Insert Indefinitely Postponed End of Season Finale Here
Chapter 1: When The Blazing Sun Is Gone
"Bored," Emily whined. "Bored, bored, bored, bored, bored!"
"Emily, it's been five minutes," Kuroneko protested.
"Wrong." Emily jabbed a finger at her. "It's been five minutes and fifty seven seconds...fifty eight...fifty nine..."
"Regardless," Kuroneko interrupted, cleaning her blades on the end of her oriental silk dress. "It will take Harriet much longer than that, so I suggest you make yourself comfortable, and stop whining."
"I am a teenager!" Emily pointed out. "I am supposed to whine, sulk and pout, and I reserve the right to do so whenever I bloody well want to!"
"The lady speaks the truth," Creation said idly, scratching away at her sketchbook, causing little flowerbeds to appear in between the boxes of abandoned stories. "We don't know how long it'll take Harriet to find agents to revive. The Library is a big place."
"The Society usually hang out in the same area," Emily informed her. "We don't tend to wander too far. Usually if we want to research something special, the Library reshuffles the rooms to bring them closer to us so we don't have to walk huge distances."
"Hmm...that explains a lot about your general fitness," Kuroneko muttered.
"Shut your face!" Emily snapped. She wasn't sensitive about a lot of things, but her weight was one of them. That was what happened when you had sisters who looked like supermodels.
"Ladies, please." Harmony stepped in, hands raised. "We may be here for some time, and I am sure that Harriet would like to come back and not find you both at each other's throats."
Emily scowled at her opponent. "I could take her."
"I'd like to see you try," Kuroneko looked singularly unimpressed and went back to sharpening her fans, leaving Emily to slump down on the floor next to Creation. The Sovereign took pity on her, and handed her a spare sketchbook.
"If you are done with the petty tantrums," Aramayis put in. "It may have escaped your notice that one of our number is going for a walk."
He nodded off a few rows away, where the Librarian himself was wandering between the boxes, a strangely faraway look on his face.
"Adrian?" Emily was back on her feet in an instant, sketchbook and argument forgotten. "Where are you going?"
The Librarian gave no answer, moving another row down, and crouching in front of a box curiously.
"Uh oh..." Harmony gulped, taking off not a second behind Emily.
"Someone stop him!" Aramayis was commanding, as he flashstepped past them. Emily did not care who got there first, but she knew that Adrian poking at other people's stories could mean nothing good.
Aramayis's hand was inches from snagging the back of the Librarian's shirt, before he tumbled face first into the box. It snapped closed behind him.
"No, no, NO!" Furious, Emily skidded to a halt and kicked the box. Pain exploded across her foot, and she howled. "You fucking idiot!" she shrieked.
"Calm down, Emily." Harmony placed both hands on her shoulders. "Beating up the box will not help things."
"What was he thinking?" the furious Foxblade ranted.
"I don't think he was," Kuroneko quipped, crouching down and examining the box. There was no plaque on this one – rather the name and author was carved into the lid, nestled amongst a floral design.
The breath went out of Emily in an instant.
"Holy shit!"
"Language!" Creation finally thought to critique. Darting forward out of Harmony's grasp, Emily ran her hands over the carving, just to make sure that she was not seeing things. They spelt the same under her fingertips.
Blade Dancers: Between the Lines
Gail Fireria
"Blade Dancers..." Kuroneko frowned. "That's Phoenixia's series, isn't it?"
"It's Phoenixia's definitive work!" Emily exclaimed. "It's her magnum opus! They've made video games out of that series!" She was a huge fan of the Blade Dancers series, and had always felt smug when she remembered that she lived with the author.
"Wait, back up," Harmony requested, confusion written on her face. "What does this box have to do with Phoenixia?"
"It's one of her stories," Emily explained. "Gail Fireria is her pseudonym. I don't recognise that particular story name, but the Blade Dancer series is hers."
"This must be one of her stories that she hasn't finished yet," Aramayis concluded. "Her work in progress. I imagine a two year hiatus while she's been running around as Divinity is probably long enough to get it consigned here."
"But why would Adrian run off into it?" Kuroneko asked. "We can't afford distractions now. And he wouldn't get distracted from the Library – it's the most important thing in the world to him."
"Don't tell Tashy you said that," Emily snarked.
"He did say that he could feel something this way... when we first came in," Harmony remembered. "He was getting drawn over here. But that didn't make any sense – as an original character, he should have been drawn to his home." She gestured back to the huge wardrobe sized container that housed the Library.
Emily studied the small wooden box again. It had no strong draw to her – not like the magnetic pull of the Library. It was just a box, like any of the other boxes in this area. The only thing that made it any more interesting than the other boxes to her, was the fact that it was Phoenixia's name carved on the front.
"We should go in after him," she said. A hand grabbed her and sharply yanked her away. Aramayis might have been the mildest of the Counter Guardians, but he was freakishly strong as he dragged her back to the box that housed the Library.
"We will do no such thing," he said, dumping her pointedly on the ground. "Adrian is a big boy – whatever it was that drew him in there, he can take care of it himself."
