“What sort of creatures are those Throg Monkeys?” she asked finally. “Trolls or kobolds or what?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t even know where they came from. His Eminence found them and brought them here to do the heavy work in the Stacks. Which was a waste of effort, it turns out. They don’t do very much work at all. They wouldn’t do any except that I found a way to make them. They seem to think that work is beneath them. Mostly, they just sit around looking bored.”
“Except when they’re poking their noses in where they don’t belong.”
“Except for that.” He hesitated. “Did they frighten you?”
“They came through the walls rather suddenly. So, yes, they frightened me. But they won’t get a chance to do that again, I can promise you.”
She finished tying the stays to her blouse and cinched her belt. “Throg Monkeys, huh. I thought I knew every species of creature in Landover, but I never heard of them.”
“I thought the same thing,” he agreed. “Can I turn around now?”
“You can.” She waited until he was facing her. “There, you see? No damage done. But I am hungry.”
He took her back outside and down the hall to the kitchen where he had fed her the night before. The kitchen had been empty then, and it was empty now. She couldn’t quite figure out who did the cooking or when they did it, but there was a pot of something bubbling on the stove. Thom ladled them up two bowls of something that might have been thin stew or simply gruel, added hunks of bread, and pumped two cups of water from a sink. They sat at the same table, a small wooden block with benches, and consumed their meal. It did not look appetizing at the outset and did not improve with the tasting. Mistaya ate hers anyway, concentrating on the bread. She needed something in her stomach.
“Now that you’re here,” he asked her after the meal was nearly consumed, “how long do you intend to stay?”
She thought about it a moment. “How long do you think I will be allowed to stay?”
He shrugged. “Depends. If you want to continue to pretend to be my sister, you can stay as long as you like. Otherwise, I think you better make plans to leave after breakfast.”
She stared at him in disbelief. “That’s rather abrupt, isn’t it?”
“You saw how things are around here last night. If you want to stay, you have to work in the Stacks. That was the excuse I gave for your being here.” He gave her a quick smile. “Look, I want you to stay. I told you that last night. I want to have someone to talk to.”
He hesitated. “Okay, it’s more than that. I don’t want to talk to just someone. I want to talk to you. I like you.”
She almost blushed, but not quite. “Well, I don’t mind being your sister if that’s what it takes for me to stay. But don’t you have to get permission from His Eminence?”
“Oh, sure. But he’ll agree. He likes beautiful things, so he’ll like you well enough.” He faltered, apparently realizing what he had just said. He brushed nervously at his mop of dark hair. “We can go see him after you’ve finished eating.”
“I’m finished,” she announced, and she stood up.
He took her back out of the kitchen and down the hallway past all the doorways to the servants’ rooms, including her own, until they were back in the front anteroom where the big desk fronted the two huge closed doors. Only now the doors were open, and Thom led her through.
She stopped short when she saw what was there. They had entered a cavernous chamber with ceilings so high she could only just make out massive wooden support beams standing out in stark relief against the shadows. The floor of the room comprised huge stone blocks on which rested hundreds upon hundreds of shelves, row upon row running left to right and back into farther darkness. The shelves were each perhaps twenty feet high and connected by rails on which rolling ladders rested. Books and papers of all sorts were crammed into the shelves and stacked on the floors and dumped in piles in the aisles. Although there were windows high up on the walls on either side, their glass was crusted with grime and dust and cobwebs, and the natural light was reduced to a feeble glow. Usable light emanated from more of the tiny flameless lamps she had seen in the hallways earlier, these attached in pairs at the ends of the shelves, their yellow glow almost, but not quite, reaching to the center of each shelving unit.
“The Stacks,” he announced. “It’s kind of a mess up here, but better when you go farther in. We’ve been working back to front and from the middle outward. Don’t ask me why; His Eminence ordered it done that way. So those parts are cleaned up and organized.” He paused and looked at her. “It’s a big job. You can see why we need help.”
She could, indeed. As she was thinking that the number of workers necessary to clean up this mess was not a handful, but hundreds, a pair of the Throg Monkeys emerged from the gloom between the stacks, hunched over and conversing in low tones. When they caught sight of Thom and her, they abruptly turned around and disappeared back into the gloom.
“That’s the way they are,” Thom advised. “They do their level best not to be found so that they don’t have to work. They are very good at it, too. Every day, I have to hunt them down and herd them over to the section we’re working on. It takes up a lot of valuable time.”
She kept staring in the direction of the vanished Throg Monkeys, thinking how creepy they were. “How many of them are there?”
He shook his head. “Don’t know. I keep trying to count them, but I can never get them all together in one place. There are a lot, I know.” He frowned. “It seems as if there are more all the time, but I don’t know how that can be—unless they’re breeding, of course, but I’ve never seen any evidence of that. Fortunately.”
He grimaced. “However many there are, there aren’t enough since only a small percentage of them ever do any work. The only thing I can trust them to do is lift and haul; they’re hopeless at organizing and filing. I keep telling His Eminence that we need better help to finish this job, but he never does anything about it.”
He gave her his loopy grin. “But now we have you—my little sister, Ellice. Things are looking up!”
She gave him a grimace of dismay. “How long have you been at this?”
He looked skyward for a moment. “Oh, about three years now.”
“Three years? Three whole years?”
The loopy grin returned. “Well, it’s slow going, I admit. But His Eminence seems satisfied. Come on. Let me introduce you.”
“Wait!” She held up her hand to stay him. “What am I supposed to do when I meet him? What should I say?”
“Oh, that’s easy. You really don’t have to say much of anything. His Eminence will do all the talking. You just have to play along. Remember your lines. You are my little sister, Ellice. We live in a little village at the south edge of the Greensward called Averly Mills. When I introduce you, bow to him. Always address him as ‘Your Eminence’ or just ‘Eminence.’ Can you do that?”
She could if she had to, though she didn’t much like the idea. But she held her tongue. “Does he have a name other than ‘Eminence’?” she asked instead.
Thom gave her that familiar shrug. “He says his name is Craswell Crabbit, but I think he made it up. It doesn’t matter because he won’t allow us to use that name anyway. Only ‘Your Eminence’ will do.”
“Is he a noble of the Kingdom? Is that why he insists on being addressed as ‘Your Eminence’?”
Thom beckoned with a sweeping gesture of his arm, directing her to follow. “Come with me. You can decide for yourself.”
He walked her down the right side of the Stacks and along the far wall until he came to an ornately carved oak door, scrolled with all sorts of symbols and runes and edged in gilt. At the very center and right at eye level was a sign that read:
HIS EMINENCE