The Library of Ever Page 9

  Not just old ones, said the girl. Languages that are spoken even today are being lost, bit by bit. There are people trying to save them, but it is very hard.

  And then it struck Lenora. The vault, these empty rooms … “This is lost knowledge,” she whispered in horror. “All these rooms should be filled with the things we’ve lost.”

  Yes, said the girl. Lost, like me.

  “Who are you?” asked Lenora. Now she was spooked. Not by the girl, but by the vast amount of empty space and what it all meant.

  I’m a librarian, said the girl. Or at least, I was, a thousand years ago. I’m still sort of a librarian, here, though there isn’t much to do.

  Lenora thought her heart might break wide open.

  The girl continued. I lived in a small village in Japan, long, long ago. It was a poor place, but it was on an important road, and many travelers passed through. Some of them left behind manuscripts and scrolls, forgotten in their haste to move on to more important places. I could not read them, of course, but I thought they were beautiful, especially the ones with pictures. So I began to collect them.

  Sometimes a traveler would read some to me, and by paying careful attention, I taught myself to read. And I discovered that travelers were speaking of my collection to one another, and soon new arrivals were asking to see it. Some of them asked me if they could buy some of the manuscripts, and in this way I learned they were valuable. But I did not collect them so that I could make money. Instead I would trade a manuscript for which I had two copies for a manuscript that I lacked. In this way, I eventually had a library of no small size.

  “That is wonderful,” breathed Lenora. How she wished she could visit this girl and her library, one thousand years ago.

  Yes, said the girl, and her voice took on a wistful tone. But it was not to last. One night, a stranger came to our town. He wore a black kimono, and he asked to see my library. Unlike others who asked, he did not seem delighted at the sight but quite angry. And that night, the small building housing my library burned to the ground. All was lost. And I soon heard that a new road was being constructed, one that would take travelers around our town. I was never able to rebuild my library.

  “A man in a black kimono,” said Lenora. “Was he…”

  Yes, said the girl. The Forces of Darkness. You can always tell when it’s them. They go after the libraries.

  Lenora was silent for a few moments, thinking of this. Then she realized that the girl did not seem at all surprised by her presence in this forgotten section of the library. “Do you know why I’m here?” she asked. “Do you know who dropped me through the trapdoor and left the pillows and lantern?”

  Yes, Lenora. I do. But I can’t tell you. Please—she said this because Lenora had already opened her mouth—don’t ask anything more. You’ll understand soon. Now follow me. There are several things I must show you.

  Lenora bit her lip and nodded. She wondered how she would follow someone who was invisible, but the girl continued to talk, and as the voice moved along Lenora found it easy to follow. They left Minoan Literature and returned to the central hall, continuing along the way Lenora had already been going. As they walked, the girl pointed out rooms containing the complete works of the poet Sappho, and the lost plays of Sophocles and Shakespeare, and a translation of the Voynich manuscript. Lenora tried flipping through the pages of some of these, but they were all blank.

  “I don’t understand,” said Lenora. “How can all these things be here if they have been lost?”

  Because we know they exist, and they may yet be found, replied the girl. For example, we find new scraps of Sappho’s poems now and then. When this happens, we move them up to the library—from the darkness into the light.

  “And the rooms that are simply empty,” guessed Lenora, “that’s the knowledge we’ve lost and don’t even know it.”

  Yes, said the girl. Like my library, and even my town, which was destroyed in a tsunami decades after I died. Nothing was ever written down about any of it, and so it’s all forever lost. Forever forgotten. Just like me.

  “We should write more things down,” said Lenora quietly.

  The girl did not reply. There was no need.

  We’re here, she said a moment later.

  Lenora did not need to be told what to do next. Jutting out from the wall was a tube the size of her arm, flared at one end. She’d seen these before at playgrounds—listening tubes that let you hear what someone rather far away is saying at the other end. Trembling without quite knowing why, Lenora put her ear to the tube.

