by Casey White
“Yeah,” Leon said. He inched ahead of Owl, flashing a grin his way. “But...we’re back. Alex is whole.”
“Mostly,” Owl mumbled.
Leon snorted. “Mostly. We can figure this out. Just give it a little time.”
Owl nodded, chewing on his lip. “Yeah. You’re right, of course.”
“I usually am,” Leon said with a wink.
And he was. Owl chuckled sourly. Something in his chest twinged when Leon turned away, starting to walk, and he twitched forward. “Hey.”
Leon glanced back, blinking. “What?”
Owl froze, one hand hanging in midair halfway to Leon’s wrist. What? What had he wanted to say? What had been so urgent?
Why had he felt such a need to stop Leon from leaving?
“I, uh,” he began, inching closer so that they were more in line. “Look.”
“I’m looking,” Leon said dryly.
“Thanks,” Owl mumbled.
Leon blinked again, confusion entering his eyes. “What?”
Owl’s ears burned, safely hidden behind his hood. “For...always coming here and helping me. For letting me vent at you.”
“Oh,” Leon said, starting to grin. “Isn’t that what we do? Shit, wasn’t it not too long ago I was feeling all guilty for dumping my baggage on you?”
“Maybe,” Owl said. “But...it helps. A lot.” He shook his head, still scrambling for the right words. “It doesn’t make a lot of sense to me. Why you keep coming, just to hang out. Why you spend so many of your nights here. But I’m...I’m glad you do.”
To his relief, he saw that Leon’s cheeks were turning a faint pink, too—and his friend looked away, rubbing at his nose. “Well, I dunno,” Leon said. “I’m not really suffering, I think. Don’t worry about it too much.”
“Yeah,” Owl said. “Sorry. Don’t want to be weird. I just…” He shook his head. “You’ve always got my back. I don’t get it, but...yeah. Thanks.”
“Well,” Leon said. He took a step after the rapidly-receding forms of James and Maya, jerking his chin for Owl to follow. “Ah. Well, I guess, that’s...that’s because…spending time here, with you, I-”
Both jumped as bells crashed overhead. For a moment, the Library was filled with noise, with raucous tolling and the slow groan of shifting timbers.
Bells. There were bells, which only meant one thing. And he’d just unlocked the door.
When Owl looked to Leon, though, he found him smiling faintly. “Go, Daniel.” Leon said. “That’s the sign you were waiting for, wasn’t it?”
Not really, no. But it was a first step. He had to figure out where he stood before he could decide what to do next. And there, with his name hanging in the air and his friends filling the Library, he could do it.
He could.
And so Owl nodded, forcing a grin onto his face even though Leon would never see it, and turned back toward the front of Alexandria.
“Be right back.”
- Chapter Three -
The sight of Leon waiting in the lonely hallway hung heavy in Owl’s mind as he strode through the Library. His steps were slow, each movement measured and deliberate.
His thoughts were nowhere near as composed. With every stride he took, Alexandria carrying him past narrow aisles and sweeping staircases, the worries burned ever-louder. Someone was here. He’d unlocked the door, but he hadn’t approved visitors.
Leon and his friends had never used the front door. It seemed to exist entirely for one organization, in fact.
A fact which was no comfort at all.
When he rounded the last corner, coming face to face with the all-too-familiar doorway before him, he came to a stop entirely.
“You know,” he whispered, staring at it. “You kind of suck sometimes, Alex.”
He didn’t want to do this. He was mad, sure—but he had a right to be angry. He’d been used. His hospitality had been turned back against him, by the very people he’d invited in.
Worst of all lay the knowledge that such a play was only possible because of his own vulnerabilities. His desperation. They’d been able to get close to him because he’d let them, looking past their ulterior motives and pretending not to see what was going on. He’d let himself get taken in by a pretty face, and his Library had paid the price.
But Alexandria needed guests. And the only other option he could see was letting Leon and James become the new guild, sourcing him visitors.
Swallow his pride—or let them risk themselves on his behalf?
It wasn’t even a question.
Taking a deep breath, Owl stretched his arms behind him, listening to each bone crackle and pop. He tugged his hood higher, testing the straps that held it to his mask and his mask to his face. They held.
“Let it be said, Alex,” he murmured, kicking at the corner of a gilt rug that jutted from a side passage. “I didn’t want to do this. This was your doing.”
Without another recourse, he summoned up his will, steeling his every nerve—and reached for the handle to the door.
It opened under his grasp, shifting with an angry clunk.
A figure waited beyond, dimly visible in the hazy glow of the low-burning lanterns. A woman. A familiar woman. Owl stepped inside, his eyes glued to her, and slid the door shut behind him. As if he’d give her even the chance to sneak inside or trick him again.
It’d only been a few months on the outside since he’d seen her last. Just a few months, and yet, Indira looked...different. Older. Lines dug into her face, tracing out the corners of her eyes and the furrows between her eyebrows, and even her hair seemed lifeless. She stood, right square in the center of the entryway, and didn’t so much as blink when he opened the door.
He smiled sourly. She looked like she was losing sleep. Maybe it was petty, but that was fine by him. She should be taking this matter seriously.
