A Princess of Landover

THE VOICE IN THE SHADOWS



Mistaya returned to work in the Stacks the following morning and did not speak to Thom even once of the voice. She listened for it carefully, but the hours passed, and no one called out to her. The longer she waited, the more uncertain she became about what she had heard. Perhaps she had only imagined it after all. Perhaps the shadows and the overall creepiness of the Stacks had combined to make her think she was hearing a voice that wasn’t there.

By midday, she was feeling so disillusioned about it that when Thom declared almost an hour early that it was lunchtime, she didn’t even bother to argue.

Seated across from each other at the wooden table in the otherwise empty kitchen, they ate their soup and bread and drank their milk in silence.

Finally, Thom said, “You’re not still mad at me for yesterday, are you?”

She stared at him, uncomprehending. Yesterday? Had he done something?

“When I told you I didn’t want you going back into the Stacks by yourself?” he added helpfully.

“Oh, that!” she declared, remembering now. “No, I’m not mad about that. I wasn’t mad then, either. I just wanted to have a look at what was back there because I thought I heard something.” She shook her head in disgust. “But I think I must have imagined it.”

He was quiet a moment. Then he said, “What do you think you heard, Ellice?”

His face was so serious, his eyes fixed on her as if she might reveal mysteries about which he could only wonder, that she grinned despite herself. “Actually, I thought I heard someone calling.”

He didn’t laugh at her, didn’t crack a smile, didn’t change expression at all. “Did the voice say, ‘Help me’?”

Her eyes widened, and she reached impulsively for his hand. “You heard it, too?”

He nodded slowly, his shock of dark hair falling down over his eyes. He brushed it away in that familiar gesture. A lot about him was getting familiar to her by now. “I heard it. But not yesterday when you did. I heard it a few weeks ago, before you came.”

She leaned forward eagerly, lowering her voice. “Did you go back into the Stacks to see if someone was there?”

“I did. That was when I found myself in the trouble I warned you about yesterday. We were supposed to talk about it last night, but you forgot. I think you were still wondering about the voice when you left me. Am I right?”

She nodded quickly. “I thought about it all night. And I did forget to ask you what happened. Will you tell me now?”

He leaned close as well, taking a careful look about the kitchen. “Two weeks ago, around midday, I heard the voice. Not for the first time, you understand. I’d heard it before, very faint, very far away. I was always alone, working on cataloging the books. I’d made myself believe I was hearing things. But this time, I couldn’t ignore it. I went back into the darkest corners of the Stacks when everyone else was eating lunch or off doing something.” He had dropped his own voice to a whisper to match hers. “I have good eyesight, so I didn’t take any kind of light that might give me away to Pinch. You know how he’s always lurking around. Anyway, I had heard the voice very clearly this time. It was saying the same thing, over and over. ‘Help me! Help me!’ You can imagine how I felt, hearing it pleading like that. I decided to try to track it down.”

He paused, glancing left and right once more. “There were Throg Monkeys back there, dozens of them. But they weren’t paying any attention to me. They were carrying books, but they didn’t seem to be going anywhere. Some of them glanced my way before disappearing back into the shelving. One or two hissed at me. But they do that all the time, and I keep them under control with the whistle. So they let me pass without trying to stop me. It got darker and more shadowy as I went, and everything seemed to lose shape. Like it was all underwater, except it wasn’t, of course. But the Stacks seemed to ripple and shimmer as if they were.”

“Did you hear the voice while you were back there?” she interrupted.

He shook his head. “Not once. I listened for it, but didn’t hear anything. The farther back I went, the deeper the Stacks seemed to go. I couldn’t find the end. I don’t mind telling you that it gave me the shivers. But I kept going anyway. I thought I was being silly feeling scared like that. After all, I hadn’t been attacked or anything. Nothing had threatened me.”

He took a deep breath. “But then something happened. Something grabbed at me. Not like a hand or anything. More like a suction of some kind, pulling at me with tremendous force. It happened all at once, and I lost my footing and fell down. I was being dragged along the floor toward this darkness that looked like a huge tunnel. I started screaming, but it didn’t help. I managed to catch hold of one of the legs of the shelving and pull myself up against it. I clung to it with everything I had. Finally, I was able to pull myself back along the shelves until I was out of its grip. It took a long time, and no one came to help me. Which was probably a good thing, because if I’d been caught snooping I don’t think I would still be here and I wouldn’t have met you.”

