Chapter Seven
The library was much the same as I remembered. The old rule about technology was still very much in place, with a total ban on anything that might hint at twenty-first-century know-how. Every so often some bright spark came up with a method to scan the old books onto a computer and, without fail, every time they tried the ink on the original pages vanished forever.
It is one of the reasons witch haters give for their ardent anti-magic protests: that the Order are antiquated and have no place in today’s society. Sometimes I wonder if they have a point.
Nothing in the library building ever seemed to change. Even the smell was the same – that memorable aroma of ink and vellum and leather. Sure, some of the more dangerous books were bound in human skin and the like and rumour had it that some of the Cypher pages were written in blood. Most of what was here, however, was paper. The only thing the librarians seemed to fear more than mobile phones was fire.
Winter directed me to a study carrel that reeked of stale marijuana. I was happy to wait while he ventured out to get me the books I was apparently required to read in order to be deemed good enough to work alongside him. I kicked off my shoes and leant back in the chair. Catnaps are good for the soul. Unfortunately, as seemed to be my lot these days, my opportunity for twenty winks was interrupted by yelling. A lot of yelling.
A few minutes later, Winter burst back in. ‘Training is over,’ he said.
I jumped up and clapped my hands. ‘Excellent! You mean I’m free? I can go home?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. It means we have an assignment.’ Compared to his usual demeanour, he seemed positively aglow.
‘Oh goody.’
Winter noted my lack of enthusiasm. ‘We can go back to the gym if you prefer.’ He flung a pile of books at me. ‘And you still need to read those.’
‘Gee, thanks.’ I left the books where they were. ‘What’s the assignment?’
‘The sceptre belonging to the Ipsissimus was on display up on the third floor,’ he told me. ‘It’s been stolen.’
‘Someone stole a big stick?’ Who cared?
‘A big gold stick encrusted with rubies and diamonds,’ Winter said.
Oh. Okay then. ‘Lead the way.’
Winter turned to leave. ‘Bring the books, Ivy.’
‘They’re heavy. I’ll fetch them later.’
‘Be sure that you do.’
I was tempted to stick out my tongue at him. ‘Do you ever get out?’
‘Out?’
I waved my hands around. ‘You know. To a pub? Or a party? Maybe even just to the cinema?’
He gave me a look as if to ask why on earth he would ever want to. Then he marched off, leaving me to follow in his wake.
There was still a lot of yelling going on. Perhaps the sceptre was sentient and the librarians thought that shouting and screaming would encourage it to return to its rightful place. One particular red robe went past us, his arms flapping and his robe billowing out so that I wondered whether he was about to take off and fly around the room. No witch had ever managed to fly before – not that many of us over the centuries hadn’t tried – but this guy was making a good stab at it.
I caught up to Winter and nudged him. ‘What’s the big deal? I get that the sceptre thingy is probably worth a lot of money but this amount of panic is ridiculous.’
He glanced at me. ‘You really didn’t pay any attention when you were here as a Neophyte, did you? Objects belonging to the Order, especially valuable important objects, do not just go missing.’
Oh please. ‘Why ever not? You can’t tell me that no one’s ever attempted to boost anything.’ I waved an arm. ‘Anyone could waltz in and take what they wanted. Non-witches who are criminally inclined aren’t so intimidated by the Order that they wouldn’t try to nick something. And if you’re trying to suggest that Order members are too noble or worthy to stoop to stealing, then you’re a naïve fool.’
His jaw clenched. ‘You are treading in dangerous waters, Ms Wilde.’
Apparently so. He’d just started calling me Ivy and now we were back to the Ms business. ‘If the shoe fits, Adeptus Exemptus Winter…’
His glare intensified. ‘Most people know better than to insult me.’
I stopped walking and looked around, a confused expression on my face.
‘What is it?’ he ground out.
‘I was just checking,’ I told him airily.
‘Checking what?’
‘To see whether I was in a school playground rather than a library. I didn’t insult you. I said that if you think the Order witches are too good to steal then you’d be a fool. I didn’t say you were a fool. There’s a vast difference. Besides, I’m only trying to understand.’
Winter muttered something then took a deep breath. ‘You seem intent on testing my patience to its limits. One minute you are almost tolerable, the next I want to throttle you.’
‘Most people feel that way about me,’ I said cheerfully. ‘But cough up the answer. I still don’t get the panic.’
‘Nobody believes that Order members are above reproach. After all, some of them are even prepared to cheat and assault their fellows.’ Touché. ‘And,’ he continued, ‘we are well aware that certain elements of society may wish to steal some of our more valuable items. That is why there are heavy protective wards in place to prevent thefts.’