  Voices. A man was talking, somewhere in a room far away, but the listening tube brought his words to Lenora as though she were beside him.

  It was also especially easy to understand the man, because he had an extremely loud, booming voice. “To be honest,” he was saying, “you’ve got a great, great library here. The biggest, most beautiful library. And no one is saying you haven’t done a fantastic job with the place. I mean, they are saying that, but you know, that’s so, so unfair.”

  A woman’s voice then spoke up; Lenora recognized it immediately as Malachi’s. But she could not tell what the Chief Answerer was saying, because the loud man kept talking as though Malachi hadn’t said a word.

  “And I think you’ll be just as excited as everyone else about the new leadership on the Board, and the exciting changes we’ve got coming, with a new vision for the library’s mission—”

  Malachi did not sound excited from what Lenora could hear. She was still trying to interject, but the man simply wouldn’t stop talking.

  “—for example, the question of profitability. The library simply isn’t making money.”

  And here the man paused for breath long enough for Malachi to say, “The value of a library cannot be counted in money.”

  The man continued as though Malachi had not spoken. “And the new leadership thinks we could do better by running it more like a business. Your role will continue to be very important—extremely important of course, almost no one would say otherwise. There will be a lot to do, getting rid of the less profitable books and moving in new ones, and loyal team players like yourself will be critical to the new process—”

  Malachi broke in again, this time quite angrily, Lenora thought. The man was saying awful, untrue things—and what was this about the Board? Lenora had never heard of the Board. The two voices continued to talk over each other, the man continuing as though Malachi was not speaking, and Malachi persisting nevertheless.

  Lenora! the Japanese librarian said, urgency in her voice. You must go!

  Lenora pulled herself away from the listening tube reluctantly. She wanted to hear the rest of the conversation. “Why?” she asked.

  Because, said the girl, they’re coming.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Lenora Goes

  Lenora did not need to ask the Japanese librarian who was coming.

  Look down to the far end of this hallway, the girl said. Do you see it?

  In the distance, a soft glow. “Yes,” said Lenora.

  Follow it, said the girl. Hurry. Do not turn back.

  “What about you?” asked Lenora anxiously. “Will you be all right?”

  No reply came. Lenora waited a few moments, then hurried toward the faraway glow. You are not forgotten, she thought as she went. I will remember you.

  Lenora ran, kicking up a tremendous cloud of dust as she flew past room after room of lost knowledge. The glow at the end of the hallway grew larger, and soon Lenora could see that it came from another lantern, just like hers. And holding the lantern was the tall, sword-fighting girl from the kendo demonstration. She was still wearing her black padded armor, and her face was still covered by the metal mask.

  “Who are you?” asked Lenora.

  “I’m … a friend,” said the older girl, her voice muffled by the mask. “Here, take this.” She held out her lantern. “Yours is about to run out of fuel.”

  The girl seemed so commanding and decisive t
hat Lenora took the new lantern without thinking. And just as the girl had said, Lenora’s old lantern sputtered and went out moments later. She sat it on the floor, and as she did she noticed again the tall girl’s bare feet. “If you’re a friend,” Lenora asked, “why did you drop me through a trapdoor?”

  “I didn’t,” replied the girl. “It was a trap, set for you by the Forces of Darkness. Fortunately, I was a few steps ahead of them. This time.” She pointed toward the last door in the hallway, an archway above which some letters were bolted.

  Lenora read them aloud. “The Labyrinth of King Minos of rete.”

  “Crete,” said the girl. “The C fell off. You’ll have to find your way to the center.”

  “Won’t you come with me?” asked Lenora. It was rather dark in there, and now there was only the one lantern.

  “I can’t,” said the girl.

  “Why not?”

  “Because,” answered the girl, “they’re coming.” With that, she raised her sword, and this time it was not one made of bamboo slats but cold, glistening steel, blazing in the lantern’s light.