The urge to strike the Counter Guardian was overwhelming, but it would serve no purpose, and Emily knew it. Instead she howled her displeasure and kicked furiously at the tiny box next to the Library.
"Tantrums will not make Aramayis any less right," Kuroneko said pointedly, taking a seat on the ground, and resuming polishing her fans. Harmony and Creation were clearly still curious, but had no urge to go follow the Librarian themselves, so they too retook their seats. "So you may as well admit it, and get comfortable."
If Emily could have spat venom, she would have done. Instead she flipped open the sketchbook and pointedly began to draw a large acme-style anvil. She lacked Creation's power to bring it to life, but she would never give Aramayis the satisfaction of being right.
OOO
The halls of the Library Arcanium were dark, like the shadows had sprung from the walls and had drained the life from the place. The colours were strangely muted, and darkness hung in the air like a humid miasma.
Against the backdrop of gloom, Harriet seemed to be glowing.
She felt energised – the good kind of energy and invigoration that came from a nice long workout, not the buzzing that came from an energy drink. Her eyes felt clearer, her ears sharper, and her mind was turning smoothly like a well oiled machine. The other vials of Creative Adrenaline clinked in her bag, waiting to be used. Six syringes, five agents – she knew just who she wanted to give the sixth too.
The question was who to revive?
Her first instinct was easy – Tash. Her second in command still lay in bed, her wounds from Star Wars long healed while her body lay in suspended animation thanks to the spell. Tash was one of the toughest agents in the Society, and they needed firepower. But most importantly, Harriet really wanted her friend back. She had spent two years on the run with only Emily and Adrian for company, and while they were not bad companions, Emily had been more interested in working herself to death than engaging in socialising, and Adrian's hero complex and obnoxiousness often got in the way of good conversation. She had wished far too often for Tash's presence, just to stop her from strangling the Librarian and her daughter.
Valerie was the obvious second choice – however they got the plot moving again, it was a safe bet that somebody was going to get hurt. And it would do to have the healer's calm river of sanity in the madness of what was about to unfold. Still, she was not sure who the other three agents should be. She could anticipate that things might get messy, but beyond that, she had no idea what other kind of skill sets may be required.
Shrugging, she marched quickly to the hospital, where she was sure she would find the first of her targets.
As expected, Tash had not budged an inch. It was disturbing to Harriet – like the rest of the Library, she was almost colourless, and her breathing was so slow and deep that it was almost unrecognisable. She still wore the papery hospital gown, and her arms were still in plaster from the fight in Star Wars. That would be Harriet's first task, and she dropped her bag beside the bed, and hurried off to find the necessary equipment.
Ten minutes later, the used casts were abandoned at the floor, and Harriet swiftly disconnected the empty drip stand, and the monitors before loading up the syringe. Strapping her friend's right arm, she swabbed the crook with one of the alcohol wipes, and carefully slid the syringe into the vein. A gentle press later, and she removed it. She would get Tash to hold some cotton wool there once she woke up, as her co-leader was allergic to plasters.
She did not have long to wait – she had barely backed away from the bed to find the biohazard bin, before Tash's eyes snapped open and she bolted out of bed with a war cry. There was a thud as she tripped over her own plaster casts and hit the floor, followed by a loud 'ooof!' as the air was knocked out of her.
Harriet blinked stupefied at her friend, before an amused smile spread over her face. "Morning, Tashy," she greeted, letting the yellow bin close with a clang as she removed her foot from the pedal. The noise seemed to send a jolt through Tash, who poked her head up sharply like a startled meerkat.
"Hati? Why am I on the floor? Who turned out all the lights? And ow! Who stabbed my arm?"
"That was me." Harriet raised a hand, rounding the bed and helping her friend to stand up. Instead of letting her back onto the bed though, she swept her up into a grateful cuddle. No doubts now – the adrenaline definitely worked. "You have no idea how good it is to see you again, baby."
As she backed off, it was the blonde leader's turn to look stupefied. "Uh…did I go somewhere?"
"I'll explain," Harriet assured her, scooping up her bag. "But first, get some cotton wool on that injection site, put your battle dress on and meet me in the briefing room. We've got work to do."
OOO
No matter which world you lived in, autumn was always the most stunning season. As people toiled hard in fields, bringing in the fruits of a year's labour, nature gave it's last burst of energy before settling down for a quiet and more subdue winter. Even cities seemed to explode with activity, albeit in a less obvious manner.
The city of Patrice was no different. Surrounded by forest on all sides, the city was ringed by a natural wall of stone, which formed the rim of the crater in which it sat. History told that one day, a God, in a fit of rage, had tossed a star into the mortal plane, crushing an entire civilisation into the dirt beneath it. In the middle of this huge crater, water collected to form a natural lake, and eventually, humans were drawn back to it, hiding behind the natural barrier, and taking advantage of the central location in the kingdom. Like ants dutifully carrying their food to the nest, autumn was the time when people emerged from the forest roads, with their wares loaded up on mechanical or hand-pushed carts, adding more splashes of colour to the stunning mix. This city was always busy, but at this time of year, it swelled like the river with the influx of new traders.
