The Library of the Unwritten - A. J_ Hackwith Page 0,73
green park that filled the space between a modern—if something built within the last three hundred years could be called modern—suburb of town houses and the thick, ancient walls of the city. As on every tourist stop, they had to fend off numerous offers of special tours and “today only” deals from street peddlers as they wound their way through. A modern city had sprung up around the old establishment, brightly colored plastic and metal around a dusty stone center.
Leto consulted the brochure the tour guide had passed out. “It’s called the Silent City. It was entirely walled in to protect from raiders and . . . Huh, think that was a moat once?”
He leaned over a low stone railing to gawk at a deep ravine of green that ran around the base of the walls before Hero hauled him back by his collar. “I could throw you down there to check it out.”
Leto grinned. “Heights make you nervous, Hero?”
“Of course not. Now stop leaning over the gaping, death-inducing abyss.” Hero lied elegantly; Leto had to give him that.
A squat stone bridge spanned the former moat and led into the city. With Andras at the midway point, Claire stood frowning at the thick sand-colored walls. “This is problematic.”
“We don’t have time for problems, pup,” Andras said.
“We don’t have time for a great many things that we’ve been forced to contend with,” Claire said peevishly with a glare at Hero that Leto was glad not to be the recipient of. “It’s not— It’s just odd. I can still hear it. The codex pages are somewhere here in the city. But it’s all muddled, muted. Gone indistinct.”
“Maybe it was called the Silent City for a reason?” Leto offered.
“Nonsense.” Claire made an involuntary grab for where her shoulder bag should have been. She stuttered midmovement, appearing to remember its absence, and sighed. “This is ridiculous—no one could do this without proper equipment. I should have never—”
“Might I be of assistance, madam?”
Leto startled at the voice. A small olive-skinned man appeared at Claire’s elbow, having apparently wandered up from the wide entrance to Mdina. As if he’d been waiting for them.
That was impossible, of course. He didn’t seem suspicious. He looked like most of the locals, wearing a faded tee and jeans, which were a friendly sort of juxtaposition with the ancient bridge he leaned on. He had an open face, the kind that would have made Leto comfortable asking him for directions, or help with homework.
Huh. Homework. That was another thing he’d forgotten.
“Have you come to see our beautiful and fabled city?” the man asked, ducking his shoulders just so.
Claire made to dismiss him as she had every vendor she’d encountered. “No, thank you. We’re not—”
“Scholars, yes? You have the look about you,” the man interrupted. He tilted his head and something knowing colored his next words. “Can I suggest a tour of antiquities?”
Andras turned. “What makes you say that?”
“No offense, sir. No offense.” The small man wiped a baseball cap off his head and bowed. “They instructed me to wait here for visiting scholars. You seem to fit the description my employer gave.”
Claire narrowed her eyes. “And who is your employer?”
“Ms. McAllister, ma’am,” the man puffed up. “Best antiquarian in the country. From England, she is. Deals in the rarest books and antiquities that come through from east, west, anywhere.”
“Anywhere.” Claire pressed her lips together in the kind of suspicious look she gave Hero regularly. “What kind of books, exactly?”
“Ms. McAllister tends to a very rare collection. One-of-a-kind artifacts of the written word.”
Oh. That was handy. Leto’s hopes rose, but Claire exchanged a look with Andras. “We don’t have any means to pay.”
“Not a difficulty, ma’am. Ms. McAllister believes in the free trade of information for all and—”
“This is entirely suspect,” Hero hissed under his breath.
Andras shrugged. “What’s the risk? They’re merely human. You could take a fragile thing like him, couldn’t you, Hero?”
Hero at least knew enough to ignore Andras’s prodding. Leto chewed on his lip. They were right; it was probably suspicious, but it wasn’t as if luck hadn’t been screwing them over every which way up until now. Maybe they were due some good luck. Seemed only fair, to Leto.
“It’s not as if we have many other options, considering,” Claire said, evidently coming to a similar conclusion. “All right, sir. I would like to speak to this Ms. McAllister about her collection. If you’ll just direct us . . . ?”