Chapter 4 #2
Carolina told Berkeley and Rue to wait there at the bar for her, and then waded through the crowd again to that center table. She pulled out a chair and sat down across from the man in the brown cloak, and stared at the back of his balding head while he watched the music and dancing, until he realized that he was no longer alone.
He turned around, his brow furrowed in confusion, and said, “Can I help you? I’m saving that seat for a friend.”
“Henry Marsh,” Carolina said knowingly. “I’m looking for him, and the barkeep said he’s usually here by now.”
He looked her up and down, studied Ribbon, and then scanned Carolina’s face as he considered that. “Why are you looking for him?”
“I need help with something,” she said, “and I was told to find him.”
“Told by who?”
“Someone named Ariane.”
“Ariane?” the man asked. His expression softened a little when Carolina nodded, and he held out his hand. “I’m John.”
Carolina shook with him, but on this Sovereign island, she didn’t trust him enough yet to reveal herself. “Nice to meet you, John. So, do you know where I can find Henry?”
John shrugged. “He was supposed to be here an hour ago. I was going to give him another hour before I went to his house to find him.”
“You know where he lives?” she asked. “Would it be alright if my companions and I escorted you there? The business I was hoping to meet him for is especially important.”
He followed her gesture toward Berkeley and Rue, and then looked back at her thoughtfully. “If Ariane sent you, then I know he’d want to meet you.” He finally gave her a nod. “Alright.”
He stood, and Carolina waved for Berkeley and Rue to join them as she followed him out of the tavern. He led them down the street, away from the main bustle of the port town where all the soldiers were and to a quieter part of Breezeport. The section was mostly rickety homes and indentured quarters with a few small, struggling businesses mixed in — not the kind of place she imagined a Sovereign archivist living.
“Are we close?” she asked. She’d been off the ship for almost an hour, and the ache in her manacled wrist had already traveled up the bone of her forearm.
“Yes,” John answered, gesturing up the street, “it’s that one th-” He stopped short and left them behind, jogging the rest of the way with Carolina and the others running after him. He reached Henry’s house and stopped at the cracked door, and gave it a soft push as he called, “Henry? ”
The inside was dark as John pushed the door farther open, the stale air from inside meeting their noses. She drew one of the daggers at her hip and put her hand on John’s shoulder, pulling him gently behind her.
“Wait here, John,” she told him.
She held her dagger in her right hand and stuck her head through the doorway, scanning left and right in the darkness for the sign of any lingering danger, and when she was certain there was no one immediately visible, she stepped in. The more her eyes adjusted, the more certain she was that nobody was there.
“What do you think?” she asked Ribbon, who was perched on the back of her shoulder and peeking over. The whippon gave an easy chirp in reply. “If you see any candles, will you light them please?”
Ribbon’s beak clicked as she shot a tiny flame at every candle, until the entirety of Henry’s small dwelling was illuminated in a warm glow. Berkeley and Rue had stepped up to her side to scan the house with her, but as light filled the place, John shoved past them.
“Henry!” he exclaimed, bursting into the room to search for his friend, dead or alive.
The room was in shambles, books thrown, tables overturned, papers scattered and turned to ash in the fireplace. But there was no Henry.
“Burglary?” Rue asked.
“I have to alert the authorities,” John said, rushing toward them.
Carolina grabbed the shoulder of his cloak before he could get past her and kicked her foot backward to shut the door. “Not yet.”
“My friend is missing! He could be dead!”
She stretched forward while keeping a grip on John’s shoulder, righting an overturned chair with her free hand and then guiding him to sit down. “We want you to find your friend,” she told him, “but I must implore you to wait.”
John looked at her, and then at the rest of the destroyed home. “Does this have anything to do with you?”
“I’m not sure,” she answered. “Can I trust you to sit tight while we investigate for a minute?”
He sighed, nodding while he slumped over and buried his face in his hands, and Carolina, Berkeley, and Rue fanned out in the small house to see what they could find.
Berkeley nudged a silver pitcher on the floor. “If it was a burglary, I imagine they’d have taken everything. ”
“But they were looking for something,” Rue pointed out, gesturing to the emptied drawers and shelves.
“Or they wanted it to look that way,” Carolina said. “John, did Henry bring people into the archives often?” John shook his head, and Carolina wandered over to the hearth. “The fire’s cold… but Henry was seen at the bar last night.”
Rue was digging through drawers in the single dresser near the bed, and called, “Look! All his clothes are gone.”
“He’s alive?” John asked, shooting out of his chair and hurrying over to check the drawers for himself.
“Gone,” Carolina repeated thoughtfully. “Why would he have left?”