The author's beautifully constructed scene was somewhat ruined at this current moment however, by the sight of Adrian the Librarian, banging his cat-eared head hard against a tree at the edge of the forest.
"Idiot... stupid, fuzzy headed idiot... oh let's just follow the strange tugging sensation towards the mysterious box, which sucks me into a random fandom. What could possibly go wrong?"
He decided he had been taking too many sarcasm lessons from Tash, and rewarded himself with another thump on the head. The tree shivered, sending a cascade of crunchy golden leaves into his hair and down the neck of his shirt. Several travellers passing on the road, their backs loaded up with chests of wool, turned curiously, before dismissing him as a random crazy person, and continuing on their way.
He was supposed to be an intelligent man – he was certainly supposed to realise that following random urgings never got you anywhere good. So why had he followed that insatiable tug towards this fandom? It wasn't even finished, and thus he had no innate sense of what sort of story he was in. The world was well constructed, so at least he didn't have to watch out for plotholes the size of the Burj Khalifa, but that did not mean that he was safe. This story could end at any point, with no warning whatsoever.
He was going to owe Harriet one hell of an explanation when he plotholed out of there… which logically, he should have been thinking about doing now.
But the strange (and annoying) thing was, he didn't want to. That urge was still there.
"Stupid… super kitty senses…" the Librarian grumbled. Now his head was really hurting. With a huff, he turned into a kitty with a yowl of pain. He still wasn't on top form – just another thing to add to his list of stupid moments. Scaling the tree to get his bearings, he decided that he could continue his chastisement later.
His eyebrows arched at the sight of the strange crater, rising up slightly at the rim, before plunging down into terraced roads and buildings. The lake filled at least half of the crater, and rising out of the middle of it was a tall spired structure. There were remnants of magic around this place, and he wondered what had happened here. Unlike the readers, he did not have the luxury of historical exposition.
A set of footsteps passed beneath him, and Adrian ducked down through the leaves, his eyes peering through the gloom to get a better view. Both wore travel clothes, and behind them, a cart pushed itself along unaided. From inside, came a low hum, and Adrian's fur prickled. The cart was being driven by a combination of magic and machinery. It struck a familiar chord, and his heart began to beat faster.
"…coming closer to the edge of Torren. They think they might strike there next." The speaker's travelling clothes were smattered with dust, and his voice had a deep roughness to it. His companion was better dressed, with a carrying basket over one shoulder, and a more lyrical note to his speech.
"Una's graces… we're full already. Any more refugees will have to sleep in the streets at this rate." He sighed. "Still, they will be safe. I've heard that Sierra Iphela will be returning soon – at least we will have a shield if the Gods come too close."
His companion muttered something about tempting fate, before they meandered out of earshot, the mechanised cart trundling along at a low hum behind them.
Adrian gave a Cheshire cat grin.
"Blade Dancers!" Had he not been in kitty form, he would have done a little dance in excitement. The revelation made a lot more sense – not a random fandom after all – though he still was at a loss as to why he'd been drawn in so strongly, even if it was one of Phoenixia's stories. Since he did not recognise the city, it only confirmed that this was one of her unfinished works. Well, now he definitely had to stick around and see why he was here – sheer curiosity was far more compelling than a random tugging sensation. He often loitered over Phoenixia's shoulder, trying to see what she was writing (and often received a rolled up newspaper to the head for his efforts).
But now he spotted another problem. Ringing the edge of the crater, and posted at every road into the city were guards. Politely but firmly, they stopped every traveller on their route, questioned them for a moment, and in a few cases, asked for documentation, before letting them on their way.
Tilting his head, Adrian considered his options. He could try blagging his way in, and he might gain some more information in the process. And if worst came to worst, he could always subdue them. They looked well trained, but he was the Librarian – he was far more badass than they were.
Carefully, he landed back on the ground, and headed for the nearest entrance at a fast clip. The guard seemed to gaze right past him, which made him think that the man might have been on duty for a long while, and was now looking forward to his bed. In Adrian's experience, there were two kinds of guard. There were the ones who were toned, armed, always alert and vigilant whilst on their posts, and then there were the ones whose idea of vigilance consisted of casual walks, and occasionally glancing at a CCTV camera. This man was definitely in the former category. Whatever (or more likely, whoever) they guarded in this city it was serious.
Adrian knew from the background of Phoenixia's universe that each kingdom was very hostile towards foreigners – an unfortunate side effect from being involved in a heavenly war for so many centuries. He winced, as he realised just how genuinely stupid his plan of blagging his way into the city was. But, it was too late to think of another one, as the guard finally seemed to catch sight of him. Adrian tensed, waiting for the inevitable accusatory tone that he was starting to grow accustomed to after so many years as Librarian.
"Aw… here kitty kitty."
It took Adrian a moment of shocked stillness for him to realise that he had not turned back into a human yet. Fortunately, the guard took his frozen stance as a sign of skittishness, and immediately crouched onto his heels and began making little cheeping noises in the back of his throat.
Feeling rather embarrassed for forgetting that he'd had this sort of means of infiltration all along, Adrian cautiously padded up to the man, and took a gentle sniff of the offered hand, before rubbing his head against it, praying to all the Gods that cats did not blush.
