Chapter 2, Part iii

 “It's not here!” thundered Professor Trellis. “I have looked everywhere in this accursed library, and the Manxor Slithe is not here!” He gripped the nearest bookshelf and heaved it to the floor with a resounding crash. Books and pages tumbled everywhere, raising a huge cloud of dust.

Io and Cyras stood a few yards away and looked on in silence. The town clerk, Eugene Gribley, a bespectacled man as thin as the pencil tucked behind his ear, nervously played with his fingers as he watched the Professor. “Master,” he stammered, “Perhaps we can find one of the librarians and get the information out of him?”

Trellis was fuming. “Gribley, I have already tried that. Those imbeciles have no information that I want.” He jabbed a finger at the group of bound and gagged librarians sitting on the floor of the History Section. “How would they have even known that it existed? Even I didn't know it existed until a week ago.”

Gribley quailed and fiddled with his tie. “Sir,” he muttered. “Ah, Master, actually--”

“Out with it, worm!” boomed the Professor. The absence of the Manxor Slithe mocked him mercilessly.

“Master, there is a librarian missing. The blond one.”

Trellis paused. This was true. What was his name? Oh, yes: Blithe. The one that set loose the Tove. He began pacing back and forth, treading all over the spilled almanacs. “That one knows something: that's why he let the Tove loose. We have to find him and have a little talk.”

Gribley stole a glance at Io and Cyras, who stood like statues in the settling dust. “Em. Whatever you wish, Master.”

Even though is was frustrating to lengthen his to-do list, Trellis was glad that at least they were making progress. He signaled to the dark-robed figure on the right, who made no movement in response. “Io. Go and find the librarian Blithe. If he has the book, take it from him and do away with him. If he does not, bring him back here--”

Suddenly, Trellis's sharp ears picked up the sound of a door creaking open: the library front door, which he had taken care to lock shut. He held up a hand for silence as he lifted his nose in the air and sniffed. He sniffed again. Then he grinned in a way that made Eugene Gribley's heart turn into a bowl of quivering curds.

“My, my, it looks like fortune has brought us a little present. Perhaps today won't be such a failure after all.

*

“Burr, I need you to stay here until I come out of the library,” Aric whispered to his brown-furred companion. Burr nodded obediently. “I'm not sure if the book I'm looking for is in there or not, but I'm just going to check things out and be out quickly. I need you to lie low until I'm back; don't let anyone see you or hear you. You've got to be completely invisible. Got it?”

“Got it.”

Aric gave the young Tove – he was really little more than an adolescent – a dramatic wink and a thumbs-up. He had quickly taken a liking to Burr and his relaxed attitude, even though they had had very little time to chat on their nonstop ride to Dunberg. For a stranger among strangers, the little guy was certainly very trusting. Maybe he's just attached to me because I rescued him from that mob, Aric thought for the umpteenth time. But there wasn't time to verify that now. The Manxor Slithe was waiting.

Burr slipped into an alley and Aric sidled up to the big double doors of the Dunberg Library. He gingerly gripped the etched handle and pushed, but the door wouldn't budge. He pushed and pulled a little stronger, but to no avail. A public library with locked doors in the middle of a weekday? Something must be wrong...

Come to think of it, the townsfolk had certainly seemed pretty agitated when they had arrived. There was a bunch of talk about Toves, as there was everywhere these days, so he had taken care to buy a big, hooded coat and some boots and bundle up Burr in it all. Luckily, he was small of stature so the passing eye would take him for a child dressed up for winter, granted that nobody actually looked inside the hood.

Aric drummed his fingers on the cast-iron handles. Getting in wouldn't be too hard, but there was certainly something – or somebody – waiting in there. Too bad, he reasoned, I didn't come all this way for nothing. And I haven't yet met the public official that I can't win over.

He didn't like doing this, but he produced a lockpick from his pocket and deftly jiggled it in the lock. With a click that was a little louder than necessary, the lock gave way and Aric slowly pushed the door open with just enough space for one person to squeeze through. He inhaled and held a hand to the scabbard on his belt to fit in the crack.

Once inside the musty building, he silently pushed the tall oak door closed behind him. He took a deep breath – strange, he didn't usually feel nervous about anything, as a rule – and stealthily made his way toward the History Section. After all, that was where the Manxor Slithe was supposed to be, if his informant was correct. The library was scrupulously organized, so it was fairly easy to find the History Section, though the absence of librarians, staff or patrons of any kind was a little unnerving. He found the spiral staircase that led to the second floor and crept up the steps, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword as he walked.