Part of him wanted to wait, to let her take the first conversational venture. She seemed entirely frozen, though, her jaw moving with words that wouldn’t quite come out.
And so when she didn’t leap into the fray, he came to a stop, lifting himself a bit taller. “Guildmaster,” he said. His voice was low, as neutral as he could make it.
She blinked, as though the word had freed her from whatever spell lay over her. He saw her swallow, chewing on her lip for a single, fleeting moment.
“Librarian,” she said, smiling up at him. For the first time, he realized how small she was—and how much he’d grown, over the years. He’d never considered himself a tall man, but standing next to her made him feel like one. Her expression had a tightness to it, though. “I’m...I’m glad to see that you’re well. Really.”
“Are you?” Owl said, before he could stop himself. “Well, I’m glad to hear that. I’d assumed, after-”
“After...all of that,” Indira said. “Yes. Well.”
She stopped, her expression going dark. Owl didn’t say anything. She’d shown up here all on her own. She could approach the situation herself.
Besides. Part of him was more than a little curious what she’d say to get out of trouble.
“I heard,” she said at last, her voice hushed. “From Will. And from Olivia. About...About the fire. I was devastated. Such a thing should never have come to pass in-”
“Is that it?” Owl said. “You’re here to worry about Alexandria? About the fire?” He threw an arm out, his fingers stretched wide. “She’s fine, guildmaster. She’ll mend, under my care.” It didn’t matter that she couldn’t see his eyes. He glared daggers at her anyway, venom dripping from every word. “No thanks to your people.”
“Ah,” Indira said. Her fingers tightened against each other. “There is, of course, that.”
“Right,” Owl said. “That.”
“You have to understand,” Indira said. “I…” She hesitated, picking her words carefully. “It pains me for there to be conflict between us and you. But such pain is nothing, nothing, compared to our pain at the thought of damaging your home.”
>
His fingers tightened against his sleeves. “Like I said. Alexandria is fine. So you can go right back home, reassured that-”
“I’m sorry for what happened between our scholars and you.”
Owl stopped. She was still watching him, her dark eyes unreadable and her lips just a thin line in her weathered face. “Oh?” he said. “I mean, apologies are nice, but when you’re the one who sent Olivia, I’m just not sure that apology is worth very much.”
“I sent her, yes,” Indira said. Her voice sank lower still, even as her shoulders raised. “Her and Will both. And...I hoped that she would be a useful assistant to you. I hoped-”
“Don’t lie to me again,” Owl snapped. “Olivia was here to get inside my defenses. Sent by you.”
“I didn’t tell her to do what she did.” Indira’s voice cracked out, suddenly-fervent. “I never…” Her eyes flicked up, hard-set and intense. “I did not put her up to that, Librarian. I’ve...She told me what she did, and it was not my intention.”
“But-”
“Did I want her to help strengthen our alliance?” Indira said, jerking her chin to the side. “Yes. Of course. And I told you as much, Librarian.”
“Then why-”
“And if that alliance came in the form of you seeking comfort in her arms?” Indira’s lips twitched, flickering into a crooked smile. “I would have been happy. For you, for her, and for us. Nothing would have brought me more joy.”
Owl stopped, his next retort fading away. She was...she was just so honest about it all. So up front. He’d spent a lot of time alone over the years, but he’d worked hard to learn how to read people, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t see a lie in her. “Just like that?” he said at last. “That’s your reply? That it wasn’t you, but you’d have been okay with it if it happened?”
She pulled her hands free at last, spreading them wide. “Comfort is never a bad thing, Librarian,” she said quietly. “And I believe that you’re more in need of an ally than most.”
He stared at her a moment longer. Her words spun around and around in his head, the perfect accompaniment to the confusion that seethed higher with every second. He was supposed to be angry. She was supposed to be the villain—only, when she came in claiming everything outright...It took the wind out of his sails as surely as if someone had reached over and slapped him.
“I’m not a slab of meat,” he said at last, each word icy. “You know where the door is. See yourself out.”
Twisting hard, he spun on his heel and stalked back toward-
“It would be a pity to see things end here,” Indira said.
Owl stopped. His jaw pulsed, aching to grind his teeth together. He half-turned back, glancing over his shoulder at her. “I agree,” he said. “But that was your choice. Don’t get mad at me when-”
“I told you before,” Indira said. “When I sent Olivia to you, I was hopeful that it would be the start of something...more. Something meaningful.”
His temper simmered higher. “So you were-”
“I am not referring to your intimate life,” Indira said. “I would not presume to interfere with you as a person, with your life beyond these walls. And yet…”
She stopped, cocking her head to one side. A strand of ebon hair slipped free, dropping across one eye. “I believe that we have much we can offer each other,” she said softly. “Let’s not let Olivia’s brash decision ruin that, hmm?”
Owl stared at her, but she didn’t move, didn’t so much as blink. That confidence of hers was back, stronger than ever.
She’s plotting again, his thoughts whispered. Send her away. Don’t listen to her. She’s played one trick already. The second time, you can’t say you didn’t expect it.
That was the logical side of him thinking. But the rest of him slowed, pausing in its rampant charge.
She was already here.