Mistaya rested her chin in her hands. “So you never did find out about the voice? Or any of the rest of it?”

He shook his head. “I didn’t. And I didn’t hear it again, either. I kept thinking I would, but I didn’t. So I ended up doing what you did. I convinced myself I was mistaken. I knew I wasn’t supposed to go back into the Stacks in the first place—His Eminence and Pinch had made that pretty clear. I just chalked the whole thing up to not doing what I had been told and almost paying the penalty for my disobedience. Not that I didn’t wonder; I just didn’t know what I should do.”

“So what do you think we should do now?” she asked him. “Now that I’ve heard the voice, too. Now that we know something is back there.” She watched his face as she said it, curious to measure his response. “Shouldn’t we do something?”

He gave her a momentary look of disbelief, and then he grinned. “Of course we should do something. But we have to do it together, and we have to be very careful.”

“We should have a better chance if there are two of us,” she declared excitedly. “We can protect each other.”

“We’d better go in at night, when everyone is asleep. Maybe whatever is back there will be sleeping, too.”

She nodded eagerly. “When do we go?”

“Soon as possible, I guess. Tonight?”

She grabbed his hand impulsively and squeezed it. “I like you, Thom of Libiris! I like you a lot!”

To his credit, he blushed bright red and looked immensely pleased.

They spent the afternoon planning their nighttime excursion, talking about it in low voices as they worked on the cataloging of the books, aware that Rufus Pinch was never far away and always listening. They decided they would go in around midnight, when everyone should be sleeping and no one would be working in the Stacks. They would take glow sticks to give them light, since the shelf torches were always extinguished at night, and they would make their way back into the shadowy recesses of the cavernous room until they found its end. If they were lucky, they would hear the voice while they were doing so. If not, they might at least find the back wall and see what was there.

Several times, as their conversation drifted on to other subjects, Thom remarked again that some of the books from the library seemed to be missing. It was impossible to tell which ones because all he had been given to work with by His Eminence was a list of catalog numbers. The only way he could even tell that books were missing was because he couldn’t find a match for some of the numbers on the list, and occasionally he noticed gaps in the books on the shelves.

“Why don’t they give you the titles instead of just the numbers?” Mistaya asked him.

He shrugged. “I don’t know. His Eminence said I didn’t need the titles, only the numbers. Maybe he was trying to save on ink.”

“Did you tell him that there were books missing?”

“I told him. He said that maybe they weren’t really missing, that they were just misplaced. But finding any of them would have meant searching the whole of the Stacks, and I don’t have that sort of time. I try to keep an eye out for them, but I haven’t found any yet.”

She thought about it a moment. “Do the catalog numbers have any relationship to one another? If they did, maybe we could figure out what section the missing books came from.”

“The numbers are all different. They don’t share any common points that I can determine. Hey, would you hand me that book right there? The one with the red lettering on the cover?”

The subject was dropped again, and they continued with their work in silence. Mistaya soon found herself thinking about how long ago and far away her time at Carrington seemed. It wasn’t really either one, but it seemed that way thinking on it. From studying the literature, sciences, and history of a world that wasn’t even her own to cataloging ancient books in a library no one ever used in a world no one outside her own even knew existed struck her as bizarre. Neither endeavor seemed particularly important to her, nor compelling in a way that made her feel she was using her time well. She had felt trapped at Carrington and she felt trapped all over again here at Libiris. Why couldn’t she find a way to make herself feel useful? Why did she feel so adrift no matter what she was doing?

For a moment, a single moment, she thought about leaving and going home. How bad could it be, if she did? She would have to face up to her father’s disappointment and possibly his anger. She would have to prepare herself for a heated discussion about what would happen next. But what was the worst that could come out of that discussion? Maybe she would be sent back to Libiris, but maybe not. If she could manage to keep her temper in check and argue logically and forcefully, perhaps she could manage to talk him into having her do something else. Wouldn’t that be better than what she was doing now?