I shrugged. ‘No ward is infallible.’ Some took more time and effort to break than others but where there was a will there was usually a way. Or so I’d heard.
He pushed back his hair. ‘This library is vital to the Order. Many of the objects and books contained within its walls are highly volatile. I can assure you, Ms Wilde, that the wards surrounding this building are as strong as you’ll find anywhere.’
‘So what you’re saying is that to steal the sceptre, you’d have to be a very powerful witch.’
Winter nodded grimly. ‘Third Level or beyond. In fact, to take it out of the library without anyone noticing, they’d have to be one of the strongest witches we’ve ever seen.’
I absorbed this. ‘Fair enough. At least that narrows down the list of suspects. Let’s examine the crime scene, solve the crime and then we can break for afternoon tea.’
He frowned. ‘Leave the investigations to me. You’re an amateur and I’m the professional.’
While I didn’t object to Winter doing all the work, I was still needled. ‘I thought we were supposed to work in tandem?’
‘As long as you’re with me, the binding will be satisfied,’ he said shortly. ‘If you pay enough attention, you might learn something. Now let’s get moving.’
‘Yessir, Adeptus Exemptus Winter.’ I crossed my fingers and hoped he was good at his job so the sceptre was recovered quickly. More to the point, then I could finally go back home. I did, after all, still have Eve’s burglars to deal with. And Enchantment was on TV tonight.
***
The third floor was busy. Most people were standing around and staring at the sceptre’s empty display box. I’d seen enough episodes of CSI to know that these onlookers would be doing little more than contaminating the scene but Winter had made it pretty clear what my role was in all of this, so I kept my mouth buttoned shut.
‘What are all these people doing here?’ he barked. ‘We need this area clear so that we don’t lose any evidence.’ Maybe he’d seen the same episodes I had.
‘Come on everyone,’ a nervous-looking red robe said. ‘You need to vacate the area.’ Unfortunately his voice was so quiet and lacking in authority that no one paid him any attention. He tried again. ‘Everyone downstairs.’
For goodness’ sake. ‘Oi!’ I yelled. Every face turned towards me, some pale and in shock, others merely confused. That was more like it. ‘Everyone clear out! No one leaves the building until your details have been noted or you’ve been questioned.’
There was a dissenting murmur from several of the onlookers but they did as I asked, shuffling downstairs no doubt to congregate and gossip about the culprit. The librarian gave me a grateful nod while Winter raised an eyebrow. I shrugged. ‘The sooner you investigate and solve this crime, Sherlock, the sooner we can leave.’
He looked like he was about to say something then thought better of it and turned his attention to the display cabinet. As I watched, he circled round it a few times before pursing his lips and beckoning over the hapless librarian. ‘Talk me through the wards,’ he grunted.
The librarian’s Adam’s apple bobbed nervously. ‘Well, you see, er, there’s, um…’
Winter was obviously growing impatient. He tapped his foot and glared at the man. No wonder he was nervous. We’d be here all day at this rate. I stepped up. ‘What’s your name?’ I asked softly.
‘Philip. Philip Maidmont.’
‘And you’re a librarian here?’ I questioned, ignoring Winter’s frosty demeanour.
‘Yes. Four years now. I’m Practicus but I never managed to proceed to Philosophus.’
‘Those exams are a bugger.’
He tittered slightly. ‘Yes, yes, they are.’
I ignored the question in his eyes about what level I was at and gently touched his arm. ‘Philip, can you tell us what wards were in place around the case?’
His eyes widened. ‘Oh, the very strongest. The Ipsissimus himself put them in place.’
‘When did that happen?’
‘After the swearing-in ceremony for last year’s Third Level witches.’
I calculated: that would have been during the Winter Solstice, which was almost five months ago. The Order liked using auspicious dates to add to the pomp and circumstance of their ceremonies. ‘And no one’s opened it since then?’
‘No, of course not.’
‘Thank you, Ms Wilde,’ Winter interrupted tautly. He focused on Maidmont. ‘When was the last time you saw the sceptre?’
Maidmont swallowed again, his eyes shifting nervously as if Winter were accusing him of stealing the damn thing. This time, at least, he held it together to answer. ‘Last night. I did the final rounds around ten o’clock.’
‘Bloody hell!’
Both Winter and Maidmont turned to me. ‘What is it?’
‘The library closes at ten?’
Maidmont nodded.
‘You have a thought, Ms Wilde?’ Winter asked.
