Two large, wooden, double doors rose up before them nestled into the dark stone of the castle wall. As they came closer, several Pixies flew against the door and with great difficulty pushed it open. It was dark within, but Lily walked with purpose as if she could see just fine. Robert stumbled with less purpose and not an ounce of grace, as he couldn’t see anything. There were slits cut into the rock wall high above them but the sun was no longer at the right angle to allow the light to enter.
As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he made out a large stone room with no doors and a long, stone staircase that went down. The only reason he could make out that the staircase went down was because a light was slowly making its way up the steps. The silhouette holding the light was short but stocky, walked with a slight limp, and grunted every third step.
The figure held a candlestick, and as he reached the top of the stairs, Robert could see that he was a lot bigger than originally thought. His limp and stooped frame made him look small but Robert could clearly see that the Historian was not a small person, although it seemed as if his nine hundred years were taking their toll.
The man stopped short of Lily and Robert, raised his candlestick, and squinted at them.
“Hello, Lillian,” he said in a gruff voice that sounded harsh and cold. His face was hard and chiselled, with shaggy grey stubble that was separated down one side of his face by a long scar that ran from his temple to beneath his chin. One eye was white with cataracts, while the other eye was bright amber.
“Hello, Bzou,” said Lily.
Robert noted that she seemed tense all over. If she had hackles, they’d be up.
“I never thought I’d see you again. It’s been a very long time. You’ve grown some,” said the Historian.
“I didn’t want to come.”
The Historian barked a laugh. “I’ll bet you didn’t. Who’s your friend?”
“This is Robert. He’s an Othasider and he’s helping with an investigation.”
Robert opened his mouth to say hi but other than a quick once-over, the Historian continued speaking to Lily.
“And why did you come here? I know it must have been difficult, so it must be important.”
“We need access to any records you have pertaining to the Dwarf, Rumpelstiltskin.”
The Historian looked hard at Lily.
“Come with me.” The old man turned and started to head back down the stairs.
Lily reached out for Robert’s hand and led him down the stairs. Robert was taken aback by the contact and thought maybe she was just assuming it was too dark for him, but her grip was so tight that he knew she was actually looking to him for support. This worried Robert for several different reasons as, for one, he wasn’t very good at supporting people, even himself, and two, his feelings for Lily seemed to be on a yo-yo depending on her mood. She was weird and quirky, mysterious and beautiful, ridiculously strong…
“Beautiful,” added the voice in Robert’s head.
Got that already.
“Oh, sorry, wasn’t fully listening,” said the voice.
Over the last twenty-four hours, he’d definitely developed a feeling for her, maybe multiple feelings. But he’d felt extremely let down when she hadn’t believed him about the cat and then again when she and Gnarly had been speaking behind his back in the forest.
His thought process jarred when they reached the bottom of the staircase, which he now realized had been very long. They must be quite a ways beneath the surface, which made sense if, as Lily said, the archives stretched back into the mountain.
The staircase opened out into a long hallway that led to a doorway at the far end. A bright light shone from the door and from the flickering, Robert assumed that the room was lit by firelight. The farther they walked, the harder Lily gripped his hand. He began wondering how long before he lost feeling in his fingers.
Despite the limp and his age, the Historian had no problem taking long strides ahead of them. Robert could now see that his grey hair was shabby and hung just beneath his shoulders. He wore a red robe, dark pants, and black boots.
When they reached the doorway, the cold feeling of the castle changed considerably. The room was large and warm and looked like it belonged in a stately home. A hearth burned brightly in the centre of the far wall. The furniture looked like it was covered with velvet, and all the tables and chairs were carved from wood and featured clawed feet. Bookshelves surrounded the rooms from floor to ceiling. Papers and scrolls spread across numerous tables. Another large door was set into the wall to the far right and Robert could see that the hallway beyond was lit by wall-mounted candles that stretched far into the distance, out of sight.
The Historian motioned to the chairs by the fire.
“Please, have a seat.” He sat down in a large chair covered with red velvet. As he did so, he pulled a tiny silver bell from the pocket of his robe and rang it once.
Lily didn’t move to sit down or let go of Robert’s hand, so he stood awkwardly, not really sure what to do.
A Pixie flew into the room and hovered by the Historian.
“Fetch me the file on Rumpelstiltskin. It’ll be in the Eastern wing on one of the upper levels.”
“Yez zir,” said the Pixie and flew off down the candlelit hallway.
“They’re not the smartest or most articulate creatures but they make good servants. Really, why don’t you both sit down, it’s perfectly safe.”
Lily pulled Robert with her to a loveseat and they both sat down, facing the old man.
The Historian eyed them both and sniffed the air.
“It’ll take him a few minutes to find the right section. You probably both need the rest; you smell like you’ve been doing a lot of walking. You smell like dead rabbits, goats, and fire, and…”
He sniffed the air again and looked directly at Robert. His eyes grew wide. He moved from his chair so fast that Robert barely had chance to notice the movement until the old man was inches from his face and sniffing him.
Lily had completely tensed and paled a little but she made no move to help.
“Uh, look, I know I don’t smell that good, it’s been a while since I’ve had a bath, but would you mind not doing that?” asked Robert.
The Historian stopped and looked him in the eyes. “There’s something special about you, isn’t there, boy?”
“Well, I suppose so.”
“You have a very strange smell.”
“I’m sorry about that. I haven’t had any access to deodorant for the last twenty-four hours.”
“I’m surprised you can’t smell it, Lillian.”
“I’ve spent a lot of time with him. I’m sure whatever it is, I’ve become immune,” said Lily.
The Historian barked a short laugh again and retook his seat.
“So what’s this all about?” said the Historian.
“Rumpelstiltskin escaped the Tower yesterday morning. We’re searching for him.”
The Historian smiled.
“You mean you’re hunting him,” he said matter-of-factly.
“No, we’re searching for him, and when we catch him we’ll arrest him.”
“You still try so hard to hide your true nature, Lillian; it must be exhausting.”
“And you wear your true nature so openly, that must be irritating to everyone around you.”
There followed the kind of pregnant pause which wasn’t just pregnant but had quickly ventured through the third trimester and was imminently about to give birth to triplets.