None of the suppliers would speak to her. All of them, coincidentally, had fresh damage to their shops, windows shattered, doors broken down. Alison didn’t push. She rode back to the palace with the silent Elise, fuming and reconsidering her policy on no assassinations. The world would be a better place without Gowan in it. She got out of the carriage without waiting for Elise and snarled at the woman when Elise started to reprimand her. They were nearly out of supplies. The self-inking pens could go on for a few months, until their supplies of ink ran dry, but the paper would run out long before that.
Alison stopped in the middle of the hall. Paper. Of course. Now she just needed to find the right Device, and she was certain there was one somewhere in the palace. She struck out in the direction of Operations. What she needed now was a supply clerk.
Two hours later she returned to the Library, dragging a cart full of heavy paper and a strange-looking Device. Henry was already halfway to the door to meet her before he saw the cart. “What did you do?” he asked.
“Used my brain. Here, you pull this, my arms are tired. Elise refused to pull it on the grounds that she couldn’t defend me if her hands were full. Really, you’d think they’d invent a self-propelled cart.” Under her direction, Henry pulled the cart to the librarians’ desk. Alison lifted the Device onto the desk and grinned at Henry. “We don’t need cards, we just need card paper,” she said. “The Device can be set to cut paper to any dimensions you want. Granted, I was only able to find white and blue paper, so we’ll have to put off doing the author cards, but the apprentices can start cutting and we won’t have to stop work.”
“Alison, that’s a wonderful idea, but I’ve found a way around our problem,” he said. He drew her into the Library and shut the door behind them. “I spoke to Margaret.”
Alison began to protest, but he cut her off, saying, “I know you didn’t want me to, but with the supply situation becoming a real problem, I decided it was time to face it head on.”
“Henry, I told you, nothing good could come of that.”
“You’re wrong, Alison. Margaret is reasonable and we were able to come to a compromise.”
Alison’s heart sank. “What compromise?” she said, trying to sound reasonable herself. Maybe Henry was right. It was worth hearing him out.
“First, Margaret swears she wasn’t behind the attack on Trevers or the vandalism or anything, and I believe her. She only wants what’s best for the Library.”
“Except that her definition of what’s best for the Library is a Scholia-trained Master.”
“From her perspective, yes. And if you’re honest with yourself, you know if you had more training, you’d be even better at this job.”
“That’s true, but I—”
“That’s not all, Alison. Margaret had to admit you’re doing an excellent job here. She doesn’t think you ought to leave. All she wants is for you to have some assistance from a more experienced librarian. A sort of coalition, a union between the government and the Scholia. It would mean a new era of cooperation.”
Alison thought that last bit was Margaret Bindle’s words, but said nothing. “And how does she propose this alliance work?”
Henry looked a little shifty. “Well, the more experienced librarian would take precedence, of course. You’d still be assistant librarian, and you’d have charge of acquisitions, which I know is your real passion.”
“And who would be the Royal Librarian in this scenario?”
He looked even shiftier. “Well, Margaret still has confidence in Gowan—”
“Gowan? The man behind all our problems?”
“We can’t prove that.”
“Henry, he had Trevers nearly beaten to death!”
“But he’ll stop harassing us once he gets what he wants.”
“What us? If I’m assistant librarian, where are you in all of this?”
This time, Henry both looked shifty and wouldn’t meet her eyes. Alison’s despondency turned to anger. “She promised you the robe,” she said.
“She said she saw my ouster wasn’t just. She said I deserved to be back at the Scholia. Alison, believe me, I’m not deserting you. I’ll work to support you behind the scenes.”
Alison’s anger felt like ice, freezing her all the way through. “You want the robe. You’ve always wanted it. All your arguments mean nothing beside that one fact. She bribed you, and you leapt at it. And now you’re trying to convince me to fall in line so you can have what you want.”
“That’s not true.”
“Isn’t it? You know everything you just told me is counter to what I’ve been trying to prevent. How is this a compromise, when I’m the one giving everything up?”
