Pages and Co 3: Tilly and the Map of Stories

by Anna James

  ‘Is the American Underlibrary beneath here?’ Tilly whispered to Jorge.

  ‘Some of it is,’ he replied quietly. ‘Our small Source Library is here, but most of the actual work in terms of bookwanderers and keeping track of libraries and bookstores happens at our New York branch – underneath the New York Public Library.’

  ‘Have you ever been?’ Oskar asked.

  Jorge shook his head. ‘I may be a bookwanderer, but I’m only moonlighting as a literary mystery solver. I’m useful to this mission because of my knowledge of classmarks, not magic. Although I’d say they’re much the same thing, right? Sorry, sorry, just a little librarian joke,’ he said. ‘The point is that I don’t usually get involved in all the politics – but these are exceptional circumstances.’

  The four of them approached a desk where a librarian and a security guard were stationed, and Jorge spoke quietly to them, showing his ID badge and pointing back at the group. The guard shrugged his agreement, the librarian smiled, and Jorge turned back and gave them a thumbs up.

  ‘Sorry to be a cliché,’ he said as they went in, ‘but please, do try and be quiet. It is a library.’

  Orlando, Tilly and Oskar followed Jorge through the rings of workstations and chairs and past the large raised desk where a librarian looked imperiously down at them as they went by. They headed to the opposite side of the room and passed under one of the smaller archways that broke up the walls of bookshelves. Out of the grandeur of the main room were smaller rows of shelves linked with arched passageways, and metal staircases up to the second level. Tilly felt the same sense of awe and wonder that came over her when she had first visited the British Underlibrary. She reminded herself that all libraries held more magic than just bookwandering.

  As they walked, Jorge kept checking numbers on the ends of shelves, and on the spines of books.

  ‘Okay,’ he whispered, ‘this classmark takes us to ancient literary history, but there’s a fair few books it could be, considering we don’t know the last couple of letters, which might give us the author’s surname, so it’s difficult to know where to even …’

  ‘What about this one?’ Oskar said, pointing at a thin navy-blue book with a small gold labyrinth embossed on its spine.

  skar slid the book off the shelf. It was clothbound, with no writing on the spine or covers, just another labyrinth in gold marked on the front. The pages were crinkled, as though the book had been dropped in the bath and dried out on a radiator. The first page just said ‘The Library at Alexandria’, with no author listed.

  ‘Oh,’ Jorge said in surprise. ‘I must admit, I thought it would be harder than that. Are you sure it’s right? Tilly?’

  ‘Well, a picture of a maze has to be a good sign, yes? I mean, it sort of fits with the whole map thing.’

  ‘Do you mind if I take a look?’ Jorge asked, and Oskar passed him the book. He flicked it open with a careful librarian’s touch and looked through the first pages with a sharp librarian’s eye. He frowned. ‘There’s no bibliographic data here – no date of printing, no publisher, nothing you’d usually expect to find. Although we have all sorts here from before that was common practice. More concerning is that it’s not supposed to be here.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Tilly asked. ‘Someone’s put it back in the wrong place?’

  ‘No, I mean it shouldn’t be here at all,’ Jorge said, flicking through the whole book.

  ‘But I thought this was a library,’ Oskar said, confused.

  ‘It is,’ Jorge said. ‘But libraries aren’t just random piles of books. There’s a reason the items in a library are called a collection. Even though we’re the second biggest library in the world – after your British Library – there’s still care and thought put into every book or manuscript or letter that’s kept here. And there’s a record of everything. This book doesn’t have any classmark; it doesn’t have a stamp showing it’s part of our collection, or a borrowing record; it doesn’t have anything to show that it’s officially here. It’s either ended up here by accident, or it’s been hidden here on purpose.’

  ‘Considering we were pointed exactly to this spot, I’m assuming it’s the latter,’ Orlando said too loudly, his voice echoing through the stacks. They got a glare from someone working on a desk a few metres from them. ‘Sorry,’ he whispered, holding up a palm in apology.

