Chapter 10

The Keeper of Books

WE’RE going to a library?’ Oisín asked as he read the sign on the tiny oak door in front of him.

‘What did you think I was going to do, Pip? Sacrifice you?’ Lysander said.

Lysander had escorted Oisín through Eachtra’s winding corridors at a pace that suggested he had far better things to do with his time. He opened a door and half-crawled through.

Even Oisín had to stoop a little to enter, so he was surprised to find himself standing in the largest room he had seen on board Eachtra. He was reminded of the trip his class had made to the Long Room in Trinity College, though this library was even bigger than that, with large stained-glass windows and books stretching up for what seemed like miles.

It was the most incredible room that Oisín had ever seen. Pools held waterproof Water Magic books, which older Wrens pored over with sticks, as if they were stirring soup. The Fire section had books that belched fire and turned into ash. Earth Magic books were housed in a lovely grassy mound in the west corner, where Wrens lay on leaf hammocks and thumbed through the leafy books. The Air Magic books floated near the ceiling and Oisín could just make out Wrens lying on clouds as they read about the secrets of magical flight and inventions. He looked at the rows and rows of beautiful books and thought that he could stay there for ever and be happy.

‘Come on, Alice, we’ll never make it through Wonderland at this rate.’

‘Is this magical mathematics?’ Oisín asked, trying to understand how the giant room fitted behind the little door.

‘Suppose so,’ Lysander said with a bored shrug, as if magical mathematics was far too basic to be of interest to Lysander Quicksilver.

‘Hurry up, Pip, we’ve got to get that book of yours taken care of.’

‘It’s Oisín.’

‘Whatever.’

Lysander removed a silver key from his blazer and waited as a glass lift descended slowly from the ceiling. Before the lift arrived, a boy came skateboarding down one of the banisters along the stairs and nearly knocked them both over.

‘Sorry, dudes,’ he said, picking up his skateboard. ‘Hey, I’m Brad,’ he said, starting a complicated handshake that Oisín failed to follow.

He was another Quint, one of the rich American twins that Tom had pointed out. Oisín suspected that Brad’s position as a Quint might have been due more to his parents’ money than his magical abilities.

‘Awesome work changing into the wind,’ Brad said, flashing a smile at a couple of older female Wrens as they walked past. ‘I can show you round Eachtra if you want. The library’s the most boring part. There are some wicked rooms near the bottom.’

‘We’re on a mission,’ Lysander said drily.

‘Need a hand?’ Brad said as the lift arrived.

‘I think we’ll survive without your expertise,’ Lysander said, stepping inside.

‘Later, little bro,’ Brad said, leaning in to give Oisín a complicated hand salute goodbye. He whispered something else as he did so, in a voice that sounded serious.

‘Be careful.’

Oisín wasn’t sure if he’d imagined it. Brad waved goofily as the lift took off, adjusting his balance on his skateboard. For a second, Oisín thought he saw a dark expression pass across his face, but again he couldn’t be sure.

Lysander dug into his trouser pockets and took out a pale silver apple.

‘Hungry, Pip?’

Oisín shook his head. A strange silence settled around them. Oisín thought of the way his mother would chat about the weather to strangers in the lift in Dunnes or, with a pang, how Sorcha always liked to count the seconds it took. This lift was very slow. Oisín was sure that Sorcha would have reached double digits.

‘Have you always been able to turn your tie into a weapon?’ he asked finally.

‘It’s elementary magic,’ Lysander said.

He looked through the glass at the other floors below and Oisín felt like a small kid that Lysander had the misfortune of babysitting.

‘Did you really turn into the wind to get up the mountain?’ Lysander said after a moment and, though his voice stayed casual, Oisín could feel something beneath it.

‘Yeah, kind of,’ Oisín said. ‘It was –’

‘The Book of Magic?’ Lysander said quickly, and this time his voice wasn’t at all casual.

‘Yeah.’

‘It must be pretty amazing,’ Lysander said, looking over at the spot where the Book was in Oisín’s hoodie.

‘I guess so,’ Oisín said, wrapping his hoodie around him. It was getting colder as the lift climbed higher.

‘Do you think I could have a look?’

Oisín tried to focus on the books floating by the window or the book about dragons that fizzed and sparked as a girl looked at it.

‘I’m not sure,’ he said, feeling the Book twist in his pocket, as if it might actually want to be held by somebody else.

‘Just a little peek,’ Lysander said very softly.

Oisín turned to look at him and saw that he had his most persuasive smile on.

‘Come on, Pip, what are friends for?’ he said, holding out his hand confidently.

Oisín wasn’t sure they were friends at all. Still, it couldn’t hurt to let him have a look.

Lysander reached over and gently took the Book from Oisín’s hand. Oisín felt a sharp pain, as if he had just got an electric shock. Lysander’s blue eyes turned silver. The whole elevator seemed to twist upside down as if gravity was taking a couple of seconds off.

