He set the book down and stood. The boxes were, as he had seen before, labeled in black marker, four numbered boxes for each month: probably a box for each week. He scanned them with his eyes, coming to the one for the second week in April, where the boxes ended. Carefully, he slid it out, the cardboard rustling against the shelf.
Inside was a short, neat stack of papers: large in dimensions, and folded. Bran realized that they were fresh copies of a newspaper. The title at the top read, in bold type:
THE DAILY DUNCELANDER
The Newspaper for Respectable Duncelanders
"Odd," Bran said. He didn’t see why those had to be hidden back there, in the same room as books on magic. He peered closer at it, and suddenly, the glare of the flashlight caught something: there was a curious, second edge right where the title of the paper was, as if it was peeling off. This immediately struck Bran as odd, so he reached forward to touch it. It was hardly stuck, and when Bran drew it to the side, it peeled off cleanly and exposed a different title that had been disguised underneath.
THE MAGES PAGES
The Informed Mages’ News Source
"A newspaper from the outside…" Bran said with shock. In Dunce, newspapers from the outside were strictly banned, due to high possibility of indecency. No wonder it had been disguised. He stuck his hand down into it: the pile wasn’t very thick. But by the size of the box, Bran expected that loads of them had already been delivered…to whom, he didn’t know, but there was obviously a sizable amount of people in the city who were curious about the outside.
He carefully removed the one on the top, from which he had uncovered the disguise. It was a single, folded sheet, and almost immediately Bran thought that a great part of the paper must be missing. But any part of an outside paper was enough. He was tired of following and believing what he had been told for so long. It might be his only way of finding anything about others like him: other mages…other criminals. He bent it so that he could see the front page with his light.
But before he could read a word, there came a sound from outside the door. Something slammed shut, echoing in the room outside. Bran immediately jumped from the wall, hearing somebody scratching about. The flashlight was shining through the crack he had left in the door, so he switched it off, about to dive for the door but thinking better of it when he heard someone approaching.
He didn’t have any options. He dove as far back in the room as he could, pressing himself against the end bookshelf and hoping the blackness would cover him. He heard the footsteps getting louder and stood petrified in the corner. The sounds outside stopped.
Don’t open the door, please don’t…
he thought, clutching the flashlight in one hand and the crumpled newspaper in the other. All was silent. Bran waited.
Then, he heard a low rumbling sound, and right before his eyes he saw the crack in the doorway begin to get larger. Then the door was open all the way, and the light from a lamp pierced the darkness.
Bran pressed back, expecting the person to see him in an instant and shout. The sudden lamplight, though dim, was nearly blinding, so he had to blink to see who had opened the door.
He could just barely make out what she looked like in the soft light behind her: she seemed to be around his age, dressed in ragged, dark clothes. Her hair was a few inches past her shoulders, dark blond and brown, and on her right arm was a thick strip of black cloth, wrapped around her wrist. Bran blinked again as her eyes swept the room, unable to speak because he was sure she would shout for the shopkeeper at any moment.
But something was not right. Her eyes swept straight across him, as if he wasn’t even there, down to the two books he had left dropped on the floor. She didn’t move from the doorway, staring at them curiously, and then to the box that Bran had left crooked.
"Idiots," she muttered with distaste. "Can’t even put them back on the shelf."
She looked like she was about to come in, and then Bran knew he would be caught. But she only shrugged and started to slide the door closed. Bran let out the breath he had been holding.
That was very close,
he thought. Then he noticed something in the mirror.
His entire body was gone in thin air: every inch of him completely invisible. It made him jump, and the moment he did his concentration on being unseen must have departed, because the next second he was there in the reflection, all in one piece. Luckily for him, it was in that same second that she finished closing the door, and Bran was immediately engulfed in darkness.
He covered his mouth and tried to catch his breath with as little sound as he could. But immediately he knew why she hadn’t seen him: somehow, he had done magic again without knowing it.
