Pages and Co 3: Tilly and the Map of Stories

by Anna James

  ‘Is it just me, or can you smell something burning?’

  skar quickly realised the same thing and skidded to a stop.

  ‘The library’s on fire!’ he yelled back at them.

  ‘Didn’t you say that it’s basically famous for burning down?’ Tilly said to Jorge, who nodded.

  ‘We maybe should’ve seen this one coming,’ he said.

  Smoke was starting to billow through the hall and a visible line of fire was edging across the shelves, the dry scrolls all erupting into flames, passing it on to the other scrolls they were piled up and on and under so quickly that it was hard to keep track of where the edge of the fire was, or where it was heading next.

  ‘We need to leave, Tilly. Get the book ready – I’ll go grab Oskar,’ Orlando said.

  ‘Guys! Guys!’ Oskar shouted from across the hall.

  ‘Oskar, come away from the fire!!” Orlando yelled, running towards him.

  ‘No, look!’ Oskar said, pulling his arm out of Orlando’s grip and gesturing in front of him. ‘There, beyond the fire.’

  Orlando squinted, trying to make out what Oskar was pointing at.

  ‘I can’t see anything,’ he said, the smoke stinging his eyes.

  ‘There’s a door,’ Oskar said, coughing as the smoke continued to encroach on them.

  ‘It could be any door,’ Orlando said. ‘It’s not worth the risk – we need to get into the book Tilly has.’

  ‘But look!’ Oskar said, increasingly frustrated, pointing again as Tilly and Jorge ran up to join them, their tops pulled up round their mouths to try to stop them from breathing in the smoke.

  And there, glinting in the firelight, was the unmistakable golden labyrinth that had been printed on the book that had led them here.

  ‘But how do we get to it!’ Tilly said in despair. ‘We can’t walk through the fire. It’s real!’

  ‘We have to go back,’ Orlando said firmly, tugging Tilly and Oskar away from the growing flames. ‘We can’t get to it this way and I will not be calling up Bea to tell her you died in a fire in a library in Ancient Egypt! We need to get away from the flames and go back, and then we can try again.’

  ‘What happens if it doesn’t work again?’ Tilly said.

  ‘We’re leaving,’ Orlando said. ‘Now read us out, Tilly!’

  She turned to the last page of the slim book and started to read, but, when she got to the very last word, nothing happened.

  ‘It’s not working!’ she said, panicking.

  ‘Try again!’ Jorge coughed, keeping a tight hold on everyone.

  She read again, starting a bit further back as if a longer run-up might help, but again – nothing. The burning library stayed solidly around them, viciously hot. She double-checked it was definitely the last page, and that there wasn’t anything that had been ripped out, and held the book up helplessly to the others to show there was nothing else.

  ‘We need to get out of the building then!’ Orlando shouted. ‘And we can work out how to get out of the book once we’re safe.’

  They ran back towards the hall they’d first entered, which had plenty of archways that led outside, but an almighty rumbling started to echo around them and suddenly the shelves began to collapse, burning scrolls and fiery embers flung into the air, raining down on the four bookwanderers.

  Orlando and Jorge instinctively leaned over Tilly and Oskar, trying to shield them from the worst of the burning papyrus. But, just as the four of them, holding tightly on to each other, braced for the impact, a familiar smell caught in the back of Tilly’s throat. It wasn’t charred paper and ash, but toasting marshmallows. She opened her eyes to see the burning shelves click-clacking down underneath them to reveal the Library of Congress with its neatly bound books and air conditioning. The four of them were in a huddle on the floor, breathing heavily and covered with smudges of soot and ash.

  Orlando couldn’t help but burst out laughing in sheer relief, and everyone in the room immediately turned to glare at them.

  ‘There!’ a voice shouted and, before they knew what was happening, a group of five people in uniforms and riot gear charged towards them across the Main Reading Room.

  ho are they?’ Orlando said to Jorge, quickly pushing Tilly and Oskar behind him.

  ‘I’ve no idea,’ Jorge said. ‘I’ve never seen people dressed like that at the library before. It’s just out of the frying pan into the fire.’

