The Invisible Library (The Invisible Library, #1)

by Genevieve Cogman

There was nothing wrong with being curious about how a story turned out, after all. She was a Librarian. It went with the job. And she didn’t want great secrets of necromancy, or any other sort of magic. She just wanted—had always wanted—a good book to read. Being chased by hellhounds and blowing things up were comparatively unimportant parts of the job. Getting the books—now, that was what really mattered to her. That was the whole point of the Library—as far as she’d been taught, anyway. It wasn’t about a higher mission to save worlds. It was about finding unique works of fiction and saving them in a place out of time and space. Perhaps some people might think that was a petty way to spend eternity, but Irene was happy with her choice. Anyone who really loved a good story would understand. And if there were rumours that the Library did have a deeper purpose—well, there were always so many rumours, and she had missions to complete. She could wait for more answers. She had time.

Kostchei,

“Now, if a world could be stalled at this point, so it didn’t head further into chaos, it’d be useful to know how it’s done. We don’t know how many worlds there are, so we don’t know how many we lose to chaos. But we lose enough that we do know about. And the dragons aren’t interested in talking to us about how they do whatever it is that they do.” Kai coughed. “Just like we aren’t interested in talking to them about how we do what we do?” Irene turned to look at him. Witheringly, she hoped. “Do you think you’re the first person to have made that argument?” “Course not.” He shrugged. “Fact remains, though. We don’t talk.”

“We need information as fast as possible. I’m relying on you. Do you have any problems with this?” He looked at her for a moment, then put his right fist to his left shoulder and gave her a formal bow. “You may rely on me to do my share of the work.”

Alberich was a figure out of nightmare. He was the one Librarian who’d betrayed the Library and got away with it and was still somewhere out there. His true name was long since lost, and only his chosen name as a Librarian was remembered. He’d sold out to chaos. He’d betrayed the other Librarians who’d been working with him. And he was still alive.

“Kai, you’ve been lying to me about some things and hiding others. I know it, and you know it.” She wished that she could run her hands through her hair in the way that he was doing now, but she was the older Librarian, and he was her apprentice, and she couldn’t afford to show weakness. She had to be in control. She liked him, and she didn’t actually like many people, and she didn’t want to accuse him. She didn’t want to . . . drive him away. “Do you want to talk about it?” He drew himself up and stood in front of her, suddenly appearing very tall and yet somehow fragile. “I can’t,” he said. “You can,” Irene corrected him. “But it seems you won’t.” “Irene.” He swallowed. “I swear to you that it has nothing to do with the current situation. By my name and my honour and my descent, I swear it.”

Vale didn’t look as if he believed her, which was a shame, because she was now sure that things actually were back under control. To the extent that the three of them weren’t about to drown, at least. No, the real problem was something else entirely. Now she was sure what Kai really was. A river spirit might have changed himself to water to save them, and a nature spirit of some other type might have cajoled or persuaded the river to help them, but only one sort of being would give orders to a river. Kai was a dragon. What the hell was she supposed to do about that? And he’d chosen to reveal himself in order to save them. Not himself: he would presumably have managed quite comfortably on his own. But them. Her and Vale. It was a commitment on Kai’s part that made her worry whether she would be able to answer it. She didn’t like commitments to other people. They could get . . . messy.

“We can talk later,” she said softly, “or we can talk now, but either way, I know what you are, and it doesn’t matter.” “You think very highly of yourself,” Kai answered, equally quietly, but far more deadly, “if you believe that it doesn’t matter.”

Levandis,”

I suspect Dominic Aubrey isn’t really Dominic Aubrey, Irene tried to convey with her eyes. I think Alberich replaced him days ago. I think that the kind man whom Kai and I met was actually something old and vicious wearing Dominic Aubrey’s skin. And I think the only reason he hasn’t found the book yet is that he didn’t know about Dominic Aubrey’s contacts. And, crucially, he hasn’t bothered to check Dominic Aubrey’s mail.

“Has the Library laws?” Vale cut in. “Has it signed treaties with all the worlds, allowing it to steal books? Has it any authority save that which it claims for itself? I would like to know if there is any reason in the world why I should respect it or its servants.”

“If you hurt her,” Kai said softly, “I swear by my father and his brothers, and by the bones of my grandfathers, that you shall pay for this.” Alberich regarded him thoughtfully. “What a curious way of putting it. I’m sure I’ve heard that somewhere before . . . Oh, never mind. I daresay I can dissect you later if it’s absolutely necessary. Out of here now, before I change my mind.”

“Some brandy would have helped,” Irene complained as Kai steered her across the slippery floor. She hoped that Vale wouldn’t get any stupid ideas about trying to pursue them through the entrance. “And I’m quite capable of walking without being dragged.” “Allow me this small service,” Kai growled in her ear. “After throwing me out and denying me the chance to protect you, and getting yourself quite this badly hurt, I must insist on it.” Bradamant laid her hand on the door handle, murmuring in the Language, and the air shivered. The door swung open to show rows of shelves beyond. “They do tell us not to get into arguments that we can’t win,” Irene whispered.

“Thank you and goodbye should cover it,” Coppelia said briskly. “Come now. Here you are, sitting around, with Kai fretting over you and worrying himself. A word of advice. Don’t get yourself hurt if there’s a possibility of him throwing himself in the way. He’ll be far more upset about it than you will.” “Coppelia.” Irene took a deep breath. “Why?” The old woman closed her eyes for a moment. She was frail, even for the Library, and her wooden arm and legs were the only solid things about her. The rest was all fragile flesh, spider-web white hair, and eyes as cold as black stars. “Don’t ask,” she said, her voice tired.