by Amy Cross
"But if there's a chance," I continue, "then I can't stop, can I? I have to keep going until I've got them back. Either that, or until..." I pause again. "Until I know for certain that they're dead." I pause, wondering whether I dare bring up the next point. "Is it possible," I add, "that maybe the Angel could help us? I mean, he seems to have some pretty strong powers. If he was able to reach out and stop those Grandapams from such a distance, maybe -"
"You're right," Carstairs replies. "It's a long shot, but the Angel might be able to help. Of course, he'll want something in return, but you can let me worry about that. For now..." He pauses again. "We're not just going to Papyr in order to ask around about your parents," he continues. "If we travel to Papyr and then beyond, we'll be headed straight toward the Angel's Heartland. We'll basically be following one of the oldest and most well-established pilgrimage routes that the people around here use when they go to pay tribute to the Angel's magnificence."
"So we might end up going to see him?" I ask.
"I imagine," he continues with a hint of sadness in his voice, "that we could consider the option at some point. I'd rather exhaust all other possibilities first, but..." He takes a deep breath. "You don't need to worry," he adds. "The Angel will certainly help you, if it's within his power to do so. I doubt we'll need that, though. Things aren't quite that bad just yet."
"But are you willing to go to the Angel?" I ask. "If there's no other option?"
"Come on," he says with a smile, patting my shoulder as he leads me alone the aisle. "We really don't have time for me to fill you in on all the details about the Angel. No-one actually knows for certain what it is, or where it comes from, although..."
"Although what?" I ask, once it becomes clear that he seems lost in thought.
"It's nothing, really," he adds. "It's just that sometimes, just for a second or two, I sometimes feel as if I know a lot more about the Angel that I realize. It's as if some kind of certainty is buried deep in the back of my mind, fighting to get out even though other forces are pushing it back down. It's probably nonsense, of course, but still..."
"The Angel seems especially interested in you," I point out. "That can't be random, can it?"
"I suppose not," he says, stopping suddenly and turning to me as we reach a junction. "Now, Thomas, I need to give you some very clear instructions. When we're in Papyr, you have to stay close to me. Don't wander off, don't get distracted, and for God's sake don't accept any gifts from anyone, okay?"
I nod.
"And don't be too scared," he continues. "I'm sure that, for a human, Papyr can be very unusual. I remember when I first came here. My God, it was insanity. With the decline of the city's prominence, certain... unusual customs have arisen. I didn't have anyone to guide me when I first came here and I very nearly got into some serious difficulties, but fortunately you have a little help, so let's just focus on getting in, finding out whatever we can, and then getting out the other side so that we can..." He pauses." Well, so that we can get on with whatever else we need to do. Deal?"
"Deal," I reply.
"Okay," he says with a smile as he grabs my shoulder and leads me around the corner. "We're in the suburbs now, but it won't take long before we're in the center."
Looking ahead, I can see what he means. A few hundred meters away, there seem to be people sitting on the ground, while washing lines full of clothes are hanging between the shelves, fluttering in the breeze. For the next few minutes, Carstairs leads me past some of these people, and I can't help but feel that some of them are staring up at us with anger in their eyes. The stink of the city quickly becomes overwhelming, and although I stick close to Carstairs, I can't shake the feeling that this whole place is somewhat darker and stranger than any part of the Library I've visited before.
"Spare some change?" asks a man nearby, rattling a metal can that seems to contain just a few coins.
"Ignore them," Carstairs hisses. "Whatever you do, don't engage them in conversation."
"Want to sit down for a while?" asks a woman, patting the rough soil next to her.
"That's the wizard," whispers a man sitting next to her.
"I know," the woman replies, keeping her eyes fixed on me, "but it's not the wizard I'm interested in."
"Just keep walking," Carstairs says firmly. "Don't let them distract you. And don't admit that you're a human. If anyone asks, tell them you're from the swamplands."
