Pages and Co 3: Tilly and the Map of Stories

by Anna James

  ‘We need to get into the Endpapers and hope they take us to an Underlibrary,’ Tilly said. ‘We need to get to the end of the play. I guess we just have to let it happen and hope not too much time passes in the real world. Or that Orlando works something out.’

  They looked around, trying to work out where they were in the play at the moment. The trees surrounding them were growing closely enough that there was a mysterious feel to the place, but not so tightly packed to be intimidating. Vines wrapped round their trunks and an improbable array of delicate pastel-coloured flowers exploded in garlands from all the greenery. It looked almost as though there were strings of fairy lights threaded among the leaves, but, when Tilly got closer, she saw it was simply the late-afternoon sunlight glinting perfectly through the leaves. The grass under their feet was bright and soft and the sound of birdsong drifted on the breeze, which was refreshing but not chilly. The air somehow smelled of butterscotch and campfires.

  Even though the manner of arriving there was rather disconcerting, the place itself was peaceful and lovely. Oskar elbowed Tilly and put a finger to his lips, pointing to a break in the trees, just beyond where they stood.

  As they watched, two creatures emerged gracefully from either side of the clearing and met in the middle. One was dressed in shades of brown, with a crown of twigs resting on his tightly curled hair. The other had white-blonde hair so fine that it fizzed round her head like candyfloss, just like her dress, which was floating about her in wisps of tulle.

  Both figures were beautiful but sharp somehow, moving without the weight and awkwardness of a human body. They were all lightness and strangeness; Tilly felt instinctively scared of them and yet couldn’t tear her eyes away.

  The two circled each other, speaking too quietly for Tilly and Oskar to hear.

  ‘What’s happening?’ Oskar whispered.

  ‘I think that must be Puck,’ Tilly replied, pointing at the one in brown. ‘We did this in school, remember?’

  ‘All I can remember is that there was a man who got turned into a donkey, to be honest,’ Oskar said. ‘And I definitely didn’t picture the fairies being so …’

  ‘So lovely,’ Tilly finished.

  ‘So weird,’ Oskar corrected. ‘There’s that word again. And look, someone else is coming.’

  He pointed back to the other side of the clearing, where a tall, slender man was emerging from the trees, wearing a robe made of leaves. A delicate circlet of gold sat on his head, and he was followed by other smaller sprites, who were the same size as Puck and the fairy with the candyfloss hair. He was met by a woman who approached from the other side of the glade, flanked by her own attendants. She was as tall as he was, wearing a dress of green silk that seemed to blend into the grass she stood on, so it was impossible to tell where she ended and the forest began.

  ‘Ill met by moonlight, proud Titania,’ the man said, his voice carrying easily to Tilly and Oskar, who had edged backwards so as to be hidden by the trees.

  ‘What, jealous Oberon?’ the woman replied, gesturing for the fairies gathered round her to take a step back.

  ‘Am I not thy lord?’ the man said, stepping closer to her. Tilly raised an eyebrow at Oskar.

  ‘Then I must be thy lady,’ Titania replied, the suggestion of a smile on her lips.

  ‘But I know when thou hast stolen away from fairy land.’

  ‘Are they enemies?’ Oskar asked, confused. ‘I thought they were married. The details, as I mentioned, are fuzzy.’

  ‘They are,’ Tilly said. ‘Sort of. I don’t think fairies care about marriage – but they’re definitely, like, together. Romantically. Anyway, Oberon is the worst. He uses Puck to cast a spell on Titania and she falls in love with Bottom.’

  ‘The man who gets turned into a donkey!’ Oskar said. ‘It’s all coming back to me. I swear if I wrote a story at school with a character called Bottom who turns into a donkey, I would not be treated as a genius like Shakespeare was. Honestly, it’s not fair! Can you even imagine Ms Webber’s face if I called someone Bottom at school! The thing with famous writers is that—’

  ‘Oskar, shush,’ Tilly said, watching Titania and Oberon walking closer and closer to each other, speaking angry words with half-smiles and the occasional brush of a hand on an arm.

