"Sound hopeless," I say, turning to see Thomas walking towards us. "How's it going?" I ask him.
"Not bad," he replies. "Two members of the tribe claim to have seen rabbits in the library. Can you believe that? If it's true, we can eat like fucking kinds." He pauses. "What about you, Jess? Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," I say. Thomas asks me how I'm doing at least once a day. It's cute; I guess he knows that I've still got ambitions to one day find my way out of the library, even if I've accepted - for now, at least - that my best bet is to stay here. It's been a year since I came to the library and got separated from Duncan, and when I first met Thomas I was determined to just stay with him and the tribe for one night and then move on. But I soon discovered that the library is a more dangerous place than I could ever have imagined, and now I'm content for a while to remain here while I work out a plan. Sometimes, late at night when everyone's asleep and I'm looking up at the stars, I have to admit that I'm no longer certain that Duncan will ever turn up again. I mean, if he was out there somewhere, wouldn't he have found me by now? And wouldn't I somehow sense that he's out there? After a year, I feel like maybe he's gone for good. I just hope he didn't die in some horribly painful way, and that maybe he's found his way out of the library. In some ways, it might be easiest if he believes I'm dead.
"I need your help with something," Thomas says. "Can you come around the corner with me for a moment?"
I put my tools down and follow him. We reach the main aisle, and he points towards the horizon. "See that?" he asks.
I look into the distance and, to my surprise, I spot a figure walking towards us. He - or she - is so far away that it's impossible to make out any details, but merely the sight of a stranger is a momentous occasion. For a moment - just a moment - it occurs to me that it might be Duncan. It'd be just like him to come strolling back into my life after a whole year, but after a minute or two it becomes clear that the person approaching our tribe's settlement is a tall, thin man who looks nothing like Duncan.
"Stop!" Thomas shouts out to him. "What's your business here?"
The stranger stops a few meters from us. He has a shaved head, a painfully thin body, and large, round eyes. "I bring an offer of peace," he says.
"We're not at war," Thomas replies.
"You will be," the stranger says. "Our forces are moving across the library, and you must decide whether you will welcome us or be crushed beneath our boots."
"Typical," Thomas says. "No space can exist for long before one group of men decide to spread misery. What is the name of your army?"
"We are the Democratic Patriots of the Library," he informs us solemnly. "We are disciples of the great beast, and we are on a mission to spread our democratic peace throughout the entire library. Those who do not believe will be destroyed."
"So you're a cult," Thomas says. "How deeply unpleasant."
"We are no cult," the stranger replies. "We are the force of righteousness. We have been given this holy mission by our god."
"What's your god's name?" I ask, stepping forward.
The stranger immediately puts a hand over his face, as if he finds the sight of me to be distressing.
"What's wrong?" I ask.
"Tell this female to stop addressing me," the stranger says. "Females are not meant to speak in such a way."
"Our females speak," Thomas says. "Our females have the same rights as our males."
"That is a heresy," the stranger says. "Be warned that when our army crosses through your part of the library, we will impose our own law as dictated by our god. Females will know their place."
Thomas turns to me, a hint of a smile on his face. "I don't think so," he says, looking back at the stranger. "We will not submit to your foolish notions. If you try to overrun our part of the library, we will defend ourselves."
"Then you will die," the stranger says, turning and walking away, heading back the way he came.
"Cheery guy," I say.
"I was afraid this would happen," Thomas says, turning to me. "We mustn't tell the others. Not yet. It might be nothing."
"Nothing?" I reply. "You heard him."
"This has happened before," Thomas continues. "Crackpot demagogues decide they want to spread their own particular brand of fascism and cruelty across the library, and they set out on some great crusade that usually falls apart within a day or two. We've had some saber-rattlers come and try to push us around before. I doubt anything'll come of it."
"And if they do turn up and try to conquer our part of the library?" I ask.
"We're a peaceful tribe," he says, "and we have just a couple of aisles. Why would they bother hurting us? They'll likely just see us and move on. We have nothing for them. It wouldn't make sense for them to attack us."
We start walking back towards the rest of the tribe. "You're forgetting something," I say, keeping my voice down in case we're overheard. "Some people just like to kill for the sake of it."
Later that night, we sit around a small campfire and roast the head of a recently-killed tick. It's strange, but in the year I've been living with the tribe, I've almost come to like tick meat. It's a little chewy, and its gray color isn't very appetizing, but it tastes okay and I always feel much stronger after a meal, as if the meat is filled with nutrients. We don't manage to capture a tick very often, though, and they seem to be becoming rarer lately. Sometimes I worry that they're smarter than we realize, and perhaps they've decided to avoid us because we're too good at killing them.
"You're comfortable here?" Thomas asks, his face lit up by the firelight that flickers in the darkness.
"I don't know," I reply. He tries to bring up the subject of my feelings quite often, and I'm never keen to talk about it.
"If this Duncan guy came back," he continues, "would you just abandon us and go with him?"
I shrug. "I came here with him," I start to say, "and -"
"But you've found a life here. With us." Thomas stares at me for a moment. "Was your life with him really so wonderful?"