“You’ll still be in the Library. You might even be Royal Librarian someday.”
“Henry, you know damn well Gowan is a vicious bastard who won’t put up with a non-Scholia librarian, even in a subordinate position. If I give in to this plan of the Magistrix’s, he’ll keep harassing me until I quit. I wouldn’t even put it past him to try to have me killed if he can’t get what he wants any other way.”
“That’s a vile accusation.”
“Trevers, Henry. Are you still going to defend Gowan?”
“I did this for you, Alison. If you can’t bend even a little bit—”
“This is not a ‘little bit,’ Henry, this is giving up everything I’ve fought for. I promised the Queen herself I wouldn’t resign. The Magistrix’s promises mean nothing beside that.”
“I never thought you could be so stubborn.”
“Then you don’t know me at all.” Alison flung the Library door open. “Get out. Go tell the Magistrix my answer is emphatically ‘no’. Let’s see if she keeps her promises to you when you’ve failed to get me to fall in line.”
“You’re making a mistake.”
“I’m correcting a mistake. Elise, Mister Catherton is leaving. Perhaps you can show him out.”
Elise approached Henry, who threw up his hands in defeat. “I wish things could have turned out better for us.”
“I wish I’d known what kind of man….” She didn’t want to finish that sentence in front of the whole scriptorium. Henry left the room without looking back.
Alison went to the librarians’ desk and leaned heavily on it, staring blankly at its worn surface. She felt numb. Her anger had drained away, leaving her with only the frozen mask for her protection. She turned around to face the scribes, who weren’t even pretending they hadn’t heard that conversation. “Mister Catherton decided to throw in his lot with the Magistrix,” she said. “He wanted me to give the Library to Gowan. Anyone who thinks that’s a good idea may follow him out.” No one moved. She looked from face to face and saw anger, resolution, and worry, but no fear. The mask melted away. “Good,” she said. “I need to report this to the Queen. You three, start cutting. The rest of you, keep working. I’ll be back in less than an hour. And…thank you for your support.”
With Elise as her watchful shadow, Alison went to the Queen’s offices and found she was in a meeting with some of her councilors. Alison decided not to disturb her. She might be convincing the fence-sitters to choose her side. She stood outside the office, feeling despondency creep over her. Just one more person who’d betrayed her. She had thought Henry an ally, thought he might become more than that. She was frozen to the core, unable even to cry out the rage and sorrow filling her chest. Remember what Father said, she told herself, that you aren’t meant to be alone. She no longer believed it. She looked sideways at Elise, who made a better statue than Anthony ever dreamed of being.
She was halfway down the hall to Anthony’s office before her conscious brain could stop her. Then she stood, unmoving, in the hallway while people dodged her, some of them giving her dirty looks. He can tell Zara, and I won’t be late for my meeting, she thought. She refused to listen to the quieter thought that said You have to tell someone or it will tear you apart. If she needed a confidant, which she didn’t, he’d be the last person
she would choose. She knocked on his door, and heard a muffled invitation to enter.
Anthony had his head down over the inevitable paperwork, which Alison thought had increased since the first time she’d been in here. “Harriet, tell me you didn’t—oh,” he said, finally looking up and seeing her. “Do you need something?”
“Henry Catherton just went over to the Magistrix’s side,” she said, and found to her embarrassment she was trying to shed tears after all. “He wanted me to give up the Library to be Gowan’s assistant librarian.”
He grimaced. “Sit down,” he said. “Just move that stack anywhere. Tell me what happened.”
She described the entire encounter, managing not to cry tears of anger. “The Magistrix is never going to keep that promise to him,” she said. “That makes me happy.”
Anthony nodded. “What are you going to do? It sounds like you need an assistant.”
“Yes, and where am I supposed to get another ex-Scholia Master? Come to that, why would I want one, since they’re apparently so easily suborned?”
