For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The man continued to loom, his glare steady, his posture impossibly still. He looked a heartbeat away from lunging at her, or falling to the floor. Vera, still bleary with sleep, couldn't decide which. Perhaps it was such exhaustion that muffled the warning bells within her head. Logically, she should be terrified. Realistically, she was too tired to care.
"Can I help you?" she asked, voice flat and raspy as it tore through the silence.
The man, silhouetted in the early daylight, stared for a breath longer. Then he reached up and shook the hood from his head. The face beneath surprised her, though perhaps it shouldn't have. He looked like a fresh corpse. Handsome, chiseled features, but with a gaunt complexion rather than a pale one, and deep circles beneath his eyes. He had silvery-white hair plastered to his forehead from sweat or rain. Most remarkably, he was younger than she'd expected. The news reports had made him out to be a veteran warmonger, but he seemed hardly older than Vera herself.
He took one slow step forward, then slammed a hand against the desk. When he spoke, his voice was a hiss.
"Explain the atrium to me."
Vera tilted her head. "The atrium?"
"I spent nearly three months trying to locate this island, sailing across the whole of the Phenatine Sea, only to land and spend another two weeks fighting off swamp beasts. They tore apart all ten soldiers I brought with me. And when I finally made it through the gates, I walked straight into a maze of mirrors showing each of their deaths wherever I turned. It took threehours to find my way through."
Vera lowered her brows."Sounds like it's working as it should. I don't understand what explanation you seek."
The duke shook his head. "What's the point?"
"It's the final test, which you passed. Congratulations." When he remained silent, a scowl tugging at the corners of his mouth, she offered a shrug. "I didn't design it, if that's what you're asking."
He took a step back, expression a strange mix of defeat and murderous intent. "Forget it. I'm here for a book."
She straightened in her seat. "And which book would that be?"
"I don't know the title. It's a grimoire, or a beastiary. It should have ties to the modern Malvayne bloodline."
"Well, which is it?"
He blinked, frown deepening. "Pardon?"
"Is it a grimoire or beastiary?"
"I don't know."
"Or ancestral memoir?"
He ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know."
Vera shook her head. "I can't help you without more information."
"This place is practically a myth," he spat. "You're supposed to have everything here."
"That's the problem," she said. "I can't find one book from the stack of thousands if you don't give me accurate search parameters."
He huffed. "It should be a grimoire on Blackfire magic. It could be all three classifications, as far as I know."
Vera shook her head."Blackfire magic might place it under the 'shadow' or 'fire' subsection, which would make five cross-references. I hope you can understand why this is a difficult request."
The duke lurched forward, closing the distance in one stride as he leaned over the desk. He was close enough for Vera to spot red veins crawling through the whites of his eyes.
"It's not a request," he growled. "You will find this book for me."
Something about his presumptuous intimidation sparked a flicker of rage within Vera. She had grown all too used to people making demands of her, but they had all come from within the library, from peers she hoped to match someday. For an outsider to leer at her in such a way… it was more difficult to fathom. He was the one who needed her help. And he thought this was the way to get it?
Vera leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. "Oh, will I?"
The duke narrowed his eyes "This entire place is made of wood. Rather flammable, I would guess."
She scoffed."You seem to think you're the first visitor to threaten arson. We have safeguards for fire."
"It's not ordinary fire."
"Blackfire, whatever."
He gave a small, barely perceptible shake of his head. The edges of his silhouette seemed to vibrate with fury.
Well, someone's clearly used to getting his way, Vera thought.
"You will start looking for this book," The duke said. "I don't care how long it takes. Days, if necessary."
The flicker of anger within her burst into a roar of flames. As if Corvin didn't make her life miserable enough, this mere visitor wished to assign her more work. She would not stand for it.
"No, thanks." Her voice was flat.
He leaned forward even more, until she could feel his breath on the tip of her nose. "Say that again."
"No," she repeated. "I've been on shift for three––no, four days now. I'm tired. I want to go to bed. Ask someone else to help you, once you know what you're looking for."
"Listen––"
Abruptly, Vera grabbed the leather booklet of Lenidor Times writings, flipped to the headline about Esmyan famine, and thrust it before his eyes.
"Your reputation precedes you, and you're likely used to letting it speak for you." She lowered the book, meeting his furious glare. "But let me be clear. Without a librarian to summon the correct book, you will never, ever find it. You can threaten me all you like. Kill me, even, but you'll still walk away empty-handed."
He said nothing. Vera held his stare, determined to remain steady. After a long beat of silence, she offered a coy smile.
"I recommend you get some rest and try again with someone else, more information, and a better attitude." She pointed to the right-side wall. "You'll find our in-house visitors' inn down the stairs over there."
He stared for a moment longer, then, at last, stepped away. The edges of him still thrummed with anger, exhaustion, or a more likely combination of both.