I try to follow his advice and avoid making eye contact with anyone, but it's hard to ignore all the leering smiles I'm receiving from either side of the aisle. In fact, although I know I'm probably being paranoid, I can't stop worrying about the way the locals are staring at me. It's almost as if they're hungry and view me as a potential meal...
Part Six
Meat
Alice Never
"There's no-one there!" I shout, sitting up suddenly and turning to look across the desert. "There's -"
I pause, trying to work out what just happened.
"You've got that right," says a nearby voice, sounding distinctly melancholy. "Well, more or less. I'm here, but I barely count. Basically, we're all alone."
Turning, I find that Nodby is sitting a few meters away, with his arms and legs tucked inside his little box as if he's trying to keep out of the sun as much as possible. He's staring at me with big, mournful eyes, and it's clear that he's given up hope. Looking around, I realize that he might have a point: we're still in at the edge of the desert, and there's no sign of Table.
"Where is she/" I ask, feeling a burning sensation on the back of my neck. Reaching up, I find that the skin just below my hairline is badly sunburned.
"She ran out on us," Table replies. "She knocked you out cold and then she took off."
"Which way?" I ask.
"Which way do you think?" he mutters, reaching a hand out and pointing toward the vastness of the desert. "There was always something crazy about that girl. I figured we could trust her for a while, but I knew it was only a matter of time before she turned on us. I wish she hadn't done it at this particular point, though. I'm not sure whether she was trying to stun you or kill you, but either way, she's long gone."
"Why would she do that?" I continue, slowly and unsteadily getting to my feet. "We didn't do anything wrong. We helped her!"
"Some people are just born that way," he replies. "I could see it in her eyes. The better she fitted in, the more likely she was to panic and bolt." He sighs. "She's young and fit, so I suppose she might just make it across the desert. Maybe, anyway. But us? We're stranded. We'd never survive the journey, and it's not as if we can go back the way we came. The Valley of Dead Books isn't the kind of place where you go if you want to be rescued, and I doubt there'll be another boat docking at the bottom of the hill for weeks."
"So what are we supposed to do?" I ask. "Just sit and wait until vultures pick our bones?"
"I wish I had an answer," he says darkly.
"Come on," I continue, hoping to keep our spirits up, "there has to be an answer. What about that city Table mentioned? Papyr? Can't we walk there?"
"We can try," he replies, "but it's a long journey. Without water, we don't have much of a chance."
"We don't have any chance at all if we stay here," I point out, glancing back the way we came and seeing nothing but sun-bleached rocks. This whole place seems to be completely inhospitable, and it's hard to believe that any kind of life could possibly exist in such a barren part of the Library. A few random shelves have been left standing nearby, but for the most part this is sparse, empty ground, and even though I'm trying to keep out of direct sunlight as much as possible, I can almost feel myself dehydrating.
"I'm not sure that Papyr's our best option," Nodby continues. "The place has got a certain reputation these days."
"For what?" I ask hesitantly.
"Well, to be blunt, for madness. They say the people who live there aren't exactly sane. Most of them have been driven into poverty, and the Setters stay locked in their citadel, constantl
y plotting and trying to find ways to regain their former glory. Not that they'll succeed, of course. The age of the Setters of Papyr is long over."
"I don't even understand half of that," I reply, turning to look toward the horizon; after a moment, I realize I can just about make out some kind of shape in the distance, shimmering in the heat. "Is that it?" I ask. "Is that the city you're talking about?"
"That's it, alright," he mutters darkly, "but I still don't think it's a good idea. Many's the poor soul who's gone to Papyr for help, and I've never heard of a single person who's ever emerged again. You'd have to be pretty desperate to go near the place, and besides..."
I wait for him to finish, before finally turning to him. "Besides what?" I ask.
"There are things that live near Papyr," he continues, clearly concerned about something. "If you go to Papyr, you risk falling into the Angel's sphere of influence, and that's the last thing anyone needs. If the Angel were to become aware of our presence, we'd be in mortal danger."
