by Amy Cross
“We made it,” Cromer says. “Alex, Christian... Welcome to the ancient site of Shadar.”
“So when you describe it as ancient,” I reply, as we start carefully making our way down the steep slope between two sets of shelves, “what exactly are we talking about here? A few thousand years old? Ten thousand?”
“You think in such small numbers,” Cromer replies. “No-one knows exactly how old Shadar is, but estimates range from fifty to a hundred million years.”
“No way!” I say, genuinely shocked by the suggestion. “How is that even possible?”
“It's believed that this was the site of the very first citadel,” he explains, “which was built by the earliest settlers in the Great Library. They were the elders and librarians who began the process of documenting the vast shelves that existed even back then. Their writings are mostly lost to time, although fragments remain. Eventually the first citadel crumbled away. Some say the ground opened up beneath it and swallowed it into the void. Archaeologists have searched in vain for the ruins for a long time, without any luck. As you can imagine, the site is regarded by many as very holy and significant.”
Hearing a rustling sound, I look along another aisle and see several horses tethered to one of the shelves.
“Signs of life,” Cromer mutters. “That could be good for us.”
The ground starts to level off a little, but ahead there's a sudden drop where the large hole begins. Cromer goes on ahead a little, and then he slows as he begins to check that the soil beneath our feet isn't going to suddenly give way. He seem satisfied, however, and finally he stops at the very edge of the hole. He grabs hold of a shelf for safety, and then he leans over for a moment before turning and waving for us to join him.
“I still don't like heights very much,” I say as I nervously edge forward. “I'm already feeling a little dizzy.”
“Here,” Christian says, taking hold of my hand, “does that make you feel any better?”
“Not really,” I reply. “Now if either of us falls in, we'll drag the other one down too.”
“Good point,” he says, letting go of my hand. “Sorry. I didn't think. I won't do it again.”
“I didn't mean...”
Sighing, I realize that I might have been a little short with him.
Stopping just behind Cromer, I grab the shelf and hold on for dear life as I gingerly lean forward. I feel a shudder pass through my body as soon as I see the vast chasm below us, and I can't help noting that it's impossible to see the bottom.
“So the first citadel just fell down there?” Christian asks. “That's the theory?”
“Explorers have ventured down, dangling from ropes,” Cromer says, “but by all accounts nobody has ever managed to reach the bottom. Well, except a few unfortunate souls whose ropes snapped. I suppose they reached the bottom eventually.”
“That's enough for me,” I say, taking a step back so that I hopefully don't faint. “I've handled enough heights for now.”
“That's unfortunate,” Cromer replies, “since we have to go out across here.”
“We have to do what now?” I ask, feeling a heavy thud of dread in my chest.
“Look,” he says, pointing across the chasm, toward a section of the shelf that spans the huge gap. “Don't you see those ropes, hanging from those shelves in the middle?”
“I think so,” I reply, squinting and spotting what look to be half a dozen long ropes running from the shelves down into the gloom far below. “What do they have to do with us, though?”
“If James Bartleby is here,” Cromer says, “then I guarantee you that the ropes have something to do with him. According to the most widely-spread rumors, he vanished a long time ago. According to other rumors, nobody has dared come to Shadar in centuries. If you put those two rumors together, it's pretty clear that he's been here all that time. I imagine his goal was to become the first person who ever made it down to the bottom of this pit and found the ruins of the first citadel. I guess if anyone could have done that, it'd be James Bartleby.”
“Right,” I say, trying desperately to think of an excuse for us not to go out there across this particular shelf, “but can't we just... call his name? Can't we ask him to pop over here for a chat?”
“You're funny,” Cromer says, patting me hard on the back. “After everything we've endured on this journey so far, you expect me to believe that you're balking at the final few hundred meters? Thank you, Alex, even in these dark times you've found a way to make me laugh.”
Chuckling, he starts climbing up to the top of the shelf, and then he steps forward, going past the spot where the chasm begins.