The man's hand smelt of leather and oil – probably from some kind of concealed weapon, he guessed. Blade Dancers was medieval in setting, but some of the magical technology was almost futuristic, and had spilled over into the art of weaponry too. Sure enough, a quick glance with Adrian's sharp kitty eyes confirmed the presence of some kind of firearm hidden in the small of the man's back. Possibly magically amplified, he thought, and he was glad that he did not have to fight the man after all, as he wound around his ankles. Magical bullets were harder to dodge.
Voices appeared in the distance, and the man's stance shifted to one of watchfulness again. He gave Adrian a gentle nudge with his boot.
"Go on puss – I'm on duty. Go kill a few of those mice that the missus keeps finding in our larder."
Tail high in the air, as though he had found something far more interesting to occupy his thoughts than a lowly human, Adrian padded off. As soon as he was out of the man's eye line, his ears flattened to his head, and he paused to give himself a little self-flagellating headbutt in the nearest rock.
Note to self – I am a cat! I fail subterfuge forever, the mortified Librarian thought to himself, before he bounded off down the path towards the nearest bustling street.
OOO
"Two years?"
"There are people sleeping," Valerie warned automatically, before realising how ridiculous that statement was, as everyone in the room was unlikely to wake up anytime soon.
"Two years?" Tash made a point of repeating herself in a furious whisper, as Michael dragged two more unconscious bodies into the room, and set them down flat by the corner.
"That's all of them," he advised, flopping gratefully into a chair, and pressing his knuckles into a painful kink in his back. "Every agent in the Anti-Cliché and Mary-Sue Elimination Society is now present in this room… and some of them need to go on diets. Just sayin'..."
"Ewww!" Rhia suddenly cringed, as the impact of Tash's words hit home. "Are you saying that my fridge door has been left open for two years?"
Valerie rubbed her head guiltily, before reminding herself that it was not as though she had chosen where she had succumbed to the spell.
"Hmm, I guess that's another bill I'll have to hide from Adrian…" Harriet sighed, rummaging around in her handbag. Aster obligingly lit a ball of light to help her see. There wasn't even a scar remaining from her ordeal on the Super Star Destroyer, and Harriet wondered for the millionth time just which fandom Adrian had got that green goo-filled tank from.
"I don't give a toss about Adrian's bills!" Rhia squeaked. "I care about my fridge! My milk has probably grown legs and walked away!"
"Don't worry dear, this is the Library Arcanium," Harriet reminded her. "Everything that goes missing winds up in the basement sooner or later. We'll go fetch it with the flamethrower once we find out where the plot has run off to."
She drew the last syringe out of her bag. "And now that all our agents are safely located, I know just where to find it."
She tapped a few imaginary air bubbles out of the needle, before whirling on her agents. "I need you guys to stay here. If my hunch is correct, I will be back in half an hour, and the plot will be moving again. The Library will automatically remove itself from Development Hell, and the spell will wear off – then the agents will start to wake, and Emily and Adrian will be able to get back in unharmed. If I'm not back, then Michael, you're in charge. Get everyone out and regroup with the others in Development Hell. Savvy?"
Michael gave her a salute, and Harriet whirled on her heel and back up the stairs. Only when she was a corridor away, did she break into a proper run towards the monitor room.
The computer system was slow and sluggish, and with the spell in effect, (a) was nowhere to be seen. Normally this might have pleased Harriet, but as it was, it just rendered the whole exercise too quiet and just a little uncomfortable. Still, after five minutes, she found what she was looking for, and bounded off towards her target. For the plot to get moving again, there needed to be some sort of conflict, and Harriet knew just how to engineer it.
The lost cities room was a subset of both the history wing, and the historical fantasy section. It was pretty vast, and Harriet was expecting a long search between the hundreds of bookshelves. But clearly someone up there was on her side today, as she found what she was looking for slumped between the sixth and seventh shelves on the far right of the room from the door.
She had never seen Runoa sleeping, obviously, and Harriet decided that it did nothing to improve her. People were supposed to look innocent and relaxed in their sleep, but the sixth Librarian just looked focused and intent even in slumber. A small pile of books had been taken off the shelf, and lay abandoned at her side.
Gently, Harriet rested her handbag at the end of the shelf, extracting the vial and the Travelling Shovel of Death. She rested the latter against the books, in easy grabbing range, and tugged up Runoa's sleeve. As she had done for the others, she strapped the arm, swabbed the crook of her elbow, and gently pressed the needle into the flesh. It was a source of much needed confidence and pride, that her hands did not shake as she depressed the plunger, nor as they withdrew the needle again. As fast as she dared, she grabbed the shovel, and took a hasty step back – the former Librarian was safest viewed at a distance.
Everyone had been different – Tashy had shot off her bed like a rocket, while Michael had dozily asked the Darkness for five more minutes. Runoa was no exception to this rule. Her body convulsed like a drowning woman, before her green eyes snapped open, her chest rising and falling in a hasty rhythm.