I shake my head, smiling. "Hell no," I say. "It was dangerous. Duncan has a knack of attracting trouble everywhere we go. It was crazy. I guess it was exciting." I pause. "Do you think he might still be alive out there in the library somewhere?"
"Maybe," Thomas says. "Was he..." He sighs. "I shouldn't ask this, but was he... like you?"
"A werewolf?" I say. "Yeah."
"Then he might have had a decent chance," Thomas continues.
"And he had a map."
"Then he should have been able to find what he wanted and get out of here."
"He wouldn't have left me," I say.
"Maybe he had no choice," Thomas says. "Maybe he looked at the vastness of the library and realized that he had no chance to find you. Maybe he looked for a while, and then he gave up."
"Maybe," I say, feeling a little sad. The truth is, I would go with Duncan again if he showed up. I know it's crazy, but traveling around with Duncan was kind of fun. Plus, I have another reason to get out of the library: I want to go back to the wilderness, to live as a wolf and roam across huge open spaces. Here in the library, everything's closed in and constricted. We all live between the shelves. I also have to hide the fact that I'm a wolf, so I rarely get the chance to run properly. This isn't the kind of place where I want to spend the rest of my life, and while Thomas seems to be a normal human who'll die in forty or fifty years, I could live for centuries and centuries. I can't possibly spend so long just rattling around between the shelves of the library.
; "Sometimes you look lost in thought," Thomas says. "I can't help wondering what you're thinking about."
"I'm thinking about the world outside the library," I say. "Don't you miss it?"
"I've never known it," he says. "It was my parents who entered this place, with the others. Their generation has pretty much died out now, and most of us were born in the library."
"So you've never seen the outside world?" I ask, shocked.
He smiles. "Is it worth seeing?"
"It's definitely worth seeing," I say. "Maybe if I find a way out of here, I'll take you with me."
He shakes his head. "I don't want to go," he replies. "I like it here. I like the bookshelves. I've heard stories of the outside world. They say there are no bookshelves, at least not the way there are here. I can't imagine that. Wide open spaces with no grids, no order. I don't think I could handle it."
"Smoke!" calls out a nearby voice.
"What?" Thomas asks, turning to look over at a group of other people who are sitting nearby.
"There's smoke nearby," one of them says, pointing at the sky. Sure enough, a thin column of wispy white smoke is rising into the darkness.
"I'll check it out," I say to Thomas, quickly getting up and hurrying along the aisle. When I'm sure that no-one can see me, I climb up onto the top of one of the bookshelves and switch into my wolf form. It feels good to be up here again, and I immediately see that the source of the smoke is a few aisles away from our position. Suddenly, in the moonlight, I see things moving high up between the shelves. I jump to a closer vantage point and see that there are people walking towards our group, carrying large banners. Getting even closer, I peer over the edge of the shelves and see that there are about fifty of these people, all heavily armored and carrying weapons. I guess that stranger from earlier was right: an army really is coming.
I switch back to my human form and hurry back to the group. Thomas is waiting for me, looking worried.
"It's an army," I say. "They're coming straight for us."
As soon as they hear my words, other members of the group start panicking. An incessant chatter rises up as they start desperately gathering their things, but it seems hopeless. There's no way such a large group could possibly escape an army without being noticed.
"Halt!" shouts a voice from along the aisle.
We turn and see that a group of soldiers has arrived. I turn and look the other way, and I see that there are more of them at the other end of the aisle. They've quickly caught us, and there's nowhere to go but up. I could definitely climb the shelves and, in my wolf form, I could probably get away, but I can't leave Thomas and the others. They're defenseless, and even Thomas seems to have no idea what to do.
"Go!" he whispers to me. "Save yourself!"
"No way!" I reply. "I'm gonna stay, and we're all gonna get out of this."
He shakes his head.
"Who here speaks for you?" shouts a voice as one of the soldiers steps forward. With medieval-style armor all over his body, he looks like he's stepped from the pages of a history book, and he makes for quite a bizarre sight standing in the library.
"I do," Thomas says, stepping forward.
"And me!" I shout, joining him.
"We are the Democratic Patriots of the Library," the solider says, "and we are annexing your aisles as part of our empire. You can become valued citizens if you choose to adopt our way of life."
"And if we don't?" I ask.
"You will be swept aside, your bodies ground up to fertilize our new land."
"You have no right to do this!" Thomas says, his voice filled with anger.
"We have a right passed down to us by our god," the soldier says. "Our god is all-powerful and you must accept his power or you will be killed."
"Sounds like a friendly god," I mutter.
"Shut up!" Thomas hisses at me. He turns to address the soldier. "We will accept your way of life and your god, if you will grant us mercy from your blades."
"Excellent," the soldier says. "When the light of morning comes, we shall begin to teach you how to follow the path of the Democratic Patriots of the Library. You must sleep now, so that you have energy for the tasks ahead."
I grab Thomas's arm and pull him aside. "You're just going to surrender to them?" I ask, shocked. "We have to fight for our freedom!"
"Fight with what?" he replies. "We have a few spears. That's not enough to defeat an army. It's better to just accept whatever they demand. They'll probably just tell us about their god and move on, they're hardly likely to stop and watch us to make sure we comply. It's fancy dress. It's theater. It's just a game."
