Chapter 28
28
On the way into town, we shared theories about the culprit.
“The witch cut out the information they used to commit the murders,” Lucas said. “That’s option number one. But we shouldn’t jump to conclusions either.”
“Maybe it was cut out to prevent anyone from using the information,” I offered. “Maybe the witch didn’t even need it. Could just be a case of good old censorship.”
“Distinctly possible,” Lucas said. “That’s option number two.” We sat in quiet contemplation for a minute. “Can either of you think of anything else?” he asked.
Nix shook her head. “I think it was the mambabarang. Who would go around cutting sections out of palace books?”
I had to agree. “True. At that point, why purchase the book at all, just to cut it up? Or cut it up instead of just getting rid of it?”
We came around the final bend in the road before arriving at the main street. The entrance into town still impressed me every time I saw it. Nix was gazing out the window now, too, taking in the magic of the bustling thoroughfare. It was a little different each time: new vendors, new people, new creatures. I saw a man in baggy trousers and a loose shirt, carrying a large glass jar with what looked like a small octopus inside, except I thought that I saw the upper body and face of a man. Before I could get a better look, he was lost in the crowd.
“Nix,” I said, tugging on her sleeve. “Did you see...”
“Oh! The bookshop is right ahead,” she said, oblivious to what I was trying to tell her. She banged on the roof of the carriage to alert the driver. We heard him say, “Whoa,” and the carriage slowed down and pulled over to the side of the road. Once we had fully stopped, Lucas opened the door and stepped out, then offered his hand to assist the two of us.
“Thank you,” I told the driver. “We should be back within the hour.” He lifted his hat and nodded, and then the three of us were on our way to track down the missing chapter.
I looked up at the painted letters on the window: Dayea’s Fine Books and Manuscripts . From outside, the shop appeared to be very narrow, but somehow when we walked in the door, it was huge. Shelves spread out in all directions, and there were tall piles of books creating walled paths twisting around them. It smelled faintly of wet paper and spilled ink and aged leather and incense. There were signs posted at various points on the paths, with arrows meant to point customers in the right direction. They said things like Paghalaman, Mahikang Bahay . (Gardening, House Magic.) Another pointed in the opposite direction and said: Paghalaman, Astromansya, Kasaysayan . (Gardening, Astromancy, History.)
“How do we know which way to go?” I asked Lucas. “Both those signs say ‘gardening,’ but they’re in opposite directions.” I was whispering, even though this was a store and not a library. It had the same kind of vibe.
Nix seemed as lost as I was. I scanned the room, hoping to find someone who worked there, but I didn’t see anyone besides us.
“Let’s take a look around first,” Lucas said. Nix and I followed him through one of the book-wall paths, which wound its way around to another room of the store. We walked under an arch also made of books, and I wondered how it managed to keep from falling. There was no rhyme or reason to its construction—it just looked like someone had piled books on top of one another and willed them to stay afloat.
“Excuse me,” Lucas said. He was standing in front of one of the shelves. Except there was no one around.
“Are you... are you talking to one of us?” I asked him. He leaned forward and said something into the shelf.
“Thank you,” he said. He turned to us and tilted his head to the left. “It’s down this way.”
On the way past the shelf, I saw a small fairy, about the size of a toy action figure, dressed in the long robes of a scholar and little wire-rimmed round glasses. He held a long sheet of paper in his hand, and he was walking across the front of the books, making check marks on the paper with a tiny quill. I tried not to stare, but I’d seen very few lambanas so far, aside from the flower fairies at school, and none who’d looked like a tiny monk.
We turned another corner and found ourselves in another maze of books, shelves, and various signs in metal stands on the ground, taped to the sides of the shelves, or attached to the fronts.
By now I felt really lost, but Lucas was determined. He forged ahead, trying to make sense of the signs. Finally, he happened on the right one: Mahikang Halamang Gamot (Magical Herbs).
“Should be in this section,” he said. We all scoured the titles, searching for the same one from the palace library. It wasn’t a large section, compared to some of the others.
“It’s not here,” Nix said. “Now what?”
“Are you sure?” Lucas was looking over the same section for the third time.
“We’re sure,” Nix and I both answered. I was getting antsy. The book wasn’t here, and even if it was, it was obvious we could spend days or weeks trying to find it.
Lucas straightened up and ran his fingers through his hair. “Fine. But before we go, let me ask.”
We followed him again, begrudgingly, so he could return to the fairy bookseller and inquire about the book.
“Excuse me,” Lucas said to him. “Sorry to disturb you again... Yes, I found it. No, see, the problem is, I’m looking for a particular... Yes, it’s The Mysterious Properties of Magical Herbs by Lady Elowina.” There was a slight pause, and then, “Yes, I see. I understand. Right. No problem. Have a good day.” Lucas walked back to where we were waiting and brushed past us, in the direction of the entrance. As he passed, he muttered, “Let’s go.”
When we were back outside, I said, “What did he say when you asked for the book?”
Lucas was looking off into the distance, farther down the street, like he was searching for something. “He said they don’t carry books by treasonous witches.”
Nix and I exchanged a look. Her mouth was hanging open. “Lady Elowina was a treasonous witch?” she asked.
Lucas shook his head. “I guess? I don’t remember learning about her in history class.”
I crossed my arms, hugging myself. We’d spent a lot of time in there, for nothing. “All right. Is there another bookshop that might carry books authored by ‘treasonous witches,’ then?”
“I have a better idea.” He started walking, but then stopped and said to us, “We’ll go tomorrow. But you guys have to let me do the talking. Promise?”
“Cross my heart and hope to die,” Nix said, making an X over her chest with her finger.
“A bit much, but I’ll take it,” he said. “Come on, let’s get you back to the palace.”
We walked to the other side of the main street, where Nix and I had seen the suspicious men not long ago. It was getting late, but there were still lots of people buying and selling and stopping to chat. I heard a couple of them mention the coronation.
The coronation—right. And still no sign of my magic.