‘I’m having several thoughts, Adeptus Exemptus Winter,’ I returned. ‘Who in their right mind is studying at ten o’clock at night? Clearly, they’re several sandwiches short of a picnic.’
Winter’s blue eyes filled with exasperation. ‘You have the logbooks?’ he asked Maidmont.
‘Yes, yes, I’ll get them for you. But everyone left.’ He shot me a look. ‘I made sure of it.’
‘Just get us the books,’ Winter demanded.
Maidmont half bowed and half curtsied, as if he couldn’t make up his mind how to treat either of us, then skedaddled downstairs.
‘You are not exactly helping,’ Winter informed me.
I crossed my arms. ‘I think I’m helping a lot. That poor man would still be trying to answer your first question if I hadn’t stepped in. Softly, softly catchee monkey.’ I shook my head. ‘Getting things done quickly takes a gentle approach sometimes.’
A muscle throbbed in his cheek. ‘I’m not interested in getting things done quickly, Ms Wilde. I’m interested in getting them done right. Now stay quiet and let me do my job.’
I rolled my eyes. Fine. I leant back against the nearest wall and let Winter go to it. Idiot man.
He withdrew a stick from the inside pocket of his jacket. It was similar to a chopstick in length, maybe a few inches longer. I stared at it then snickered. Was that supposed to be a magic wand? Winter ignored me. Using the wandy chopstick, he probed the display case. The moment the tip touched the glass there was a faint hissing sound and the stick turned green around the edges. It didn’t take a Second Level genius to realise that vestiges of the original ward were still in place. All the same, as far as I could tell the sceptre had been lifted right out of the case with incredible ease. Some ward.
Winter poked around a little longer and then made for the stairs. I was perfectly willing to watch him go but, when he was almost out of sight, he called in an irritating voice, ‘Come on then, Ms Wilde. Get a move on!’
No. I understood he had a job to do and that he treated the loss of the sceptre as a particularly grave matter but that didn’t give him the right to talk to me like that. Keeping quiet was one thing; acting like Winter’s obedient shadow was something entirely different. I dug in my heels and didn’t move.
That was a good plan as far as I was concerned except that almost immediately the skin on my arms began to tingle, and not in a good way. I pulled up my sleeve. I was covered in goosebumps, each hair standing on end. And I appeared to be turning a dangerous shade of purple. The tingling wasn’t just painful; it was also bloody itchy. I stared after Winter. Was this because of him? Had he cast a damn spell on me?
I pushed myself off the wall and jogged after him. When I reached his shoulder, however, he merely grunted, ‘’Bout time. I thought you were in a rush to get this over and done with.’
I narrowed my eyes. He didn’t seem to be carrying any herbs although he could well have cast a few runes. All the same, he wasn’t acting any differently and my skin already seemed to be returning to normal.
‘What’s wrong?’ he snapped. ‘Is walking down a few stairs too much trouble for you now? Would you prefer to take the lift?’
It wasn’t his doing then. No doubt it was a result of the binding. We might not have been far apart but the spell must have registered my intention to have nothing more to do with the investigation and reacted accordingly. That was … interesting. Rather than admit to Winter what had happened, I deflected him. ‘There’s a lift?’ I asked hopefully.
‘Don’t be ridiculous. This is a technology-free zone.’ He continued downward.
I rubbed my arms and followed. Well, this was just shit. Apparently the binding was even tighter than I’d been led to believe. I suppose I should have been amused that the higher Level witches didn’t trust Winter to work with someone else without enforced magic. If anyone else bore the brunt of this spell, it would have been funny. I was most definitely not laughing.
Winter strode down to the foot of the stairs and stopped. He took out his little stick and poked the air; this time it turned red.
‘Abracadabra,’ I muttered.
He didn’t turn around. ‘Go up and take a book from a shelf then come back down here.’ I didn’t move a muscle. He glanced over his shoulder. ‘Didn’t you hear me?’
I blinked. ‘Oh, I’m sorry. Were you talking to me?’ I clasped my chest. ‘I thought I was just along for the ride and superfluous to your investigations. I’m just an amateur, after all.’
Winter’s mouth tightened fractionally. I’d have hung around and waited for a ‘please’ except my skin began to tingle once more. ‘Fine,’ I snapped. ‘Anything in particular?’
‘Just get a book.’
I stomped back upstairs, swiped the nearest tome and stomped back down again, pausing only to read the spine. Approaching Magic With Empathy. Volume Two. Ha. Ha. Ha.