Still, that would mean leaving Thom, perhaps for good, and she wasn’t quite ready to do that. She liked being with him; even though most of what they did was work, she was having fun.

“Have you ever asked His Eminence for a copy of his master list of the books shelved at Libiris?” she asked after a while, frustrated by finding yet another set of gaps in the shelves.

Thom shook his head. “I don’t think he would give it to me.”

She stood up abruptly. “Maybe not. But I think it’s worth asking. Let me try.”

“Ellice, wait,” he objected.

“I’ll just be a minute,” she called back to him, already on her way. “Don’t worry, I won’t cause trouble.”

Without waiting for his response, she crossed the room to the far wall and followed the aisles through the shelving back to the door leading to Craswell Crabbit’s office. The Stacks felt huge and empty, and even her soft footfalls echoed in the cavernous expanse. She could not quite shed her distaste for the feelings the library engendered in her.

As she drew closer to her destination, she heard voices from inside. To her surprise, the door was cracked open.

She crept closer, curious now, taking slow, measured steps so as not to give herself away. She could hear Crabbit and Rufus Pinch, their conversation low and guarded. As if they didn’t want anyone to hear, she thought. She slowed further. If she was caught sneaking around like this, she would no doubt be tossed through the front door of Libiris instantly.

“… easier if we had them on this side of the wall,” Pinch was saying. “Then we wouldn’t have to worry about hauling them all back again.”

“Easier, yes,” His Eminence agreed, “but ineffective for our needs. To work their magic, they need to be right where they are.”

“I don’t trust our so-called allies,” Pinch pressed, his voice a low growl that bordered on a whine. “What if they go back on their bargain?”

“Stop fretting, Mr. Pinch. What possible reason could they have for doing that? They want out, don’t they? And not just into Landover. They need me to accomplish that. They don’t have the skills and the experience to read the necessary passages.”

“They might know more than you think.”

“They might …” His Eminence paused. “Mr. Pinch, did you leave that door open when you entered? That wasn’t very wise of you. Close it now, please.”

Mistaya tiptoed backward as swiftly as she could to where the shelving unit ended and flattened herself against the wall. She held her breath until she heard the door close, then stayed where she was for another few minutes before moving silently away.

When she got back to Thom, he asked, “Any luck?”

“I didn’t ask,” she told him. She gave him a shrug and what she hoped was a disarming grin. “He was busy with something else.”

She thought about the conversation between His Eminence and Pinch for the rest of the afternoon. She was still thinking about it at dinner that night, sitting with Thom, and later when she went to bed.

But when Thom woke her at midnight, leaning close and gently shaking her shoulder until she came awake, it was all forgotten.

“Shhh!” he whispered, putting a finger to his lips. “No talking, no noise at all!”

She was already dressed as she rolled out of her bed and slipped on her boots. The room was dark except for a sliver of moonlight that slanted down through the single high, narrow window on the east wall. She straightened her clothing, retightened her belt, and gave him a nod. He handed her one of the two glow sticks he was carrying, but she didn’t light it. By previous agreement, they would work their way into the Stacks in the dark and light the glow sticks when they could no longer see at all.

They slipped from her bedroom with Thom leading the way, their footfalls virtually noiseless in the deep silence. The hallway beyond was empty and dark, and they passed down it without seeing or hearing anything or anyone. When they reached the Stacks, Thom held up his hand for a moment while he studied the larger room carefully. She listened as well, but heard nothing. When both were satisfied that it was safe, they slipped from the shadows of the hallway into the cavernous silence of the Stacks.

In the dark upper reaches of the room, something scurried along the beams and was gone. Mistaya exchanged a hurried glance with Thom, but he shook his head. Whatever was up there wasn’t interested in them.

They crossed the open space to the beginning of the shelving aisles and started for the back of the room.

Somewhere behind them, a door opened and closed on squeaky hinges, the sound echoing in the deep silence.

They froze as one, halfway down the aisle at the first set of shelves, eyes peering back over their shoulders, waiting. Mistaya quit breathing for long moments, certain that someone was about to appear. But no one did, and the sound of the squeaking hinges did not come again. They continued to wait, not wanting to make a mistake, to take an unnecessary or foolish risk. If either one decided to call it off, they had agreed, the other would not argue. They would simply wait and try another time.

