Willow stared. From the corner of her eye she saw Oswin share a confused look with Essential, muttering something like, ‘This better be good, after all the monster-’andling they been doing.’ He glared at the wind monkey who kept trying to pet him.
‘We wish to offer you this,’ said the horned woman, handing Willow a small bright blue seed in the shape of a tear. ‘A seed from the Great Tree itself. It will grow wherever you need it to. We hope, however, that you will have no cause to use it – that you are prevented from your search.’
‘WOT?’ There was a harrumph from within the hairy green bag.
Willow blinked. ‘Wot’ indeed. It sounded like the forest-touched community was half giving its blessing and half giving them a curse. She felt something ominous creep inside her heart at their words, underneath her frustration. What terrible danger lay ahead that these creatures were so unwilling to even mention, let alone send her into?
Willow took the seed with a frown. She wasn’t sure how a seed would help with anything really.
‘You may go now,’ said the woman, and several of the creatures pushed them all towards Feathering. One leaf-haired woman picked up Willow and another helped Essential climb on to his back. The hairy carpetbag, minus Oswin, was handed to them by an elf. It all happened so fast Willow didn’t get a word in.
‘Well, I say!’ protested the dragon as several wind monkeys pressed against his hindquarters, encouraging him to take off with his cargo. ‘First we’re kidnapped, then we’re asked to kindly push off?’
‘Oi, enough o’ that,’ yelped Oswin as the wind monkey, who was rather enamoured with him, tried to give the kobold a large squeeze round the middle.
‘Nice kitty,’ it whispered, patting his head.
‘Fer the LAST TIME, yew infermerol beast, I is NOT a cat! I IS THE MONSTER FROM UNDER THE BED!’ growled Oswin, turning bright orange, steam coming off his ears. He shot away from the monkey, skittered on to the dragon’s back and dived into the hairy green bag.
‘Quite right, Oswin,’ roared the dragon. ‘No respect! I am not the sort of beast who longs for the “good old days”. HOWEVER, if this were a thousand years ago, I wouldn’t have given a second’s thought to eating you all … But I am a beast of honour, even if you creatures are not.’ Smoke curled from his nostrils, and he hissed in his windy voice, ‘THOUGH, if you prod me one more time, monkey, I may just CHANGE MY MIND.’
The wind monkey seemed to swallow and stepped back, making a low trilling sound, as the dragon launched himself into the air. Sprig followed close behind.
Feathering picked up speed, clearly wanting to put as much distance as he could between them and the forest of Wisperia.
‘That was just so weird,’ said Essential.
Willow nodded. ‘So weird.’
‘I had this strange feeling that she wanted to say more – like the flame-haired man was stopping her from speaking,’ whispered Essential.
‘I thought so too.’ Willow shook her head. ‘I wish I knew what language they were using.’
There was a mumble from the hairy carpetbag.
‘Pardon?’ asked Willow.
She could see Oswin’s eye looking at her through the hole in the bag. ‘Lurole.’
‘Loo roll?’ said Essential with a giggle.
There was the tinkly sound of laughter from the dragon. ‘Liral,’ he corrected, snorting. ‘The first language – the oldest in Starfell.’
Willow gasped. It was centuries old. It was said that the people who had spoken it had all died out long ago.
‘The forest is as old as Starfell itself. Magic came there to hide after the Long War, when it was almost stamped out by the Brothers of Wol. Wisperia has kept many secrets. Perhaps it is not so surprising that some of its inhabitants still speak Liral,’ said the dragon.
‘Did you understand what they said?’ asked Willow, leaning towards the dragon’s ear.
‘Not all – I’m very rusty. When I was young, there were still a few dragons who spoke it when they needed to trade with the old magicians or settle territorial disputes without fire – which back then wasn’t often, fire being the top choice,’ he admitted with a hollow laugh. ‘Old beasts, you know. But I did catch something … Something about the darkness, or shadows … Mirali. I can’t quite recall the exact translation, but I think it’s “death promise” or something.’
Willow had no idea what that meant, but it didn’t sound good.
The dragon’s golden eye followed the raven as he sped on ahead, leading them towards the town of Library. ‘He might know, though.’
