5 The Librarian

AFTER SCATTER’S ABRUPT departure, Threadfin immediately began his search for the Librarian. There was no time to waste after all, and he had abandoned a grumbling Podral Pole to his bed.

Presently, the viral mage stalked the narrow streets of a mirror world. The black cobbles beneath him felt solid, thick walls of buildings on either side looming over him. Threadfin knew it all for a lie. There was a palpable malice to this version of Icarthya, and it exuded through the stones themselves. He would never have thought it possible, but the city lived. And it had nothing to do with the hapless citizens within its shattered walls. It was the stone itself, writhing, grasping, full of intention.

Alive.

It was where his hunt had led him; to another dead end. Scatter’s advice had been to search between worlds for a realm which lay hidden. A world unaligned with all others. In truth it was not a mirror at all, but a rogue. Threadfin thought of it like a malign growth eating away at a body, or in this case, the Spectrum of Existence. Unlike the Grimstyx, this was a creation of the Librarian, an entity of unknown origin. Scatter’s knowledge had come from Nalrost’s surviving records that had proven enough to get him there. Would it be enough to get him back though?

Figures, gaunt and skeletal, haunted the darker extremities of alleys and doorways. They all had the appearance of death; sickly faces, often smeared with blood and dirt, stick-thin bones and reaching fingers. Sometimes the streets liquefied beneath them, swallowing them up and cutting off their cries.

This city was hungry.

The viral mage pulled his mundane robes close about him as he stalked down a narrow side street. It didn’t look promising. The walls on either side shimmered and liquefied. Threadfin halted as he watched the walls turn solid again.

Instinct told him his destination wasn’t far if he could make it there without being devoured, but he was uncertain which building. Somewhere in this place was a clue, and I’m not turning back until I find it.

Scatter had told him the Librarian was supposed to possess an archive of the entire Spectrum. She had not explained how such a thing was possible, yet it was all he had to go on. Within the archive, there had to be a clue to the Tower of Babel’s exact location, or Astra’s. Either would be progress.

He’d thought about seeking help from Manic and Mania, but his last words to them had been unfriendly. He’d wanted nothing to do with them and had threatened them. Sort of. They were shraeds, weren’t they? Likely received threats all the time. Guilt welled up. He crushed it. No time for breather sentimentalities. Bloody shraeds.

Without warning, hands of stone snatched at his ankles. Threadfin tried to flee. His magic swirled about him as it struck at the stone assailant. Chips flew, but it refused to let go.

He let out a yell as the street swallowed him whole.

‡

THUNDEROUS ECHOES REVERBERATED through Threadfin’s skull. After a moment, they faded to a dull whine and he opened his eyes to find he was sitting in a comfortable wooden chair. One with satin cushions. A sourceless light surrounded the chair, but beyond the five-foot circle, was pitch blackness. It all stank of magic and not his. The only thing worse than his magic up to no good, was someone else’s.

‘Hum, hum,’ said a voice from somewhere in the darkness beyond. ‘You’re him, aren’t you? The “be end of all, and be all of the end—”’

‘No, no,’ screeched a second voice. ‘It’s the “be all and end all, and end all of be,” and that’s not his title you idiot. Don’t you read the prophecies? You’re mixing him up with that other one.’

‘Which one?’

‘The one who smells better.’

‘Oh, him. Yes, no, we don’t want to see him. He’s too hostile. Too dangerous. No, yes, I like this one better.’

‘Me too.’

A light grew from a spark to a blazing inferno, before reducing to a comfortable level. Its source was impossible to determine, but now in front of Threadfin, where there had been impenetrable darkness, was a gigantic desk. Old books and parchments cluttered its polished surface, against the backdrop of a towering wall of books smothered in cobwebs and scuttling critters. Seated behind the desk was a gigantic two-headed man.

At first, Threadfin thought it was a man, or should that be men? Would it be rude to ask? Both sets of eyes studied him in return, and Threadfin realised it wasn’t living. Maybe a viral. Odd, since Scatter had suggested the undead existed in just one world and nowhere else Then again, he wasn’t certain where he was.

‘Ah,’ said the head on the right. It wore some sort of eye device consisting of wire and glass. It made one of its eyes look enormous. It had wiry hair sticking out everywhere, including the ears. ‘You recognise what we are, don’t you? A clever one this. Yes, no, I don’t like them clever.’

‘It’s nice to meet you, too,’ said Threadfin in a hoarse voice. ‘Now, who are you?’ He wanted to be sure, although he had to admit there couldn’t be many two-headed whatever-it-was about. He hoped there weren’t.

The smaller, balder head, twisted to glare at its neighbour. ‘It doesn’t know? You said we were famous. I want to be famous. Known and feared throughout the Spectrum, remember?’

