Episode 8: As Big As We Need it To Be, Chapter 1
"At least one of them was alive and conscious when they were taken," deduced Ezekiel, pausing by Eve and Flynn's desk. "This lamp: it's always turned left towards the books."
"It could have been knocked," grumbled Jacob, his arms folded and face dark.
"No, he's right," Eve nodded. "Flynn's always bumping into it when I'm using the desk and he's trying to distract me. There's no way an accidental knock would have moved it all the way round to exactly the opposite direction."
"How are you so calm right now?" Jacob growled through gritted teeth.
Eve shook her head. "Believe me, I'm not calm on the inside. But we have a good team, right? We'll find them. Ezekiel: what else?"
"The books," he gasped, realising what had been bugging him about them. "The books on the lecterns. They're all on different pages. Every single one of them has been changed. Even the fairy tale book."
"That has to be Cassie," decided Jacob. "No way, if they're attacked, are they gonna have time to run round all four open books here, changing the pages. And if they did, there'd be a lot more signs of it than just that. It had to be done by magic."
"Flynn can use magic too," Charlene reminded them. "So can the Library, remember."
"Right," nodded Ezekiel. "So it didn't have to be either of them that changed anything. Just the Library, telling us who was taken."
"We already know who was taken," frowned Eve.
"Do we?" Jenkins asked, walking over to look at the pages the books had been changed to.
"Flynn, Cassandra and Leonardo," she pointed out, counting them off on her fingers.
"Don't be so sure of that," murmured the old man.
"Cassie wouldn't betray us again," retorted Jacob, spinning on his heel to face the knight. "Not now she knows the sides."
"I wasn't thinking of her," he replied, raising his hands in appeasement.
Charlene looked at him and narrowed her eyes. "You never trusted him."
"No," he admitted.
"But you never told us why," she continued. "And when we got back here: you expected him to be gone. You said so."
"I thought it likely in the circumstances," Jenkins nodded.
"What do you know? Now is not the time to be keeping back secrets."
"Even if they're other people's secrets?"
"If they've anything to do with this," Charlene waggled a finger at him, "spill 'em!"
"This is not my story, nor do I know every detail of it," Jenkins warned.
"Understood," Charlene nodded.
"You may or may not know," he began, "that there was a short period of time in his life where Leonardo da Vinci, according to the history books, disappeared."
"Fourteen seventy six to fourteen seventy eight," supplied Stone. "It was suggested that he may have been incarcerated on charges, trumped up charges he told me, of homosexuality."
"They were, as you say 'trumped up'," agreed Jenkins. "But what the world did not know was that during those two years he was working here. When he returned to his lodging after his trial, at which he was acquitted, he found a white envelope awaiting him there. An envelope the like of which you are all familiar. He joined us here. There, as it was. Oxford, England. In the beginnings of what would later become one of the greatest libraries in the world. He stayed for two years, working cases like you, and like Flynn, and collecting relics and artefacts from all over the globe. Then a case took him back to Italy, to Florence, and he was recognised. He received a commission in the short time that he was there. The first he had ever had, independently, anyway. An altarpiece for the chapel of Saint Bernard in the Palazzo Vecchio. He couldn't let it go. It was his chance. His chance to make a name for himself. To become famous! Of course, we explained then that no Librarian could be famous. Not at the same time as he, or she, worked as a Librarian. The job must always come first. He disagreed. Said he could be both. He could work on the altarpiece here in his spare time. He had long since lost his lodgings. He could use the back door to get to and from the chapel when he needed to. There would be no difficulty. Well, he tried. For a year, he tried. Things kept getting in the way though. Then he was taken in by the Medici, and he left. Not officially, of course. Just a note that said little of any substance and barely any of that to the point! Eventually Judson allowed him to formally sever ties with the Library, if only so that it could send out another letter. There were fewer sent out in those days. I knew Judson was keeping an eye on him though. Helped on a few occasions. I rarely liked what I saw when I did. There were rumours. Rumours of magic. I never saw him use anything myself, but I saw enough to suggest the rumours might have some credence to them. Then there was that 'stroke' business. Not that it was called that then. It was obviously a curse. Anyone who got a close look at the old devil surely could see that. Well, if they were familiar with magic they could, anyway. That was when Judson and I decided to cut our own ties with him. Not too long after we heard that he had died. To be honest we were relieved. I don't know when Judson found out the truth, well, the truth about that anyway, but it was long before I did. Maybe he had expected it. I don't know. He kept me in the loop for the most part once I knew but then, after our little, well, argument, I heard from him less and less."
"How does that help us?" Stone frowned.