“Was he being sarcastic?” I ask, unable to ignore a deep sense of nausea in the pit of my belly.
“I'm not sure he does sarcasm,” Christian replies. “Listen, it'll be alright. Just try not to look down. And, hey, the top of the shelf is a good two meters wide, right? You're not going to fall.”
“That's easy for you to say,” I stammer, “you're not the one who might faint. I'm only -”
“You're not going to fall,” he says again, a little more firmly this time. “And you're not going to stay here and wait for us, either. Come on, Alex. You made that awesome jump between those two masts on the boat. You can do this.”
I take a deep breath, and I realize that he's right. I can't come all this way, only to chicken out at the last moment, so I look up at the top of the shelf and I tell myself that there's no reason to be a wuss. I was just fine on top of a shelf on my very first night here in the Great Library, I didn't worry about falling then, so why worry now? Plus, I did survive being up on the masts, even if I fell from one to the other instead of actually jumping. I really should correct Christian on that score.
I take another deep breath, hoping to steady my nerves, and then I force myself to start climbing. Getting to the top isn't actually too bad, and finally I manage to stand up straight. I've still got butterflies in my stomach, but so far I'm just about managing to keep them at bay, so I turn and start walking along the aisle.
I do great, until I get to the spot where my next step will take me out across the chasm. I can see Cromer ahead, marching confidently toward the middle of the shelf-bridge, and I tell myself that I need to remember Christian's advice. As long as I don't look down, I'll be fine. Just like the masts.
Starting to walk, I try to focus on Cromer. I know what I'll see if I look down at either side, so why look down? There's a faint breeze up here, but it's not enough to knock me over, so I somehow manage to keep walking. In fact, after a couple of dozen paces I actually start to feel a lot more confident. Then, just as I'm starting to feel pleased with myself, a loud creaking sound rings out and I freeze. I'm pretty sure I just felt the shelf shift slightly beneath my feet, as if it's not quite as sturdy as I'd hoped.
“Relax,” Christian says behind me, “it's just settling.”
“That doesn't help” I say through clenched teeth.
“These shelves have probably been here, over the chasm like this, for thousands and thousands of years. What makes you think that they're suddenly gonna pick this moment to -”
Before he can finish, another creaking sound fills the air, and this time I'm certain that the shelf moved a little.
“Ignore it,” Christian says firmly. “Focus. Walk. Stay calm.”
I want to tell him that I'm freaking out, but instead I turn and start walking again. I can see that Cromer has stopped halfway across the chasm, next to what looks like some kind of wooden structure that's been built on the side of the shelf to hold the ropes. As I get closer, I see that there's an elaborate series of pulleys attached to the ropes, and finally I stop next to Cromer and peer over the edge. At the same time, I put a hand on one of the wooden railings running between two pulleys, and I've got to admit that I feel a little more secure. For now, at least. I swear, if I hadn't gone up to the tops of those masts, I'd never have made it out here.
“What is this thing?” I ask as Chr
istian joins us. “Is there a -”
Suddenly one of the pulleys starts turning, and I realize that several of the ropes are moving. I look over the edge again, and I see that the ropes run far down into the darkness at the heart of the chasm.
“Is someone down there?” I ask, shocked by the idea.
“Let's find out,” Cromer replies, reaching past me and hitting a golden bell that's been left hanging from one of the other railings. The bell rings out, and almost immediately the pulley stops turning. I guess we attracted someone's attention.
“I've got to admit,” Christian says, as the various ropes and pulleys start working together, “this James Bartleby guy seems dedicated to the point of obsession. Is this all he does every day? He just dangles from ropes in the dark and looks for a bunch of old ruins?”
“If the rumors are correct,” Cromer says, “he's been out here for a very long time. I imagine he's long since progressed beyond simply dangling.”
“I guess,” Christian mutters, as the three of us lean over the edge and look down into the chasm.