  ‘Anyway,’ Oskar whispered, ‘it’s great that we’ve found it and all, but what do we do next?’

  The three of them looked at Tilly and she swallowed nervously. She held her hand out for the book, hoping the answer would present itself. She hadn’t been expecting a big flashing sign inside the library to tell her what to do, but she had assumed if this hunch was right, then the next steps would follow on easily.

  ‘Do we have to read it?’ she said. ‘Can we take it home with us?’

  ‘Probably,’ Jorge said. ‘If it’s not an official item in the library’s collection, then we shouldn’t be stopped.’

  ‘But do we have time?’ Orlando asked.

  ‘Do you know where the Library of Alexandria is?’ Tilly asked.

  ‘It’s not where, it’s when that’s the question,’ Jorge said. ‘It was a library in Ancient Egypt that was accidentally burned down when Julius Caesar set fire to some ships in the nearby harbour and it spread to the library.’

  ‘So, are we supposed to bookwander there?’ Tilly asked nervously. ‘If that’s what this book is about?’

  ‘Do they want us to stop the fire?’ suggested Oskar.

  ‘That wouldn’t be possible,’ Orlando said. ‘Not in any real sense. If you bookwander inside a non-fiction book, you’re not really travelling to that time or place – you’re still just going into that particular book, that writer’s version of events, their ideas. We can’t actually travel in time, or change history, which is probably for the best, all things considered. What do you want to do, Tilly?’

  Tilly had seen Orlando and Jorge exchange an anxious glance when they realised that she didn’t have a fully formed plan, and had no more idea what to do with the book than they did. Tilly wondered, not for the first time, what her mum had told them about how much she knew, and whether there might have been some slight exaggeration along the way.

  ‘Shall we … just bookwander inside it then?’ Tilly said, trying to sound confident, and not sure what else they were supposed to try.

  ‘Sure,’ Orlando said hesitantly. ‘Do you want to start at the beginning?’

  ‘We start here,’ Oskar said, pointing at a page as Tilly flicked through.

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘Because there’s another shiny maze thing,’ Oskar said. ‘What does it say underneath it?’

  ‘Many wanderers found what they were looking for at the Great Library of Alexandria,’ Jorge read over Tilly’s shoulder. ‘It was a place where questions were asked and answered, stories started and ended.’

  ‘That seems pretty clear to me,’ Oskar said enthusiastically.

  ‘Shall we?’ said Orlando, offering an arm to Tilly with a grin.

  The four of them formed a small circle, linking arms.

  ‘Tilly, I reckon you should do the honours,’ Oskar said. ‘It seems like it doesn’t hurt to have the person with the special magical powers do it.’

  Tilly felt her cheeks flush in embarrassment, but couldn’t argue with his logic, considering her half-fictional nature had got them out of a few scrapes before. Albeit mainly ones that it had got them into in the first place.

  ‘So, I’ll just start reading from here?’ she said quietly. ‘Just after that line about stories starting and ending?’

  ‘Seems sensible,’ Orlando said. ‘Or as sensible as any other option. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.’

  Oskar gave her a quick thumbs up and a nod.

  ‘And everyone stays together once we’re in there,’ added Jorge, clearly nervous about what they might find. ‘So we can get out quickly if we need to.’

  Tilly nodded, thought o
f her family back home and started to read.

  ‘The Library at Alexandria was designed as a home for the great thinkers and scholars of the day. They were able to live and work with an unprecedented amount of freedom for the time …’

  he beautiful wooden shelves of the Main Reading Room folded themselves down, just as usual, and there was the familiar smell of toasted marshmallows and the slight lurch in her stomach that Tilly barely noticed any more.

  ‘It’s just normal bookwandering,’ Oskar said, his voice caught between relief and disappointment.

  ‘So far,’ Jorge said carefully.

  The four of them were standing in a beautiful building of pale stone. The air was hot and dry and smelled of the sea. Towering columns held up the ceiling, and through large windows was a great swathe of pink-tinged sky as the sun set over a wide harbour full of majestic white-sailed ships. There was no one in view, but the sounds of people talking and working and moving about echoed through the space.