"We, or 'I' rather, I can't speak for Judson," shrugged the old man, folding his arms to match Stone's. "I was worried where the magic was coming from. True, the man had a photographic memory and knack for finding magical items, but any item he had found while working for us part time he would pass on to us. I never saw any remarkable pieces in his workshop. If he wasn't giving them to us, where was he storing them, for whom, and why?"
"You think he joined the Serpent Brotherhood?" Charlene frowned. "He's an irritating, pompous, lecherous windbag, but I didn't think he was that bad!"
"Suffice it to say," he sighed, raising his palms, "that I trusted him not. However, my mistrust cannot make him a traitor. I had no evidence to base my dislike on, and so I waited. I was even beginning to believe I had been mistaken. But then there was the, er, incident at the Cillians' house. It had a niggling familiarity to it. And the discovery of the faked items in the Library itself. My doubts began to rise again. Then, when we found out which artefact had begun the great cascade effect of fantasies, those doubts grew stronger. Did none of you wonder how the world's first television, built long before the age of remote controls, had turned itself on? Still, I couldn't be sure. Magical items do not always rest easily beside each other. Then, while we were detained dealing with its deceptions, Dunvegan is attacked. My... My wife. My Flora. My heart! Is attacked. Is killed. With my own sword." The old man's voice shook. "Too many coincidences. And so few people knew. Knew of our connection. Our marriage. Our curse. It was the perfect strike to hurt me. To cut me to the core. To break me. They did not count on the strength of the girl, though. They had thought to disable not one but two Librarians. One retired, one not. They had planned to kill everyone. To take the castle and its magic. With the Cailleach and her successor dead, they thought the faerie magic would travel to the last remaining member of the lineage. But all this could have been down to Mhairi and her treachery alone. I never knew how much Flora told her, but she knew of the relationship between her daughter and Ezekiel. Still, it put me on a path. A dangerous path, leading away from those who needed me most. When the four of you rescued me, leaving your two strongest and most useful team members behind, I knew there was only one reason for doing so: both must be required to keep the way open for your return. When it closed, I feared the worst. It was the perfect time for an attack, but I doubted that the enemy would be aware of it. Unless they had someone on the inside."
"And that someone was da Vinci," Eve sighed. "You should have said something, Jenkins."
"What should I have said?" Jenkins frowned. "To whom should I have said it? You all knew of my inherent dislike of the man. Without evidence, solid evidence, anything I said would be put down to bias on my part."
"They were trying to kill Seonaidh too?" Ezekiel's voice cut in, barely audible. "Her own mother was trying to kill her?"
Jenkins met the young man's eyes. "There are many forms of evil in this world," he breathed. "Jealousy is often the most difficult to overcome."
"Is she safe there?" Ezekiel's voice grew louder, and his eyes never left his mentor's. "Seonaidh: is she safe?"
"I taught her how to raise a magical barrier around the castle," Jenkins nodded. "She is stronger than Flora was at the start. The barrier will hold, even against portals. Nothing evil can enter Dunvegan. Not even if it were born there."
"Can I?"
Jenkins studied the desperation in Ezekiel's eyes. He remembered a similar conversation he had once had with Judson. He remembered the pity on the Scholar's face. It was a pity he was sure his face showed now.
"You could," he sighed, repeating words spoken to him nearly six centuries ago, "but I do not believe you should. You are needed here. The world needs you here. And that is far more important than what the heart wants. The choice, however, remains yours to make."
He knew Ezekiel would be dying inside. Torn apart by duty and desire. He remembered the feeling. He had felt it every day. Still felt it. Even now. Back then it had taken him weeks to even think clearly, let alone function as a Librarian once again. They could not afford weeks. But then, the boy had only been at the start of the romance. He and Flora had been together for a quarter of a century before they were parted. Perhaps this time the parting would be easier. Perhaps.
Ezekiel nodded, remaining silent for the moment. There were more important matters at hand. He had time before he faced that choice. That terrifying choice. That choice he was ninety percent sure he had already made.
"What pages are the books on?" Jones asked, focusing on the task in hand. He watched as Stone and Eve hurried to check.
"This one shows the story of a civilisation who disappeared from the Mediterranean and near east some eight thousand years ago," called back Eve.
"This shows some lore about Chinese dragons," replied Stone.
"This is the story of the genie from the Arabian Nights," read Eve.
"This is the Twilight of the Gods in Norse mythology," murmured Stone, looking back over his shoulder at the others. "It's Ragnarok."
Ezekiel Jones looked down at the fairy tale book in expectation. "This is the story of Maestro Lattantio and His Apprentice Dionigi," he read. A frown tweaked at his eyebrows and he looked over at Jenkins. "It's the original tale, by Straparola, that later became know as the Grimms' fairy tale 'The Thief and His Master'."
