“I see,” Maeve says. “Good luck to you.”

He nods curtly and leaves the dining hall in a hurry.

Children in the library? It shall not be borne.

The angry force of his thoughts nearly shoves me off my chair. I shakily put down my fork, all hunger vanished.

“Well, he didn’t like us much,” I murmur. Maeve puts her hand over mine.

“No matter. We have permission to be here, and we will do what we came here to do. I can promise you that.”

Chapter Eleven

By the time we finish our breakfast, Rachel returns and leads us down another corridor to the living quarters. She shows each of us to our own small room containing a bed, a chair, and a little table with a candle and washbowl. Each one has a window that looks out onto the mountain below.

“I had your bags brought here for you. Here are your keys. Now, would you like to see the archives?” Rachel grins. She must really love it here. Everything about the way she moves, speaks, even thinks, proves it.

“Yes, thank you,” Maeve says.

A spring is in Rachel’s step as she leads us deeper into the fortress and up to the second level. She tells us about the paintings on the walls—who made them, and when. All the names and dates jumble in my head until I worry they might fall out my ears. I don’t know how she manages to keep all that straight. But I’m rather impressed that she can. When we reach the landing on the second level, she takes us directly to a set of large double doors and opens them wide.

Sebastian gasps, while I’m stunned into silence. Maeve seems unfazed, as though this is exactly what she expected. The room is a gigantic circle, lined with tall shelves and row after row after row of books and scrolls. The room encompasses the entire level of the building, vast enough that I can’t even see all the shelves from where I stand. The shelves are all made from the same dark-brown wood, but the books themselves vary in color and size, more so than I’d imagined. Here and there, glass cases dot the space, along with paintings and tapestries hung on the walls. Many librarians are on this level, sitting like statues at the workstations that line the windows, or darting about the stacks on the hunt for just the right book. Despite the silence, the electric hum of activity is in the air.

“I had no idea this many books even existed!” I say.

Rachel laughs. “And there are five more levels just like it.”

How will we ever find what we need? Sebastian thinks at me.

Maybe Rachel or Maeve will have some ideas to narrow the search.

I sure hope so…

“The oldest books on this level are in the northwest section over there,” Rachel continues, pointing to shelves. “There are reading tables scattered throughout. If you need help, let me know.” She leans forward conspiratorially. “I’m only an assistant for now, which means that unlike the other librarians, I have a little more free time.”