Still, he felt that it would be in his best interest to leave that room as quickly as he could. He doubted he could do the magic again if he wanted to, and he was pushing his luck already. He left the books on the floor and was about to set the newspaper back, when he realized that he had already peeled its disguise off, and had not even gotten to read it. So he folded it until it was very small, and jammed it into his pocket, stepping toward the door. The girl had closed it all the way, and it felt locked.
"Great," Bran said. He listened again, but no one was there, so he flipped the flashlight back on. Luckily, he saw a tiny catch that was holding the door closed, attached to a spring that obviously went to a hidden button outside. He felt the latch and lifted it, flipping the light off as he edged the door open slightly. He peered out. No one was there.
He stepped out slowly. He hadn’t realized how stuffy and hot it had been in the hidden room, as the air outside was much easier to breathe. He checked again but saw no one, and then closed the door behind him. With quick, quiet motions, he started back the way he had come.
"That was
way
too close," he breathed, coming to the corner. But before he could go around it, someone grabbed him.
Chapter 11
Another Burglary
Got you!" bran heard a man yell, and he felt strong arms take hold of him. Bran shouted, but the man held him in a vice-like grip before Bran had fully realized what was happening. "Shoplifter!" the man yelled. Bran fought the man’s hold and broke free once, but the next instant the man had him again and slammed his face against the wall, pinning his arms behind him. Bran winced in pain and tried to breathe. "Villain!" the man said, holding Bran’s arms. "I’ve caught you!" "No, please!" Bran begged, feeling as if his ribs were going to break. "Astara!" the man shouted, and suddenly, lights burst on all around Bran. He heard footsteps coming up behind him, and saw the girl rushing from between the boxes, now holding a broom. "I’ve caught the little thief!" the man said, and Bran was wrenched around to face his captor. He was a tall, strong man, his skin wrinkled a bit and tanned darkly, his face rough and full of anger. He had a dark yellow beard that covered his face, all the way up to the thick hair that was the same color. He looked like a hardened farmer. Bran guessed his age to be about fifty.
"Couldn’t find enough books in the front?" the man growled in an angry tone. "So you decided to take my ones from the back?"
"No, please, sir!" Bran said, pointing a shaking finger down the way to the desk, trying to think of any excuse. "If you follow me, I’ll show you, I didn’t take anything! Just…helping someone find something, that’s all."
"Helping someone find something?" the man echoed, not believing him. "There ain’t a single soul back here, besides myself and my shopkeeper, Astara."
He waved his hand toward the girl. There was anger in her eyes, a green mixed with blue that almost bored holes into him. But her gaze held no recognition. Bran knew if she hadn’t seen him they wouldn’t accuse him of being in the secret room, as it wasn’t even supposed to exist.
"No, sir, I promise," Bran said quickly, pointing back toward the desk. "Rosie…she came to the door, and unlocked it, and told me to go through the papers back there."
"Papers, eh?" the man said, still not believing him. He tilted Bran’s face up close to his.
"Show me what this Rosie’s having you get into," he said, "and maybe I’ll have me
two
shoplifters before the day’s over!"
He let go of one of Bran’s arms and had him stand against the wall. Bran walked slowly with the man holding his shoulder and Astara watching from the side.
"These here, sir," Bran said, trying to sound convincing. He gestured to the boxes that Rosie had told him to move, and the man’s face seemed to grow harsher as Bran showed him.
"Those, boy," the man said, "are none of anyone’s business!"
"Yes, sir," Bran stammered. "But—"
The man didn’t let him finish, but he let go of Bran’s arm and moved to the desk, and saw the file Bran had left sticking out. Bran heard the man give out a small gasp, but a moment later he covered up his surprise.
"A-and what’s your business going around looking at these?" the man asked. "Emry Hambric and all…whoever she is. Don’t you know these are official city records?"
Bran looked at his feet and glanced from the man to Astara. The man pointed at the box.
"Why’re you looking through these?" he demanded again.
"I…" Bran started, but he couldn’t bring it out. He swallowed hard, and felt as if there were a rock in his throat. The man looked at him, cold and unforgiving. "Because I think Emry Hambric was my mother," Bran finally said, looking up at them.
