For days after my visit to the mines I laid low, afraid that the Miners’ Guild member would reveal my little excursion and that word would get back to the King. Before sneaking out of the palace to go to the mines, I hadn’t been too concerned about getting caught, because how bad could the ramifications be? Just more guards, or better ones at any rate. Sneaking me in and out of the palace had been surprisingly easy. Restrictions on my freedom? That was certainly possible, but not the end of the world. But now that I’d had time to think about it and stew in a pot of worry, I realized that while getting caught might not hurt me, it would hurt those with whom I’d gotten involved.
Tristan had explained the half-bloods’ situation, but I hadn’t really understood until I’d spent a night in their shoes. It was Tips and his gang who had made me feel just how little those in power valued the lives of the half-bloods, and how one small transgression could cost them their lives – lives that were already at risk every time they stepped into the mines. I realized how much they were risking by even considering a rebellion, and what failure would cost them. And knowing what I did now, being able to close my eyes and remember faces and names… it made me willing to risk my own life to help them. But to help, I needed to know more.
I had only seen the library from the outside. In fact, I had never been inside a library before, and nothing could have prepared me for the magnitude of the place. Rows and rows of shelves stretched through the building, some so tall that their tops were obscured by darkness. I would have been at a loss about where to begin, but fortunately, the library was not empty.
Leaving my guards at the front, élise and I walked towards the telltale glow of troll-light until I came upon a man bent over a large book, quill in hand. He leapt up at our approach, and I noticed he had an ink stain smeared across the bridge of his nose.
“My lady.” He bowed awkwardly and pushed his thick spectacles back up his nose. They promptly slipped back down again.
“Are you a librarian, sir?” I asked politely.
“Fourth librarian, if it please you, my lady.”
I didn’t overly care if he was fourth or fortieth, so long as he could help me find what I needed. “I am hoping you can help me with some… er…” I glanced at élise, who was examining the titles on one of the shelves, “research.”
“On what subject, my lady?”
I took the librarian’s arm and led him deeper into the stacks. élise seemed content to stay where she was, which was fine with me. I didn’t want to involve her unnecessarily. “Is there anything written on the Duchesse Sylvie’s prophesy?”
His eyes widened. “No, my lady. She would not consent to being questioned about the details. But His Highness was present – he knows precisely the words she spoke.”
I frowned. “What about the Fall, then? Or… the witch?”
“Anushka.” His expression was grim – this was not a topic the trolls liked to discuss.
“Was that her name?” I had never heard her called anything but “the witch”.
“Indeed, my lady. She was foreign-born, obviously, from the northern part of the continent. A favored courtesan and entertainer of the court of King Alexis III.”
We reached a pedestal with a glass case sitting on it. Inside there was a book, which the librarian removed: Chronicles of the Fall. He flipped carefully through the heavily illustrated pages and then paused. “This is her.”
I leaned over to get a better look and gasped. The redheaded woman on the page stared out at me with brilliant blue eyes.
“A few years older, but the resemblance is uncanny,” the librarian agreed.
“It is indeed,” I breathed. “Tell me sir, what is your name?”
“Martin, my lady.”
“Martin, will you leave me with this book and seek out others that might be of assistance to me?”
“Gladly, my lady.”
Before he went, he set the ponderous book on a table for me. I started at the beginning, the morning of the Fall. Just before noon, all of Trollus was alerted of their impending doom by the echoing crack of thunder. As countless tons of rock spilled down the valley, tens of thousands of trolls lifted their hands and magic to protect themselves and, in doing so, created a collective shield that protected the city as the rock blocked out the sky.
I pored over the illustrations showing beautiful, terrified troll faces with their arms thrown skyward as the mountain poured down on them. The drawings showed humans, too, all of them crouched in terror at the feet of the trolls. Helpless.