As quickly as it happened, things returned to normal: Lysander was looking at the Book and the lift was slowly ascending. Lysander was so absorbed in the Book that he didn’t seem to notice anything else. He didn’t seem to be finding what he expected either, though, and his pale forehead crinkled into a frown as he turned the pages. Oisín had a sudden urge to grab the Book back.

Luckily, the lift stopped at that moment. Lysander looked up as if from a daze and handed the Book to Oisín, as if he wasn’t sure what it was any more.

‘The Keeper of Books should be on this floor,’ he said vaguely.

Aren’t you coming with me?’ Oisín asked, stepping out of the lift.

‘No, I’m very busy,’ Lysander said, seeming a little confused and suddenly eager to get away from the Book. ‘I’ve got to go to the Quintessence section.’

Oisín followed his gaze upwards, but there didn’t seem to be any more floors, only a thick layer of clouds.

‘Maybe you’ll be able to go up there some day,’ Lysander said with a twinkle, his confidence returning.

The lift disappeared into the clouds and Oisín was left on the almost empty floor. Towers of very old books were stacked all around the walls and several centuries of dust hung in the air. Oisín started to walk down a corridor of tall bookshelves, unsure what to do. He could feel the magic in the air, like a thick layer of summer heat.

‘Now, you must be Oisín Keane.’

Oisín turned around to find a very old lady pottering through the bookshelves. She hadn’t bothered to turn to address him.

‘Er, yes,’ Oisín answered, craning his neck to get a better view of her. She was very small, with thick glasses and a frayed woollen cardigan wrapped around her.

‘Are you the Keeper of Books?’

‘Of course,’ she said, her eyes focused on the shelves. ‘My History of Magic Rebellions keeps on running away, but I suppose it is true to form.’ She laughed and waddled towards Oisín. ‘Would you like a cup of nettle tea? You look like you could use some warmth. I keep telling Mrs Fitzfeather that we need some more heating up here, but of course it would interfere with the books. They need to be kept at the right temperature, you know.’

She stroked her books as she said this, as if she were tending a flock of sheep. Oisín was surprised to see that some of their spines rippled as she did this.

She poured Oisín a steaming mug of nettle tea. Oisín took a sip and hoped that the lady was better at looking after books than she was at making tea.

‘Now, you must be looking for a home for the Book of Magic,’ the Keeper said, peering at Oisín uncertainly through her giant glasses.

‘I guess so,’ Oisín said, holding the Book in his pocket and not at all sure that he wanted to leave it behind.

‘Muise, I was wondering when you’d get here,’ she said.

Of all the old ladies he had met, the Keeper of Books seemed the most similar to Granny Keane. She even said the same country word, muise, that Granny Keane sometimes said to herself and which meant nothing, as far as Oisín could tell.

‘That book needs to have its magical protection,’ the Keeper continued. ‘Who knows where it’s been all these years and not even at the right temperature?’ The Keeper of Books wrung her hands at the horrors that might face books, before turning to Oisín sharply. ‘Where is old Fitzfeather, anyway? Is she still avoiding me because she hasn’t returned the copy of Magic with Mead? If she thinks she can get away with not paying library fines because she’s the Captain, she has another think coming.’

The Keeper of Books crinkled her nose to show that, for her, overdue library books were as severe a crime as you could find.

‘She said she’d rather stay outside in the air,’ Oisín answered, and went on to explain how he had found her.

‘Really?’ the Keeper said, opening her eyes wide when she heard that Lysander had escorted him. ‘Well, well, that is interesting,’ she murmured to herself and started to fuss at the shelves.

‘So the Book of Magic has a shelf here?’ Oisín asked, wondering if the bursting shelves could fit even something as small as the Book of Magic. As if on cue, a book dived off the shelves and fell to the floor a few rows back.

‘The Kamikaze Guide to Magic,’ the Keeper of Books said with an affectionate sigh. She poured herself a cup of tea and tried to focus on Oisín. ‘I can’t believe Mrs Fitzfeather didn’t tell you this! Or Madame Q. Every great book has a shelf here or, in this case, a drawer. The six from the Dadga’s cauldron have been long lost, but their drawers remain. The books can leave, but they need to come back, otherwise their magic won’t work properly. Outside influences could get hold of them.’

The Keeper of Books pursed her lips and Oisín wondered what or whom she meant by outside influences.

‘So it’s like having a mobile phone plugged into a charger?’ Oisín asked, trying to figure it out before he realised that the Keeper of Books probably didn’t even know what a phone was, let alone a charger.

‘Oh, yes, Modern Wonders of the Milesian World does mention that device,’ the Keeper said as she scanned her brain for what the book said. ‘Muise, we must get your book to its home.’ She stood up very quickly and started to follow a thread of her cardigan through the winding corridors.

Oisín struggled to keep up. For an old lady, she was quite fast.

‘Do you always stay up on this floor?’ he asked.

‘I try to avoid downstairs,’ the Keeper replied with a shudder, as if downstairs was a dangerous foreign country. ‘Now, where are we? Yes, the Book of Magic is in the exclusive section of course, next to all the most dangerous books, including The Book of Love. What I wouldn’t have given to have my own copy of that when I met Lir Mac Fois!’

