Ahead, I could see a sign with the zig-zag pattern that was the universal symbol for stairs. He was making for the ground floor. I put on a burst of speed. I didn't want to have to deal with security, if this place had any. He was pretty quick on his feet. He managed to outdistance me in seconds.
The stacks suddenly opened out to an open area, with a railed staircase at the far end of it. I saw Froome, bookbag and all, racing ahead of me. Suddenly, he pinwheeled to a stop, with his hands raised. I hurried to catch up. Tananda leaped down from the shelves ran after me.
Chapter 16
AS SOON AS I drew level with him, I could see why he had stopped. Calypsa stood at the top of the staircase. She had Ersatz drawn and leveled under his trembling chin. Froome looked from her to me and back again.
"Please! Please don't hurt me!" he begged.
"Steady does it, child," Ersatz said. Calypsa looked as frightened as the Pikinise did, but she clutched the Sword with both hands. "He is no threat to you. He won't flee. Use me as a deterrent, not a weapon. Do not lean forward or you will spit him through the windpipe."
"Ulp!" said Froome. Under his fur, his skin turned greenish.
"I am trying," Calypsa said, but she was as nervous as our quarry. The Sword's point wobbled up and down. I put a finger underneath it and lifted it up out of the way.
"Ah, there you are, friend Aahz!" Ersatz said.
"How did you know where he'd be?" I asked.
"Ersatz figured it out," Calypsa said. "He made me take him to a chart of the floor. After only one look, he said that Froome would probably flee to this point. And he has. I used my Dance of Speed to bring us here ahead of Froome. I have so much to learn from Ersatz!" She fixed an expression of worship on the blade. The dark blue eyes dipped modestly.
"I offer my small skills for what they're worth."
"Nice work," I said. I turned to the cowering Pikinise. "We came for Payge. Give him to us. Now."
It's hard to look scared and defiant at the same time, but Froome managed. He stuck out his pointy chin. "Y-y-you can't have him."
"Look," I snarled. "I have not chased you across three dimensions to have you say no to me. I might have been inclined to negotiate about three days ago, maybe give you something
for your trouble, but not any more. You've got him. We need him. Gimme the bag." I held out my hand.
More than reluctantly, he slid the thick strap off his shoulder and handed the bag over. I grabbed it from him.
"You have no right to do this," he said. "I'm entitled to my source material. You're interfering with my job!"
"Yeah?" I asked, glaring him in the eye. "Well, you're interfering with the life of that young lady's grandfather. I'd say that that trumps your career."
"His life?" Froome said, looking less annoyed and terrified, and more interested. "Tell me more."
Calypsa never needed more than a single word of encouragement to open the floodgates.
"Well, you see, my grandfather is the great Calypso..."
I opened the bag and pulled out the book I found inside.
"There," I gloated, shoving it in Asti's field of view. "Think I'm a screwup now?"
"'Mud and Malarkey, The Account of My Years as A Village Idiot in the Kingdom of Ruizmotto,'" Asti read off the spine. "Yes, I agree, it could be your life story. That's not Payge."
"What?" I said. I looked at the book.
"Besides, he has a solid gold cover," Asti reminded me. "This is morocco calfskin in a disgusting shade of green. Published about fifty years ago, I'd say by the smell."
"I've been to Ruismotto," Buirnie said. "I know a song about the queen who ruled fifty years ago. She had a very big nose. Want to hear it?"
"No!" I said.
".. .And the wizard Barrik turned out to be a bad neighbor, a very tyrant who terrorized us..."
I stuck my hand in again. Sure enough, there was another "This thing is more roomy than it looks." I decanted that volume. On a shiny black leather cover in silver were the words "Volume III."
"Not right."
I kept removing books from the bookbag. It seemed to have an infinite capacity, all of it filled with lengthy personal accounts, histories, collections of poems, legends and urban myths. Then I remembered the dusty shelves in his study on Pikini. I glared at Froome. "You had to bring the whole collection with you?" I asked.
"I..." the guy swallowed. I realized he was fairly young. "The account of your conquests in the Golden Book was fearsome. I didn't think I would be safe to return. Are you going to pull out my guts and tie them in knots?"
"Only if I don't find what I'm looking for, PDQ," I said. I had run out of room on the desk, and was stacking books on the floor. "Where is it?"
"It's not here," Kelsa said.
"How do you know?" I demanded, hauling out an entire set of encyclopaedia, one fat volume at a time. It was followed by The Complete Little Nemo, books of Pervish cartoons, a Dragonette cookbook, and at least fifteen books on how to write stories.
"My dear Aahz! All of these are ordinary books. Not a single magikal text in here. They're all storybooks. Novels."
"You are putting me on!" I shook Froome. "Where is it?"
"I'll never tell you where I have hidden the Golden Book," he said, throwing his head back defiantly. "I would rather die."
I shoved my face close to his.
"That can be arranged."
"Gold? Oh, I saw that," Tananda said. "That was Payge?" She hurried back to the last standing shelf and climbed up to the second highest tier. Froome's face fell.
Tananda braced herself, and clamped her hand around one volume. Now that I was looking in the right direction, I could just see a glimpse of gold.
"What's the matter?" I asked.
"I can't get it out!"
"What do you mean, you can't get it out? It's probably just too heavy to pull with one hand."
"I mean, it's not moving at all."
"There they are!" a soft voice declared.
A bookworm slunk up the stairs and reared his upper body to point in our direction. Several other bookworms, dressed in uniforms with gold braid on their peaked caps, came swarming up around him. They surrounded us. A whole coterie inched up around Tananda, heading her off before she could clamber to the top of the stacks.
"All right," the leader whispered, as he rose up to stare me straight in the face. "You are disturbing the peace of this establishment. You must go."
"We can't go yet," I said. "I need a book!"
"It looks like you've got all the books you need," he said. "When you have finished with those, come back. But quietly! In the meanwhile, please leave, or we will have to use force."
"At least let us take a look at the book on that shelf," I said. These characters didn't look that strong. I figured once we got it down, we could make a break for it with the D-hopper.
"Absolutely not," the library clerk said, as clerks shoveled Froome's collection back into his satchel of holding. "All books on our shelves become part of our permanent collection. They are accessible only to card holders! Take them out of here," he instructed the guards.
I had been given the bum's rush more than once while working for Calypsa, and I wasn't about to let it happen again. I shook off all the little hands and marched down the stairs with dignity ahead of the bookworms.
"You're making a mistake," I said. "We have permission to be here. We're making a documentary about this place. You've just earned a role as the designated villain. You've got one chance to make us change our minds."
"Shh!" the guards hissed in unison.
"You have to let me get that book!" Calypsa pleaded, as they hustled her out. They got us into the foyer. Long lines of bookworms were waiting at the desk to check out their choices.