“It’s an awful coincidence,” Berkeley said as he reached her side.
“Or it’s not at all,” she replied.
Rue left John in the bedroom and came to stand at her other side, asking, “You think Ariane sent word ahead?”
She only considered that possibility for a moment. “No. I had no reason to believe she was being dishonest with me, and why would she mention him to me only to have him run?” She glanced around the small house before looking at Rue. “Who left the ship last night?”
“Only me and Berkeley…” Rue answered, scanning Carolina’s face. “That I know of.”
Berkeley inhaled a sharp breath as he realized why Carolina was asking. “Well, I didn’t do anything.”
“Surely you don’t think I did,” Rue said imploringly.
“No,” Carolina said, reaching up to stroke the side of Ribbon’s neck while she thought about it. “Of course not, you’re my sister. And Berkeley, I mean this in the best way, but you’re far too simple to have orchestrated something like this.”
Rue huffed with laughter, and he reached behind Carolina to punch her in the shoulder before saying, “I know what you really meant was, ‘because you’re my best friend and I trust you with my life.’”
Rue rubbed out her shoulder while she asked, “So you think someone snuck off the ship last night and what? Scared him away?”
“Anything is possible,” Carolina said, “but that’s only if this had anything to do with us, and right now, it changes nothing. John?” She turned around as John came out of the bedroom, still in his uniform brown cloak. “You’re an archivist, correct?” He nodded. “Before you alert the authorities, I need you to get us in. ”
“What?” His eyes went wide. “No, I can’t- I don’t- sneaking people in was Henry’s thing. I don’t know what schedule he took, what paths.”
“I have faith you can do it,” she told him.
“I never go at night,” he protested. “I don’t know if there are guards, or how many, or where they’re posted.”
“We’ll take it slow,” she said. He inhaled to protest some more, so she unclipped the purse of coins on her belt and tossed it to him.
It hit the ground at his feet with a clatter, and his mouth snapped shut as he bent over to pick it up. He opened it, rifled around to see exactly how much there was, and then gave a heavy sigh. “Fine. But if we get arrested, it’s on you.”
“Fair enough,” she said.
He motioned for them to follow him out, and they returned to the street to start their trek to the archives.
“How’s your wrist?” Rue asked as she slowed them a few paces behind John and Berkeley.
Carolina tightened the fist of her right hand and then stretched her fingers. The dull ache had reached her shoulder, but she could still ignore it if she focused on other things. “It hurts, but I have time.”
“Are you sure you want to pursue this?” she asked quietly. “You don’t have a witch, and finding one you can trust will be even harder.”
“What other choice do I have? I’ve tried everything else I could think of.”
“Not everything ,” she muttered, and at an inquisitive look from Carolina, added, “you could try to be happy with what you have.”
“I’m a prisoner on my own ship, Rue,” Carolina sighed, frustrated by the mere thought of accepting the rest of her life with the manacle. “My freedom was stolen from me.”
“But it’s not prison ,” Rue implored. “And your ship is perfect. Your crew is perfect. And you have Berkeley. And me. Why isn’t that enough?”
“Because I’m a dog on a leash, and I get a jarring snap to the neck every time I get too comfortable. Do you understand?” She paused, and though Rue’s jaw had started working back and forth, she didn’t reply. “Of course not,” she mumbled, “how could you when you enjoy every opportunity this ship has to offer at the cost of my freedom.”
Rue’s narrowed eyes turned on her. “A dog on a leash still has a home and a family,” she snapped. “And I found you after you abandoned us, remember? Not the other way around. So maybe you should appreciate where the rest of us come from before accusing us of privilege at your expense.”
The next sigh Carolina gave was softer as she said, “Rue, I didn’t mean-” But Rue didn’t wait for an apology, and stomped ahead to catch up with Berkeley and John. “Talk about putting my foot in my mouth, huh?” she whispered to Ribbon, who was wrapped around the back of her neck.
But how could she put into words why it was so hard to be grateful for what she had? Ever since Devina had cursed her, her friends and her space had been limited to a ship. She didn’t get to go to port and meet new people or explore new places without immense suffering. Her entire world had been standing still and stagnant for eight years. And it wasn’t just about the ship. It was… it was lonely. She was lonely. That’s what it was. Even with Berkeley and Rue and Ribbon, and any other crewmate that she considered a friend. Eight years was a long time to go without an intimate connection, without companionship, and her confinement meant that she couldn’t move on even if she’d wanted to.
After a minute of walking along by herself with those thoughts, Berkeley dropped back to join her, and they followed John the rest of the way in silence. Eventually, they reached a large building in the main section of Breezeport that stood apart from the others around it. It almost looked like a church, with its square shape, stone walls, and large wooden doors. There was some light coming from the two narrow windows on either side of the main entrance, but the outside of the building was dark. No guards, no patrols, and rarely a passerby.