  Tilly felt a layer of contentment settle over the top of her worry as the warmth of the air and the background bustle of industry soothed her. The hall was full of high wooden shelves all packed with piles and piles of scrolls, and it was hard to argue that it felt like the sort of place where a secretive group of bookwanderers might choose to hide.

  The scrolls were all different sizes and heaped up in messy stacks that were clearly making Jorge’s librarian’s fingers itch. The papers were wrapped round long wooden sticks and most of them had small tags tied to them to help identify them.

  ‘What are they made of?’ Oskar asked, touching the edge of the closest scroll. ‘It’s not regular paper.’

  ‘Paper has only just been invented,’ Jorge explained. ‘This is papyrus – it’s made out of a kind of reed from Egypt and, although it’s pretty delicate, it was the best thing for writing on until paper was used more widely. People used clay tablets sometimes too – and, of course, everything was written by hand.’

  ‘So the Archivists are here somewhere?’ Oskar asked. ‘Do they have, like, an office or something?’

  ‘I have a feeling that would be way too easy,’ Orlando said. ‘Considering how long it’s been since anyone even claims to have seen or spoken to them, and that most people think they’re not much more than a legend. Honestly, Tilly, until your mom called me, I couldn’t have told you the last time someone even mentioned the Archivists to me. But clearly something or someone pointed us towards the book that brought us here. Your instincts have proved true so far, so what’s your gut telling you?’

  ‘I … don’t know,’ said Tilly hopelessly.

  ‘What about the rest of the clues?’ Oskar encouraged her. ‘Eighty per cent, remember!’

  Tilly nodded, trying to summon the confidence she’d felt when she’d first worked out that they needed to come to the Library of Congress to start the treasure hunt.

  ‘These things are less … conclusive,’ she warned Orlando and Jorge. ‘They’re all things that have just turned up in unusual circumstances, more than clues per se.’

  ‘Well, let’s have a look,’ Orlando said, and Tilly opened up her backpack. She pulled everything out of the main pocket except for the copy of A Midsummer Night’s Dream that Orlando had given to her. Assembled on the stone floor, they did not look especially inspiring.

  ‘Right,’ Tilly said, trying to stay calm. ‘Well, the note got us here, so let’s assume that’s its only purpose for now. It came tucked into this pamphlet-y sort of thing about the history of libraries and, considering we’re in a really old library, I think maybe that was all part of the same clue.’

  ‘So what’s left?’ Orlando asked.

  ‘A key from The Secret Garden, a bag of breadcrumbs from Hansel and Gretel, and a ball of string from a librarian in Paris,’ Oskar said, pointing to each one in turn.

  Tilly tried to ignore the concerned looks on Orlando and Jorge’s faces.

  ‘Is there a connection between how you got them?’ Jorge asked. ‘In any way at all?’

  ‘Not really,’ Tilly said. ‘The thread and the pamphlet were both given to me by a Librarian at the French Underlibrary, which is why I was so sure they were linked. And then the key was left behind after I accidentally pulled the secret garden into my bedroom …’

  ‘Like you did in the store?’ Orlando asked.

  ‘Except it wasn’t trying to suck us in,’ Tilly said. ‘But yes, essentially the same thing. Except the key was left behind when the rest of the garden disappeared. And the breadcrumbs were in a book of fairy tales. That was in Paris too, but aside from the French thing …’ She tailed off.

  ‘Basically, no,’ Oskar supplied. ‘There’s no real connection.’

  ‘Maybe we should think about the French link a bit more?’ Orlando said uncertainly.

  ‘Except … Hang on …’ Tilly said slowly. ‘If classmarks are like maps to help you find the right book … Well, what if these are the signposts?’ she said. ‘Just slightly … unusual ones. The breadcrumbs are how Hansel and Gretel get out of the woods they’re lost in, and the key helps Mary Lennox find her way into the secret garden. They both help characters find their way! So that just leaves the thread.’

