“Good!” said Lenora to Zenodotus, who was still staring at the faint glow coming from his hands. “You can come with us, and we’ll get Malachi, too, and then we’ll take down the Director and the Board—” She stopped at the distraught look on Ada’s face.
“You wouldn’t hurt Daddy, would you?” Ada said, tearing up. “I know he’s—made some mistakes, but … he means well. I think.”
Lenora softened. “Of course not,” she said. “We aren’t going to hurt anyone. But we must take back the Library, Ada. You know this. And we cannot do this with your father giving the orders.”
The girl nodded, wiping her arm across her eyes.
“Well?” said Lenora to Zenodotus, whose tears had dried up. “Let’s go!”
To her surprise, the ancient librarian sat down heavily in his chair, the faintest smile on his face. “Oh, Lenora. I’m afraid I cannot. For many reasons.”
“But why? Your light has returned! And you said you would help us.”
Zenodotus nodded. “And I will. But Lenora, you must understand—you are much stronger than me. And though you have given me much, it is your time to defeat the Forces. Even if I had your full strength, which would be extraordinary, I would be doing the Library a disservice by stepping in your way. You represent the future, Lenora. You must now learn to lead the battle on your own. If you do not, there is no future for the Library.”
“Then how are you going to help us?” cried Lenora in desperation. “I can’t defeat the Forces on my own!” She did not see how she could possibly do this, when even Malachi could not.
Zenodotus leaned back in his chair, put his fingers to his temples, and closed his eyes. “What do you mean, alone? What about the army you have assembled?”
“Army?” said Lenora, puzzled. “I don’t have any army.”
Zenodotus looked at her in surprise. “What do you mean? They are gathered in Googology, waiting for you.”
“Lenora’s rebel base!” said Ada.
“Yes, Lenora,” said Zenodotus. “You seem unaware of the success of your efforts to guide librarians to safety. Word of your—rebel base, as Ada says—spread rapidly from one librarian to the next. The ones who remain are all there now.”
“So they can defeat the Forces?” Lenora asked.
Zenodotus shook his head. “No,” he said. “They are still greatly outnumbered. And the Director still holds thrall over the Library’s patrons.”
Ada made a strangled cry at these words.
“I am sorry,” said Zenodotus to Ada. “But even as the Library is coming apart, many patrons believe it is not only improving, but becoming stronger. Your father is telling them this. As long as they still listen, he is in control.”
“I’ll talk to him,” said Ada desperately. “He’ll listen once I’ve explained everything.”
Lenora gave a weary sigh. “Is there anything else you can do to help?” she asked Zenodotus.
Zenodotus nodded. “Yes.” He reached behind his neck and loosened a small chain, and then drew from within his robe an object that was clearly a Tube key—but this one had an air of great age, and strange runes were carved all over it. “This is my Tube key. I have not used it in many years. You can have it. It is a key like no other. You will find that it will take you anywhere in the Library you want to go. You are no longer limited by section. Which is well, as the lights are going out all over the Library, section by section. There is a tube right outside those doors. It has not been used in a long time, but I expect it will still operate. They were built well.”
Lenora accepted the key with great reverence, feeling it tingle in her palm. “Thank you,” she said. “But what are you going to do? You really ought to contribute to the fight somehow. You can’t just sit here. Also, you need to move those papers away from those candles unless you want to burn the place down.”
Zenodotus chuckled and slid the stacks around to wiser positions. “Yes. I have decided exactly what I will do. The best way for me to contribute to the fight against lies, fear, and hate is to tell your story.”
“My story?” asked Lenora. She had not realized she had a story. But looking back, she supposed she did.
“Yes. It has been centuries since I put quill to parchment. But you have inspired many here, Lenora. It is my hope you will now inspire others.” He took a deep breath. “Next, I must decide on a pseudonym. None in the world beyond will believe that Zenodotus, first librarian of Alexandria, still lives.”
“I’m sure you’ll think of something,” said Lenora encouragingly. “But now—I think we really must get moving. Can you let us out?”
“Of course.” Zenodotus stood and proceeded to the padlocked doors, the girls following.
“Do you think he’ll put me in the story?” whispered Ada to Lenora.
Lenora smiled. “Of course. You’re an important part of it, after all.”
The girl beamed in pleasure, though Lenora could still see deep sadness in her eyes.
They came to the doors. Zenodotus produced a very large and old key from within his robes and opened the padlocks. The big wooden doors swung open, protesting all this with an enormous creaking.
The corridor beyond was dark, and smelled damp and musty in a way that told one the place had not been entered in a long time. But at a great distance down the corridor, Lenora could see the glint of light on copper. A tube.
Zenodotus turned to the girls with a smile. “Thank you, Lenora. And thank you, too, Ada. You are right. I need to get this place cleaned up. Now, off you go. The Library needs you.”
Lenora and Ada nodded. There seemed little more to say, and so Lenora made her way cautiously down the long corridor, wary of running into anything. Ada crept along beside her. Behind them, the doors closed with a creaking crash, and Lenora could hear the sound of padlocks locking.
Then Lenora groaned. She had completely forgotten to ask Zenodotus what had really happened to the Library of Alexandria. Oh, well. Another time …
Onward they went.
They walked for a long time. Somehow it seemed they were never getting any closer to that glint on copper. But at last, Lenora could see they were drawing near. And then—
Goose bumps on her arms.
Blinding lights all around.
A terrible crashing.
A hard shove from behind, propelling Lenora forward with a stumble.
And she thought, her eyes closed tight against the glare:
Something fell.
Ada was screaming. “Lenora! Help!”
Lenora whipped around, blinking, trying to see.
Metal bars had crashed down, separating her and Ada. And beside the girl were two of the Forces, the man in the green raincoat and the woman in the red, grinning sharp-toothed grins and gripping Ada by the arms as she struggled and kicked. Lenora realized that they’d have had her, too, if not for Ada’s shove. And as she realized that, she also realized that panic was surging through her and her feet felt rooted to the floor, just as had happened when she first met the woman in the red raincoat.
“Lucky you had your friend here to save you,” the woman said to Lenora, “but you will have her assistance no longer.”
“We’ll be back for you,” said the man.
With three popping sounds, they vanished.
Her fear evaporating just as quickly as it had come, Lenora threw herself against the bars, reaching for where her friend had been only moments before. “Ada!” she screamed. “No!”
But she was gone.
Lenora was alone.