“It's amazing to think that an entire citadel could have been here,” I say, “and then just plummeted into the depths. And then what happened? Did these shelves sort of grow over the gap? I mean, who builds them anyway?”
“Nobody builds them,” Cromer explains. “They just are.”
“They just are what?”
“They just are,” he says again. “Without the shelves, there would be no Great Library. The Great Library exists, therefore the shelves exist.”
“That doesn't make too much sense,” I point out, “but if -”
Suddenly the wooden railing breaks, and I let out a gasp as I feel myself starting to fall forward. Cromer and Christian both grab my arms and keep me safe, but in a split second of panic I lose my grip on The Book of Libraries. I'm powerless to react in time, and I watch hopelessly as the book plummets down past the shelf and falls into the darkness far below.
“Careful,” Cromer says. “This place can be dangerous.”
“No kidding,” I reply, taking a step back from the edge as I realize how close I just came to falling. “Damn it,” I add as I realize with a sigh that the book is most likely lost forever. I carried it everywhere, it even helped me out, and one dumb moment means that it's gone.
“The rest of these are pretty tough,” Christian says as he tests the other railings. “Looks like you just got unlucky, Alex.”
“Yeah, thanks for the newsflash,” I say. “You know, I don't think that the -”
“I see him!” Christian adds, and he and Cromer both look down past the ropes. “He's coming up!”
Stepping over to join them, I very carefully lean over the edge, and to my surprise I see that a large bucket is slowly being hoisted up toward us. There's a man in the bucket, pulling on one of the ropes in order to get the pulleys to work properly, and I have to admit that I don't quite understand how the system works. I can't deny that the guy's managing to get up here, however, and finally the bucket comes to a juddering halt, before the man clambers out and climbs up the side of the shelves, finally stopping once he's partway over the edge.
He looks up at us, and to my surprise he looks pretty human. So far, anyway. He seems to be about fifty or sixty years old, and he's pencil-thin, and his gray suit is tattered and torn. Then again, if he's really been out here for thousands of years, I guess he can't be entirely human.
“Did somebody lose this?” he asks, holding up The Book of Libraries.
“I dropped it!” I say, reaching out to grab the book, only for him to pull it away.
“Hang on just one moment,” he continues. “This isn't just any old book, you know. This is one of the most important books ever written, and it happens to have been the work of someone I respect very much. I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you how it came into your possession.”
“It's kind of a long story,” I tell him, “but basically I was searching for it and -”
“And you found it.”
“Well, yes, and -”
“And then you lost it again.”
“It was an accident. Your railing broke.”
He looks up at the railing.
“So I see,” he mutters. “Thank you so much.”
“Are you James Bartleby?” Cromer asks.
“That depends on who wants to know,” the man replies. “What are you people doing out here, anyway? I haven't seen another living soul in... I don't know how long it's been, but we're talking about a few centuries at least. And in case you were wondering, that wasn't an accident. I deliberately spread rumors about this place being cursed and haunted, because I wanted to be alone while I searched.”
“We came here looking for you,” Christian tells him. “We figured you might be here.”
“You did, did you?”
He climbs up to join us properly, and then he stops to dust himself down.
“And what made you think that I wanted to be found, huh?” he continues, sounding more than a little irritated now. “When people venture out this far from civilization, it's usually not because they're driven by a profound desire to be interrupted.”
“We're looking for the Hidden Library,” I tell him.
He turns to me, and I can immediately tell from the look in his eyes that he knows exactly what I'm talking about.
“The Hidden Library,” he says after a moment, “doesn't exist. It's a childish tale for childish minds, and if you've come all this way to find it, then I'm afraid I must inform you that you've made the most foolish mistake possible. I mean, you're talking to a man who has dedicated his life to winching himself deeper and deeper into a seemingly bottomless pit, and even I think you're insane.”
“But -”
“I don't mean to offend you,” he adds, “but I feel it's my duty to inform you of the truth. Trust me, if the Hidden Library existed anywhere, I or one of my peers would have discovered it. The sad truth is, it's a myth.”