“Maybe you need someone who can be trained from the ground up. I don’t want to be insulting, but from what I’ve heard from you it’s not as complicated as the Scholia makes it sound.”
“I don’t know if I have the skill to train someone. I’m barely trained myself.”
“You know what Zara would say if she heard you talking like that.”
“Not exactly, but it would involve the kind of praise you can’t believe you deserve.”
“Precisely.” Anthony clasped his hands in front of him and said, offhandedly, “I heard you and Catherton were…close.”
“Not as close as we could have been.” The tears threatened to come back, and this time they were tears of pain and betrayal. “I’m glad we weren’t. I can’t imagine how I would have felt if our relationship had been more serious when he betrayed me.”
The words had left her mouth before she remembered whom she was talking to. Anthony ducked his head and stared at his hands. Alison felt a surprising rush of guilt. “I’m sorry,” she said.
“Why should you be sorry?”
She didn’t know what to say. For the first time, she remembered that night not with shame or anger but with regret. Regret that he hadn’t been the man she’d thought he was. “I don’t know,” she said.
Anthony raised his head. “I never really apologized to you,” he said in a quiet voice.
She blanched. “I didn’t—you don’t have to—”
“I was sorry then because I would have done anything to make you stay,” he said, with a frankness that made her face go blotchy with embarrassment at the memory. “I should have apologized for what I did to you. I treated you like an object instead of a person, and you deserved better. I am truly sorry for that shameful wager, Countess.”
There was nothing of the statue about him now. Alison had to look away from the sincerity in those blue eyes. “I accept your apology,” she managed.
“Thank you,” he said. “I would like…I hope we can be friends, someday.”
“I—maybe. Someday. I don’t know,” Alison said. “Will you excuse me? I should get back to the Library.”
“Of course. And…thank you for coming to me with this. I’ll make sure Zara knows.” He lowered his head and went back to his paperwork. Alison rose and left without looking back.
She walked through the halls quickly enough that even long-legged Elise had trouble keeping up with her. Had she really just forgiven him for wagering on her virtue? It was true, he’d been stupid and juvenile to make that wager, but if he’d confessed it to her himself—if, for example, the night they’d spoken so frankly in the carriage, he’d said I’ve done something stupid, and I regret it more than I can say, would she have forgiven him for it? Or even if he’d told her the first time he’d kissed her? To her surprise, she realized the answer was Yes. Yes, she would have been angry and hurt and humiliated, but a little honesty on his part would have done wonders for helping her move past that first reaction. Now she examined her heart and discovered she no longer bore him any malice for that careless, thoughtless act. The realization was a surprise to her.
But that was never the problem, was it? her inner voice taunted her. He cared more about not being ridiculed than he did about doing the right thing. Alison stopped in the middle of the hall and rocked a little when Elise bumped into her. It didn’t matter. They might become friends, someday, might discover that their common interests could overcome their tainted history, but she could never forgive him for that. And I don’t want to, she told herself, resuming her rapid pace and ignoring Elise’s grunt of annoyance. I don’t want to love anyone, and to hell with what I told Father. I have the Library, and that’s enough for me.
The Library was as she’d left it. She sat behind the desk and watched the scribble of scribes go through stacks of cards, observed the apprentices working the Device, thought about what Anthony had said—the part before he apologized. “Danica,” she called, and the young woman looked up from her work. “Come with me, please.”
Inside the Library, the door safely shut, Alison said, “How many years were you at the Scholia?”
“Three, milady.”
“I have a job opening. Assistant librarian. It’s yours if you want it.”
Danica’s eyes and mouth opened wide. “Milady, I’m not qualified.”
“You know, Danica, I’m starting to notice the qualified people don’t care for this Library nearly as much as they care for their own comfort and prestige. I don’t care that you’re not qualified. You can learn alongside me. What do you say?”
Danica grinned. “I say ‘yes.’”