Willow frowned. ‘Sprig?’
‘It looked like he understood them, the way he was listening. Didn’t you think it was strange how he never said a word?’ asked Feathering.
Willow shared a look with Essential. ‘I don’t think so, Feathering. If he knew, he would tell us. He’s only trying to help. Besides, he can’t speak when he’s in raven form. He said that the magic doesn’t affect him as much when he’s transformed, so maybe that’s why he stayed as a bird.’
There was a low grunt from within the carpetbag. It seemed the kobold wasn’t so sure.
16
A Town Called Library
They flew for some time, past Wisperia and the floating Cloud Mountains, and over a long winding river. Willow and Essential had managed to strap themselves to Feathering with some strong tree vine that Sprig brought them from the forest, and so they managed a few hours’ sleep.
Around lunchtime, they awoke to Feathering’s triumphant cry, ‘We’re here!’
‘That must be Library!’ Willow said as they neared a town that seemed, from up high, to be made entirely of books.
‘Oh NO, it’s even more ’orrible than I remembered,’ whispered Oswin. This was followed by a loud sneeze.
The thing that Willow hadn’t quite imagined when considering a town called Library was that it was, in fact, a collection of enormous buildings, which, instead of being plastered or decorated with tiles or bricks, seemed to be clad with shelves, each one stacked with BOOKS. Some of the buildings, though, were huge glass cubes through which Willow could see rooms with velvet armchairs and bookshelves so high you had to use a ladder to reach the top. It was like a vast, grand estate, covered in books, that sprawled on for miles.
There were flats and terraces and even small courtyard gardens, where people were reading or whispering, bent over books. In the centre of town, there was a giant glass dome, where one could view the night sky, and beside this was a giant clock – shaped like a book, of course – which struck one as they flew over it.
As they descended, they saw that many of the people who lived in the enormous bookish town were hurrying to and fro, some wearing long periwinkle-blue robes. Everywhere Willow looked was a riot of colour and paper and magic. It smelt of dust, memory and something that felt like promise.
She and her friends landed in a small field not far away, in a patch of long silver grass that blew back from the force as Feathering found purchase.
Sprig flew down and changed back into a boy for the first time since their capture by the forest people.
‘Have you been here before?’ Willow asked him as they headed towards the town. The paths in Library were wide – wide enough even for a dragon.
‘Once, long ago,’ he said.
She nodded. ‘Are they all librarians here?’
‘Yes, everyone who’s born here. It’s one of the biggest magical settlements in Starfell.’
‘Really?’ she said in surprise. He nodded.
Feathering looked around. ‘That’s a lot of books. What happens when it rains?’
‘There’s some sort of protection on the books, so they don’t really get wet. Some kind of old magic,’ Sprig explained.
‘Wow. Can anyone take a book?’ Willow asked in awe. At home, there was really just the one bookcase, and she’d read all of those books twice. There was the travelling library, of course, but it was a bit sad as far as libraries w
ere concerned. It only came to Grinfog after it had already been to the big towns of Grinlemmon and Lael, and it always seemed to have the same pile of books – the ones nobody wanted – for her to choose from.
‘Yes,’ replied Sprig, ‘though you do have to leave a little card and use the special code they assign you.’
Essential was surprised. ‘Even when everyone here is a librarian?’
From within the hairy bag there was snort. ‘Especiallys cos they’re all lib-brains.’
When Willow had thought of a place called Library, she’d imagined that it would be very quiet, and that the people would be timid, but this didn’t seem to be the case. There was a lot of running and laughter. Boys and girls went by on broomsticks, racing about, their bags full to bursting with books.
In fact, two young girls riding tandem on a rather long broomstick with twin seats flew overhead, and they heard the red-haired one say, ‘Oh, it’s a cloud dragon – see the distinctive feathers, as opposed to scales? Blue, which means it’s likely to be male, though green or red has been known. Thought to be extinct, but has been spotted with offspring as near as Grinfog, of all places, recently.’
The other girl nodded. ‘I read that paper too. Ferocity level?’
‘Low, unless provoked, then rather high. Well, if Marlespoon’s early diaries are to be trusted,’ said the redhead.