The Keeper gave a deep sigh. Oisín had seen Granny Keane give similar sighs, and hoped that it wouldn’t take all day for the Keeper to come back to earth. Thankfully, it seemed that books were a lot more important to the Keeper now than whoever Lir Mac Fois was and she recovered herself until she had reached a special section full of miniature books in drawers. She pulled out a dark chestnut drawer which was labelled ‘The Book of Magic’.

Oisín felt the Book tremble in his hoodie, as if it didn’t want to be imprisoned in a drawer. Oisín thought he understood what it meant: he was its Keeper, not this old lady, so shouldn’t he keep it?

‘You don’t want to give it up,’ the Keeper of Books said with a knowing smile. ‘Yes, that’s often the way with other Keepers. But the Book needs a library to work properly. It’s the only way you’ll be able to find your sister.’

Oisín held out the Book with a pang of guilt. How could he think of keeping the Book when he had Sorcha to save?

‘Do you want to put it in?’ he asked, holding the Book out to the Keeper.

For a second, a shadow passed across the Keeper’s face and her green eyes bulged through her glasses at the sight of the Book of Magic so close. It was an expression that Oisín had seen on many people the first time they had laid eyes on the Book: Stephen, Sorcha, Madame Q, Lysander.

‘No, no. You put it in,’ the Keeper said quickly, her face flushing slightly. ‘Some books are too dangerous for me to handle. Fitzwater’s Fireworks was a disaster – that was when I was still a junior librarian here and I thought they’d fire me after all the damage.’ She gave a little laugh at her joke and seemed to return to her normal self.

Oisín couldn’t help noticing that she caught her breath when he placed the Book of Magic in the drawer and closed it. He felt his stomach tighten as the drawer closed.

‘Will I still be able to use it?’ he asked. He felt a bit silly asking if it would still be his croíacht, but he’d need all the help he could get if he was going to face the Morrígan.

‘Of course,’ the Keeper said. ‘In fact, you must come and visit. It’s very important that you keep your connection with the Book.’

She gave a glance around the shelves to see if anyone else was there and moved closer to Oisín.

And I must tell you, it’s very important that you don’t let anybody else visit the Book either. You are the Book’s individual Keeper. Nobody else can open that drawer, not even me.’

She took another look over her shoulder and Oisín felt a chill at her next words.

‘The Book of Magic is one of the most powerful books of the Tuatha Dé Danann. There are quite a few people here who might want to use it, even those who seem close to you, but you mustn’t let them.’

‘If the Book is so powerful, why am I its Keeper?’

The Keeper of Books looked at him for a moment and smiled.

‘There’s only one name on the Book of Magic. And it isn’t your brother and it isn’t a Quint or even the Captain of Eachtra.’

Oisín gave a little smile back, but he wasn’t sure that he felt all that much better. He felt strange without the Book, like walking to school without a bag on your shoulders. He had been used to carrying a weight and now it was gone. The strangest thing was that Oisín missed the weight.

‘You’ll come back,’ the Keeper said, as if reading his mind. ‘Now, you’ll have to take the stairs back down. Do you want to take some thread to remember the way?’

‘I think I’ll be OK,’ Oisín said, worried about what would happen to the Keeper’s cardigan if she unravelled it further. ‘Won’t you be here, though?’

‘Sometimes, of course,’ the Keeper said. ‘But you must come even if I’m not. Just make yourself at home. I have lots of nettle tea.’

Oisín thanked her and walked down the many stairs to the bottom of the library. The ground floor was a bit of a shock, like stepping on to a busy city street after being down a side alley. He squinted at the light streaming in and bumped into an older Wren carrying a stack of books. The books dropped to the ground and one immediately started to hiss.

Oisín stooped to help pick up the dark books and started when he saw who they belonged to.

‘Typical,’ Stephen muttered under his breath, making sure not to look at his brother.

‘What are you doing?’ Oisín asked, surveying the stack of dark books.

Stephen pulled them to his chest defensively.

‘None of your business, Dirtface.’

Oisín spoke before his brother had a chance to turn. ‘It’s not my fault that you’re jealous.’

‘Jealous!’ Stephen scoffed. ‘Look, Birdbrain, let me get this clear: I don’t want to play with your little book or be part of your stupid magic club.’ He pulled at the wren pendant around him, though it was bound with a magic he couldn’t shake. ‘I’m here because my little sister is missing. Because someone couldn’t keep his hands off a stupid book.’

Oisín could feel a gap widening between him and Stephen, a chasm that he wasn’t sure they could ever bridge.

‘You wish it was me that was taken instead of Sorcha. You wish the Morrígan took me instead.’

Stephen met his gaze, but he didn’t say anything, just stalked back off into the bookshelves. Oisín thought it was just as well he didn’t have the Book of Magic with him, because he could easily have turned Stephen into a toad there and then without a single regret.