“Something’s odd,” Brin said. Havilar had no memory of their argument in the stacks, of telling him to find the Book, of flirting shamelessly with him.
“That doesn’t even sound like me,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “You must be stupidly fond of me to fall for that.”
He ignored her. “But what’s the point of making a replica of you just to … what? Get me over to the opposite side of the library?” Brin shook his head. “And who would do it?”
“Pernika?” Havilar guessed. “She was trying to get you aside. Maybe she made an illusion to get you away from the others.”
“I don’t know,” Brin said. “I think she’d have to be a fairly powerful wizard. That was … a very solid illusion.” Havilar dissolved into completely inappropriate giggles.
“Be serious,” he admonished, but gods, he couldn’t stop smiling. “I’ll go find Tam,” he said. “I’ll tell him about Pernika and whatever that was. You find Farideh and ask her about what she saw. Meet back at the camp?”
“Yes,” she said, her grin creeping back. She darted forward and kissed his cheek. “If you see me again, be sure it’s really me, first, all right?”
He laughed. “Come on, this might be dangerous.”
“So?” she said, still grinning. “We can be happy and cautious at the same time. It’s not like swimming and eating at once or something.” She considered him. “You are happy, right?”
“Yes,” he said, and he was-not just because the looming question of what she thought was gone. It felt as if things were fitting together where they wouldn’t before.
He paused. “Are you going to tell Farideh?”
“Yes,” Havilar said. “Of course … Would you rather I didn’t?”
“No,” he said. Yes, he thought-how much more complicated would everything be once other people knew? This was pleasant and a little exciting. But he knew full well he was going to hear a lot of nonsense from a lot of people. Even Farideh.
But-gods-Havilar looked so glad, so excited to tell her sister that Brin had kissed her. To brag about it-complicated or not, he wasn’t about to complain about that sort of compliment.
While Havilar hurried off toward the center of the library, Brin made for the Book’s alcove. He’d find Tam, but if whoever it was that was so interested in getting him over to that area, perhaps he’d missed something about it. He moved cautiously through the library, keeping a lookout for traps and watching eyes, and trying very hard to keep his thoughts on the present moment and the serious problem of Pernika and the strange double.
He reached the alcove with no trouble, and found it quiet and still. Farideh sat sleeping on the floor, one leg tucked in and leaning against the chest of the wretched little gnome that made the pillar of the book’s lectern. A variety of books and scrolls and maps lay spread across the floor in front of her, and a stylus was bleeding ink on a fresh parchment.
Hrast, he thought. Maybe she’d just stay asleep while he searched. But his footfalls had disturbed her and she started awake, clutching at the air as if trying to grab hold of someone. She blinked, her breath uneven as she came around and caught sight of Brin.
“Sorry,” she said blearily. “How long have you been standing there?”
“Not long,” he said cautiously. “Have you seen Havi?’
Farideh stretched her neck with a wince. “No. Why? Was she looking for me?”
“Yes,” Brin said after a beat. “I think she is probably looking for you.”
“Are you two talking again, then?”
Brin nodded. She paused and gave him a peculiar look. “Brin, I don’t know if …” She paused. “Havi may be under the wrong impression about some things.”
“Such as hydras?” He stooped to gather her collection of books from the floor, all the better to avoid her eyes.
But he could still feel her gaze boring into him. “I just don’t want her getting hurt,” she said after an interminable silence.
“Does anyone?” he said. “Don’t worry about Havilar. I’m sure she’ll be fine.”
She was still staring at him, as if their secret was written all over his face. Why couldn’t Havi have found her sister first? He didn’t want to have this conversation with Farideh-without quite being sure why, he suspected she wouldn’t like it. And Havilar would probably be furious he ruined her chance to tell Farideh.
“Do you know what I’m talking about?” Farideh said hesitantly.
“Maybe,” he said. “But does it matter? I agree with you. Let’s keep Havi safe.” He smiled at her. “When’s the last time you slept properly?”
Farideh groaned and rubbed her face. “My ritual wore off. So … I suppose it’s been awhile.”
“Dedicated to the treasures of the ages, eh?”
She didn’t laugh as she came to her feet. “Something like that.”
“I think Havilar was heading back to the camp,” he said. “If you want to find her, that’s the most likely spot.” She nodded, too tired perhaps, to remember that Brin was the one who wanted her to find Havilar.
“Have you seen Tam, by the way?” he asked as he handed her the collection of books and scrolls she’d had open.
“I haven’t seen anyone,” she said. “This place is a maze. And the echoes … you know people are out there, but it’s as if the sounds all come around the corners. He could be anywhere.”
Brin sighed. “Damn. All right.” The scrolls were threatening to tumble out of her arms. “What are you doing with all of this? Did you find Mira’s spells or something?”
“No,” she said diffidently. “It’s a ritual.”
He cocked his head. “A ritual? Where’d you find a ritual in here? That’s new magic, I thought.”
She shook her head, as if the question were unanswerable. “There’s a little of everything in here, I suppose,” she said too lightly. “Except Mira’s spellbooks. If I see Tam, I’ll tell him you’re looking for him.” And without leaving him any room to ask what sort of ritual it was, where she’d found it, or why she was acting so cagey, she turned and vanished in between the shelves. He frowned-he’d tell Tam about that too.
There was nothing out of the ordinary around the alcove, and nothing odd-or odder, at least-about the Book itself.
What sort of tampering? it wanted to know when Brin asked.
“Any sort, really,” he said. He shrugged, and wondered if the thing could appreciate the gesture. “Perhaps I’m imagining things.”
What exactly are you imagining?
There was an edge to that question, as if there were an answer that the Book wouldn’t like, and Brin hesitated. How much did it really know? “Shapes in the shadows,” he said. “There was a concern, when we found the cavern, that the Netherese had beaten us here.”
Aside from those who founded it? the Book said. It chuckled. I assure you, there are no assassins left walking in the shadows.
Brin left it then, uncertain of what he’d discovered, and wound his way back toward the center of the library, hoping to find Tam-or at least someone who had seen the silverstar-before he ran into Havilar and Farideh. Loyal Torm, he hoped that went well enough.
He came around a shelf of neatly packed scrolls and found himself facing, not the rows and rows of books that he expected, but a room. A little room, with a little bed meant for a penitent priest, and a window that overlooked a courtyard. He crept toward it, knowing that he’d see brick red tiles, and scores of milling nobles in dark clothes. A bell started tolling, and he listened to each of the thirty-four peals with bated breath, as if the bell falling short might mean it was another’s years it honored.
“Aubrin,” someone said behind him. He turned. Constancia stood in the doorway, framed in the light of the low afternoon sun. She wore a charcoal gray gown instead of her ubiquitous armor, and she was still young. Younger than Brin was now. Fifteen, he remembered. Fifteen when she’d last worn mourning.