Her friend nodded again. ‘Best to cross-reference with the works of Sybil the Sensible?’
‘I agree. Shall we?’
Nodding, they flew on.
‘Well, I say,’ said Feathering, rather taken aback. ‘They could just have asked me!’
Willow looked at Essential and the two stifled a giggle.
Sprig nodded. ‘You’d think that, but then you aren’t a book, so it’s doubtful they would trust your word.’
Feathering snorted at that.
‘I’m surprised that they didn’t scream when they saw Feathering,’ said Willow. ‘I mean, when we went to the Midnight Market, it was pandemonium, remember?’
Feathering nodded. He looked like he might have preferred that in retrospect. ‘Respectful,’ he said with a tinkly sort of laugh.
Willow and Essential shared another grin.
‘Nothing surprises them here – they’ve read it all. See those ones?’ said Sprig, pointing to a group of men and women who were wearing the long blue robes Willow had spotted earlier. ‘They’re the Secret Keepers.’
‘Secret Keepers?’ said Willow in surprise. ‘Are they different to the other librarians?’
‘Well, some say they’re the rebels,’ came a voice from behind. ‘The ones who go against the grain, who have dangerous ideas about things like commas … and where we should really stick ’em!’
Willow turned. Behind them stood a youngish woman, dressed in a periwinkle-blue robe that skimmed the ground. She had very long pale hair and enormous, twinkly brown eyes. There was something of a smile about her lips. She laughed. ‘I almost got thrown out for my ideas about that at the last council meeting actually.’
Willow couldn’t help liking her immediately. ‘You’re one of them,’ she guessed. ‘A Secret Keeper?’
‘Yes. Pleased to meet you,’ said the woman. She held out a rather ink-stained hand, then tried to rub the ink away – but only made it worse by spreading it to her other hand too. ‘Sorry,’ she said, ‘been scribing all morning. I am Copernica Darling, Secret Keeper and part-time Library guide.’
‘I’m Willow, and this is Feathering, Essential and Os—’
‘Shhh,’ said a voice from the bag. ‘I told yew, no.’
Willow cleared her throat and introduced Sprig instead.
‘Pleased to meet you,’ said Copernica. ‘I’ve never met a cloud dragon before … or any other kind of dragon to be honest.’
‘There aren’t that many of us left really. I was the last of my kind for half a millennium till I met my mate, Thundera. We keep to ourselves mostly,’ said Feathering.
‘Oh,’ said Copernica, blinking. ‘Right, well, if that’s the case, all I can say is they have a bit of a funny habit of –’ she cleared her throat – ‘sort of keeping unusual creatures for observation around here … you know, if they manage to catch them. It’s one of those things we have conflicting ideas about. Personally, I don’t think it’s a good idea to make powerful creatures violently mad. But I was outvoted on that. Again. So, just a friendly warning …’ She laughed awkwardly. ‘Maybe stay away from the section near the back there, where the library wizards congregate.’ She pointed up ahead, then turned her dark eyes back to Feathering and said warmly, ‘Not that I think they’d be able to hold you, of course – without a fight anyway.’
‘I should hope not,’ said Feathering, who seemed to approve of her respectful comments.
From within the bag there was a low harrumph. ‘They tried to documents me as the last kobold! I could ’ave fought ’em off too … ’Tis not my fault they put this stuff on me so I couldn’t EXPLODE, else I would ’ave … Carbuncled lib-brains. Staying ’ere ’ad nuffink ter do wiff the cake …’
‘Cake?’ whispered Essential.
‘Nuffink ter do wiff it,’ repeated Oswin.
Willow was beginning to suspect it had everything to do with it. Cake usually did with Oswin.
Copernica stared at the bag with wide eyes, then opened her mouth.
Willow raised a hand and whispered, ‘Don’t ask.’
‘O-kay,’ said the Secret Keeper. ‘Um, well, anyway – as I mentioned, I’m a bit of a guide to Library. Well, on Wednesdays and Fridays. As Secret Keepers, though, it’s our job to uncover the magical history of Starfell, particularly the lost or hidden accounts. We spend a lot of time peering under people’s floorboards or digging up artefacts.’