Placing the used syringe on the nearest bookshelf, Harriet levelled the shovel at the former Librarian's face.
"I'm sorry Runoa dear – I'll need to see your Library card."
It took a second for Runoa to grasp her situation. When she did, she slumped against the floor with a groan.
"So, you found me?" she drawled. She gave the impression of bored resignation, but Harriet could see her eyes flicking between her, the exit and the shovel in her hands.
"I gave you a shot of Creative Adrenaline to negate the spell and wake you up. It's been two years since Star Wars," she explained concisely. "Don't feel the need to thank me," she added snidely.
Runoa's eyebrows, black and perfectly shaped, arched up her forehead. She looked calculating, but Harriet could see that she was just a little bit curious too. "Vials of magical substance, capable of waking up any of your agents... and you choose to use one of them on me. Why?"
"I'm nice like that?" Harriet shrugged, causing the woman on the floor to snort. "Alright, not to you. I'm not stupid though," she defended. "And I've spent the last two years with no fixed address, being chased by Divinity. And all that time, while Adrian and Emily were plotting how to get back into the Library, I was having other thoughts."
Curiosity was definitely winning now, as Runoa sat up straight and rested her elbows on her knees as she listened.
"Even if we got back in here," Harriet explained. "Divinity would still be around, and it wouldn't take her long to get in here herself. I discussed it with Adrian initially – he was all for big flashy complicated plans-" that drew another snort from Runoa. "-but eventually I realised that the best plan was the simplest. And to do that, I need you."
The eyebrows of the sixth Librarian were arched so high up her head, that Harriet wondered for a moment if they would disappear into her hair. "And just why would I agree to help you, dear? Did you factor that into your thoughts?"
"Simple." Harriet shrugged. "Divinity can kill you."
She was not a hundred percent certain of this fact, and Runoa was very practiced at lying. But there was the tiniest moment of stillness from the woman on the floor which told Harriet that she was spot on with her prediction.
"Don't worry." The leader shrugged. "If my plan works, we can probably get through this without needing to fight her at all."
Now Runoa was intrigued. But she was not stupid, and she clearly refused to let Harriet call all the shots. Slowly, she got to her feet, her arms folded. Harriet was surprised as she realised that she and the Lieutenant were equal height – she had always seemed larger than life when she was jumping around trying to kill them all.
"If I agree to this," Runoa said slowly. "I need something in return." Seeing Harriet's curious look, she continued. "Somewhere in this room is a book. Just one. I need to find it, and read it. That is it. I need to be allowed to do this without any interference from the Librarian, or the Counter Guardians."
Harriet was insatiably intrigued, but she realised that now was not the time. "Not the Society?"
Runoa gave her a dry look. "As if any of your agents could interfere enough to stop me. So? Do we have a deal? I get to search for my book, and I'll assist you in your plan... providing it's not too stupid."
Harriet smiled. She wondered if she was going to regret this, and what book could possibly be important enough to prompt such an elaborate and complex scheme, but those were things she could think about later. For now, she had what she wanted. "Deal."
Obligingly, she lowered the Travelling Shovel of Death.
"Alright, what is this grand plan of yours?" Runoa asked, her tone already bored.
Now full on smirking, Harriet began to elaborate as they walked at a quick step down the corridors.
OOO
Whoever had designed the streets of Patrice, way back when some bright spark had first thought to colonise the crater, had clearly been no stranger to several bottles of Redweaver gin, Adrian thought to himself.
It was a lovely city. He had spent the better part of the morning investigating and eavesdropping, as well as reading the helpful information signs at all the interesting landmarks, and he knew enough by now to glean most of the city's past. It had been a normal sized town centuries ago, until the Gods had finally got sick of beating each other up in heaven, and had decided to bring the party to the mortal world. Most people had twigged that the larger cities were nothing more than very large targets, and had instantly uprooted themselves and found smaller, less conspicuous locations to live. In just two years, Patrice's population had quadrupled, and suddenly THEY were the juicy conspicuous target.
And never let it be said that the Gods were slow on the uptake.
A fit of divine rage, and a meteorite flung like a tennis ball, was all it had taken.
Kingdoms and Gods had been horrified or celebrated, depending on their allegiance. People had swept in to clear the city, bury what was left of the dead, and see what could be scavenged.
Everything went on.
Perhaps the worst thing that had come out of this cataclysmic event, was the realisation that the war would never stop. Not even the destruction of so many lives could shock anyone into giving up. The incensed Gods had continued fighting. The grieving kingdoms had continued fighting. Nobody for a moment, sat down and considered that maybe the sensible thing would be to stop fighting all together. They had come too far.
And so, centuries later, there was no end to the battles - both divine and earthly.
But Patrice had not ended. People had come back, and slowly they had rebuilt. Now they were a trade capital and spiritual centre for this particular kingdom, along with a heavy lesson as to what happened when the Gods got pissed off with each other.
The surrounding forest had been sheared back further to build the new houses, making them almost uniform in size, shape and style. All streets ran to the lake which had collected in the centre of the crater. Towering from within the water, like a drowning finger trying to reach the sky, was the temple, dedicated to all of the kingdom's deities. But Adrian held no interest in visiting that. Phoenixia's pantheon tended to be a bunch of arrogant sods.