  But it was too late, and Oskar’s voice had carried too clearly towards the fairy king and queen so that, by the time he’d finished speaking, they were staring straight at Tilly and Oskar.

  ew human mortals venture here

  For fear that they may wish to stay,’ Titania said in a curious, lilting voice.

  ‘Why come you here without the moon

  For her light makes shadows darker?

  Many choose to shelter ’neath her,

  But you come with cloaks of sunlight.’

  ‘How long do you intend to stay?’ Oberon demanded.

  ‘For we have much to do today.’

  ‘We’re really sorry,’ Tilly said nervously. ‘We didn’t mean to disturb you.’

  ‘But while we have your attention,’ Oskar said mischievously, ‘do you know a man called Bottom?’

  Titania raised an elegant eyebrow at Oskar, who was struggling not to laugh. Oberon just looked annoyed.

  ‘It seems that you have travelled far,

  And must have further yet to go?’ he said.

  ‘My lady, shall you let them pass?

  If your eye has not been captured.

  For of late you have not rendered

  Unto me what should be mine.’

  Titania flicked her attention from the bookwanderers back to Oberon in annoyance and said something under her breath that made Oberon’s cheeks darken with anger. Even though he was so elegant and ethereal, Tilly found him just as insufferable as she had when they read bits of the play at school. She remembered again with a flash of annoyance the way Oberon used Puck to cast a spell on Titania that made her fall in love with the man with a donkey’s head.

  A thought occurred to her. Given that the rules of bookwandering meant that the play had to snap back to normal after they left, so she couldn’t change anything permanently, surely there was no harm in altering the story a little just this once?

  ‘My lady,’ she said, dipping into a deep, if wobbly, curtsy.

  Titania said nothing, but gestured with a delicate hand to indicate that Tilly had permission to speak. Oberon was barely paying attention.

  ‘I just thought that you’d like to know that your lord Oberon has plans to bewitch you,’ Tilly said, trying to mimic the way the fairies were speaking.

  Oberon let out a snort of derision. ‘Imp, you know not what you say. It is not wise to question me,’ he said.

  ‘Please speak on, child. I give you leave,’ Titania said.

  ‘Tell me more of this grievous plan.’

  ‘He’s going to ask Puck to find a flower that will make you fall in love with whoever you see next,’ Tilly explained, edging backwards as Oberon stopped smirking and started to look annoyed. ‘And it will be a man with a donkey’s head! But, even if it was the nicest man in the world, I don’t think it’s very fair to make you fall in love with someone without you having any say-so!’

  ‘You dare to spread such dreadful lies?’ Oberon said, towering above them.

  ‘I swear it’s true!’ Tilly said, looking at Titania, who she could see knew that Oberon had it in him.

  ‘Uh, was this a good idea when we can’t get out of the book, Tilly?’ Oskar said, pulling her backwards into the trees, away from Oberon’s worsening temper.

  At that moment there was a crackle in the air, and all of a sudden Orlando was standing next to them, breathing heavily, and holding the copy of A Midsummer Night’s Dream in his hand.

  ‘You found us,’ Tilly breathed in relief. ‘You can bookwander!’

  ‘Oh, thank goodness,’ Orlando said. ‘I didn’t know how I was supposed to tell Bea that a book had eaten her daughter.’

  ‘See,’ Oskar said. ‘Eaten! We got ea
ten by a book. What took you so long?’

  ‘I came straight away!’ Orlando said. ‘You know how time works in books. I was trying to follow you in the text, watching where you were going, and I wandered in as soon as I had you pinned down in a scene.’

  ‘Okay, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt,’ Oskar said. ‘And anyway it was just in time – Tilly is annoying the fairy king.’

  Orlando hadn’t even noticed Titania and Oberon standing in the trees and nearly jumped out of his skin when he did.

  ‘Let’s go,’ he said, taking Tilly and Oskar firmly by the hands.

  ‘Make sure you don’t go to sleep where he can find you!’ Tilly yelled to Titania. ‘And watch out for fairies with flowers!’

  ‘I shall not forget this kindness,’ Titania called back to Tilly.

  ‘And if your words prove fair not false,

  Then in your debt will I remain.

  And if you find you are in need,

  I now swear one gift or favour.’