‘Really?’ said Willow with some surprise. She’d thought most librarians just filed books on to shelves. ‘And then you bring them here?’
‘Yes. I’d say we have the largest collection of magical history in all of Starfell, and it’s not all books. There are some practical elements too – where we put what we’ve learnt into use. Tools, instruments – all the kinds of things that help keep all of this together, you see.’
‘Wow,’ said Willow. She reached into her pocket for the StoryPass and asked, ‘Like this?’ It was currently pointing to ‘Cup of Tea?’ which Willow always thought was one of its sillier suggestions – though, to be fair, she would have liked nothing better right then …
The young woman frowned as she peered at the StoryPass. She tested the weight of it in her palm, then flicked it with a fingernail. ‘Amazing! I’ve only seen one of these early models of the Fable Chronologica before! These were rather good – could be used for more than just cataloguing.’
She beamed as the needle swung round and pointed to ‘There be Dragons’. She looked up at Feathering. ‘Ah, precisely. It’s a good model – the later ones are rather pedestrian. I’m afraid we lost that battle with the Grand Council, among others.’ She sighed and handed the StoryPass back to Willow with a wink. ‘Keep that one safe. They do tend to get bothersome here about these old models and attempt to recall them.’
‘Actually, perhaps you could help us,’ said Willow. ‘It’s magical history that we’re here for really. About plants.’
‘Ah,’ said Copernica. ‘What sort of plants?’
‘Magical ones. Ones that have been linked with the art of forgotten telling.’
‘Oh?’ said the Secret Keeper. ‘Most interesting. That’ll be in the Old Library Gardens! Come with me.’
17
The Old Library Gardens
The Old Library Gardens were deep in the heart of Library. To get there they went along dusty, book-lined corridors, up and down draughty staircases and past glass cubes, inside which people were sitting next to roaring fires on plush velvet sofas.
‘But it’s so warm outside,’ noted Willow, looking at them in surprise.
‘Not in some of these homes. Most people in these parts like to
set the weather themselves,’ said Copernica, showing Willow a large stone weather dial in the shape of a sun outside a block of flats. It had several points, such as ‘DEEPLY UNPLEASANT, INFERNAL SUNSHINE’, ‘HEAVY SNOW, SLIGHTLY FROSTBITTEN’, ‘RainStormS and hot chocolate’ and, lastly, ‘Sleepy cat on warm windowsill ’.
‘Oh, these are interesting,’ said Willow, wondering which she’d most prefer. Possibly anything with chocolate, she mused.
‘I won’t get into the whole theory behind each, but it does depend on the sort of book you’re reading,’ said Copernica, eyes twinkling.
While Willow wondered about this, and which book was likely to merit, say, ‘DEEPLY UNPLEASANT, INFERNAL SUNSHINE’, they walked on towards the gardens. Willow was surprised to find that even in the heart of the old town the streets and corridors were still wide enough for Feathering, so she asked about it.
‘Well, interestingly, the town’s founder, Jellop the Obscure, actually had a dragon,’ said Copernica.
‘HAD a dragon?’ growled Feathering softly.
Copernica’s eyes bulged. ‘I mean, um, had a dragon friend.’
‘Ah yes. For a moment there I thought you were implying he was a pet,’ said Feathering.
Copernica seemed to realise this at the same moment she remembered that she was stuck inside a corridor with a rather large dragon. ‘Er, not at all!’ she said brightly, eyes wide. ‘Well, mustn’t dawdle – this way to the gardens.’ And they raced past building after building, the tour suddenly cut short.
Willow heard a quiet chuckle from the dragon.
The Old Library Gardens were a collection of mazes, the neatly pruned hedges acting as shelves filled with thousands of old books about plants and magic. Dotted around the enormous hedges were vast magical topiaries that seemed to change shape as Willow stared at them. There were some that looked like children sitting on the lawns, until one shifted to change into a dragon, and another into what looked like a cat.
‘They’re incredible,’ breathed Willow, thinking that Nolin Sometimes would love them.
Willow Moss and the Forgotten Tale Page 10