Chapter Twenty-Six
The upcoming vote weighed on Alison like a lump of lead in her stomach, cold and unmovable, so she tried to ignore it by burying herself in work. There was certainly enough of it. Mysterious reports had begun appearing on her desk, reports on Commerce’s activities with regard to the arts that had to have come from an inside source, and Alison was so grateful to have something on which to focus her efforts she didn’t try to discover that person’s identity. Their contents made her furious. What Commerce had done was only two steps from being outright extortion, but Lestrange had covered his tracks well enough that there was no way to prove his actions had been anything but completely legal. Alison would have rejoiced to find evidence of criminality that would get Lestrange removed from the Council, but she had to settle for being happy to finally know from which direction Commerce’s next attack might come.
Where Gowan’s next attack might come from was impossible to guess. Alison’s suppliers still refused to deal with her, and although there had been no further assaults, Alison insisted the scribes and apprentices stay housed within the palace. It infuriated her to be so vulnerable, but she had no other recourse. Henry didn’t return, for which she was grateful; nothing he could do or say would restore her faith in him, and she didn’t want to endure another confrontation. She heard nothing from Anthony, and Zara didn’t summon her. It all left her isolated enough that she could pretend there would be no vote, that her position in the Library was not in danger. She made lists, and scoured the city for supplies, and spent her evenings reading, and walked through the Library every night before she slept, letting her anxieties drain out of her into the stones.
Three days before the vote, she went to Waxwold Theater to speak to Doyle. It was a cold, rainy day better suited to winter than spring, and the gray, listless sunlight made Alison feel cold despite the warm cloak she wrapped closely around herself. Elise seemed not to be affected by the cold, though she wore a sleeveless shirt and neither cloak nor coat. She might as well be a Device for all she reacted to her environment, though Alison was sure even a Device would have trouble functioning on a day like this one.
At the theater, a shivering and wet young man stood on a ladder, putting up a new marquee sign. Alison ducked around him and into the theater, where she nearly ran into Doyle coming
the other way. “Allie, what are you doing out on a day like this?” he said, taking her cloak and making a face at how wet it was. “I half expect to see dogs poling themselves around on rafts in the gutters.”
“I didn’t realize how bad it was until we were halfway here,” Alison said, “and I’m so tired of the inside of the palace I didn’t want to turn back. If you’re so concerned about the weather, why do you have that poor boy out there on a ladder?”
Doyle groaned and pushed past the ubiquitous Elise to the door. “Fenton!” he shouted, and the rest of his words were cut off by the front door closing behind him. Alison smiled at Elise, who regarded her dispassionately. She was an excellent statue. Doyle returned, Alison’s cloak in one hand and the collar of the boy’s shirt in the other.
“Downstairs,” Doyle said to the boy, “change those clothes, and use some common sense next time I tell you to do something, right?” He gave the boy a gentle shove that propelled him toward the employees’ door, then seemed to realize he still held Alison’s cloak and held it up to watch it drip onto the carpet. “Sorry,” he said.
“We can hang it up over the heater Device in your office. I have some things to talk to you about,” Alison said, though she didn’t think any Device had the power to dry something so thoroughly soaked.
With Elise standing guard outside the office, Doyle slumped into his chair and rummaged around in his drawer for the bottle of whiskey. “Sit down, Allie, and have a drop. If this isn’t a day that calls for a fire in the belly, I don’t know what would.”
“Doyle, no, I…all right, just a little.”
They drank, and Doyle put his feet up on his desk, cursed a little at the water that came off his shoes, and went back to sitting straight in his chair. “Please tell me you’ve got good news about the licensing requirements.”
“I do. The regulations are complicated, but it seems relieving theaters of them is as simple as redefining the classes of business they govern. It will still take some time, mostly because Commerce isn’t thrilled about losing chunks of itself, but in maybe a month the actor licensing requirements will be gone, and I can start drafting new regulations that make more sense for theaters. Particularly ones governing the physical facilities, which should make it easy for Anthony to go ahead with his plans.”
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