"It's not a game if they kill us," I remind him, "or if they enslave us."
"If we resist, we die," he says. "I choose a chance of life over guaranteed death. Not just for me, but for the entire tribe."
I turn and look at the others. Huddled together, they look terrified. I guess fighting the soldiers would be a death sentence for most - if not all - of our tribe, and it would be irresponsible to put them in so much danger.
As the soldiers take up their positions at each end of the aisles, I can't help wondering what Duncan would do in a situation like this. He'd probably go marching up to the soldiers and start talking to them, and end up coming up with some stupid plan that wouldn't work but which would somehow solve everything. Unfortunately, I'm no quite so good at coming up with solutions, so all I can do is sit here and hope that some kind of opportunity presents itself in the morning.
But after a sleepless night, and as the sun comes up, it becomes clear that the soldiers are far too well-prepared. I take another look at our tribe's collection of elderly, ill and weak individuals who are clearly no match for armor-clad warriors. Things look pretty hopeless right now, but perhaps Thomas is right and the soldiers will just push us around a bit and then move on. After all, there seem to be less than a hundred of them, so they can't stay here and carry on spreading their empire.
"You will pick two members of your group to discuss the terms of your absorption into the Democratic Patriots of the Library," says one of the soldiers, marching over to us. "Our leader, the Grand Ent, is waiting to inform you of your new duties as loyal subjects, and to discuss your tithe."
Thomas steps forward. "Jess and I will do it," he says, turning to the others. "Trust us. This will be okay. No-one's going to get hurt, I promise."
The soldier leads us along the aisle until we reach a small tent, and we're told to stand and wait. After a moment, a short bald man emerges, eying us suspiciously. He's wearing large round sunglasses and a white robe with gold trimmings. In his hand, there's a tattered old brown book, which he holds up ceremonially.
"I am Ent of the Democratic Patriots of the Library," he says. "I am the high priest." He lowers the book. "My role is to introduce you to our god, and to explain how you might be allowed to live if you show that you are willing to embrace the one and true ruler." He stares at us for a moment. "If you refuse to recognize the Great Dukan, god of all the library, you will be executed and your blood used as we see fit. If you accept the authority of the Great Dukan, you will live simple lives of great service and obedience. Now that you understand the situation, I must ask you the ultimate question. Do you consent to give over your hearts and souls so that you might be saved by the Great Dukan?"
"We do," Thomas says.
Ent turns to me.
"Yes," I say, though I hate myself for being so easily controlled. What I really want to do is switch into my wolf form and rip this little guy's head clean off his shoulder.
"Soldiers!" Ent shouts. "Bring out Dukan!" He smiles. "Dukan is our god. He is the mighty beast who commands our armies. He is the warmth of the sun, and the cool of the rain. He is the soil, and he is the air that we breathe. When the great plague of corrupted blood arrived, he was able to protect us. He is the spirit that lives within our hearts, and he can live in your hearts too if you are willing to let him in. You must acknowledge his greatness, and you must pay a sma
ll fee to be saved."
"Whatever," I mutter under my breath.
Four soldiers emerge from the tent, carrying a small stone statue. It takes me a moment to realize what I'm looking at, but a sudden feeling of absolute shock washes over me as I recognize the face of the statue. I lean forward, narrowing my eyes to get a better look. It can't be... But it is! I open my mouth to say something, but no words come out. This is... impossible...
"You recognize the power of Dukan immediately?" Ent asks.
"Duncan!" I blurt out.
"Dukan!" Ent says, correcting me.
"I..." I start to say, but words fail me. The statue is quite clearly an image of Duncan. It's a figure with two heads: one of the heads is a wolf, and the other is absolutely a likeness of Duncan. There's no mistake here. This isn't a statue that looks a bit like Duncan; it's a statue of Duncan, right down to capturing that slight grin of his. "This..." I mutter, but my heart is racing. "Where is he?" I ask. "Where's the man you based this statue on?"
"He came to us many centuries ago," Ent replies. "He taught us great wisdom and then he left us to spread his word. We do not know where he is now, or what he is doing, but his spirit remains with us always. He nourishes us with the wisdom he left behind. As both man and beast, he was able to see the truth about our world, and he showed us what little of that truth our paltry brains could handle." He pauses. "He and Ahn left to explore the world together."
"Ahn?" I ask, and suddenly a moment of realization hits me. "Do you mean Anna?"
"Ahn!" Ent says.
I pause. Was Duncan here with the mysterious Anna? I guess it's totally believable that Duncan would end up inspiring a tribe to think he's a god, and I'm sure he enjoyed the experience a great deal. "Typical Duncan," I mutter.
"Enough" Ent shouts. "The past is the past. We must discuss the future, and the tithe you will pay to our forces."
"Uh-huh," I say, finding it hard to believe that Duncan - or 'Dukan', as these idiots seem to know him - could ever have imparted 'great wisdom' to anyone. Clearly there's been some kind of massive misunderstanding here, but it's one that I can definitely use to my advantage. "So what's the wolf about?" I ask. "Where does the wolf fit into all this?"