I thrust the book at Winter but he shook his head and pointed to the front doors leading to the outside world about twenty metres away. ‘Take it outside.’
‘Do you want to explain what this is about?’
He pinched off a headache. ‘Ms Wilde, please just do it.’
I regarded him silently for a moment or two. ‘You’re wishing I’d been sent to jail now, right?’
He didn’t answer. I shrugged and stepped forward, taking the book with me. Hot pain flashed through my body. ‘Ow!’ I yelped. ‘What the hell?’
‘Books have to be checked out at the desk before they can be moved beyond this point.’
‘Well, why the hell didn’t you say so? Are you trying to kill me now?’
The long look he gave me suggested great sufferance. ‘The ward around the display cabinet had degraded so it would have been simple to break it. This ward is a different matter.’
The pain coursing through my veins confirmed that it was very much still in operation. ‘So how did the thieves get past it?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘How did they know that the first ward had degraded?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Do you know anything?’
Winter gritted his teeth. ‘Investigations of this nature take time, Ms Wilde. There’s no sudden eureka moment where all is revealed.’ He paused. ‘Return the book.’
I glanced back at the stairs. ‘Sure,’ I said casually. I lifted up one hand and sketched out a rune in the air then let go of the book. It floated upwards, making its way back to its original position.
‘That was a waste of magic. The Order dislikes unnecessary and lazy spells.’
I clapped my hand over my mouth dramatically. ‘Gee. If only I’d known.’
He sighed in irritation. ‘Come on. There are more wards to test.’
Oh goody.
This time at least, Winter stepped up to the plate. He grabbed an old mixing bowl on display by the wall situated past the first pain-inducing ward. The card next to the bowl informed us that it was sixteenth century. A perverse part of me hoped Winter would inadvertently break it while trying to get it past the second invisible ward. All that happened, however, was a faint hiss emanating from under his breath as he tried to pass with the bowl in his hand. I peered more closely. It looked like his lips had turned a faint shade of blue.
‘I think you should try again,’ I suggested. ‘You know, just to be sure.’
Winter carefully replaced the bowl on its stand. He didn’t bother answering me this time; instead, he walked beyond the first two wards and glanced about for a suitable object to filch. I got bored watching him and headed to the front door, gazing at the people outside. They looked happy. The bastards.
Eventually Winter picked up a gold-tipped quill from a shelf. ‘This will do,’ he muttered. He threw it towards me.
I didn’t even attempt to catch it; I simply stepped back and let it fall to the ground. I grinned. ‘Oops.’
‘Pick up the pen and try to take it through the front door,’ he commanded.
I shook my head. ‘No way.’
Winter smiled at me wolfishly. ‘You won’t get hurt. The final ward is … different to the others.’
I really didn’t like the sound of that. ‘I’m still not doing it.’ I ignored the prickle that ran across my skin again. This was becoming ridiculous. Winter could do it; it didn’t have to be me.
‘As I have to keep reminding you, Ms Wilde, I am in charge here. You will do as I say.’
‘Yesterday you said I wouldn’t have to do anything apart from follow you around. Less than a day later you seem intent on torturing me.’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘I thought you wanted this done quickly.’ He came over to me and picked up the quill. ‘I’ll do it. But I’m in no rush.’
I looked into his eyes. I had the impression that he’d happily hang around for hours before testing the ward, simply to make a point.
I muttered a curse under my breath and snatched the quill from him. ‘Fine. When I’m convulsing on the floor, you’ll be sorry.’ I twisted round and headed for the door. I was barely three feet away when the most god-awful shrieking started up. It was less like an alarm and more like a pack of harpies surrounding me, intent on making my ears bleed. I clamped my hands over my ears and kept going. A moment later there was a whoosh and I was surrounded by ten-foot iron spikes that sprang from nowhere. I was well and truly trapped.
‘All this for a damn quill?’ I screamed.
Beyond the ring of spikes, Winter shrugged. ‘Missing stationery accounts for a lot of the Order’s budget. It’s important to track every item to avoid unnecessary loss.’ He turned away.
‘Hey!’
Winter didn’t miss a step.
I shouted louder. ‘Hey! You need to let me out!’
‘I can’t. Only the librarians can release you. You’ll need to wait.’ He looked over his shoulder and smirked. ‘Don’t worry. Once I’ve questioned them all, I’ll send one over to get you out. Look on the bright side. This way we get some peace from each other.’
The plonker. He’d done this deliberately. I kicked at the nearest spike; it didn’t budge. I should have chosen prison. Anything would be better than this.