I assume you were referring to the one in Manhattan, in New York, in the United States of America?”
“Yeah, that Central Park.”
“Very good,” the Keeper says, noting something else in the ledger. He marks another document that might be a map and then gets up from the desk and walks over to one of the chests of tiny drawers behind him. He removes something from one of the drawers and turns and hands it to Zachary: a round gold locket on a long chain. On one side there is a bee. On the other there is a heart.
“If you need to find your way back to this spot—most call it the Heart—this will point your way.”
Zachary opens the locket to reveal a compass with a single mark where north would be, its needle spinning erratically.
“Will you be needing to know the location of Mecca?” the Keeper asks.
“Oh, no, thanks, though. I’m agnostopagan.”
The Keeper cocks his head questioningly.
“Spiritual but not religious,” Zachary clarifies. He doesn’t say what he is thinking, which is that his church is held-breath story listening and late-night-concert ear-ringing rapture and perfect-boss fight-button pressing. That his religion is buried in the silence of freshly fallen snow, in a carefully crafted cocktail, in between the pages of a book somewhere after the beginning but before the ending.
He wonders what, exactly, was in that thing he drank earlier.
The Keeper nods and turns his attention to the cabinets, opening another drawer and removing something and closing it again.
“If you would come with me, Mister Rawlins,” the Keeper says, exiting the room. Zachary looks at the cat but the cat, disinterested, closes its eyes and does not follow.
The Keeper closes the office door and leads Zachary down one of the book-filled halls. This space feels more underground, like a tunnel, lit with occasional candles and lanterns, with a low rounded ceiling and turns that do not follow any obvious pattern. Zachary is thankful for his compass after the third turn through a maze of doors and books, one hall branching off into others, opening up into larger chambers, and funneling into the tunnel-like hall again. Books are packed onto shelves that curve with the rock or piled on tables and chests and chairs like a literary-centric antique store. They pass a marble bust wearing a silk top hat and another sleeping cat on an upholstered armchair tucked into an alcove. Zachary keeps expecting to encounter other people but there isn’t anyone. Maybe everyone is asleep and the Keeper is on the night shift. It must be very late by now.
They stop at a door flanked by bookshelves peppered with small glowing lanterns. The Keeper unlocks the door and gestures for Zachary to enter.
“I apologize for the state—” the Keeper stops and frowns, looking in at a room that requires no apologies.
The room is…well, the room is the most glorious hotel room Zachary could imagine, except in a cave. There is a great deal of velvet, most of it dark green, fitted over chairs and hanging in curtains over a four-poster bed that has been turned down in anticipation of its guest’s arrival. There is a large desk and multiple reading nooks. The walls and floor are stone that peeks out from between bookshelves and framed art and mismatched rugs. It is beyond cozy. A fire burns in the fireplace. The lamps by the bed are lit, as though the room had been expecting him.
“I hope this will be to your liking,” the Keeper says, though a hint of the frown remains.
“This is awesome,” Zachary replies.
“The washroom is through the door at the rear,” the Keeper says, gesturing toward the back of the room. “The Kitchen may be accessed via the panel near the fireplace. The light level in the hall will be raised in the morning. Please do not feed the cats. This is your key.” The Keeper hands Zachary a key on another long chain. “If there is anything you require please do not hesitate to ask, you know where to find me.” He takes a pen and a small rectangular piece of paper from his robes and inscribes something. “Good night, Mister Rawlins. I hope you enjoy your stay.” He places the rectangle of paper in a small plaque by the door, gives Zachary a short bow, and disappears back down the hall.
Zachary watches him go and then turns to look at the paper in the plaque. In calligraphic script on ivory paper placed in a brass plaque