24. Room and Board #2
“No,” he conceded. “But a life is a life, and sometimes killing is necessary. Hence, we should have killed that guard.”
“We’ll be fine. It’s not like we’re going to be here long. We’ll get what we need from the library and then we’re leaving the citadel.”
Ciarán grimaced, still watching Orla and Iseult. “That’s the other thing. It seems to be more of a rumor than an established institution.”
“I heard.” I sighed and leaned forward to rest my head with the heels of my hands pressed against my eyes. “We’ll send Orla and Iseult out to poke around more today. As far as I know, they didn’t jump any guards last night, so they’ll be safer out on the streets.”
“I can go, too,” Ciarán said, already standing. “We can split up—”
“You are going to sleep,” I said. He scoffed in response, but I cut him off. “I know you were awake all night. I’ll keep watch. You can take a turn in the bed. You prefer to sleep during the day anyway.”
“If that is what you think is best.” Ciarán gave a jerky nod of the head, too tired and too duty-bound to disobey.
He shuffled past the front counter into the back hall towards our room while I went to tell Orla and Iseult the plan, pretending not to notice Orla quickly pull her arm away from Iseult.
Ciarán couldn’t have had more than a three minute head start, but he was already asleep by the time I snuck into the room behind him. I slid down the door to sit with my back leaned against it, watching the rise and fall of Ciarán’s chest.
Our argument from the night before replayed in my head. Returning the pendant to the family the guard had stolen it from was a very Liam thing to do, but all this talk of killing had me doubting my stance that Liam and Ciarán were at all alike.
Tiernan dropped Fana and Jonquil off at our room on his way to visit a healer about his ankle. I’d done what I could to help the joint, but my healing magick was rudimentary at best and I couldn’t blame him for seeking out actual medical help.
I taught Fana how to play checkers using coins from Ciarán’s money pouch while Jonquil curled in the crook of Ciarán’s knees on the bed. Fana then taught me to play a Skalterran version of chess. She won every round except one, which I suspected her of letting me win just to shake things up.
By the end of the day, we’d invented our own game and had eaten what had to have been the inn’s entire supply of pastries. Ciarán woke and joined us for dinner, but Orla and Iseult returned halfway through the meal with weary faces.
“Nothing,” Iseult said. “No word about any library, unless you count the old man three streets over and his collection of cookbooks.”
“That’s not true,” Orla said. “Someone recognized your hair! They said they’d seen a woman with hair just like it in the city.”
Iseult ran her fingers through her long white hair. “Lyrians are rare, but not unheard of. They could’ve met any number of the Lyrians who left Tuylr or any number of their children or grandchildren.”
“It was your aunt,” Orla insisted. “I know it.”
“The library is our only lead,” Ciarán said. “We’ll keep looking.”
“We’re on a time limit,” I reminded him.
“Then we’ll go to Tulyr if we haven’t found anything in a week. Maybe someone there will have more information on Lady Lyria’s secret door.” He turned to Iseult. “And your hair is too distinct. Wear a scarf when you go out so the Barony guards don’t recognize you.”
Ciarán kept watch again that night, and while he slept the next day, I ventured out with Orla to keep searching for the library. We came up empty-handed, but nearly everywhere we went, people offered us food and trinkets.
I chalked it up to Willow’s Grave being an uncommonly welcoming city, but when an older gentleman handed me a flower from his cart, he leaned in close.
“You’ll want to avoid the next street. The Barony guards like to get drinks there when they finish their shifts.”
I recoiled, and the man winked before pushing his cart down the street.
“He recognized me,” I said to Orla.
“You’re a wanted criminal,” she laughed nervously. “But we’ve eaten for free all day, and that nice lady did give me this bracelet.”
She held her hand out and the opal beads around her wrist glinted in the sunlight that filtered through the willow’s vines overhead.
“We don’t need bracelets,” I said, pulling Orla back towards the inn. “We need the library!”
The next morning, Tiernan waited for us in the tavern, his face heavy with fatigue but a satisfied smile playing across his face.
“I asked around about the library all night,” he said.
“And?” Ciarán pressed.
“And it’s real,” Tiernan continued, “but I wasn’t able to get much more out of the woman, because she told me Lysanor's library doesn’t allow men.”
“Lysanor?” Iseult gasped. “She said Lysanor?”
Tiernan nodded and bit into his poached eggs, still grinning.
“Your aunt?” Orla pressed.
“Yes.” Iseult dropped into a chair. “She’s alive. She’s here.”
“Then we leave now,” Ciarán said. “We have a lead. We can find the library today. Tiernan, where was this woman you spoke with?”
“You are going to bed,” I said. “You’ve been up all night.”
“But the library—”
“Doesn’t allow men,” I reminded him. “I’ll go with Orla and Iseult. You stay here and sleep. If we do find the library, we’ll be on the road again by tonight. I need you rested.”
Ciarán crossed his arms, his thoughts swarming against mine.
“Fine,” he conceded. “Get the journal and get out so we can leave.”
“Get the journal if it’s there,” Iseult said.
Ciarán scowled in reply and stood up.
“Wear a cloak,” he said in my head. “Keep your face hidden. We leave as soon as we have that book.”
Iseult took the lead through Willow’s Grave, weaving through markets and plazas. The snatches of sun that broke through the canopy of vines overhead warmed the stone walkways, but the shade of the petrified willow tree and its host of foliage kept us cool.
Tiernan had described the shopkeeper who had told him about the Library’s women only policy, and Iseult did most the talking when we found her sweeping the cobblestones outside her shop.
“Are you with that man from yesterday?” The woman clutched her broom and scanned our faces with a careful scowl. “He sent you, didn’t he? He’s not allowed in.”
“We are looking for the library for us,” Iseult insisted. “Lysanor's library, right?”
“I don’t know anyone by that name,” the woman said, but then her mouth dropped open as Iseult pulled her headscarf back to reveal her white hair. “It’s you! The woman with white hair who was seen entering Willow’s Grave with the new Saergrim.”
Iseult swore and hurried to pull her headscarf up, and Orla instinctively stepped in front of me to hide my face.
“Come on.” Iseult pushed us back. “You didn’t see us.”
“Wait!” The shopkeeper took Iseult’s hand as she tried to step away. “Lysanor's library is an hour’s walk from here on the other side of the Great Willow, near the textile market. Look for the bridge with a stone cat. You’ll find the library close by.”
Iseult’s shoulders relaxed. “Thank you.”
“You’re here to get rid of them, right?” the shopkeeper asked, and my stomach dropped when I realized she was speaking to me. “The Baron’s occupation? I heard what you did to one of them.”
I shook my head.
“I’m sorry.” It was all I could manage. I wished I could make the Baron’s guards go away. I wished I could help the city that had been so hospitable all week.
But the Rift needed to be sealed. As soon as we had the journal, we were gone.
“Come on.” Orla hooked her arm around my elbow and led me after Iseult as I stuttered out another apology. “It’s not your fault the guards are here, Wren.”