Finally, long moments later, they looked at each other and nodded wordlessly. The hunt would go on.

Back into the darkness they crept, moving carefully between shelving units that had the feel of confining walls. The small amount of moonlight let in by the high windows at the front of the room slowly faded behind them, leaving the darkness thicker and more impenetrable. At last they could see almost nothing, and they had to feel their way ahead by using the shelves as guide rails.

When the last of the light dimmed to nothing more than a distant glimmer, Thom brought them to a stop. They still hadn’t reached the back wall, and there was no indication that they would anytime soon.

“We have to use the glow sticks,” he whispered in her ear. “Remember. They only last for two hours, so we have to get back before time runs out.”

She nodded that she understood. Together they broke off the tips, and a soft, golden glow spread away in a pool of light that extended about six feet from each bearer. The way forward made clear, they started ahead once more.

By now, Mistaya thought, they must have covered several hundred yards. But that was impossible. The Stacks couldn’t be that deep. There had to be magic at work, and she wondered who had set it in place and why. She reached out for its source, but couldn’t find it. She also wondered at the blackness of the space. She seemed to remember from her work in the daytime that windows on both walls extended back for as far as she could see. Why weren’t those windows permitting any moonlight to enter the room? She knew the moon was full and the sky clear that night. Was the magic that made the room seem so much larger also blocking the light and cloaking the room in shadows?

Time slipped away, and still they didn’t find the back wall. Mistaya began to grow impatient—and more than a little uneasy.

Finally, Thom brought them to a halt once more. “We need to start back,” he whispered in her ear. His face was so close she could feel the heat of his body. “The glow sticks are half gone.”

“Why is it taking so long?” she hissed.

“I don’t know. It didn’t take this long before. It took much less time. Something is wrong.”

“I think it’s magic that’s making us think the room is much larger and the way much longer!” She hesitated. “I know a little about how it works.”

To his credit, he didn’t ask for an explanation. “You want to go on?”

“For a little longer. I think we can find our way back.”

They pushed on, their sense of urgency growing exponentially. Mistaya wasn’t certain how much longer they could search, but she didn’t want to give up until she absolutely had to. Thom, she sensed, wouldn’t quit before she did, no matter what. His pride wouldn’t let him. He was the older and stronger of the two; he would tough it out for as long as she did.

Then, all of a sudden, she heard the voice.

Help me! Help me!

From the way Thom drew up short, his body going rigid, she knew that he had heard it, too.

“Just ahead!” she whispered encouragingly, even though she wasn’t at all sure that this was so.

But then she felt the pressure from whatever it was that had gripped Thom two weeks earlier, a sucking at the air about her that gripped her and held her fast, pulling her forward. She saw Thom lurch and stumble, his arms flailing. They collapsed in a tangle of limbs, grasping first at each other and then at the shelving units, trying unsuccessfully to get hold of something as they skidded along the floor and down the aisle. Whatever was pulling them forward was more powerful than she had expected, an irresistible force she could not fight against. She tried to get into a kneeling position, yet the force not only pulled her relentlessly ahead but held her down. The glow stick flew from her hand and was lost. She almost lost her grip on Thom, but just barely managed to hang on to one of his strong legs.

Ahead, a huge blackness hove into view, a tunnel of such impenetrable darkness that it looked as if it would swallow them whole. In that moment, she thought they were lost. So much so that she began to summon her magic in a last-ditch attempt to save them.

But Thom, resourceful as always, finally managed to grab hold of a leg of one of the shelving units and pull them both over to huddle against the heavy structure, anchoring them in place against the sucking force. She heard a sound like breathing, deep and powerful, and the force increased. But Thom held them fast, refusing to give in to it. She pressed herself against him, tucking her head against his leg, her face flattened to the worn wooden floor of the room.

Which was when she felt the sudden flush of warmth against her face. She jerked away in surprise, but then pressed down again with her cheek to make sure. The floor was pulsing softly, a sensation that was unmistakable. There was a life force embedded in the wooden boards. She felt the beating of its heart, and the entire experience was suddenly so familiar that she could hardly believe it. She knew what this was! She had known since she was a child!