He hadn't yet reached the top stair when suddenly he saw the last face he wanted to see in the whole world at this moment. The face was staring straight back at him coolly.

“Professor Trellis,” Aric choked.

“Hello, my friend Aric,” said the Professor. The man was standing with his hands behind his back in a mess of books, thrown carelessly in heaps and piles all over the floor. It looked like a tornado had passed through the History Section. Also in the room were about a dozen prisoners, tied up with rags tied around their eyes and mouths, forced to sit in the center of a clearing in the mess; a hunched, spindly man that looked like he was born to balance checkbooks; and, to Aric's horror, two shadowy figures shrouded in darkly colored robes.

For the first time in years, Aric found himself speechless. Professor Trellis made no move toward him, but his words made Aric's legs want to retreat down the staircase. “Aric, it would seem that you got here in a rather timely manner. I admire your punctuality and your bravery. But it would seem that you and I are in the same boat, so to speak. The book is not here.”

“So I gathered.”

Trellis sighed. “And so we come to this impasse. What shall we do now? For whoever obtains the Manxor Slithe first gains the upper hand, for good or for ill. But whereas you have performed valiantly up until now, I'm afraid this is where your noble quest ends. For you see,” he swept his hand toward the two robed creatures, “I simply have more resources than you do.”

Aric tried not to show his fear, though his knees had turned to water. He tightened his grip on his sword.

“And I see you have that wonderful blade,” the Professor added. “Very, very impressive indeed, my young friend. Certainly that was not an easy prize to get. It would seem that you intend to put a stop to my plans with that legendary weapon. It is an invaluable possession, to be sure, and I would rather see it in more... responsible hands than yours. But I will not try to take it from you at this time; no, I do not dare; and besides, I have more pressing matters at hand.”

“Cut the talk, Trellis,” said Aric shortly. “Tell me where the book is.”

Trellis laughed dryly and spread his hands over the pitiful chaos of the library. “Didn't you hear me, Aric? It's not here! Do you think I would be here if I knew where that blasted tome was?” He laughed again, but Aric didn't respond. “Nevertheless, you know me too well. I have a good idea where the book is. It is with a young man, the caretaker of this very library. Impressively, he was one step ahead of me and he fled just last night, taking the book along with him. But he is not out of my reach, not at all.

“Io,” he continued nonchalantly. “You have your mission. Go to the librarian.”

Without a word the robed thing named Io burst into motion and darted for the floor-to-ceiling window with unnatural speed.

“No!” Aric screamed, and took off in a sprint toward the window. The glass shattered with a resounding crash, and before the shards had reached the ground Aric had leaped through the hole into the biting air.

For a moment, the world was still: Aric's body continued through empty space, the little triangles of glass hovered in their downard path, and the black figure's robes fluttered slowly in the air before him. He even had time to notice a thick flake of snow drifting quietly from the sky to the earth. Then Aric landed on the stone rooftop across the street from the library, and he rolled to absorb the impact. He came up running and pumped his limbs furiously in pursuit of the robed figure. Io was very agile, effortlessly leaping from roof to roof and scaling walls and chimneys without exertion. Aric had to think quickly and take right path where he couldn't follow Io, and more than once he slipped on the snow that was gathering on Dunberg's rooftops. A few people down on the streets noticed them leaping, climbing and running, and cried out in alarm, but Aric didn't take notice: he had eyes only for Io, who was steadily getting farther and farther away.

Then came the last roof before the fields began. Io reached the end and instantly vanished over the edge. Aric knew that Io could survive a greater impact than his frail body would, but he had to stop that horrible creature before it escaped. Without a second thought or even a first, Aric planted his foot on the edge of the roof and pushed himself off.

A rush of wind, a surge of adrenaline, and suddenly Aric's world was made of scratchy yellow hay. He scrambled and stumbled out of the haystack and started running toward the field, but Io was already little more than a black speck against the dark, green pine forest on the horizon. His lungs and his legs screamed in pain, and Aric fell to his knees and gasped for breath.

The familiar sound of horse feet thumped against the dirt, and Aric looked up to see Burr awkwardly riding an unfamiliar horse toward him. “I brought horse,” Burr stated with urgency. Despite it all, Aric couldn't help but grin.

Who knows where he got it, but he brought horse just in time. What a faithful little guy.

“You are amazing, my friend,” Aric panted, and with a Tovish smile Burr helped lift him into the saddle. “We've got to catch him,” he explained, and without wasting any more breath he whipped the gray horse into a gallop.

*