Chapter Ten #2
For the third time, Vesper followed her.
She’d expected the librarian to return to the reference section; instead, Ida headed for a nondescript door Vesper hadn’t noticed before.
She barely had time to read the plaque that read SPECIAL COLLECTION as they passed.
Inside, she found a much smaller room, furnished with only a single small table and a chair.
The rest of the room was taken up with wall-to-wall shelves of books. Ida turned to face her.
“I think there’s a book in here that could be helpful,” she said. “One moment.” She searched the shelves before pulling out what looked to be an encyclopedia. It was by far the thickest book she’d brought forth, with a faded brown cloth cover and yellowed pages that suggested it was quite old.
“This is the Book of Vital Records,” Ida explained as she set it on the table. “It’s an ensorcelled text. Have you ever used one before?”
Vesper shook her head.
“It’s not difficult,” said Ida. “Ensorcelled texts have been enchanted by sorcerers. From my limited understanding, the actual process of ensorcellment is quite lengthy and complicated, which is why only a few select books are. These texts are sentient, able to provide specific information on demand when queried. The Book of Vital Records contains basic information about every person born in Victerra with a birth certificate. It dates back to 1720, and its most recent update was in 1890, so unless your inventor is under the age of nine, he should be in it.”
Vesper stared at the Book of Vital Records, slightly awed.
“To look up information on someone, simply open the book and say their name,” Ida instructed. “Here, give it a try.”
Vesper approached the Book of Vital Records slowly. It was stationary on the table, but she imagined a dormant energy within it that could come to life at any moment. She opened the book to its center and stared at the blank pages.
“Go on,” Ida encouraged her. “Test the name of someone you know first to get a feel for it.”
Vesper picked the first name that came to mind. “Maximilian Kite.”
She jumped as the book’s pages began to turn, rustling like a flock of birds taking sudden flight.
Vesper tried to read the words as thousands upon thousands of blurred names flickered across the page.
Just as quickly as it started, the book stopped on a page and went still.
Vesper leaned forward, reading the words typed in neat black print.
NAME: Maximilian Ignatius Kite
MOTHER: Augusta Kite (Deceased)
FATHER: Virgil Kite (Deceased)
DATE OF BIRTH: 08 September 1878
DATE OF DEATH: None
He wasn’t lying about his birthday, then. Vesper took note of his middle name. Ignatius. It was a rare, old-fashioned name, and she found herself wondering where it had come from.
“Good.” Ida was looking over her shoulder. “Now try your inventor.”
Vesper’s eyes lingered on Maximilian’s name a beat longer before she said: “Francis Gladwell.”
This time, when the Book of Vital Records came to life, Vesper remained still. She watched as its aged pages turned, faster and faster in a blur until finally they stopped. Vesper felt an undeniable sense of unease. The Book of Vital Records had opened to a blank page.
“What on earth?” Ida stepped forward, frowning. “Try again.”
Vesper swallowed. “Francis Gladwell.”
The book merely gave a half-hearted turn of the page.
Ida turned to Vesper. “Are you sure you have the name right?”
“Positive.”
The librarian crossed her arms. “If his name doesn’t appear in the Book of Vital Records, it can only mean that there are no records of a Francis Gladwell to show.”
Vesper frowned. If there was no record of Francis Gladwell, then who had the man she’d met at the exhibition really been? Her mind began to race.
“Vesper?”
Vesper looked up at the sound of Ida’s voice. The librarian was now looking at her with new concern. “Are you all right, dear?”
“Yes, sorry. I’m fine.” Vesper reshouldered her bag. “This has been really helpful, Ida. Thank you, I should get going.”
The air had grown cooler by the time Vesper left the library.
She surveyed the usually busy street, surprised to find it quiet and vacant.
A thick fog had descended, casting everything around her in an opaque, silvery haze, and she couldn’t fight the nagging sense that someone was watching her.
It was the same way she’d felt Friday night in the maze. Slowly, a shape formed.
A group of young men were sitting on the curb across the street—all dressed in black, all with hands in their pockets. She didn’t need to see the tattoos under their coats to know who they had to be.
Thally Rousers.
Usually, the gangs of this city were nocturnal, scarcely seen in daytime. But here they were, at least six of them, all sitting on the curb and staring at her as though looking for something, waiting for something. She remembered Chief Stettner’s words from two days before.
My men caught some Rousers lurking around late last night. Mostly kids, but they can still be dangerous in groups.
Vesper reshouldered her satchel, holding on tight to its strap as she resumed walking. None of the Rousers moved, but as she made her way down the street, she couldn’t shake the feeling that their eyes stayed on her back.