  She gracefully inclined her head towards Tilly, gave Oberon an icy look, and disappeared back into the forest, her green silk dress

  ‘It is definitely time for us to go,’ Orlando said and, before Oskar or Tilly had a chance to disagree, he read the final lines of the play.

  ‘Now to ’scape the serpent’s tongue,

  We will make amends ere long:

  Else the Puck a liar call.

  So, good night unto you all.

  Give me your hands, if we be friends,

  And Robin shall restore amends.’

  The grand pillars and walls of Shakespeare’s Sisters re-formed around them and the three of them breathed a sigh of relief.

  ‘What on earth was that about, Tilly?’ Orlando asked, pale-faced. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it.’

  ‘My bookwandering can be … unpredictable,’ Tilly said, the impact of what had just happened starting to sink in. ‘I guess I should be careful about reading anything until we find the Archivists – maybe they’ll know how the book … well, how it …’

  ‘Ate us,’ Oskar supplied.

  ‘How it ate us,’ said Tilly, giving in.

  ‘But how did you even get in to find us?’ Oskar asked Orlando. ‘Isn’t the Source Edition bound at the British Underlibrary?’

  ‘We’re lucky with a lot of Shakespeare,’ Orlando said, with a small smile. ‘Or rather we readers are lucky – not so much the British Underlibrary. A lot of the versions of the plays that were designated as Sources were stolen from the British Library years and years ago and have never turned up. And you can’t make a new Source Edition, so, as long as it’s never destroyed, anyone will be able to keep bookwandering inside it. You’d better keep this,’ Orlando said, giving Tilly the copy of the book. ‘In case the Archivists need it to work out what happened. And I don’t think I should risk having it in the store any more … Anyway, we clearly need to get to the Library of Congress as soon as possible before anything even stranger happens. Let’s find Jorge and go.’

  Seconds later, Jorge ran up the stairs.

  ‘I have scissors!’ he said, out of breath. ‘And a knife!’ He held up a pair of plastic scissors and a butter knife. ‘Oh,’ he breathed. ‘You’re back. Never mind.’

  ‘Come on,’ Orlando said. ‘We need to go to the library. Tilly, you can tell us the plan on the way.’

  ‘The plan?’ said Tilly nervously.

  ‘The plan to find the Archivists?’ Orlando said. ‘Bea said you knew how.’

  ‘It’s not so much of a plan as a … map,’ Tilly said vaguely, trying not to worry them with how little of a plan there was.

  ‘Okay, well, we can work with a map,’ Jorge said, still trying to get his breath back. ‘We know it starts at the library, yes?’

  Tilly nodded.

  ‘Knowing where you’re starting from is always a good … well, a good start.’

  ‘Begin at the beginning,’ Orlando said.

  ‘And go on till you come to the end: then stop,’ Tilly said, completing the quote from Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland.

  As the four of them left the bookshop, none of them heard the bookseller who picked up the phone as soon as the door had closed behind them.

  ‘Yes,’ she said into the receiver. ‘They’ve just gone. They’re going to the Library of Congress. They said something about a map.’

  he four of them grabbed a taxi – or a cab, as Orlando called it – from outside the shop and drove through the busy streets up towards the Capitol.

  Orlando was squished in the back seat with Tilly and Oskar as Jorge made sure the taxi driver parked in the most convenient spot for them to get to the library, which was just behind the beautiful white domed building where American laws were made and debated.

  ‘So what exactly is the plan?’ Orlando asked as they walked up the hill from the road they’d been dropped off at. ‘Tilly, your mom told us a bit about what was going on, but when she called it was all very rushed, and we just kind of took a leap of faith and decided to help.’

  ‘Whatever those people are doing at your Underlibrary, it’s having an effect here too,’ Jorge added. ‘None of the books that have their Source Editions in London – which is a lot of them – can be bookwandered into by anyone.’

  ‘We figured,’ Oskar said. ‘But, if that’s the case, then why aren’t you doing anything about it at your Underlibrary?’ He looked at Jorge.

  ‘I’m a regular librarian,’ Jorge said. ‘I don’t work at the American Underlibrary. I work here at the above-ground, non-bookwanderer Library of Congress.’