“It's mentioned in The Book of Libraries,” I tell him.
“And how would you know?”
“I read about it.”
“No, you didn't,” he scoffs. “The Book of Libraries only opens for people who it deems to be worthy of reading what it contains.” He tries to open it, but he can't. “See? Even I can't get in. As books go, this one is notoriously resistant to persuasion. Far greater minds than mine have tried to look at its pages, I believe some almost lost their minds in the process, but this book has remained sealed shut pretty much since the day that the great Claire Mathis set down her pen. Some believe the book is waiting, others that it merely has high standards. Some even believe that the book itself has gone mad. The point is, it certainly couldn't be opened by the likes of you.”
“But it did open,” I tell him. “I was only allowed to read page one hundred and twenty-nine, it specifically told me that, but I read it and it was about the legend of the Hidden Library. Claire Mathis wrote that the Hidden Library didn't exist, but we think she had doubts, and we think finding the Hidden Library might be the key to finding and saving Rinth.”
“Rinth?” Bartleby stares at me for a moment. “You really are talking nonsense now. Rinth is another legend, there's no -”
“I'll show you!” I say, grabbing the book from his hands and trying to open it, only to find that it's firmly closed. “Come on,” I continue, trying everything I can think of, “I'm sorry I called you stupid, and I'm sorry I dropped you, and I'm sorry you got a bit wet and damaged, but I need you to prove to this guy that I'm telling the truth!”
“I really must get back to work,” Bartleby says, turning and stepping back over the side of the shelf. “If you want my advice, you'll get out of here as rapidly as you can. You've already wasted enough of my time with this charade.”
“Why won't you open?” I mutter, still trying to get into the book. “You did it the other day! You're the whole reason we're here! Why won't you help us now? Have you just been pranking us the whole ti
me?”
“There has to be some other way we can get you to help us,” Cromer says, as Bartleby climbs down toward the bucket. “We were with Claire Mathis when she died.”
“Claire Mathis can't be dead,” Bartleby says with a sigh. “You people really are so dreadfully bad at lying, you know. Anyone can see through your pathetic claims.”
“She is dead,” the book says suddenly, opening once again at page one hundred and twenty-nine. “I was there. The woman who wrote me is gone, and Rinth has been taken by Darvill, and we don't have much time.”
Bartleby freezes, staring in shock at the book, as if he genuinely can't believe what just happened.
“See?” I say, as the book closes again. “Everything we've told you is true. We need to find the Hidden Library, because we think there's something in there that might help us. It's a long shot, but it's all we've got left. Please, do you have any idea where it might be?”
Chapter Sixteen
“I want you to know,” Bartleby says a short while later, as he slowly winches the four of us deeper and deeper into the darkness of the chasm, “that I will deny any of this happened if I'm asked. Everything I'm about to show and tell you is a secret, and I will not have word spreading.”
“We promise,” I tell him, as the ropes strain and a creaking sound rings out from the pulley system high above us. “Are you sure this thing can take the weight of four of us?”
“It was designed so that I could raise any artifacts that I might discover,” he replies. “Believe me, it can cope with considerably more weight than you might guess.”
“And have you found anything?” Cromer asks. “Have you even made it to the bottom of this place?”
“Oh yes, I'm made it to the bottom,” Bartleby says, as the air around us gets colder and colder. He hands me a lamp and switches it on. “Hold this, young lady. You might as well make yourself useful.”
“Sure,” I mutter.
“It's said that Shadar is the site of the first citadel,” Bartleby continues, “and I can confirm that this is indeed true. It's said that the first citadel crashed down into a bottomless pit. Well, I can confirm the crashing down part, but the pit is not bottomless, even if it is extremely deep.” He pauses. “It's also said that the first citadel was the location of knowledge that has never since been shared by the residents of the Great Library. I can confirm that this, too, is true.”