The girl started at this.
"What did you say?" she gasped.
The man slammed the folder down on the desk. "Your mother?" he asked with bewilderment. "What’s your name? Who’re your parents?"
Bran hesitated. "I—I don’t have any parents. I live with Sewey and Mabel Wilomas. My name…" He paused before finishing. "My name is Bran Hambric."
The girl suddenly dropped her broom flat on the floor, and Bran jumped, and when he looked at her he could see she was visibly shaken.
"You are Bran
Hambric?
" the man said, and when Bran looked back at him, he could see that the man was also taken by surprise, which confused Bran very much. Bran nodded.
"And you think that Emry Hambric was your mother?" the man went on.
"Yes," Bran said. "But I don’t know for sure."
He looked at Bran deeply. It looked as if he was thinking very hard about something.
"Funny thing is," the man finally said, "that folder’s marked to hold a police report in it. Leaves me wondering what your mother’s got to do with the police…and an empty folder?"
There was something in the man’s voice that caused Bran to feel insult from it, as if the man was accusing his mother of something terrible that Bran knew about, when the truth was he knew even less than before. The man must have seen the expression on Bran’s face because he immediately softened his own.
"Well, look. Perhaps it wasn’t something that bad: lots of people have police files on them. And she was probably just another Hambric in town, right?" He gently put a hand on his shoulder, and Bran looked up. "And by the looks of you, I guess you aren’t really a shoplifter, either," the man said, sounding as if he felt bad for accusing Bran of it. Bran shook his head and the man stepped back, satisfied.
"Just for your information," the man went on, "these papers aren’t mine. They belong to the city. I’m just commissioned to store and document them, like a second job." He nodded grimly. "Goodness knows I need the extra money, as very few people in this city read books. And no one is ever allowed to look at these papers except for
me,
though sometimes Astara will help clean th…well, where’s she off to?"
Bran turned around and saw that the girl had disappeared, leaving the broom behind on the floor. She had to have slipped off very quietly for him not to notice. The man just shrugged.
"Probably off to clean," he said. He wiped his hands on his pants and held one out to Bran. "My name is Cringan Highland. I’m the owner of this place."
Bran hesitated but then held his hand out, and Mr. Highland shook it in a strong grasp. He had a golden ring around his finger in the shape of a lion’s head, and suddenly Bran didn’t feel threatened anymore. Mr. Highland let go and turned, putting the empty folder back into the box.
"I know most of these like the back of my hand," he said a little boastfully. "If there’s anyone in town you want to know about, I’m the one to come to, because I read them as they come in."
Mr. Highland turned back around and gestured down the hall.
"Just remember," he said, "you’re allowed everywhere in my store,
except
the places that have signs telling you to
keep out.
Do you understand?"
His voice was grave. Bran knew why. He held his eyes from glancing at the secret door.
"Yes, sir," he nodded.
"Very good," Mr. Highland said approvingly. "Now come this way, and I’ll get you out."
Mr. Highland led him through the towers of crates. Bran, seeing the familiar surroundings, was immediately reminded of the fact that Rosie had, at some time or another, been back there, and it had been she who had started it all. He glanced about for any sign of her, but even when he came to the end he hadn’t seen her. When Mr. Highland opened the door at the end, Bran felt as
if he was coming out from a dark world, and just beyond the door was a normal bookstore.
"Very well," Mr. Highland said, letting Bran pass. "Off you go, and a very good day to you!"
Bran looked over his shoulder, about to tell him that Rosie might still be in the back room, but Mr. Highland had just finished locking the door tightly and was turning to leave. Bran decided to leave it alone, and he turned around, hoping Rosie had gotten out before, though it would have been very unlike her just to leave him there.
I hope she explains all this…
he thought, but since she was Rosie he couldn’t bring himself to be angry at her, no matter how unusual she had acted. He walked a little way, back by the window where he had been before, and was just about to sit down.