Still, if he managed to get turned around again in this city, he might just head for the temple to break the monotony.
Irritated that he'd walked for two hours without getting anywhere, he perched himself in the doorway of a nearby house, and proceeded to wash his paws. He'd always thought that the Americans had the right idea of building their streets in grid form. At least then you couldn't get lost unless you were monumentally dumb, in which case, he'd question the wisdom of you operating a vehicle at all. If he ever got out of this unfinished story, and if they ever managed to fix Phoenixia, he would be having a word with his best friend about designing cities that weren't impossible to navigate.
He paused mid-lick, his mind ticking over this one thought. Slowly his curiosity and irritation began to fade, replaced by a deep, uncomfortable guilt. Phoenixia was still out there - or at least, the Immaculated version of her was. What was he doing here, prowling around her unfinished story looking for spoilers, while she had been turned into a monster? His ears and whiskers drooped. He was a terrible friend.
He should really leave.
Almost as soon as that thought entered his head, that feeling was back. He couldn't leave yet - there were things he had to do. Very important things... for the life of him though, he couldn't put his finger (or freshly washed paw) on what.
So deep in contemplation was the seventh Librarian, that he did not register the door opening behind him, or the pair of running footsteps, until one of them had tripped cleanly over him. He gave a startled yelp, and tumbled off the step, rolling to avoid being squished by a pair of dirty knees. His luck did not hold out, however, as the second pair of feet tripped over their sprawled companion, and flailed wildly before coming down heavily. An arm smacked down on top of him and pinned him to the ground. His only mercy was that they had missed his recently broken leg.
"Kay!"
"Sorry! Thanks for the soft landing."
From inside the house, a formidable voice hollered. "What did I just finish telling you two? No running in the house!"
"We're not in the house!" the second voice was higher, and slightly imperious. "We're in the street!"
"Right I've had enough of your cheek, young lady! Get over here!"
"Kay!" the muffled voice repeated. "Get off me! I can't breathe!"
"Are you calling me fat?" the girl demanded, getting off her companion and dusting herself down. "How dare you be so rude to a lady!"
"I never said you were -" the boy prised his face off the dirt enough to glare calculating. "Ooo, you're just messing with me, aren't you?"
"Indeed I am," the girl smirked, her face dropping into a confused frown, as she caught sight of what looked like a flat, furry snowball. "What the-?"
Adrian's eyes resembled the traditional anime swirls at this stage, and thus he did not really register the curious human children peering over him, until after he opened his mouth.
"...get the licence plate... I will sue..."
Both children gasped.
"He can talk!"
Interestingly, it was the boy who got over it quickest, and Adrian found himself being cuddled to a sweaty shirt.
"Awesome! I've always wanted a magic cat!"
"Aide what are you doing?!" the girl hissed. Her eyes had been wide in astonishment, and now narrowed in calculation. "You don't know what he is! I heard Leonwaltz uses magical cats now to spy on people!"
Feeling his bones starting to knit themselves back together, Adrian shook his head to clear the cobwebs, just long enough to register the girl's words. "Whaa... no! I'm not a spy!"
While Aide simply looked delighted to hear more words coming out of his new pet, the girl was still eyeing him with distrust. "That's exactly what a spy would say!"
"Kay!" Both children whirled at the voice. A formidable looking woman stood in the doorway, clearly the one who had warned them both against running earlier. "Get over here this instant!"
Both children wisely legged it, carrying a protesting Adrian with them.
"Hey!" the Librarian groaned as he was bounced against the boy's chest. "I swear if this isn't somehow relevant to the plot, I'm calling bullshit!"
OOO
"You have got to be joking!"
Harriet's brow furrowed into a scowl at the implication that she would joke at a time like this. "No, Michael, I'm perfectly serious."
From behind her pile of books and scrolls, littering the desk in the main reading room, Runoa arched an eyebrow at the conversation before going back to her equations.
"You can't seriously expect us to trust the woman who's been trying to kill us for a season and a half?" the Chief Agent objected. Harriet was relieved that she only had to deal with him and her second in command. She had ordered Valerie, Rhia and Aster to remain with the unconscious Society agents. Probably for the best, given that the last time Aster had been in Runoa's presence, the former Librarian had been torturing her.
"I don't expect you to trust her," Harriet corrected, as the Fourth Wall gave a feeble little wobble in response to Michael's words. "But do you have any better ideas to defeat Divinity? This will work!"
She could see Michael's vivid and painful memory of just how dangerous the rogue Sovereign was, warring with his deeply ingrained hatred of the sixth Librarian.
"Much as it pains me to agree with any of you," Runoa put in smartly from the desk. "And believe me, it does – your leader is right, Michael. I created Immaculation from scratch… therefore, I have the knowledge and ability to create a means to reverse it. And I will reverse it. Even I am not so arrogant that I will not admit that I've created something that I cannot control."