"I still need to find my parents," I point out.
"But if -"
"You don't have to come," I continue, interrupting him. "I appreciate everything you've done for me, Nodby, but I'll understand if you want to look after yourself from this point."
"And go where?" he asks. "Besides, I find it amusing to keep tabs on you. I'm safe enough out here. You're the one in danger, behind those bars."
"You still see it that way?" I reply, stunned that he persists with his belief that he's the one who's free while the rest of us are in some kind of prison.
"I'm looking at you right now," he says, with a faint squint, "and you sure look like you're behind bars from here."
"Fine," I mutter, keen not to let him see just how relieved I am that he's going to come with me. The last thing I want to do is to try crossing this desert without anyone to help me, and even though Nodby certainly isn't as useful as Table, he still knows the Library. Turning, I look toward the distant city; the place looks so far away, it's hard to believe we can ever get there, but I figure our best bet is just to get started.
"You know Papyr might be a dead end, right?" Nodby continues. "There's no guarantee -"
"I know," I say firmly, "but if I give up now, I'll never find them." Taking a couple of steps forward, I stop and look back at him. "You coming?"
"Of course I'm coming," he replies, sticking his arms and legs out of the little box and scurrying after me. "Where else am I gonna go?"
As we start our journey, I keep my eyes fixed on the horizon, where the city shimmers in the desert's unrelenting heat. We've clearly got miles and miles to travel, and I'm already starting to feel as if I might collapse at any moment. All I can do is focus on the possibility that my parents are somewhere up ahead; if I let the doubts into my mind, I might as well just stop right here and wait to die.
Thomas Never
"Now the thing about Papyr," Carstairs says, as we hurry along a crowded aisle, "is that while the city was once very important, these days, as you can see, it has become something of a slum. The people live in poverty, and their masters, the Setters, plot and ruminate in their citadel, hoping to find a way to return to their former glory. It's a terribly dysfunctional mess, really, and in the grand scheme of things it can't last much longer. Something's got to give, although it's anyone's guess what might bring about some much-needed change."
"So the place is dying?" I ask, taking a wide berth around a thin old man who reaches out and tries to grab my leg.
"Don't let them hear you say that," Carstairs replies. "The people of Papyr, even the poorest of them all, are terribly proud of their city's past. Most of them believe the party line fed to them by the Setters, which is that one day Papyr will rise from the ashes and enter a new golden age. You get the idea. It's all rubbish, of course. The place is doomed."
"But do you still think we can find some information here?" I ask as we head down another aisle. Ahead, rising toward the sky, there's what appears to be some kind of fortress built on a mound of rocks and soil. "If this place is as ruined as you're saying, why would anything important be here?"
"The Setters still have one advantage," he replies. "Money. Pots of it. They're running through their reserves, and although they'll eventually run out, for now they're still acting as if they have an advantage. They don't, of course, but money can be very influential. If anyone had found a human within a couple of thousand miles of this place, I can promise you that they'd bring them here and try to sell them."
"Sell them?" I reply. "For what? Slavery?"
He pauses. "Well, I suppose that's one option."
"I don't think my parents would make very good slaves," I tell him. "My father's got a bad hip, and my mother's rather timid."
"None of that would stop anyone from trying," he replies.
"I don't think they'd be much good for anything," I continue, as we make our way past a large market stall that appears to be loaded down with various types of meat. "If anyone brought my parents here to sell them, they wouldn't get much." I stop for a moment and stare at the meat; some of it looks surprisingly familiar from home, but some is barely recognizable and obviously comes from creatures that I've never seen before. "We don't fit in here," I add after a moment, turning to Carstairs. "None of us do. If my sister's here, she'd be even worse. She can't look after herself at all."
"People have a way of surprising you from time to time," he replies.
