The Library of the Unwritten - A. J_ Hackwith Page 0,61
Andras. “Every book has it—you know, the book’s way of talking, the words it uses, the rhythm of the speaker in your head as you read. Its voice. Each one a bit unique to the author and the tale. Before the written word, it was even more important. Every storyteller worth their salt knew how to create their own voice, mimic others, and find the beat that wove it.”
“Well, obviously not every storyteller.” Claire was droll. “You’re talking about an actual . . . narrative voice . . . of books. A sound. A song. That’s ridiculous.”
“Says the woman accompanied by a muse, two demons, and Prince Charming,” Andras added.
“I’ve been librarian for three decades and never heard of such a thing.”
“A whole three decades? Goodness.” Bjorn didn’t hide his disdain.
“It . . . makes sense,” Brevity said slowly, drawing Claire’s attention. She fidgeted, fussing with the cooling pot of tea before looking up. “Muses see more parts of a book than librarians do. They got these colors, these— Well, it wouldn’t surprise me if they got a song too.”
“Just so,” Bjorn said. “The Library wouldn’t have bothered with it much. Too many books, too many restless tales coming and going. I didn’t know about it till I got here. Things are . . . more sedate here.”
Hero snorted.
“You learned how to work with these ‘songs’ here in Valhalla,” Claire guessed. “And you think you know the voice, the . . . song . . . of the codex?”
“I don’t.” Bjorn gestured a knobby hand at her skirt pockets. “But if that paper will tell me, I know how to listen. Coupled with the calling card, we might be fixed to jigger a clear tune. A book of the realms won’t be sharing a song with any other book, so it should lead you right to what you’re seeking.”
Claire considered. “You still haven’t explained why I have to leave my books.”
“Too noisy! Too loud. You’re already going to be tryin’ to pick out a who-knows-how-old song out of a million stories in progress in the mortal world. There are ways of sorting that out—written stories, existing stories, simple enough to mute and filter out. But those unwritten books and personal notes in your bag, Librarian? Coupled with your own words? Unwritten stories are like ink in water. You’ll never follow the thread if you’re distracted.”
A disquiet began to creep up Claire’s back. She flicked an unsettled glance at the rest of the group, and Brevity shook her head emphatically. Abandoning her books was antithetical to every duty a librarian had. The only powers she had were with the tools of her office. Even trusting them in the care of another librarian felt . . . wrong.
Without them, she’d be more vulnerable. She’d be more . . . human. Claire dropped her gaze for the first time and studied the fraying edge of the bandage that wrapped around her left arm.
It all came back to finding the lost pages of the codex. Hero’s return to his book, Brevity’s training, Leto’s mystery, even her own duties as librarian of the Unwritten Wing, had all taken a backseat the moment she’d decided to close the Library and follow a raven out of Hell. She was responsible for those that followed after her, though.
It had changed the moment Andras painted a future where the Library could be destroyed for doing its duty. Where Heaven was willing to wage war for a secret. The archangel and the Watcher outside were nothing compared with what that would look like. And if she and Leto, as human souls, got caught outside Hell when their ghostlights went out, even worse things would be after them. She was risking all of them, in various ways.
Abandoning her books would open her to more risks. But it was the only clear path ahead for any of them.
“Teach me this ‘song’ of yours, and I’ll consider leaving my books. Consider it.” Claire paused. “Except one. Hero needs to keep his book nearby, for obvious reasons. Unless Hero believes he’s found his kin in Valhalla?”
Hero let out a mirthless laugh. “Stay with this bearded mayhem? I’d rather eat my sword.”
“See, he’s warmed right up to us. Like family, we are,” Brevity chirped.
Bjorn shuffled his feet, slanting a disgruntled gaze at Hero, before nodding. “It’ll be better if he can keep it quiet, but keep him at a distance when you’re listening, and it might work.”