  ‘It’s Theseus and the Minotaur!’ Oskar yelped in excitement. ‘Don’t you remember when we did Greek myths at school? Ari … Ari … That princess lady gave him the red thread to help him find his way out of the Minotaur’s …’

  ‘… labyrinth!’ Tilly finished triumphantly.

  ‘You two are a force to be reckoned with when you put your heads together,’ Orlando said, impressed.

  Tilly and Oskar gave each other a high-five.

  ‘So we’re looking for … a labyrinth or a forest or a door?’ Tilly said. ‘A door seems most likely in a library?’

  ‘Shall we split up and go look?’ Orlando said.

  Oskar rolled his eyes. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Even if you haven’t seen any horror films, you should know that’s the cardinal rule. Bad things happen when the heroes don’t stay together.’

  On Oskar’s instruction, the four of them stuck close together as they walked through the huge library. The sun continued to set, casting great slices of pink-and-purple light on to the white stone walls. While the sound of voices never ebbed or died away, they didn’t encounter a single person. A door seemed the most likely option, but they looked for anything that might link to one of the clues – a door or a maze, or another labyrinth symbol – but most of the library was open and unlocked. Great halls connected with archways and walkways, there was nothing hidden away or out of bounds, and the initial excitement about decoding the clues quickly started to fade.

  ‘Oskar,’ Tilly said quietly as they walked. ‘You don’t think the key is a mistake, do you?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Like a red herring in a murder mystery. The other things were all given to me, but the key just got left behind.’

  ‘Tell me again exactly what happened when you found it?’ Oskar said.

  Tilly thought back. ‘I was reading The Secret Garden with my mum in my bedroom and the garden started spilling out of the book, and just growing around us. It was amazing – not like the vines in Shakespeare’s Sisters. I didn’t notice the key straight away. I only saw it in the morning, just sitting on my bedside table.’

  ‘And no character came out of the book with it?’

  ‘No, it’s not like when Anne or Alice visit the bookshop – that happens to all bookwanderers. It’s like the story itself is breaking out of the pages. And it’s not supposed to happen outside the bookshop anyway.’

  ‘As far as I see it, our only option is to just run with what we’ve got,’ Oskar said. ‘And, if it doesn’t work, we’ll try something different. What else can we do?’ He tried to give her an encouraging smile before walking ahead to keep looking for a door.

  ‘I suppose so,’ Tilly said to herself, although she didn’t feel very reassured.

  But Oskar was right about one thin
g – they didn’t have an alternative plan. This library was certainly the path to somewhere, and they just had to hope it led to the Archivists.

  So, without anything else to try, they kept walking. Jorge suggested checking the tags on the scrolls for more of the labyrinth symbols, but there were thousands upon thousands of scrolls and even Jorge couldn’t work out the pattern to how they were stored. Not to mention that the majority of the writing was in languages and alphabets they couldn’t even begin to understand.

  ‘Do you know,’ said Tilly, ‘reading books has given me a very inaccurate view of how much admin there is in adventuring. When did you last read a chapter in a book where people just had to carefully look for something?’

  ‘Well, that’s because it sounds incredibly boring,’ Oskar said. ‘Just like this is. If we were in a film right now, this would all be turned into an inspirational montage.’

  ‘Sadly, we’re not characters in a book or a blockbuster,’ Jorge said. ‘So we have to put the work in.’

  ‘If we were in a book, there’d be some sort of wise old librarian – probably with a cane and a beard – who would turn up and silently and mysteriously point us towards it,’ Orlando said, trying to lighten the mood.

  ‘Or one of us would fall over in a charming sort of way and tread on a foot sensor or something,’ Jorge suggested, smiling at Orlando.

  ‘Or something would start glowing mysteriously right about now,’ Oskar said hopefully, looking around as if he could wish it into existence. ‘Hang on … I actually can see something glowing.’

  They all looked over to where he was pointing and he was right: there was a definite visible on the far wall.

  ‘That way!’ Oskar yelled triumphantly and started to run towards it.

  But Tilly paused, sniffing the air around her. She turned to Orlando and Jorge.