“Maybe.” The word had just left Thomas’s mouth when a pair of horsemen galloped around the corner of the church, past the cemetery gate and towards them. “Or not. Hurry up, Henry!”
Henry looked over his shoulder, saw the riders. “No time!” he hissed, jumping off the stairs to the ground. “Everyone lie flat, and pull your hoods up, now!”
“They’ll see us,” protested Benjamin, starting to rise.
Henry grabbed him, shoving him back onto his belly beside the stairs. “No they won’t!
Do it!
”
Thomas pulled Eileen close and pressed their bodies into the wall. George flattened himself on the other side of the steps from Henry and Benjamin. The riders were coming at a brisk trot, only thirty feet away. Thomas pressed his face into the ground, praying the bishop’s men wouldn’t notice the extra shadows along the wall.
The riders passed without slowing down.
“Stay down,” hissed Henry, getting up himself and going to the door. Thomas watched as he shoved one key after another into the door. He could hear Henry muttering under his breath, but couldn’t make out the words.
Probably just as well
, Thomas thought. A dark corner of his mind began to wonder if there was even a key on the ring that matched the library, and if they should make a run for the graveyard.
Click.
“Thank the Four,” breathed Henry as he pushed the door open. “Come on! Quick!”
They charged into the library as fast as they could. Henry came through last, pushed the door shut and locked it. The five stood there, gasping.
The dim light from the great windows cast down in grey and yellow upon the long tables and desks, the copying stations, and the floor to ceiling shelves of books. The wheeled ladders stationed along the walls to allow access to the top shelves cast strange, flickering shadows behind them as the light wavered past the windows. Even in the thin light of the torches outside, the library was impressive. George and Eileen, staring into the room, looked stunned.
“I didn’t think there were this many books in one place,” Eileen whispered.
“I didn’t think there were this many in the world,” returned George. He stepped away from the group, looking up at the high shelves and the hundreds of volumes of books. He shook his head, bemused. “I didn’t think there was this much to write about.”
“Neither did I,” agreed Henry. “And sometimes I still don’t.”
“We should hide,” said Benjamin.
“Not yet,” Thomas headed for a window. “We need to see what’s happening. There’s windows on all sides here. We can keep a watch on them and see.”
“If they come, we’ll have plenty of time to hide,” said Henry. “Everyone find a window and make yourself comfortable. It’s going to be a long night.”
George snorted. “It’s already been a long night.”
Thomas grunted his agreement and headed to a window. Through it, he could see the soldiers outside the dormitory. In the blaze of torchlight, he could make out bodies, but no faces. About a dozen or so boys, half-naked and shivering, stood on the lawn surrounded by guards. The rest were in a huddled group against one side of the building. Thomas guessed that there was some pretty strong resentment going on, but no one seemed to be voicing it in the face of sixty or so armed men. Orders were being shouted from one of the horsemen, though what they were Thomas couldn’t really hear. A moment later, half the men left what they were doing and ran into the building.
“They’re searching the dormitory,” he guessed.
“How long will that take?” asked Benjamin.
“No idea,” said Thomas. “They have to be out before dawn, though.”
“How do you know?” asked George.
“Two reasons. First, when dawn comes, it’s going to bring a lot of very angry, armed, older students. Second, they’re after me.”
“So?”
“So, if you were me, and you saw all of them inside the Academy, would you go anywhere near the place?”
Henry’s voice drifted through the room. “I don’t know, how dumb am I?”
“Ha-ha.”
Thomas turned his attention back outside. The soldiers, made dim and wavy by the uneven glass, seemed to undulate into the buildings or back and forth on the lawn. Six of the horsemen began to ride the length of the Academy, as if hoping to flush Thomas out from the few bushes on the grounds. Another group rode back to the gates, blocking anyone from entering or leaving. Time crawled by.
“They’re leaving Theology,” said Benjamin, making them all jump.
“Do you think they’ll come here next?” Eileen asked.
“With the way our luck is running…” Benjamin stared out the window. “They’re still at the building… They seem to be arguing… They’re moving this way!”