  ‘Actually, it would be the other way round,’ Oskar piped up from behind the two men. ‘Because we’ve just come from a literal fire, making this the frying pan.’

  ‘Thanks for that,’ Tilly said sarcastically.

  ‘You’re welcome,’ Oskar said, with a thumbs up.

  The guards ran over and quickly surrounded them. The librarians, meanwhile, were ushering the other users of the Main Reading Room out, and soon it was just them left.

  One guard stepped forward and lifted the visor on her helmet. ‘You’re wanted downstairs,’ she said.

  ‘Downstairs?’ Jorge repeated, confused. ‘Who are you?’

  ‘We report to the Head Librarian of the American Underlibrary, and he has some questions for you,’ the woman said. ‘Follow me.’

  She gestured for some of the guards to fall in behind them to make sure no one made a run for it, and the group walked through the now-empty Reading Room and into the corridor, where people were standing silently, craning their necks to see who had caused such a reaction. They were clearly surprised to watch two children being escorted out of the room.

  ‘Do you still have the book?’ Orlando said under his breath to Tilly as they walked. She nodded and gestured to her pocket.

  ‘Good,’ whispered Orlando. ‘Keep it ready.’

  They were marched along until they reached a door marked ‘Supply Closet’. Tilly thought of the entrance to the British Underlibrary, which was hidden in a locked area and down a seemingly out-of-order lift, and so wasn’t at all surprised that they initially walked into an actual cleaning-supply cupboard, piled with cleaning products. The leader of the guards slid away a metal trolley full of hand towels to reveal a door. Behind that was a lift, much like the one at the British Underlibrary, all shiny wood and copper detailing.

  ‘The blond guy goes with the girl,’ the leader barked. ‘And the boy with the other one.’ She pushed Tilly and Orlando into the lift with two guards and waited behind with Oskar and Jorge. It was silent in the lift down, and Tilly felt terrified, until Orlando’s warm hand found hers and gave it a squeeze.

  ‘Try to stay calm,’ Orlando said quietly. ‘Just pay attention to me, okay?’ Orlando seemed to have something in mind, which made Tilly feel a little calmer, but she had no idea how he could possibly get them all of out of this safely.

  The lift juddered to a stop and the doors pinged open, letting them out into a broad, carpeted corridor with statues of grumpy-looking men dotted along the sides. Orlando and Tilly followed the two guards into a circular room hung with velvet drapes. The logo of the American Underlibrary – an oak tree in the centre of an open book – was woven into the carpet, and a huge wooden desk stood opposite them. Behind it sat a stony-faced black man with salt-and-pepper hair, wearing an immaculate suit. Two other men in suits stood behind him.

  The man behind the desk didn’t stand up, or speak – just watched them walk towards him. A few moments later, Jorge and Oskar joined them. The guards clicked their heels, saluted and left the room.

  ‘Welcome to the American Underlibrary,’ the man said. ‘My name is Jacob Johnson, and I am the Librarian here. I apologise for the rather abrupt manner of your arrival, but I have been given intelligence that informs me you were engaging in covert operations here in the Library of Congress.’

  ‘No!’ Tilly said. ‘I promise we weren’t. Or rather we were – but we’re not hiding it from you! We just can’t have our Librarian find out – he’s the one that’s stopping everyone from bookwandering – we’re trying to stop him!’

  ‘That makes eve
rything much clearer, I thank you,’ Jacob said, nodding his head briskly.

  ‘Oh,’ said Tilly. ‘Um, good.’

  ‘Yes,’ continued Jacob. ‘I’m glad to hear from your own mouths that you are working in opposition to Melville. He did warn me that you might try to lie about your purpose.’

  ‘He … he warned you?’ Oskar repeated, confused.

  ‘Why, yes,’ Jacob said. ‘I spoke to him on the telephone only a few hours ago – after we learned you were on your way here. Sadly, we weren’t fast enough to intercept you before you left the bookstore, but luckily you came straight here. And now I have the great pleasure of informing my friend and colleague in London that I have you in my custody.’

  ‘Your friend?’ Tilly said, a horrible, icy feeling taking over her whole body.