"I will be back."
He said it like a promise.
Vera waved a hand as he began to stalk towards the basement stairs. That was fine, so long as it wasn't during her next shift of desk duty. She would be glad never to speak to him again.
・・・・・
When her morning replacement came at last, Vera practically floated up all five flights of stairs to the extensive dormitory on the Archive's top level. Her room was the furthest away from the landing, but she didn't mind. It was quiet there, away from the bustle of morning chatter.
Its interior was quaint and cozy. It had all she needed, with a wardrobe, writing desk, and a small bed beneath a slanted wooden ceiling. A forest-green curtain hung over the narrow window, and she drew it shut to keep out the light of the rising sun.
She slipped beneath her dark blue quilt without bothering to change from her ink-stained work uniform.
Sleep crashed upon her, then retreated just as quickly. Even amid the sea of half-consciousness, her mind kept catching on her conversation with the duke. She could not determine if it was moral conviction or tired delirium that made her behave the way she did. She'd watched him slay one of Witherstone's fiercest beasts with her own eyes, and that was only one of many. She hadn't been just bold to defy him so blatantly, but also incredibly reckless. Had he not been dependent on her willing cooperation, he might've struck her down where she sat.
And that book. It was unusual for a visitor to expend such effort to find the Silent Archive, only to arrive without a clear idea of what tome they were looking for. The more Vera lingered on it, the more she thought the man, the book, and the entire encounter was unusual.
The hours came and went, and once the sun was high in the sky, Vera decided she had enough of laying in bed. She rose and padded to the wardrobe, exchanging her stained white dress for a fresh brown one and pulling a black cardigan on over. She made haste to run a comb through her tangle of shoulder-length waves, then splashed her face with some water from a small basin.
She kept an eye out for the duke as she descended back down to the second floor, but the stacks only had the same librarians as always, most of whom averted their eyes as she passed them. All of the while, the book stuck in her mind. Blackfire magic: shadows, fire, beastiary, family tree. An odd description indeed. There were still a few hours before dinner would be served, and curiosity was tugging at her. There was no harm in searching a few of the sections, if only for her own interest.
She couldn't use bibliomancy to fetch the book without the exact identification, so she began her search one section at a time. The area around the Head Librarian's office consisted of history and politics, so she began flitting through the records of prominent Esmyan noble houses. Though some had mentions of the Malvayne family, none gave any concrete reference to Blackfire magic.
Next, she tried the beastiary section, though her clues were even more vague; she didn't even know what kind of beasts he had referred to.
She gave up quickly, then trekked back to the ever-familiar chained books section. Perhaps it was located on a shelf she hadn't recorded the previous night.
Vera walked up and down the stacks, finger trailing across the cool metal plaques denoting the titles.
Abyssal Concordance of Forgotten Tongues, Arcana Mortis, Ashen Vows. She sighed, shaking her head. Is this book of his even real?
She had half a mind to give up altogether, but something kept her feet moving to the next shelf. Banquet of Salt and Bone, Bargain of the Bonewright King, Bindings of the Crimson Womb.
Then she saw it. Blackfire Codex.
Her eyes trailed up to the space above the plaque. It was empty. Vera tilted her head. Even if the duke had found it, he would not have been able to free it from its chain. Had another librarian moved it?
She descended to the main desk once more, though the area was void of any angry hooded figures. Only a young cataloguer manned the desk, her nose buried in a book of romantic-era poetry.
Vera found the most recent catalogue ledger in the retrieval shelf, then flipped to the page dedicated to the chained section, and trailed her finger down the ink until she found the entry she was looking for.
Title: The Blackfire Codex
Subject: Shadow and fire practices tied to the Malvayne bloodline; includes rare astronomical tables, beast taming techniques, and instructions for completing the Blackfire pact.
Access Level: Archivist's Seal
Last Logged Holder: Verena
Vera paused. It was her name, written in her own handwriting. She flipped a few more pages, but none bore any mention of the Blackfire Codex. For all intents, she was in possession of the tome.
Except she wasn't. It was missing from its chain, and she hadn't a clue where it could be.
Her fingertips grew cold. Oh no.
Last night, there had been a storm. She'd had to send out some books to the protective caches so they wouldn't react to the external energy and rip themselves from their chains. She'd done this many times before, both as a cataloger and an archivist. She had never faced any issue.
Except she'd never performed the task with such acute exhaustion. She'd been tired enough to stare the duke and his threats straight in the eyes and turn him away without hesitation.
She feared to admit it, but there was no other explanation. This tome, rare enough to be chained to the shelf and powerful enough to draw the Duke of Ruin to the Archive, had gone missing under her watch.
Oh, no, no, no. Her stomach twisted. Corvin is going to kill me.