  Lenora turned in a circle, holding the lantern high. She didn’t see anyone coming. But now she could see that the hallway ended in an old stone wall, and that wall had four newer-looking metal doors in it. The doors began to slide open.

  A robot emerged through each. These robots looked like spindly metal broomsticks on wheels, with two arms jutting out. At the ends of the arms were not hands but sharp swords. Worst of all were the bowler hats atop each robot’s head.

  The robots advanced as Lenora greatly wished for a sword of her own.

  The girl did not hesitate but flew to the attack. Lenora’s breath caught at the girl’s incredible speed as she dashed forward with balletic grace. With a high, sharp shout and a strike so swift that Lenora hardly saw it, her sword slashed and a robot was cut in two, its arms and bowler hat tumbling across the dusty floor.

  The three remaining robots bore down on the girl, their six swords flashing as they struck at her again and again. Somehow she was managing to block them, backing up as the robots advanced. “Hurry!” she cried to Lenora, pointing at the arch into the labyrinth of King Minos of [C]rete.

  Lenora fled through the arch, then stopped. Should she leave the girl alone? But what could Lenora do against robots with swords? She turned around anyway.

  The armored girl had her back against a wall now as she fought. She seemed to know what Lenora was thinking, because she called out, “You must leave me, Lenora. Never fear, your friends are here to help you.” Then the girl gestured, and a solid metal gate crashed down across the archway, cutting Lenora off from the battle.

  From the other side of the gate, Lenora could hear the crash and whir of a terrific fight. Lenora wondered how the girl could possibly combat the robots now, for without the lantern, she must be in complete darkness. But there was nothing to be done.

  Lenora turned. Lantern light filled a long stone hallway. Corridors branched off in all directions. Take every right-hand turn, she thought. Placing her right hand on the wall, she ran forward, taking every right turn, never lifting her hand from the wall. Soon she came to a door above which was written the word CENTER. And there beyond it, her lantern light glinted off—

  “Bendigeidfran!” Lenora cried joyfully, racing forward. “We have to go back and help that girl!”

  The friendly robot’s eyes glittered a happy green. “Don’t worry about her, Lenora,” he said. “By the way, I did find my chip. It was buried in the sands in front of the Sphinx, just like you said! Now, keep moving forward and do not be afraid. Your friends are all around you.” He had a kind of wand in his hand, which he pointed at the floor and moved in a circle. A hole appeared, just large enough for Lenora, and from it burst a strong scent of ancient decay. “This way, quickly! I’ll lower you down.”

  With her lantern in one hand and Bendigeidfran’s strong hands gripping the other, Lenora was lowered into … whatever it was. “What is this?” she asked the robot as her feet touched a dirt floor.

  “Oh, it’s just the tomb of Genghis Khan,” said the robot. Lenora looked up in alarm, but Bendigeidfran was gone.

  A tomb? Lenora shivered and wished she’d known that before she got herself lowered into it. Not that she had much of a choice, but she would have liked to have been prepared. She swung the lantern around and noted there was very little in the spacious tomb, which was lined with walls of dirt, besides a coffin—she left that alone—and strangely enough, what appeared to be the skeletons of six cats. She could not stop herself. G. Khan, tomb, cats. Why? she scribbled in her notebook. Then she wondered what to do next, for there appeared to be no way out of the tomb. For the moment, she was trapped.

  And then she heard a thud. And another. On the third thud, earth burst from one wall of the tomb, and through it charged another of the bowler hat robots. It raised its flashing swords and charged at Lenora.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Lenora Leaves

  Trapped in Genghis Khan’s tomb with a killer robot, Lenora had nowhere to run.

  The robot churned forward, and she saw that this one did not have wheels but treads like a tractor that made it perfectly suited for the dirt floor.