  ‘Of course,’ Jacob said. ‘We’ve been working together for a while now. I think you’ll find we’re both most satisfied with the results so far.’

  here was a moment of awful silence as the four of them digested what Jacob had just told them.

  ‘You’re … working together?’ Tilly managed to stammer.

  ‘We have always been great allies of the British Underlibrary,’ Jacob said calmly.

  ‘But … what they’re doing there stops bookwanderers here from being able to bookwander into all kinds of books!’ Oskar said, outraged.

  ‘I assure you, I understand that,’ replied Jacob. ‘They asked for my blessing on the decision before they bound the books. For now, American bookwanderers are able to travel into the books that are held here, and I watch the results of Mr and Ms Underwood’s grand experiment with interest.’

  ‘But what’s in it for you?’ Oskar asked coldly.

  ‘I realise it’s difficult for children to understand complex issues such as these,’ Jacob said, and Orlando and Jorge had to put their hands on Tilly and Oskar’s shoulders to stop them from exploding in anger. ‘But,’ Jacob went on, ‘what the Underwoods are attempting to do is noble indeed, and in the service of all bookwanderers.’

  ‘What lies have they told you?’ Orlando said, his voice full of barely suppressed rage.

  ‘Do not presume to think I’m naive, or have been hoodwinked,’ Jacob said. ‘I have made it very clear to them that my support is not a blank cheque, but for now I’m a willing partner in their endeavour. And what I have been promised, in return for my support and guidance as they explore the new frontiers of book magic, is not your business – and it is arrogance indeed to suggest otherwise.’

  ‘But how did you know we were going to be here?’ Jorge asked.

  ‘We have such sweet and helpful friends in all quarters,’ Jacob smiled. ‘Including at your lovely bookstore, Shakespeare’s Sisters.’

  Orlando turned very pale. ‘Someone at the store told you we were coming?’ he whispered. ‘Who?’

  ‘I shall let you talk to your co-workers yourself,’ Jacob said. ‘For now, I imagine you’ll want their aid running the store while you are indisposed.’

  ‘Indisposed?’ repeated Jorge.

  ‘Oh, none of you are going anywhere. You must understand: my friends are keen to know what young Ms Pages is up to, and what has called her over to this side of the world,’ Jacob said. ‘Something I’m interested to know myself.’ He paused as if waiting for them to voluntarily explain their whole plan.

  Tilly felt Orlando take a step closer to her and find her hand. He squeezed it gently, and she looked up at him questioningly.

  ‘Jorge, why don’t you tell Mr Johnson more about what we were doing,’ he said.

  Jorge looked utterly baffled, but evidently trusted Orlando enough to run with whatever he was planning, and so started to bluster about research and libraries and bookwandering. It wasn’t very convincing, but it provided just enough time for Orlando to speak to Tilly.

  ‘You and Oskar need to go,’ he said, so quietly that Tilly was worried she’d misunderstand what he was trying to tell her. ‘Do you think you can find your way back to that door before the fire spreads?’ he whispered.

  Tilly nodded, understanding what he was suggesting. She reached out her other hand to grab Oskar as subtly as she could.

  Jacob either didn’t notice or didn’t care, but Oskar immediately realised that she was trying to communicate with him.

  ‘Trust your instincts,’ Orlando whispered. ‘We’ll take care of things here. NOW!’

  And with that final yell he pushed Tilly and Oskar behind him and spread his arms wide. Tilly was ready and, before Jacob’s guards were out from behind the desk, she had the right page open and was reading aloud the sentence to take them back to the Library of Alexandria. She just caught sight of Orlando restraining the two guards who were trying to grab them before the walls slid down around them and they were back in the great pale hall, the sun only just beginning to set again, and this time they knew exactly where they needed to go.

  For a beat, the two of them just stood, staring at each other, breathing heavily.

  ‘I …’ Tilly started, feeling like she was in shock.

  ‘I know,’ said Oskar. ‘We can talk about it later. Right now, we need to find that door before the fire starts, because we do not want to pop back up in the Underlibrary.’

  ‘Are Orlando and Jorge going to be okay?’ Tilly said.

