of the dormitories, decorated with gargoyles and ornate gables, where wardens lived when they began their training. Now that she had come to scrub the floors, her dream of joining them seemed as though it belonged to someone else.
Once she reached the servants’ entrance of the Royal Library, she was instantly put to work by an old servant named Gertrude, who supervised her closely as she hauled a soapy bucket across the flagstone floor. Next she swept and dusted an unused reading room, and helped Gertrude carry out the rugs to be beaten. As the day stretched on, frustration simmered beneath her skin. She wouldn’t get any closer to locating the Codex with Gertrude watching her like a hawk. The elderly servant even insisted on taking lunch with her, which eliminated all hope of Elisabeth seizing a chance to sneak off and check the catalogue.
But an opportunity arrived after lunch, when Elisabeth moved an armchair to sweep underneath it, and in doing so disturbed a nest of booklice. The lice went skittering in every direction, gray and chitinous, the young ones no larger than chicken eggs. Elisabeth let out a ferocious cry and began smacking them with her broom. When several fled toward the door, she at last sensed the taste of freedom.
“Slow down, girl!” Gertrude shouted, but Elisabeth pretended not to hear as she dashed around the corner, chasing the lice with her broom lofted like a javelin. Gertrude soon fell behind, wheezing. From there, Elisabeth only had to make a few more turns before she was out of sight.
She checked herself as she entered the atrium, reducing her speed to what she hoped was a purposeful-looking stride. She cut a path through the librarians and ducked behind a pillar. The catalogue room was set into the facet of the octagon opposite the Royal Library’s front doors. All she had to do was sneak inside, go through the catalogue drawers, and find the card with the Codex’s location. But when she peered around the pillar, her spirits plummeted.
The room bustled with activity. Librarians of every rank climbed ladders and consulted each other over desks, overseen by a bespectacled archivist. No one would look at her twice if she were wearing an apprentice’s pale blue robes, but she was certain the archivist would notice her if she went up one of the ladders and started going through the tiny gilded drawers that covered every inch of the walls. And there weren’t many places to hide in there, aside from beneath the desks and behind a few display cases containing grimoires.
She eyed the nearest display case. The grimoire inside looked familiar, and indeed, she recognized it from Summershall, where another copy was on display in the hall outside the reading room. It was an ostentatious-looking Class Four called Madame Bouchard’s Harmonic Cantrips, its cover bracketed in gold and stitched with peacock feathers. Elisabeth’s heart raced as a plan began to unfold within her mind. The only problem was that she couldn’t do it alone.
A throaty growl drew her attention to the nearest section of bookcases. A marmalade-colored cat crouched there, fur standing on end, its tail lashing back and forth. Opposite it sat Silas, looking supremely unconcerned. As the other cat continued to yowl, he raised one of his dainty paws and licked it.
“Silas,” Elisabeth hissed. She went over and scooped him up. The other cat bolted. “I need your help,” she whispered, ignoring the strange look sent to her by a passing apprentice.
Silas gazed at her levelly.
“It’s important,” she tried.
His tail flicked, in a fashion that suggested he was feeling inconvenienced. She suspected he still hadn’t gotten over the Sir Fluffington incident.
“If you leave me to my own devices,” she told him, “I’m likely to get into trouble, and I’m certain Nathaniel wouldn’t appreciate that.”
Silas’s yellow eyes narrowed. Slowly, he blinked.
Elisabeth sagged in relief. “Good. Now, here’s what I need you to do. . . .”
None of the librarians in the catalogue room paid any mind when, a few minutes later, a small white cat trotted inside. Not a soul reacted when he leaped onto one of the desks and minced across it. But they did pay attention when Silas launched himself at the glass display case, knocked it askew, and promptly streaked from the scene, looking for all the world like an ordinary cat that had gotten himself into unexpected trouble. Everyone froze as the case wobbled once—twice—then tumbled to the floor and shattered.