“If we’d known it was this easy,” Carolina said to John as they all stopped down the street from the building, “we wouldn’t have involved you. Did you know there wouldn’t be guards?”
“I’ve only ever been here during the day,” John said, and pulled a heavy metal key out of his cloak pocket and held it up. “And you’d still need me to get you in. All the windows are too small for someone to fit through, and the doors are automatically locked from inside and out.” He tucked it back into his pocket and gestured to the side of the steps leading up to the entrance. “Hide in those bushes while I go inside and make sure it’s empty. Don’t move until I come back to get you.”
“Can we trust you, John?” Carolina asked.
“I believe you didn’t threaten or kill my friend,” he answered, “and I have nothing to gain by betraying you.”
“Then we’ll wait. ”
He nodded and hurried ahead of them up the steps while they all crept into the bushes outside the building. He approached the door with his key in his hand, checked to make sure they were hidden, and extended his hand, but the locks clicked before he had a chance to stick it in. And as the door swung open and John stepped back to give it space, Carolina drew her dagger, prepared to do whatever she must so they wouldn’t be caught.
“John,” the man who came out of the building said in surprise.
“Omar,” John greeted, giving a nervous chuckle. “I didn’t expect anyone to be here.”
Omar didn’t seem to notice his tension. “Didn’t you hear?” he asked. “Someone tried to kill King Izaak. I couldn’t wait to come and start archiving.”
“Oh, yes, I did hear,” John said, and Carolina tucked her dagger halfway back into its sheath. “Do they know who it was?”
“Probably one of the mining companies,” Omar answered, “though no one will ever be able to prove it. He’s in hiding now, and I’ve just sent a letter to our contact at the palace to let us know as soon as Emperor Anseau appoints an interim ruler.”
“Wouldn’t the emperor want to send protection for him?” John asked.
“Maybe if anyone knew where he was,” Omar shrugged. “But, if you ask me, it’s about time the Paramounts are governed by someone less… radical.” He paused and all John did was hum, so he said, “But never mind, what are you doing here?”
“Couldn’t sleep. Figured I’d come and do some updating.”
“You’re a saint,” Omar patted him on the shoulder as he stepped past him. “Just leave the documents at my table out, will you?”
“Of course.” John turned to watch him go. “Have a good night, Omar.” Once Omar was far enough away, he whispered toward the bushes, “I’ll be right back,” and disappeared into the building. It took a minute, but shortly after that the door cracked open again, and John stuck his head and arm out and waved for them to come. “Quickly.”
They darted up the steps and skittered past him, and then he secured the door behind them and led the way farther into the building. The inside was only one massive room, but it was covered wall to wall in books, with more shelves arranged neatly in aisles, and tables between them covered in more empty books and parchments .
“You know,” Carolina murmured to Rue, “if there was anything to make me grateful for what I have, it’d be the idea of spending my life in here.” And she feigned snoring for good measure.
Rue glared at her, managing to maintain that stern expression for only a moment before she laughed, “Piss off.”
Carolina grinned, and though Rue shoved her in the shoulder and wandered off a few paces to look at a shelf, she could be certain at least that Rue was no longer angry.
“What is it you’re looking for?” John asked.
Carolina ran her finger down the spine of a book on the end of a shelf. “I need to know everything I can about Ascension.”
“Asce-” John stopped short, staring at her for a second before letting out a huff of laughter. “These are archives, not a library.”
“I’ll decide for myself what’s fiction,” she replied. “Do you have anything or not?”
“Let me see,” he mumbled, and headed for the rear of the building.
Carolina brought Ribbon down off her neck and held the whippon toward the entrance. “Go and perch on a window, my little lookout.” And while Ribbon went to watch the door, Berkeley and Rue followed her to where John was scanning a shelf.
He pulled down a book that was entirely made up of pages with alphabetical words or subjects on the left and a number on the right. He set the open book on a table and ran his finger down the page, flipping to the next, and then the next, and the next as he went through the A’s muttering ‘ascension’ under his breath.
“Oh?” he said, finally stopping and tapping his finger. “It is here, but... ninety-seven is crossed out.”
“What does that mean?” Carolina asked.
“Ninety-seven and one-thirty-one.” He ambled away from the book and to another set of shelves along the wall, scanning the square scraps of fabric with numbers on them that had been sewed to the leather spines of all the books. “Ninety-seven was… Hm.”
“Why ‘hm?’” Berkeley asked, craning his neck over Carolina’s shoulder to look at the shelves.
