Effie didn’t have a book. She had no idea what the spirit of the library meant. Unless . . . Oh. Of course. The poem. Galloglass. She’d bought it from the bookstall, put it in her bag and then she’d accidentally brought it in here. As Cosmo had said, she hadn’t learned anything. The library had let her in last time because she had a book it wanted—the history of the Diberi. But why on earth was the spirit of the library interested in a poem about galloglasses? Effie suddenly had a sense that there were many things she didn’t know—a whole messy, complex universe of unknowns outside her own small orbit—and that she should have trusted Cosmo. Perhaps he knew what some of those messy, complex things were? But it was too late.

“Read,” said the spirit of the library. “Read to ussss.”

Then again, what harm could be done simply by reading a poem? Effie wondered if she was going to feel weak again, and if Cosmo was going to have to come rescue her. Surely he would come, if she needed him? He always did. This time, though, Effie had a growing suspicion that maybe she’d gone somewhere beyond his help. If she was going to escape, then she had better do what the spirit of the library told her, and do it right. Effie got the book out of her bag and began to read the English translation of Galloglass. She sensed that the spirit of the library would have preferred the original Rosian, but Effie was embarrassed about her accent. She began.

In days of yore, when brave and true,

The heroes of the day came forth,

They had no need of me and you,

To each one their own piece of swarth.

To tend one plot, to grow, to sow,

This life, while brief, had taught them how

To reap, to make a pack and go,

In darkness, with a sacred vow.

And weaklings watched and soon they thought

“This life is better than mine own”;

And motivated soon they wrought

Their destiny of earth and stone.

The greatest sages of our worlds

Live all alone in mountain caves;

Their consciousness is never hurled

Like flotsam on just any waves.

We’re born each one of us alone

And separate is how we stay;

This is how we will find our home,

And merge with all along the way.

The oneness is both me and you,

And everyone we’ve ever known;

The one and all are never two:

Together we will wear one crown.

The way ahead is long and hard,

So learn some poems for the road;

Or better, take along a bard

To tell us stories of the Flow