"See?" Harriet gestured. "We'll work on the formula, and the action of research and progress should be enough of a jumpstart for the Library to move itself out of stasis in Development Hell. Once we have the formula to reverse Immaculation, we only need a spellcaster to implement it, and then Divinity will be gone. We will of course still have to deal with Crickette…"
"It sounds good on paper," Michael interjected. "But there's still the matter that our enemy is in our home! Remember what happened last time?"
"Do you think I've forgotten that?" Harriet snapped. She quickly reigned her temper in. She needed her co-leaders, and her two friends, on her side, and blowing up would not help her. She turned to Tash, who had been uncharacteristically silent since she had first spotted Runoa.
"Do you trust me?" Harriet asked bluntly, fixing both her subordinates with a piercing look. Michael's complaints died in his throat, and he was left choking on his own tongue. Tash's response however was instant.
"Always."
"Then trust me now," Harriet beseeched. "This will work."
Michael gave a heavy sigh, but he knew that he was beaten. Tash chewed on her lip nervously.
"I think it will too," she admitted.
"Ugh… alright," Michael huffed. "But I'm staying by her side for as long as she's in the Library. Make sure she doesn't try any funny business."
As he said it, a tentacle of Darkness weaved out curiously for a look. Runoa seemed unfazed by the threat.
"Then if you're going to stay here," she said. "You can make yourself useful and fetch the three thick green books from the top shelf over there. Quick sharp."
With a smile at having got her way, Harriet shrugged at Michael, who groaned and resigned himself to the job of muscle.
"Now, I also need books from the spiritual wing," Runoa announced. "The second largest room – I will need everything related to energy manipulation."
Tash stepped forward. If she was at all uncomfortable with addressing Runoa after the number of times that they had come to blows, she gave no sign of it. "As assistant Librarian, I believe that is my job. Give me the names and titles and I will fetch them."
Runoa obliged, and Tash vanished off with a flashstep, rustling pages on the desk and almost knocking over the ladder that Michael was positioning next to the tallest shelf. The Darkness, ever unhelpful in these situations, had clearly refused to lower itself to fetching books for him, and had retreated.
"You know," Runoa said musingly from behind her mountain of books and scrolls. "You're not nearly as daft or scatty as other Sues would have me believe, Harriet."
Harriet's eyes narrowed as she tried to discern whether this was a compliment or not. "…thanks, I think… can I get anything to assist you?"
For the first time since waking up, Runoa allowed herself to smile. "A cup of tea would be most appreciated, dear. And then you can come here and cross reference for me. I do not intend for developing the counter spell to take half as long as the original did."
OOO
"Ow! Watch the tail!"
"Sorry." The dark, scraggly tormentor gave him a sheepish smile, and put the rest of the rope away.
"Duncan!" Kay whined. "You're not supposed to apologise to the prisoner!"
"Sorry," the boy said again, contritely. Behind him, Aide was observing the scene uncomfortably.
"I don't think the rope is really necessary, Kay," he said, scratching his head, and wincing as his fingers snagged a knot of black hair. "Or the cage…"
Adrian snorted. It was not much of a cage – it was an old storage crate, with string twisted between the slats to block the spaces in between. In the shadows of the little backstreet, it had been all they had been able to find. It was also not rope tied around his paws. They had used all of the string on the cage, and Duncan was now securing him with a ball of wool that he had borrowed from his older sister.
Said sister, who was larger and formidable than any of them, gave the small boy a glare. She was older than all of them by about four years, and acted every bit of it. "We can't take any chances, Aide! He's clearly a spy!"
"I'm not a spy!" Adrian wailed, but they had stopped listening to his protests a while ago.
"Being able to talk doesn't necessarily make him a spy," the fifth member of the group, a short dumpy boy with a large spot on his nose, commented. "He might just be using shapeshifting magic."
"You can't shapeshift into a creature that's smaller than you, Pieter!" Duncan's sister groaned. "It's impossible! Everyone knows that!"
It was pretty clear from Aide and Duncan's faces, that they had not known that. Kay however, nodded along in agreement.
"Maybe he's a Blade Dancer!" Aide suggested, excitedly. "They're magic!"
"Blade Dancers don't turn into cats, Aide!" Kay snorted. "Their magic is completely different!"
"How would you know?" the boy challenged his friend. "You ever seen one?"
Kay's eyebrows met in a scowl. "Well… no, but it's obvious! They have their special weapons, don't they? They don't turn into creatures. And like Alma said – they'd still have to turn into a bigger animal."
She glanced hopefully at Alma, but the older girl just rolled her eyes.
"If he is a spy," Duncan said. "We should really take him to the temple. They'll know what to do with him there."
"And have him gain all the temple secrets?" Kay scoffed. "I don't think so! No, we need to get information out of him, and then we can take it to the temple without him!"
"And… if he is just a cat that can talk?" Pieter asked.
"I want to keep him," Aide muttered. "He's cute! And I don't think he means harm. He doesn't feel bad."
Alma rolled her eyes. "Don't be stupid, Aide. You can't feel when people are good and bad. That's impossible. People do this thing called lying – it's a wonderful skill."
"Did you get dumped recently, by any chance?" Adrian asked.
"Shut up!" Alma barked, a flush of colour coming to her ruddy cheeks.