“Everyone head for the third floor!” snapped Henry. “Hide in the stacks!”
“Why the third?” asked Eileen. “What does it matter?”
“Third floor has the most books, and the least windows,” said Henry. “Now, go!”
Henry led them to the nearest stairs at a run. They were nearly pitch black, and George and Eileen stumbled several times. Thomas took up the rear, making sure no one fell behind in the dark. The group practically tumbled out onto the third floor. The windows here were tiny, letting in almost no light. Giant shelves and stacks of books loomed at them on all sides.
“Eileen?” Thomas hissed.
“Aye?”
“Stay with me. Everyone else, scatter!”
He pulled Eileen between two shelves and behind him. In the intense gloom he could barely see the shapes of the others, looking for their own hiding places. There was some stumbling and a muttered curse, then all the shapes vanished into the stacks and the room filled with silence. Eileen was still holding Thomas’s hand. He raised her hand to his lips, kissed it, and then let it go. He drew both of his blades, the hissing noise filling the silent room. A moment later, a small noise told him Eileen had pulled her knife out. Henry and Benjamin didn’t have swords; they couldn’t have gotten on the Academy grounds with them. Still, Thomas bet Henry had at least a knife on him. Benjamin, on the other hand, wouldn’t have anything. George had his stick, and the crowbar he’d used to jimmy the door. It was not good odds if it came to a fight.
From three flights below, Thomas heard the faint, distinctive screech of hinges.
“Could they be in here?” a strange voice demanded.
“No. No students are allowed in here after dark.”
Thomas recognized the second voice as the Master of Keys. From his tone, he was barely containing himself.
“They could have snuck in.”
“No one,” said the Master of Keys, “goes into this library after dark. There are too many books to risk an open flame.”
“Look anyway.”
Thomas heard a single boot hitting the floor.
“Halt!” There was steel in the Master’s tone, and it obviously worked, because Thomas heard no more footfalls. “There will be no lights inside this building.”
“We can’t search without lights,” protested a new voice.
“He’s right,” The first voice agreed. “Bring the light in—”
“You will not!” The voice of the Master of Keys was loud enough to fill the entire library and, Thomas was certain, most of the Academy compound. “You may have decided that it is within your purview to disturb the sleep of the entire Academy—without a writ from the king, I might add—”
“I don’t answer to the king!”
“You will in this!” There was no uncertainty or room for argument in the Master’s voice. “The library and all its contents belong to the king and you will not under any circumstances enter this building with a flame in your hand or he
will
have your heads!”
“And who is going to tell him?” There was an unpleasant edge in the man’s tone.
The Master’s tone was calm, cold, and much more menacing. “I am, and if I don’t manage it, be assured that someone else will. The Masters are watching, and if a single light goes in this building you can be assured that there will be a hue and cry far greater than your men are capable of suppressing, and far greater consequences than you are prepared to deal with.”
“Look—”
“There will be no lights in the library! Do you understand?”
The bishop himself, using all the magic he had at his disposal, could not have been more persuasive. There was a long silence down below, then the first voice muttered, “Right. Give me the torches, then spread out.”
Boot steps rang through the hall below as men walked the length of the building. There was a pause, and after what was obviously an unspoken command, the footsteps split up. A moment later, Thomas could hear them echoing up the stairwells on either side of the library. Thomas crouched low to the ground, and felt Eileen doing the same behind him. No one made a sound.
The boot steps that had been moving up the stairs had begun to slow down. The tone of them changed as they stepped out onto the floor below. There were a few reluctant steps onto the floor itself followed immediately by a crash and muffled curses as someone ran into a table. The footsteps retreated, and someone called down, “We can’t see anything.”
“Look anyway,” came the shouted reply. “Check the next floor!”
The footsteps resumed their journey, getting louder and louder until stopping, the final steps echoing through the third floor. Thomas forced himself to breathe as quietly as possible. No one else on the floor made a sound. The footsteps resumed, slow and cautious. Thomas sensed more than saw the men go by; black shapes against a near total darkness, crossing in front of his hiding place and moving further into the darkness. From the other direction, he could hear other boots on the floor, approaching. The wait as the soldiers crossed the huge room was interminable. At last, though, there was a grunt and a startled shout, followed by a round of relieved cursing as two soldiers realized they had bumped into each other.