The second head ignored its companion, as it spoke. ‘We are the Librarian.’

‘Never heard of you.’

Both heads uttered a sigh in unison. Threadfin glanced about at the surrounding darkness, wondering how he was going to escape, after he’d gotten what he’d come for of course.

‘We don’t like liars,’ said the smaller head, which had one eye in the centre of its forehead. ‘Oh, don’t panic. He looks like he’s going to panic. I hate it when they run. Hunting them down takes effort, and I hate all the fuss, and the spurting blood, except this one has none. Not worth the effort, then. I’m bored.’

‘We like the blood, don’t we, no, yes.’

‘In a gold cup, not spattered everywhere. This place is a mess. You should tidy up more. Remember, I told you last week. Or was it last century? Yes, last century-week. A Tuesday.’

While the heads argued, Threadfin sat there muttering to himself, wondering how in the name of the angels divine, he was going to get anything out of this so-called, Librarian.

After a few moments, the larger head returned its attention to their visitor. ‘Yes, no, we are not like you, Mr. Todder. You are special. You must know your arrival here this night is no accident. You did come looking for us, which means you heard of us, so don’t lie. We don’t like it. Makes our noses itch.’ The Librarian began to scratch at both noses with vigour.

‘Wait, it’s not night,’ argued the small head, the lone eye blinking. ‘It’s morning. After midnight is always morning. I thought you were supposed to be clever. You always told me you were clever. I’m supposed to be clever.’

The larger head with two eyes grunted. ‘Let us introduce ourselves. I am named, Enep, and this,’ he added with a slight sideways nod at his one-eyed companion head, ‘is Sigos. We are the Librarian, and the centre of all knowledge in the Spectrum. Now, why are you here?’

Threadfin scratched at his dry scalp, wondering where to begin. He discovered another horn growing there. They were popping out everywhere! Might be stress. ‘I was in Icarthya, or at least an Icarthya belonging to my world. ‘Where am I now? In my own world?’

‘No,’ said Enep with a shake of his head. ‘This place lies between worlds. We are the source of knowledge, the answers to your questions. You should know this since you found us.’

‘Ah, considering how I got here, I think maybe you found me in the end.’

‘Not all answers,’ said Sigos to Enep. ‘Not all questions, neither.’ He snorted. ‘You’re always forgetting everything. If it wasn’t for me, you’d lose your head. Lucky for you, I always keep an eye on it.’

Threadfin made as if to stand and leave, as though having had enough. There was a game to play here if he wanted information from these two.

The Librarian raised their bony arms in a calming gesture, while Enep said, ‘No, yes, we apologise for the manner of your abrupt arrival.’

‘I never said I was sorry,’ Sigos muttered.

‘Yes, no, we’re not very good at the social niceties, you see. It was simply expedient. We don’t usually get visitors. Please, sit.’

Threadfin shrugged and then complied, trying not to smile. He thought he had the measure of this Librarian at last.

‘This entire library remains hidden and with good reason. Within it rests secrets the angels themselves do not possess. Secrets of existence. Imagine, such knowledge in the hands of someone like the Grim, for example. Oh yes, no, no.’

Sigos spat twice, and growled at mention of the name, but Threadfin sensed something wrong. The reaction seemed forced, and Sigos was nervous.

Ah, thought Threadfin. You two know the Grim, and know him well. ‘How did you come to be here at all?’ asked the viral mage with a gesture at the walls of old books, which had grown until they surrounded him. Were they an illusion? Was his mind conjuring all of it, or was this library an actual place? Oh, my head is starting to hurt. Aiy is the one for this sort of stuff.

Enep grinned, exposing jagged yellowing teeth. ‘Our journey here began in a land far to the east of your world. Yes, we come from the same place.’

Threadfin wasn’t certain it was true, but he decided to remain silent. If these two were in league with the Grim then lying would come naturally to them.

‘What land?’ asked Sigos.

Enep twisted his neck to glare at him. ‘Vegoia, you imbecile. How can you not remember our history?’

‘What happened there? I can’t remember everything, you know. It’s why we have two heads, not one. To remember everything. We even talked about a third head, with—’

‘Shush now, Sig,’ Enep interrupted, before he raised one arm to shove the strange contraption further up his nose. ‘It is a long and arduous tale written in one of these books.’

‘Which one?’ Sigos demanded.

‘Oh ... I don’t recall.’

‘But we wrote it all down?’

‘No, yes, yes, we wrote it down.’

‘There’s a quadrillion-million books down here. I don’t want to go and forget all what happened. Especially since I’ve already forgotten.’

