The Librarian's Spell by Patricia Rice (ebook offline reader TXT) 📗

idea if he has Ives cousins near his age. I’ve not kept in touch.”

She nodded, breathing a little easier now that one uncertainty was almost arranged. “I can check your family tree. Bakari should know his cousins—and his brothers.” She shouldn’t have said that, but she’d been raised in a closely-knit family and couldn’t imagine not knowing them.

She gestured at the parlor. “This suite is ideal for your purposes. We could move the cot up here. You’d have privacy. Lloyd is used to sleeping in the valet’s room. I’d hate to put him out. He could act as your valet and perhaps tutor Bakari a little.”

Max frowned and lifted the tapestry. “If we do this, it will only be for a very little while, until I learn what’s happening with the tower and figure out what to do with the boy.”

“And your mother,” she insisted. “How long will it be until your friend answers your inquiry?”

That would give her a little breathing space. She could stay in her usual routine for a little while, add tasks to her list as they came up, not leap into anything like this beautiful suite which should belong to the real librarian. Despite Mr. C’s promise, she didn’t think she qualified.

She watched uneasily as Max tapped on the wall. He knew. He was an engineer. He knew the other tower was behind there. He had no use for books, so it shouldn’t matter one way or another if she let him in.

“Morgan? He’s usually pretty prompt.” Max began pushing against an unseen seam. “It just depends on what else he’s doing and how much time he has. How long will it take for you to determine if Bakari has cousins his age?”

“It depends on how complete Mr. C left the genealogy before his illness. Push two blocks down and one block over from the painting.” If he stayed in the tower, he’d find the door sooner or later.

Max shot her a smile that nearly brought her to her knees. No wonder women flocked to him. With that large nose, he wasn’t really handsome, just. . . compelling.

“I was wondering when you’d trust me.” He pushed the designated block, and the wall slid to one side. He stuck his head through and grunted in disappointment. “More books. I should have known.”

Lydia almost laughed. “Light the lantern on the stand. You’ll enjoy the architecture.”

He studied the high ceiling in the parlor, ducked through the door, and stood upright on the landing on the other side. “Holy flying monkeys,” he said in awe.

The books whispered and beckoned, like a wind whistling through leaves. Lydia couldn’t translate whispers any more than she could wind. She was aware of how disastrous it would be if she couldn’t find the books people needed. The family would realize she wasn’t a real librarian. A call would go out and others would come to take her place. She shivered and stepped through the doorway to join him. In her mind, the library breathed like a sentient being. She simply couldn’t communicate.

Lloyd had left Mr. C’s stack of journals on a table evidently set there for this purpose. The servant didn’t know how to file them. Books waited for her to shelve.

Unless she’d seen them removed, she had no idea where they belonged.

“They improved on the original broch’s spiral staircase and galleries,” Max said in awe, studying the wrought iron galleries and stairs. “This place is completely protected from the elements. Your chamber must be right over the ceiling.” He leaned over the rail to see upward. “This inner tower is the ideal place to store books.”

“There are other libraries,” she said diffidently. “I think the oldest one is in Wystan Castle in Northumberland. There’s another, newer one, forming near the Highlands. I’m not exactly certain of its location. I believe there is one forming in China as well. I’ve had a letter from them and replied, but that’s all I know.”

“China.” He whistled in surprise. “Chinese Malcolms. I cannot imagine. . . They speak English?” He took several stairs down.

“The librarian does, at least.”

“I’d like to know if there are books about the building of these towers.” He stopped to study the journals on the nearest shelf.

As if passing straight from Max’s thoughts, some of the whispers grew louder, clearer. Tower. Spiral. Broch.

Lydia’s head spun. She staggered and gripped Max’s arm for support. She curled her fingers around the rail as well. Tower. Spiral. Broch. Steadying herself , she concentrated on the clearest whisper.

Max slid his arm around her waist and held her upright with a look of concern. His support let her breathe a little easier as she tried to orient herself and the odd vibrations in her head.

She scanned the library, locating the closest source. “There.” She picked up one of the books on the table. It felt right. It felt similar to the one Mr. C had showed her the other day. Pulling free of Max’s grip, she started down the stairs. The oldest books were near the bottom of the tower. The more contemporary ones were nearby. She reached for another calling to her.

With Max trailing behind, she continued downward, occasionally halting to determine the direction of a call and adding another book to her collection. At one point, she handed the stack to Max. By the time she had another pile, they had reached the hidden study at the bottom.

“Books mentioning towers and brochs,” she told him briskly, as if she did this every day and wasn’t secretly screaming with joy. She proceeded past Mr. C’s study to the door that would take them to her outer office. “We’ll put them in the guest library where we can work on them.”

“It’s easier for me to take tower measurements than read journals,” he grumbled. “I thought you couldn’t find books?”

“I can’t. I couldn’t. I don’t know what happened.” Exhausted, head spinning, she hurried through her office and down the corridor to the library where guests worked. The glassed bookcases held reference books,