  ‘Yeah,’ Oskar said, although he didn’t sound very convinced. ‘I’m sure they can look after themselves, and they wanted us to keep going, right? And they don’t know how to find the Archivists – because we don’t know – so they can’t give that away. As soon as we’re out of here, we can call your mum and tell her what’s happened. Hopefully, she’ll have some other friends who can check in on them or something. But, Tilly, we really need to go now. There’s no point in Orlando and Jorge sacrificing themselves for us to go and waste what they’ve done.’

  Tilly nodded and steeled herself. ‘It was this way,’ she said, and the two of them ran through great halls of scrolls, bathed in deepening twilight shadows.

  As they got to the door, they could start to smell the faint tang of acrid smoke, but they couldn’t yet see it, or any flames. The door was plain and small, covered in peeling paint in a similar dark blue to the book, and with the same golden labyrinth painted on it. There were no other markings, no signs or instructions, just a keyhole.

  ‘What were you saying about the key being a red herring?’ Oskar grinned at her as Tilly fished in her backpack to pull out the large brass key from The Secret Garden.

  She slotted it neatly into the keyhole, which turned with a satisfying click as the door mechanism was released.

  She pushed gently, and they stepped through the door into darkness, leaving the Great Library of Alexandria

  herever they were, it was thankfully not back at the Library of Congress with Jacob Johnson. It took a few seconds for Tilly’s and Oskar’s eyes to adjust to the strange light and make out their surroundings. It seemed to be a forest, except everything was completely drained of colour, as though they’d stepped into a black-and-white film.

  ‘Are we outside?’ Tilly asked uncertainly.

  ‘I … I’m not sure,’ said Oskar quietly. Even though there was no sight or sound of anyone else, there was an uneasy feeling in the air, as though they were somewhere they weren’t supposed to be. It was dark above their heads, but there was no moon or stars, only emptiness.

  ‘Are we back in A Midsummer Night’s Dream?’ Tilly asked, and indeed the clearing they were standing in did look remarkably like the glade that they had only recently visited, only a completely unsaturated one, all blacks and white and greys and silence. A silence that was even deeper than just the mere absence of sound: it was a heavy, insistent silence, pushing down on them.

  ‘Is that sky?’ Tilly said, craning her neck to stare up into the vast blackness over their heads.

  Oskar waved his hands over his head as though seeing if he might come into contact with some invisible ceiling. The strange half-light seemed to be emanating from the fo
rest itself, and they could see for at least six metres or so all around.

  ‘The trees are … glowing?’ Oskar said, walking warily towards one and reaching out a tentative finger to feel it. ‘Oh!’ he gasped in amazement. ‘It’s made out of paper!’

  Tilly carefully touched the trunk to find that he was right. It was like the most incredibly realistic paper model of a tree, from its gnarled and knotted bark to its delicate, twisted branches and the translucent leaves above their heads. Everything they could see was made from white paper with black writing on it, the thickness and amount of which gave shade and shape to the forest.

  Tilly bent down to touch the grass and it too was made of paper – the softest tissue paper she had ever felt – and the flowers clustered round the base of the trees were made of dainty paper petals.

  ‘Are we in a book?’ Oskar asked in awe. ‘Or did someone make this?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Tilly said in wonderment. ‘It would take a lifetime to create something like this, surely?’

  ‘It must be a book,’ Oskar said. ‘Even though we didn’t bookwander in the proper way. It’s like we used the back door.’

  ‘A story within a story,’ Tilly said. ‘This must be where the Archivists are. Hidden in layers of stories. I just don’t understand why they’re hiding.’

  ‘Maybe they’re not,’ Oskar suggested. ‘Maybe they’re lost.’

  ‘So how do we find them?’

  ‘We keep wandering?’

  There didn’t seem to be anything else for it so they set off in a random direction, the paper grass crunching softly underneath their feet as they walked, the strange gleam remaining constant until they saw a golden light through the trees.

  This, it turned out, was coming from a lamppost glowing in the middle of a clearing. It was made of paper, but somehow it wasn’t burning up, the paper candle just charring the paper at the top without spreading.

  ‘How strange,’ Tilly said. ‘But something about it is so familiar. I feel like when you can’t quite remember the right word for something, but it’s on the tip of your tongue. As if I’ve read this book, but years and years ago.’