The Library of the Unwritten - A. J_ Hackwith Page 0,74
a lady to wander the city without an escort.”
Leto dearly wanted to see Claire put the man straight on what he would or would not allow a lady like Claire to do. But before that could happen, he’d taken her by the elbow and guided her over to a strange, old-timey carriage drawn by a single horse. He kicked out a small step for the carriage and executed a deep bow.
Hero and Andras seemed reluctant to follow, so Leto gave in to temptation and walked up to the carriage and hesitantly petted the horse. Its hair was delightfully sleek under his palm, and Leto suspected he’d never been this close to a live horse before. He must have grown up in a city, then? He filed that information away for later.
After a moment, he turned away and found Claire shaking her head at him with weary amusement. Andras and Hero had evidently overcome their objections and boarded the carriage already. Leto sheepishly climbed into the middle seat.
With all aboard, the guide snapped into action. He clipped a flimsy velvet rope over the doors, all the while muttering courtesies that sounded like a song: “You’re welcome and honored guests to Mdina. The Silent City welcomes you.” Over and over. Leto supposed it was the kind of act that tourists paid extra for, though he didn’t see the point of it. A little creepy, really. They clattered over the bridge toward the great entrance to the walled city.
A massive stone seal sat at the top of the giant arch. It was surrounded by scrollwork and bore circles and crosses, each slashed through with negative space, upon its crest. Leto thought the shadows it cast looked jagged upon the scrollwork, like daggers spearing the pages. A chill raced up his back as they passed under it, and Leto suppressed a shudder. Tourists passed unawares, streaming into and out of the city like a gentle tide.
The gate spilled out onto a courtyard, hemmed with stone buildings nearly as tall as the walls and just as old. Nothing was new here. Half a dozen alleyways spindled out from the courtyard, though visitors mostly contented themselves to mill quietly between shops.
It was eerily quiet; the Silent City had earned its name. There was a hush that settled heavily over the city the moment they passed under the arch. Even the hub of vendors and buses outside failed to leak in; all sound was buffered out by the looming, thick stone walls.
Leto was about to say something—anything—to break the silence when Claire twitched beside him. She looked sightlessly toward the south walls as the carriage took them deeper into the hive of stone buildings. Her hand fidgeted with the pocket that held the calling card scrap. “It’s here.”
“The codex?” Andras asked. He sniffed. “If we can hear it again, let’s dump the guide. He is obviously up to something.”
“Exactly what I said five minutes ago,” Hero said.
“No, he’s still leading us in the right direction.” Claire lowered her voice. “As long as he’s taking us toward it, we’ll tolerate whatever foolishness he’s about. It may be this McAllister is in possession of the codex pages.”
“And what part of that doesn’t scream ‘terrible trap’?”
Claire ceded that point. “You’re awfully cautious for a hero sometimes.”
“The living ones usually are.”
Their guide led them down a series of progressively smaller lanes that offered little shade. The sun had reached high in the sky and was unflinching. Andras picked at his increasingly damp shirt with a grimace. “Is Earth always this . . . unpleasant?”
“You’ve never been above?” Claire sounded surprised.
Andras’s look turned sour. “Rarely and only when I can’t help it. Not during daylight. Subject to dreadful summonings back in the day, before I rose to power. Artifacts usually come to me agreeably enough, not the other way around.”
“That must be nice,” Claire said.
“Heard that,” Hero said.
They came to a stop in front of a narrow structure. It was not so much a storefront as a warren of windows and balconies built into the surface of the outer wall itself. Andras craned his neck up and shook his head. “Strange place for a book collector.”
“Ms. McAllister will be waiting for you in her study.” Their guide reached a small door and bowed low enough for his hat to practically scrape the sidewalk. “My colleague inside will show you up.”
Hero tilted his head. “You’re not seeing us in?”
“Alas, I am not. This one must see to new arrivals at the gates. Please