"Look!" Kay interrupted. "Let's just question him and get it over with! It's pie night tonight! Since I work at the temple, I think I should lead the questioning."
"But you don't work at the temple yet," Duncan said, apparently confused. "You only handed in your application for disciple training two days ago."
Kay gave him a glare that sent him cowering. "Oh yeah? And what did you sign up for in the end?"
Duncan looked down at the crate, and then at his feet. "Woodwork."
"Can I go now?" Adrian asked, hopefully. Kay glared.
"No! We're not done interrogating you!"
"You haven't even started interrogating me!" Adrian objected. "You just assumed that I was guilty and tied me up in a really rubbish cage!"
"Hey!" Duncan whined. "Don't be mean! I did the best I could!"
"And for the millionth time," Adrian did not break his stride. "I'm not a spy!"
He finished his speech with a 'so there' expression on his face, and sat back on his haunches to see their reaction. Pieter and Aide seemed to both be on his side (or at least, did not believe him guilty of any wrongdoing). Duncan was still pouting, while his big sister huffed. Kay on the other hand, did not look convinced.
"We can't trust that!" she said. "There's too many of them around! Looking for secret weaknesses about our Gods! Trying to tell other kingdoms where best to attack us!"
"That makes no sense!" Adrian spluttered. "I don't even know which kingdom I'm in!" he turned to Aide, who at least seemed willing to help. "Which kingdom am I in, incidentally?"
"Ummm… Arnwell," Aide responded, a little confused as to how anyone could not know where they were.
"Thank you," Adrian said. "You're being super helpful." Actually, it did not help him at all. Arnwell had only ever been mentioned in passing so far in Phoenixia's series, and while he could name the relevant Gods that the kingdom backed, and had a vague idea as to which other kingdoms were considered allies and enemies, it was still very little to go on. He needed to be careful.
"Aide!" Kay stamped her foot. "Stop giving the spy information!"
"I don't think he's a spy!" Aide protested. "A spy would know exactly where he is!"
"Oh, please!" Kay snorted. "He's obviously lying! How could he not know where he is! We're in the dead centre of the kingdom! If he lived here, he'd know where he was! I say we torture him until he tells us which kingdom he comes from!"
"Are you going to eat him?" Pieter asked.
"What?" Kay spluttered impatiently. "Why would you even ask that?"
"Well if we're assuming the authority of our future careers," Pieter said with a pointed look at her. "As a future ranger, the harming of animals unless it's for food, goes against my code of conduct."
Kay groaned. "We're not going to actually hurt him! We have other ways of extracting information!"
"Like what?" Adrian drawled. "Bore me to death?"
"No!" Kay was getting very wound up. "Water torture! Tickling! Making you listen to Aide's singing! We have many ways to make you talk, kitty man!"
Adrian faceplanted as best he could in his confinement. Trust Phoenixia's characters to be bloody obstinate!
"We've been sitting here for an hour!" Duncan whined. "Can we please just do something with him? My butt is going numb!"
Rubbing her forehead, Kay nodded decisively. "You know what, Duncan. You're absolutely right. Let's just do this. Alma, where's your poking stick?"
The 'poking stick' was actually Alma's walking stick. As she raised it, Adrian rolled his eyes.
"Your torture technique is to poke me to death?" he asked, as deadpan as possible. "Please. My girlfriend pokes me every day to wake me up from cat naps."
Alma grinned. "Really? Does she poke you with sedative?"
The end of her walking stick flipped up like a ship's porthole, and she twisted the handle so that it formed a trigger. Glinting from within the barrel, Adrian caught the distinct whiff of chemicals, and the silvery glint of a dart. Without a second thought, he morphed back into human form, not eager in the least to sample whatever cocktail of drugs she kept loaded in that gun.
It turned out to a poor idea. As he shifted, his head crunched painfully against the thick wooden slats, and stars exploded across his vision. The crate buckled and split against his body, and he burst free, head ringing and chips of wood prodding through his shirt. The kids shrieked and ran, and one of Alma's darts was fired in panic, but Adrian blurred into flashstep and the dart sailed harmlessly away. Not breaking his magical speed for a minute, he vanished from the alley.
He managed to get two streets away before sagging against a wall for a breather. His leg was throbbing – changing back and breaking free of the crate had aggravated the wounds from Divinity. Worst of all though, his head was spinning like Combee after sugar. He needed food and water, and a very long nap.
"This was such a stupid idea," he muttered to himself. And it was. What had he been thinking? He should never have entered the city. He should have gone back to Development Hell straight away.
But that nagging was there and it was stronger than ever. It was telling him to watch those children. The plot was slowly converging on them, and he needed to watch it…
He groaned. He had no reason to stay and watch them! They had tried to poke him with a walking stick full of sedative!
He should leave.
He had to leave…
…please someone let him leave?
Giving up with a sigh of frustration, Adrian morphed back into a cat, tried to push the pain into the back of his head, and began wobbling back towards the house he had seen Aide and Kay come from earlier. If he was going to hang around here, he was going to try and stick close to the kid who didn't seem to want to torment small animals.