“Well, I still can’t see a bloody thing,” said one soldier. “You?”
“Not a thing.”
“What’s happening up there?” shouted the voice from down below.
Another soldier in the room snorted, “Notice how he isn’t up here.”
“I already had,” the second replied. “You want to go further in?”
“No.”
“Me, either. I say the place is empty.”
“Me, too.” His voice grew suddenly loud. “There’s no one here!”
There was a pause from far below, then, “Are you sure?”
“Aye.”
“All right, then, get back here. There’s other buildings to be searched. Come on.”
The soldiers separated, crossing the floor just as slowly and cautiously as they had when they came in. It took forever. At last, the sounds of the footsteps changed, then began to recede as the soldiers found the stairwells and made their way down. Thomas waited, motionless and barely allowing himself to breathe. There were no other sounds in the darkness as the patter of boots on steps changed to the steady stride of men crossing a floor. A moment later, hinges creaked wildly and a door slammed shut.
On the third floor of the library, there was a mass exhalation.
“I thought we were dead,” moaned Benjamin.
“We might still be,” whispered Henry. “They might have left someone on watch.”
“Stay here,” whispered Thomas. “I’ll go make sure they’re gone.”
He moved as silently as he could across the floor and down the stairs. It was a long, slow walk, and every time he made the slightest sound he froze, listening and dreading. At last he made it to the main floor. It was empty. The only movement was of the shadows, flickering from the torchlight outside. He heaved a sigh of relief, then ran back up the stairs to gather his friends.
“That was not good for my health,” Benjamin declared as they headed down the stairs.
“Think how much worse it would have been if they’d caught us,” said Henry.
“I don’t think I will, thank you.”
“So now what?” asked Eileen.
“Back to the windows, I’d say,” suggested Benjamin.
“Aye,” agreed Thomas, “but keep your heads down. That was too close.”
“I thought we were dead when they reached our floor,” said George, nervous energy pouring off of his voice. “I thought we were all going to hang.”
“Don’t worry,” Henry replied as he headed for a window. “After they’d have gotten through questioning you, you wouldn’t even feel the noose.”
“You mean they’d torture us?” asked George, horror in his voice.
“Aye, but only until you confess.”
“But what if you have nothing to confess?”
“Oh, you’d find something,” said Henry, his voice grim. “After a few hours, everyone finds something.”
George abruptly sat down on one of the benches.
“Shut up, Henry,” said Thomas. He went over to George. “Don’t worry,” Thomas said, trying to sound confident. “They haven’t caught us yet.”
“They’d better not,” George warned. “If I come home tortured and hanged, I’ll never hear the end of it.”
Thomas, relieved to hear the humour—forced though it was—in his friend’s voice, clapped him on the shoulder, then went to find a window ledge.
Hours began to creep by again. The soldiers outside continued searching buildings while others patrolled the grounds. Inside, the five alternated watching, pacing, talking quietly, and cursing fate. Benjamin and Henry had a lengthy discussion on the nature of magic and witchcraft, which Thomas stopped when they started to get loud. Eileen sat with Thomas for a while, but neither had much to say. George sat in his window, silent and alone. Eileen gave Thomas a quick kiss, then went to sit with her brother. Thomas sat, wishing he could do something, until it occurred to him that there was one book that he could read without any light at all.
He pulled the spell book out of his robe, and opened it. The words glowed in the darkness. For a moment he tried to cover it, to keep the light from shining out, then remembered he was the only one who could see it. He shook his head, not quite believing what he was doing, and started reading.
The first section of the book was mostly charms; to keep one safe, to keep from getting lost, to help a plant grow. One even helped with pimples. The second section was much less pleasant. One spell would kill insects, the next would cause sores; one would sour milk, another would send frightening dreams. It was rather creepy and Thomas quickly turned to the third section.