  ‘And, from what we know, our Underlibrary has always struggled with the control that the British Underlibrary exerts over the Sources,’ Orlando said. ‘Dealing with the ramifications of decisions made in London is a normal part of being a bookwanderer here.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Tilly, feeling embarrassed. ‘But this is much worse than usual, isn’t it?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ Orlando said. ‘We may be used to dealing with the butterfly effects of the British Underlibrary, but this is having a far wider impact than usual. Of course, we can still bookwander into any Source Editions kept here in America, but it’s only through luck that we can still bookwander into Shakespeare, and a few others where Sources have been lost or forgotten. And we shouldn’t have to rely on that to be able to bookwander; it’s a loophole, not a solution.’

  ‘And you’re sure people can’t make new Source Editions?’ Tilly asked.

  ‘No,’ Jorge said. ‘It’s a definite flaw in the system. I don’t think it was thought through very well at all, if you ask me. It’s such a risk – imagine if someone found the Shakespeare ones and destroyed them, on purpose or by accident! They’d just vanish from history. I dread to think what would happen to the world if Shakespeare’s plays had never existed.’

  ‘So, that’s what happens if a Source Edition is destroyed?’ Oskar asked, eyes wide. ‘They’re just … gone forever? We saw a book that … that … I can’t remember his name, but we saw a Source Edition get burned up and … What was his name, Tilly? Was that a Source Edition?’

  ‘I don’t remember,’ Tilly said. ‘It can’t have been that important.’ She shrugged; she could remember a book being burned, sort of, but the memory was hazy, as though it had happened a long time ago.

  ‘Of course, if whatever Oskar is talking about was a Source, you wouldn’t know if it was important or not,’ Jorge said as they walked up to the library entrance. ‘If it’s gone, it’s gone for good. The book no longer exists and never existed. I don’t really know how it works; maybe you’d feel something if a Source that meant a lot to you was destroyed, but I hope I never find out.’

  ‘Jorge and I met because of a book,’ Orlando said. ‘Jorge came to an event at the store where I was interviewing an author about their novel. I guess if that book was destroyed then we’d never have met. What a horrible idea.’ He shuddered at the thought.

  ‘All the more reason to focus,’ Jorge s
aid, squeezing Orlando’s hand reassuringly. ‘Now, where do we start, Tilly?’

  Tilly opened her backpack and pulled out the slim book that one of the librarians had given to her at the French Underlibrary. Tucked inside was a small, crumpled bit of paper with a string of numbers and letters printed on it. This, she had been told, was a classmark – a signpost to help you find the right book in a library. Tilly felt a little bit embarrassed handing it over as though it were the key to everything, but Jorge took it reverently in his hand and studied the numbers.

  ‘So, this should be in the stacks in the Main Reading Room,’ he said. ‘The last few letters are smudged, but we can get pretty close with this, at least to the right shelf, I would have thought, and hopefully the book will become obvious. We don’t usually allow children under sixteen in, so I’m going to say I’m giving you a tour and let’s hope the security guard is in a good mood.’

  The Library of Congress was part of a collection of grand old white buildings that included the Capitol. It was much older than the current British Library and they had to go through all sorts of security scans and bag searches to even get into the building. The main hall looked like an Escher drawing with stairs and pillars stretching out as far as the eye could see, all in pale stone, with autumnal-coloured tiles on the floor.

  Jorge led them from the grand entrance hall through some decidedly less grand yellow-painted corridors, then to the door to the Main Reading Room. It was one of the most beautiful rooms Tilly had ever seen: a huge, domed ceiling towered over the red-and-gilt walls, the circular space was lined with dark wooden bookcases over two floors, and statues looked down on them from brightly lit arches. In the middle of the room was a large, raised issue desk, similar to the one in the main hall at the British Underlibrary, and circles of desks radiated out from it, full of people typing on laptops or studying piles of books and manuscripts.

  Despite the size of the room and the number of people in it, it was almost silent apart from the occasional whisper from the librarians helping people, and the rustle of turning pages. Orlando and Jorge stood back to let Tilly and Oskar absorb it all.