After about half a minute, Tina leaned over to Giles and whispered, ‘Is she okay?’
‘I'm just fine, thank you, dear,’ said Grace, suddenly looking at Tina. ‘But there appears to be something wrong with the network. We have become isolated.’
‘So, what's going on?’ asked John.
‘That's a very good question. I'm not sure that I have an authoritative answer.’ She paused to think.
She closed the first book and took another one from a nearby stack. She opened the untitled volume, leafing through the pages until she found what she was looking for — another blank page. As she gently brushed the paper with her finger, seemingly indecipherable text and symbols scrolled rapidly across the page.
‘It certainly seems that the Suburbia environment has been compromised. The boundaries are weakening. Other environments are intruding. The phenomena appear to be steadily increasing. I'm afraid there is nothing I can do to stop it.’
‘What does it mean?’ asked Tina.
The librarian's eyes widened. ‘I do not know.’
‘Is there anything that we can do?’ asked John.
‘No.’
‘Is there anything anyone can do?’ asked Giles, desperation creeping into his voice. ‘Is there anyone who can help us?’
‘Possibly,’ replied Grace. ‘You could try to contact the Designers and beg for their help.’
‘How?’
‘It may be possible to pass through a weakness in the environment boundaries,’ explained Grace. ‘Passing through a weakness may give you access to the control centre. If you are able to get there, you could seek an audience with the Designers.’
‘And they could fix this?’ asked Tina.
‘I suspect so,’ said Grace. ‘They are the Designers. They can do anything. Whether or not they choose to, is another matter entirely.’
‘There seems to be a lot of ifs, buts and maybes in all of this,’ complained Giles.
Grace smiled. ‘Things are what they are.’
‘How do we find a weak spot?’ asked Tina.
‘I do not know,’ replied Grace. ‘The appearances seem to be random.’
She took another book from a pile and opened it. With the touch of her finger, a map of Suburbia was displayed on the pages. Little spots of light appeared and disappeared at random locations.
‘You see,’ said Grace. ‘The spots of light are the weaknesses. There are many. They vary in size. You'll need to find one large enough to get through. Try to find one that is relatively stable. You don't want it to close up while you're only halfway through. That might be messy.’
She snapped the book shut.
‘Is there anything you can do to help us?’ asked Giles.
‘Possibly.’
‘What?’
‘Wait.’
Grace retrieved yet another book, opened it and touched a blank page, her eyes rapidly following the text as it appeared.
‘I could disperse your avatars,’ she said, looking up. ‘Although whether that would be a help or a hindrance is open to debate.’
‘Do it!’ said Tina. ‘I'd rather face this as myself.’
‘Me too,’ added John.
‘Well, I'm not sure,’ said Giles.
Grace flipped a page in the book and pressed her hand to it.
‘That's betta,’ said Tark, running a hand along the scar on his head. ‘I is me again.’
Zyra spun around, swishing her travelling coat about her, then froze, striking a pose, knives held at the ready. ‘Much betta.’ She smiled, showing off her studded teeth.
‘Oh yes,’ sneered the now shorter and podgier Princeling Galbrath. ‘This is so much better.’
‘Shuts it!’ said Zyra, concealing her knives.
‘I'm sorry to interrupt,’ said Grace, looking down at another book. ‘But we have visitors.’
She held up the book so that they could see. An image appeared on the page. Police, with swords drawn, were marching towards the front of the library.
‘And, pray tell, what do we do now?’ asked the princeling.
‘Is there a back ways out?’ asked Zyra, turning to the librarian.
‘Why, yes.’ Grace pointed to one of the aisles. ‘Just follow that bookshelf till you reach the far wall. Turn right. And it's a couple of metres on your left.’
‘Let's get to it,’ said Zyra, as she took off.
Tark and the princeling followed.
‘Praise be to the Designers,’ whispered Grace as they left. ‘And their ingenious creations.’
20: Invasion
Tark, Zyra and Princeling Galbrath ran out through the back door of the library, into the parkland. As they approached the concealed SUV, they saw smoke billowing out from its open bonnet.
‘Crap!’ cursed the princeling. ‘Someone's gotten to it.’
Crack. Crack. Crack.
The sound was coming from the bushes next to the car.
‘Oh no,’ said Zyra.
Crack. Crack.
‘Oh yes,’ said the man in the grey suit, stepping out into the open. ‘Times to go back to school with Mr Cracker.’
‘Makes us.’
‘Oh, my pretty-pretty, I intends to.’ The Cracker pulled back his jacket and drew a sword. He sliced the air with it and smiled. ‘I intends to.’
He suddenly lunged, not at his opponents, but at the nearest tree. As the shimmering steel stabbed at the trunk, sparks flared. A charred hole gaped in the side of the tree.
The Cracker bared his yellowed teeth. ‘Gives up?’
‘Nots a chance,’ said Zyra, drawing her knives and taking up a defensive stance.
‘I was hopin’ you'd say that.’
‘Don't!’ shouted Princeling Galbrath. ‘If you touch the sword with your knives, the charge will kill you!’
The Cracker attacked Zyra who deftly sidestepped the blade.
‘I'll deals with you soon enough.’ The Cracker glared at the princeling.
As Zyra put away her knives, Tark picked up a fallen tree branch that was about the length of a sword.
The Cracker made another lunge for Zyra. Princeling Galbrath hissed and waved frantically at Tark to get his attention and pointed at the duck pond. Ignoring him, Tark tried to come around behind the Cracker. But the thiever saw him and rounded on Tark. Tark jumped back, the blade barely missing him.
Zyra crouched down and scooped up a handful of dirt. The Cracker turned to her and she flung the dirt into his face. With grit in his eyes, the Cracker staggered back, screeching in anger.
Tark took the opportunity to lash out at him with the branch, smacking his legs from behind.
The Cracker fell to his knees, one hand rubbing at his eyes while he slashed the sword wildly about him. Tark and Zyra both scrabbled back.
With the Cracker distracted, Princeling Galbrath raced over to Tark. ‘Get him into the pond!’ he hissed.
‘Wot?’ Tark looked at the princeling as if he were a raving lunatic.
‘The pond,’ Galbrath repeated. ‘The water will conduct the energy from the sword.’
The princeling didn't have the opportunity to explain any further, as the Cracker was on his feet again and charging at Tark. The princeling dived out of the way as Tark raised his branch defensively.
The sword connected with Tark's branch. The branch shattered, throwing Tark to the ground.
Glancing briefly at the princeling, Tark scrambled to his feet and took several backward steps in the direction of the pond. ‘Oi, Cracker,’ he called. ‘Ya useless git.’
Zyra stooped down, grabbed a small rock and took aim.
‘Don't,’ said the princeling. ‘Let Tark handle this.’
Zyra raised an eyebrow, but held back and watched.
Tark backed away from the Cracker, continuing to throw taunts. The Cracker stumbled after him, eyes streaming, face beetroot-red with rage. Reaching the edge of the pond, Tark stopped.
‘So, Cracker, ya snivellin’ toe-rag,’ Tark goaded. ‘How many times is it that ya've been bested by a 16-year-old girl thiever?’