  She looked wildly around, wishing that whoever had buried Genghis Khan had thought to leave a few weapons lying around, or maybe a shovel to dig a hole through the wall, or—

  And then she saw that something was digging a hole through the wall opposite the charging robot. The dirt wall crumbled, then fell away in chunks, and suddenly there was a hole just Lenora’s size, with millions of ants pouring out, all of them rushing straight toward the robot, which turned on its treads and fled the way it had come. But it was not fast enough, for the industrious ants had it buried up to its neck before it could make a getaway.

  On the wall, a few hundred ants assembled to form a message, and the message said:

  GO LENORA GO

  “Thank you! Thank you!” Lenora cried to her friends the ants, sure that Cinnamon was somewhere among them. Through the hole she went, until she came out into a natural cave, stalactites coming down from the ceiling and stalagmites coming up from the floor. Its floor was sheer ice, and the ice reflected a natural light, for the cavern’s ceiling was glowing with phosphorescent somethings.

  But Lenora had no time to wonder about that, for weaving toward her were three robots with bowler hats, swords high. Instead of wheels or treads they had ice skates.

  Lenora tried to run, but she was on ice now, no skates at all, and she slipped and fell, her lantern spinning away. She was trying to get to her feet when something black sped past. First one, then another, and now she could see they were a whole colony of penguins, waving their flippers as they slid by on their bellies. One of them snatched up the lantern with its beak. Lenora threw herself forward on her belly, too, and she was caught up amid the colony of black-and-white birds, carrying her along like a boat in a river. The slope got steeper and the colony got faster, and the robots on their skates were long gone by the time the penguins and Lenora hit full speed.

  She wanted to slide on like this forever, but she knew she could not, and soon the colony spun her and the lantern down a side passage away from them. Lenora called out, “Thank you, my friends!” and the penguins squeaked and honked their goodbyes. (That much she could tell without a penguin translator.)

  The steep slopes ended and Lenora came to a sliding halt. She grabbed the lantern and stood.

  She was in another abandoned reading room. This one had only one small arch leading out. In front of it stood the armored girl.

  There was no question she’d been in a battle. Her black padded armor was ripped and torn. The metal mask was dented. And she was breathing hard, but she was standing tall, sword at her side.

  Lenora went to the girl. Lenora was full of questions, and she opened her mouth to ask one—

  “Sorry,” said the girl. “No time left. Bendigeidfran brought me here, and
he’s got to get me back.” She went to one knee, so that she was the same height as Lenora. She held something out and dropped it into Lenora’s hand. “When the time comes, you will need this. Don’t worry, you’ll know.”

  Lenora looked at the thing she’d been given. It was a pure white card. On one side was a magnetic strip. She turned it over, and on the other side she saw the words LIBRARY CARD in glittering letters, flashing all the colors of the rainbow. The card seemed to hum with inner power, causing her hand to tingle.

  “But who are you?” Lenora cried.

  “No time,” said the girl, and she gave Lenora a push, sending her stumbling toward the door.

  Lenora fell backward away from the armored girl. As she fell, she reached out …

  … and her hand tore at the girl’s padded armor, and she grabbed on, and gripped hard …

  … and a piece of armor on the girl’s chest tore loose as Lenora fell …

  … and as she fell, she could see what lay beneath the padded armor on the girl’s chest …

  It was a librarian’s badge.

  And Lenora’s eyes widened as she read the words there, and she looked up at the girl, whose expression behind the mask was unknowable …

  And then Lenora was tumbling down a steep slide, head over heels, her thoughts spinning at the words she had just read, until she fell through a small square portal with a door that instantly slid shut behind her. It slid shut so perfectly that where there had once been a door, you could not now tell there had been anything but a wall.

  Lenora was lying on a cool hardwood floor. Cedar beams stretched up to the high ceiling above her.

  She was between two bookshelves, just around the corner from the large and heavy archway above which, she knew, the words KNOWLEDGE IS A LIGHT had been deeply chiseled. She leapt to her feet—and felt a hand seize her shoulder.

  “There you are!”

  And she looked up to see the most terrible thing she had ever seen: the scowling face of the nanny.