The Not-Director gaped helplessly. “I can’t … they can’t … you can’t … I order you to … to…”
Lenora drew back in disgust. It was hard for her to believe that she had ever thought this man would have the authority to force Ada’s return. But now she knew where Ada was, and what she would have to do.
“Did you hear me?” rasped the Not-Director. “I order you to—”
“You’re not ordering me to do anything,” said Lenora. “I’m going to face the Board and save Ada—you’re not calling her Princess anymore—because she’s my friend. And I’m going to restore the Library. And I’m not going to do it alone.”
She cleared her throat, then spoke to the transmission console. “Message to Googology. This is Lenora. Everyone—the Director has been fired. It’s time for us to bring the fight to the Forces of Darkness. While I’m dealing with the Board, I need the rest of you to start putting books back on the shelves.” And then, hoping against hope that she was right, she continued, “We’re going to win today, and the Forces will not soon forget it.” She had no idea what she would find when she met the Board, but she had learned early on that it was important to project confidence in the face of fear. And though she was indeed afraid, she knew she had no choice but to find a way to win. She reached behind the machine and pulled the plug because, after all, it would no longer be needed when the monitors were gone and the books and everything else in the Library were returned to their proper places.
She turned to leave, and to her surprise, the Not-Director was gathering himself. He was back on his feet with a savage expression on his face, straightening his tie. He seemed to have forgotten Lenora was there. “Can’t fire me,” he was muttering to himself. “I’m the Director. I’m the best, smartest librarian. I’ll tell the Board a thing or two about those disloyal employees they gave me. Tell ’em they’d better remember who’s in charge, or they’re all fired! All of them!”
Lenora sighed and strode through the doors and down the steps. To her annoyance, she found the Not-Director was following her. “What are you doing?” she demanded.
The Not-Director, who obviously still considered himself to be in charge, stuck his finger in Lenora’s face. “You’re taking me to the Board.”
Lenora did not have time to argue. She turned to the open tube. “Fine. Squeeze yourself in behind the chair and get ready for a rough ride.”
“I am taking the chair,” said the Director. “You sit in back. You work for me.”
Lenora looked at him. “Do you know how to operate the tubes?”
He looked at Lenora.
She looked at him.
They looked at each other.
The Not-Director crossed his arms and looked off to the side with a petulant pout. “No.”
“Then get in back,” said Lenora, climbing into the chair. “And be quick about it.”
The Not-Director squeezed in back, muttering all the time about how this was going to ruin his suit and Lenora was going to face disciplinary action, and a bunch of other nonsense that Lenora was no longer paying attention to. For the very first and very last time, Lenora felt some sympathy for those poor Forces, who had had to spend all their days listening to this (here Lenora used a very unkind term, which will not be repeated despite its complete accuracy) go on and on. And on.
There was now, of course, a large label reading THE BOARD in bright letters. As the Not-Director continued his babbling, the capsule, to Lenora’s great surprise, did not shoot off down its glass tunnel when she inserted the key Zenodotus had given her. Instead, it rose gently into the air. Lenora looked up. Above them, a door was opening in the ceiling. The capsule rose up and through, and soon they were in open sky. Ahead of them was a tower. Lenora looked up and up and up. The top of the tower was surrounded by flames.
She flinched at a hideous screeching next to her right ear. Somehow the Not-Director had managed to twist himself around so he could see out the windows. “What are you doing? Make it go down!”
“Shhh,” said Lenora. “I’m flying this tube and it requires my complete concentration. If you are not perfectly silent, I’ll probably lose control and we’ll crash and die horridly.”
The Not-Director clammed up immediately. The silence was delightful beyond words.
Lenora looked back up at the tower. The tube continued to float toward its flaming top, leaving her with little doubt that this tower housed the Board. She also had little doubt that she had no idea what she was getting into, that she knew nothing about the Board, and that her bravado back in the Not-Director’s office was perhaps misplaced. She tried to console herself with the fact that an army of librarians was now in open revolt, and that someone would think of something, even if she couldn’t.
The flames drew near. Lenora became concerned. Though they didn’t seem to be actually burning anything, she wondered what effect they might have on the capsule and its passengers. To her relief, an opening appeared just beneath the flames, a bit of the stone tower wall sliding aside. The capsule floated through, came to a stop on the stone floor, and opened. Lenora got out to find that they were in a large, round room, all stone, completely empty but for a rather dizzyingly tall ladder that went up to the ceiling, ending at a trapdoor.
There was a tumbling sound as the Not-Director fell out of the tube behind her. He picked himself up and began patting his suit, muttering his list of complaints and threats once more. Lenora was reaching her limits with this man.
She marched toward the ladder, for there was nowhere else to go.
“We have to climb that?” shrieked the Not-Director. “I’m not climbing. I want an elevator.”
“Maybe you can find one out there,” said Lenora, jerking a thumb at the open door leading out into empty sky. “Meanwhile, I’m going up.” Then she had a thought. “Though the Board probably expects the most important person to be in front.”
This worked perfectly. The Not-Director pushed past her, as though terrified that Lenora might take the lead, and began to climb. Lenora allowed him a generous head start. Whatever was up there, she’d rather have the Not-Director climb into it first.
The Not-Director was at it again. “Stupid Board! So disrespectful. I should have come here before so they could see who they were dealing with!”
“Wait,” said Lenora from below. “You’ve never met the Board?”
“No,” snarled the Not-Director. “I’ve never met the king of Canada either! Who cares! I can’t possibly let everyone who works for me have that privilege.”
Now Lenora was even more glad the Not-Director was going first.
He reached the top, Lenora ten feet or so below him, not looking down, though she’d grown quite used to heights by now. The Not-Director shoved the trapdoor wide open, clambered through, straightened himself—
—and began to scream.