‘I’ll remember for the both of us. Now do be quiet, Sig. This nice mage and I have business to discuss.’ He returned his attention to an impatient Threadfin. ‘Your arrival couldn’t have been timelier. Let us be forthright. You seek a way to find her. However, your way is blocked. Something doesn’t want you to succeed, or rather, something wants you to do something else entirely.’

‘No, that is not why I’m here,’ said Threadfin.

‘Oh no, but yes, it is. Remember, we don’t like lies.’

‘Does he know we’re the fount of all knowledge,’ asked Sigos. ‘Does he? Does he? Tell him again. I like it when we tell people that. Especially before we eat them.’

‘I’m here about a tower called Babel,’ said Threadfin. ‘Do you know of it?’

Enep sniffed. ‘We know everything, mage. Did I not mention we are the Librarian?’

‘The fount of all knowledge,’ added Sigos with a dramatic nod.

‘The Tower is the same in every world,’ said Enep with a frown for his companion head. ‘He does not like to obey the rules. Always breaking them. Always.’

‘Um,’ said Sigos, ‘isn’t that why he’s here?’

‘Yes, no, no, shush, Sig. Shush now.’

‘Who do you mean?’ asked Threadfin. He had the distinct feeling they or it were manipulating him. Or trying to.

‘Not very bright, is he?’ said Sigos.

‘The Grim, of course, once grandly known as High Mage, Rasnal Nalrost,’ said Enep, ‘who else?’

‘Which brings me back to my original question,’ said the viral mage.

‘You never asked us a question, undead one.’

‘Yes, I did.’

‘Ah, but not the right question, which means you did not ask us a question. We are very specific and particular.’

‘Oh, yes,’ said Sigos nodding, ‘very particular about being specific. We even wrote it down somewhere.’

Threadfin sighed, knuckling his forehead. He needed answers and he had to maintain his calm, but oh how he wanted to rip off one of those heads. Kick it about a bit. Jump up and down on it. Squash it flat! It might force the other to talk. ‘Please, can you just tell me where do I find the tower?’

Enep chuckled. ‘Few know of its existence at all. How do you?’

‘An educated guess.’

‘What sort of education,’ asked Sigos, peering at him suspiciously with his one eye.

‘A palace one. We have many libraries too.’

‘Ah,’ said Sigos, ‘he likes books. I like him now. Maybe we shouldn’t eat him, after all. He looks too crunchy anyway. I don’t want to break another tooth.’

One of the Librarian’s hands picked up a feather from the broad desk and dipped it in an inkwell. He, or the other one, began to scratch at a parchment. ‘You know what you think you know,’ said Enep. ‘We know differently. However, first we must touch on a matter of some import.’

‘Which is?’

‘Price.’

Threadfin felt ill. ‘I’m not going to like this, am I?’

Enep frowned at him over his eye contraption, while Sigos laughed. The hand continued writing something. ‘The Tower in your world,’ said Enep, ‘can be found in both Atlantis, and on the continent of Zalanthya.’

‘Huh,’ Threadfin muttered, ‘and you didn’t need to look it up. Two places at once? Some tower.’

‘Her soul.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘Our price. Your sister’s soul.’

‘Name another.’

‘There isn’t one.’

‘Then we have a problem, Librarian, because I won’t pay it.’

A gurgling laugh came from both heads. ‘Oh, you won’t be stopping us from exacting payment. We have already given you the information you sought. Payment will be made.’

Sigos licked his lips, muttering about delicious souls, a little pepper, a pinch of salt, and something about cinnamon.

‘What information? You’ve told me the tower is in two places, which is impossible. No, you can take my soul instead if you must have one. Not hers.’

Enep regarded him for several moments before replying, while Sigos muttered angrily. ‘You misunderstand, undead one. The price is always ours to decide. You will pay it. Besides, your soul belongs to another.’

‘You’ll write it down,’ said Sigos to Enep, ‘in the big fat book we can never find. Otherwise, you’ll forget. We’ll forget. I’m hungry.’

‘Can’t you see I’m talking to the nice mage, Sig?’

‘He’s not nice. Look, he’s glaring at me with those vicious lizard eyes of his. I bet he never read any of those books. He’s a lying lizard who hates books and doesn’t pay his bills.’

Threadfin felt furious, though his anger held an undercurrent of fear. He rose to his feet. ‘You cannot have her. I will not allow you to take my sister, Librarian. My soul or no payment at all. Just try me.’

Enep smiled and Sigos sneered. ‘We shall expect our payment at the appointed time, which isn’t for us but for her to decide. Goodbye, undead one. May we never meet again.’

‘Wait, what appointed time? I told you, no!’

Darkness flooded in as both librarian and books vanished.