He might as well hear her out. He could kick her through the front door just as soon as she was done—and then he’d know what she was planning. What she was up to.
And so Owl sat back on his heels, digging his fingers so tightly into his coat that it hurt. “Fine,” he said, biting back the words to keep from snapping. “What are you talking about? Spit it out.”
Indira smiled, just a little. A light returned to her eyes, whatever reservations still lingered on her face. She lifted her chin, holding his gaze steadily.
“I have a proposal for you,” she said.
Owl stared.
Indira stared back, cool and collected.
“Excuse me?” he said at last. “You have-”
“A proposal,” she said. “Yes. If you would hear me out.”
He shouldn’t. He should walk away right then and there. Her guild wasn’t trustworthy, and neither was she. If she was hanging around because she wanted something else, then that was all he needed to know. Get out, he should say.
But she was here.
“Go on,” was what he said instead, refusing to move even a single inch. “I’m not sure why you think I need anything from you, but-”
“Your situation is unfair,” Indira said. He stopped. She smiled thinly, and again, the weariness of her seemed more obvious than ever. “It’s true. I said it before. What happened to you was unforgivable.”
“And it’s my issue to deal with, so-”
“We want to help you.”
Again, Owl stopped. She seemed just as confident as before, just as determined, but what she was saying...it didn’t make any sense. “Excuse me?” he managed.
Indira shook her head. “You couldn’t have chosen this life properly. It’s impossible. You were too young, and-”
“I know all that already.” Owl snapped. “Indira, what are you talking about?”
For the first time, her perfectly-composed mask wavered. She took a ragged sigh, squeezing her hands together more tightly. “I believe that we can help each other,” she said. “You deserve a choice. An option.” She smiled grimly. “A way out.”
His eyes narrowed. “And you think that you can help me?”
“Maybe,” Indira said, sliding forward as though drawn in. “I don’t- We can’t know until we try. But...my fellows want to know more about Alexandria. We’d need to learn more regardless if we’re to help you. And when it’s done?” Her smile turned crooked. “If we’re able to free you...we could find her a home. A host who chose her, who knew what they were signing up for.”
The air left his lungs in a rush, as though he’d been punched in the gut. What was she saying? A new host for Alexandria?
A new Librarian.
For a moment, Owl could only reel, his head spinning. At first, his thoughts were little more than a hazy blur of fury. Him? Give up his Librarianship? Hand Alexandria over to someone else? She was his—and she’d been his for untold years. Who was Indira to tell him to give that up?
Only, she wasn’t, was she? She was just...offering. Extending the possibility.
Hot on the heels of the rage came a wave of something far too akin to relief. If he wasn’t the Librarian…It wouldn’t matter where he went. Who he associated with. He’d live out a normal human life, with normal human friends and the sun on his face. No more months of solitude, with only rude, self-absorbed guests or Alexandria’s ministrations for company.
He could do anything.
She can’t do any of it, his thoughts whispered, putting a damper on the whole line of thinking. She’s just trying to offer what she thinks you want. Don’t trust her. Don’t-
“How?” Owl said. The words echoed in his head, drowning out the voices that screamed to throw her out, to tell her to leave. “Something like that- How could you possibly-”
“I don’t know,” Indira said, holding her hands up at last. “I can’t promise anything, of course. But we want to help.”
Her words brought him screeching to a halt. Again, his eyes narrowed. “Why?”
She chuckled softly, her gaze softening. “It would be mutually beneficial,
yes? You want your freedom, and we want to know more about the miracle you play guardian to. We can accomplish both at the same time, if we only work together.”
He stared. And then, slowly, he shook his head. “It’s impossible,” he whispered. “She’s not- She’s not something that can be understood with a bit of research, Indira. You could never- It’s impossible. I’d be giving up everything, and getting nothing back. I’m not an idiot.”
“That’s not so,” Indira said, and again she surged forward a step, only to stop when Owl backed away. Taking a deep breath, she folded her hands once more. “The Booklenders are an old organization,” she said, a tiny smile on her lips. “Ancient. We know things.”
“It doesn’t matter what you know, it won’t-”
“And we have connections still,” she said. “Connections who...are more knowledgeable in the inexpiable miracles of the world.” Her eyes twinkled in the dim glow of the lanterns. “It would be my utmost pleasure, Librarian, if we were able to use those connections together. To help both of us. Allow us to work on your behalf.”
Connections? Warning bells started clanging in his mind. The only sort of knowledge that would be relevant to Alexandria would be magic. Which meant that Indira had connections to mages.
A shiver rippled down his spine. It was the only thing that made sense. Mages...might be able to do it. The thing he’d never believed would be possible. The solution he’d disregarded for a hundred lifetimes spent among the books.
They might be able to find him a way out. But getting there meant risking everything.
The rafters creaked. Owl let his eyes flick up, remaining as motionless as ever. The candles overhead swayed gently in their fixtures, dribbling wax to the floor. Too often, they seemed to burn with a faint, unhealthy light.
She wasn’t happy. Not to the point of throwing a tantrum, but...he couldn’t deny that there was a sadness to the scene. A dim mood that somehow seemed rooted in more than just their conversation.