“It’s not there,” Rue said.
John quickly searched the nearby books as if it had been misplaced, and when he didn’t find it, he hurried to the hundreds. “One-thirty-one,” he said to himself, almost pleadingly while he went up the row. “One- thirty-one. One-thirty-” He sighed and plucked a book off the shelf. “It’s here.”
He brought the book to a nearby table and flipped open the cover while Carolina and the others crowded around him. He located the page number for Ascension in the table of contents, turned to the page, and pointed to a tiny section that was hardly a paragraph.
“Ascension:” Carolina read aloud, “history suggests there’s a fountain or well that, when drunk from, provides a witch with access to unconditional energy for magic. In addition to that access, it amplifies power and gives additional magic and immunity to time. The only known witch to have ever gained access to the fountain was Vivienne Wright.” She paused and read it silently again. “Immunity to time… Ariane didn’t mention that.”
“Is that like being immortal?” Berkeley asked.
“Or ageless,” Rue said, “at the very least.”
“That’s it?” Carolina said, reaching past John to flip to the next page and then back again. “That’s all it says? That’s useless. Where is book ninety-seven?” There was no response even after several long seconds, so she prompted, “John?”
“I don’t know…” he mumbled.
“Books don’t just disappear,” she said. “Is there a book about Vivienne Wright?”
He left the table and went back to the book with the subjects and numbers, and flipped a large portion of pages at once to get closer to the W’s. Then he went a page at a time until he’d found it. “Ninety-seven.” He shook his head and glanced back toward the shelves. “It can’t be right, though,” he whispered. “Not whole books.”
“What do you mean by that?” Rue asked.
He just stared until Carolina said sternly, “John.”
He finally looked at her, and then down as he shook his head. “Alright… we’ve been given orders in the past to…” He hesitated until Carolina gave a prompting lift of her eyebrows. “To remove or rewrite sections from the archives.”
“Remove?” Berkeley repeated.
“Destroy,” John admitted with a wince.
Carolina’s eyes closed as she sighed heavily and said, “What was that about this not being a library?”
“I know,” he said, shoulders slumped.
“Who was in charge of editing history? ”
“Henry was the senior archivist.”
“Henry?” Carolina said with a tiny smile. “The same Henry who might’ve been willing to share secret history with outsiders? Is there any chance, John, that he wouldn’t have destroyed things he was supposed to?”
He stared at her for a few moments while he considered it, and then gave a noncommittal nod. “Knowing Henry, it’s possible.”
“If he kept it,” she said, “where would it be?”
“I suppose…” He paused and glanced around the archives. “Not here, and he never mentioned any other hiding places. Perhaps his house.”
“Then we go back.”
“Hello?” Rue said. “His house was ransacked. What if whoever did it already took what we’re after?”
“I have to be sure,” Carolina said. “And if he hid it well enough, maybe they didn’t find it.” She looked imploringly at John. “Will you take us back?”
“Yes,” he said readily.
He gathered the two books he’d taken from the shelves and returned them to their places, and then led them to the door. He unlocked it and poked his head out first, found that the coast was clear, motioned for them to go out before him, and then locked up and started leading the way back to Henry’s.
The pain in Carolina’s arm had progressed to a throbbing stab up to her elbow, which would soon follow to her shoulder, but she was determined, and did her best to ignore it as they paced along behind John. It wasn’t easy, especially in the dark of the dimly lit, quiet street where she had no distractions, and she was so desperate to find something that, as they rounded the corner of the street to Henry’s house, she almost didn’t notice the guards. But several of them were standing outside the house, and light was pouring out of his open door as more shadows moved within.
Carolina grabbed the hood of John’s cloak and pulled him backward, retreating behind the corner of the building so they were no longer in view of the guards.
“That’s not good,” Berkeley whispered.
“How did they find out?” Carolina hissed.
John peered around the corner and groaned. “That woman,” he said, and gave Carolina a moment to peek too. “Miss Ida. She fancies him and is always poking around.” His eyes widened as he turned to face her. “ Henry didn’t have any family. I’m closest to kin, they’ll be going to my house to tell me he’s missing. I need to go.”
“Then you should,” Carolina agreed. “But will you meet us here again? The guards will clear out soon, and if you’re closest to kin they’ll give you responsibility over his house, right? Please, I’ll pay you another share of what you got today.”
John looked from her to around the corner and then back again, and thought about it for half a minute before saying, “I’ll meet you here at noon the day after tomorrow, that should give me time to sort out the affairs. But I’ll do it for free. I think it’s what Henry would’ve wanted.”
“Thank you, John,” Carolina said, holding out her hand.
He shook with her, said, “See you then,” and hurried off.