It was Sterling Silver, the castle that cared for and nurtured the Kings and Queens of Landover and their families. It sheltered and protected them against the elements and enemies alike. It warmed them when they were cold and cooled them when they were hot. It provided them with food and clothing. It could determine their physical needs and to a very large extent satisfy them.

It was her home!

But how could that be? Sterling Silver was a sentient being formed of magic-infused materials, and it was the only one of its kind. Was it really the castle’s life force she was feeling? If so, how had it found its way here when it was rooted in the bedrock of the island on which it had been built?

The glow stick that Thom held went out, and they were left in blackness. The sucking force continued to pull at them for a long time after that, but finally it eased into a soft breathing and then ceased altogether. Mistaya and Thom lay together, listening to the silence, waiting for something more. Mistaya kept her face pressed to the floor, but the warmth she had felt earlier was fading away.

Don’t go, she thought. Don’t leave me.

But there was nothing she could do to make it stay, and seconds later it was gone.

She sat up again cautiously, placing her back against the shelving unit that had served as an anchor, the darkness deep and unbroken all around. The warmth she had felt in the floor and the pulsing of the life that had created it had both disappeared.

Mistaya could not understand. What had just happened?

“I think we should quit for tonight,” Thom said softly, a disembodied voice in the black.

“I suppose so,” she agreed. She was silent a moment, and then she said, “Thom, did you feel anything in the floor?”

She could hear him sitting up next to her. “Like what?”

“A pulsing, a warmth?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I was busy trying to hold on to the shelving so we wouldn’t be sucked down into that tunnel. Did you feel all that? The pulsing and the warmth?”

She wasn’t sure what to say now. “I might have been mistaken,” she answered. “I was pretty scared.”

He laughed quietly. “So was I. It wasn’t any easier this time, even knowing what to expect. But I won’t give up if you won’t.”

She reached out and squeezed his arm. “You know I won’t give up. Thanks for sticking with me.”

They rose and began groping their way back down the aisle, using the edges of the shelves to guide them, careful to keep together in the deep gloom. They didn’t speak of what had happened, knowing it was better to wait until later. Mistaya wondered how much time had passed. If magic had obscured distance and light, it could have obscured time, as well. It could have obscured everything they had experienced. Nothing might have been what they thought it was.

Yet she couldn’t dismiss the strong feeling of recognition that had flooded through her. She wasn’t mistaken about that, but she didn’t know what it meant. Was she sensing the presence of her home? Had Sterling Silver reached out to her somehow? Was it a warning that something was wrong at home? Or perhaps it wasn’t the castle at all. Perhaps it was Libiris she was feeling. But if so, why did it feel like it was alive?

Those questions, in turn, made her wonder anew about the voice. Exactly who was it that was calling?

They had almost reached the front of the Stacks and Mistaya was thinking of how good it was going to feel to sleep when a hunched figure appeared abruptly in their path, and a familiar wizened face lifted into the pale wash of the moonlight.

“Out for a little nighttime walk, are we?” asked Rufus Pinch with a visible sneer.

“We were just …,” Mistaya began.

“Just looking for …,” Thom picked up.

Pinch held up both hands. “Doing what you were expressly forbidden to do. That’s what you were doing! Well, now you’re going to have to pay the price for your disobedience, aren’t you? His Eminence will know how to deal with you!”

Mistaya felt her heart sink. She had ruined everything.

“Off to your rooms!” Pinch ordered, making shooing motions with his hands. “Don’t even think of trying to do anything else. Lock yourselves in and remain there until sunrise. Then report to His Eminence first thing. Now go! Get!”

Obediently, Mistaya and Thom headed out of the Stacks. Mistaya was miserable. She would be sent home for certain. In all likelihood, Thom would be punished in some equally unpleasant way. And it was all because of her.

“Don’t worry,” Thom declared cheerfully as they parted for the night.

“I won’t,” she promised. But of course, she already was.

She reached her bedroom sunk in a miasma of gloom and dark thoughts, opened the door, and nearly jumped with fright when a tall, gangly figure seated on the edge of her bed abruptly stood.

“Hello, Mistaya,” said Questor Thews, and held out his hands in greeting.