"Not Alice," I continue. "She's a total coward. All she does is sit around and moan all day." I turn to look back at the meat. "It'd be quite funny to see her in a place like this. She'd just curl up into a ball and try to hide. Then again..." I pause for a moment, thinking back to the snowy car crash and realizing, with a shudder, that if Alice isn't in the Library, then she must still be back there. "I hope she's okay," I mutter, trying not to imagine her freezing to death. "She can't really look after herself."
"I'm sure she's fine," Carstairs says, grabbing my arm and leading me further along the aisle. "As I said, people can often call upon hidden strengths when necessary. I really think your sister, and your parents too, might surprise you."
"You haven't met them," I reply. "I'm the man of the family. After my father, anyway."
"Let's just get in and get out," he says, leading me down yet another aisle. "I don't want to spend any longer in Papyr than is strictly necessary."
"And then we're going to go and find the Angel?" I ask. "I mean, if we don't find my parents in the city, are we going to go and see if the Angel can help?"
"That's certainly a plan on the horizon," he replies evasively. "As much as I hate to admit it, the Angel is likely to know more about events in the Library than anyone else. He can reach out with his mind and watch things. I don't quite know how it works, but I'm quite certain he'll help us if he can. For a price, of course."
"What price?" I ask.
"Let me worry about that," he says firmly.
"Why's there so much meat here?" I ask, as we pass yet another stall loaded down with hams, steaks and even whole legs of various creatures. "It's almost like they don't sell anything else."
"Don't worry about it," Carstairs replies, leading me around yet another corner until finally we stop in front of a set of beads that have been drawn across the aisle. "Worry about this instead," he continues. "We're in the Angel's backyard, Thomas, and that means there are a few more things to think about. His influence in Papyr is growing. While everyone else thinks that the Setters are preparing for their big comeback, the truth is, they're just distracting themselves while the Angel grows his power-base. Through here, for example..." He reaches out and runs his fingers against the beads, as if he's scared and fascinated at the same time. "Whole religions have evolved around him," he continues. "Whole communities are slowly turning away from the Setters and toward the Angel."
"Why?" I ask.
"Because he offers them hope," Carstairs replies. "Why else? You've seen what the Angel can do from a distance. N
ow try to imagine what he can do up close. These people know that, or at least they sense it. Either way, they're starting to realize that their future might be better served by transferring their loyalties to the Angel." He pauses. "Not that any of them would admit that, of course. They all act as if they're still fiercely loyal to the Setters, and they'll go to great lengths to prove that loyalty, but deep down, the Angel is turning their heads and offering them a chance to rebuild."
"So what's through here?" I ask, stepping forward and reaching out to push the beads apart.
"A church," he says, grabbing my hand and forcing me back, "but not just any old church. Stay behind me, pay attention, and try to say as little as possible. When it comes to religion, the Library can be a little unusual."
Alice Never
"It doesn't look as if it's getting any closer," I whisper, feeling as if my arms and legs are getting heavier with every step. Squinting, I try to focus on the distant, shimmering city. "I think it's getting further away," I add, even though I know we must be making progress. "We're never going to get there."
"Don't give up just yet," Nodby says, overtaking me. "You can't quit."
"I think my body's giving up," I mutter, stumbling a little; as I try to stay upright, my foot catches against a small stone embedded in the desert floor, and I drop down onto my hands and knees. Right now, I don't even know if I've got the strength to get back up: my skin is sunburned, I'm desperate for water, and my legs are aching like crazy.
"Come on," Nodby says, hurrying over and giving me a gentle kick in the side. "We can do this, but only if you manage to keep your motivation up. There's nothing out here in the middle of the desert apart from death."
"I need water," I whisper, crawling across the barren ground until I reach the shade of a buckled, damaged shelf. At least I'm out of the direct sun for a moment, although I know I can't stay here. Digging my hands into the ground, I push my fingers deep into the soil, hoping that maybe there'll be some moisture down there; all I find, however, is more dry sand and rocks.