Chapter 5

It was a library- an impossibly vast library. The room was as tall and wide as the ballroom on the first floor, with books lining every possible surface. There were ladders on every wall, and in the middle of the room a great spiral staircase ran up to the ceiling. It branched off at three levels, each bridge running to one of three balconies that wrapped around the wall. All walls, even the doorway, were lined with richly bound books squeezed onto beautiful cherry wood bookshelves.

Robin sucked in a ragged breath and walked slowly out to the middle of the floor. Once she was out of the arched entryway, it looked even grander. No matter how long she ogled, Robin simply could not take in the sheer hugeness of the place.

Hobbling over to a bookshelf on the right wall, she began to scan the list of authors. This particular shelf was fiction. She scanned the titles until one title lept out at her- A Scanner Darkly, by Philip k. Dick. Balancing her weight on one crutch, she pulled the volume out and flipped it open.

"I see you are enjoying the library. I can help you up the staircase, if you would like."

Robin jolted. The crutch slipped from her sweaty underarm and she went toppling back. A strong arm caught her at the waist and Bruce's other hand gently supported the small of her back. "Careful. Don't want to injure that hip anymore."

Robin blushed at the Bruce's words. Did he have to be around every time she was hurt?

"You know, this whole situation could have been avoided if you'd have given me two crutches." Robin said this more out of self-defense than anything else. She had not even noticed her badly bruised hip until this morning. But Bruce, apparently, had noticed this last night, and left her precisely one crutch propped against the bedroom door.

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that-" Bruce searched distractedly for the wayward crutch- "these things are almost as old as I am. The other one seems to have disappeared in the attic." He wedged the crutched under her shoulder. "Speaking of when I was a teenager, are those my old clothes?"

"Um, yeah, Alfred gave them to me. My clothes were pretty ratty." She shifted the crutch to support all of her weight. Though she tried to be clandestine about it, Bruce noticed. "If it still hurts, you should lay down."

"Oh, it's not that bad," she lied through gritted teeth. "I just bumped it in the fall. It's fine." In truth, she didn't want to leave the library.

"So that was you!" Robin blushed cherry and Bruces' eyes twinkled. "And Alfred said he would keep an eye on you. Tsk tsk."

Robin's stomach growled loudly. "Speaking of Alfred, can we get lunch?"

Bruce carried his guest up to the first balcony, where there was a table and two chairs. They did not look as if they had been used for a long while; the chairs were slippery with dust and the tablecloth was nearly gray. Bruce radioed Alfred to bring lunch to the library. Lunch, as it turned out, was tuna salad sandwiches.

"Hmmm,… smells fishy," Robin joked, carefully watching Alfreds retreating back.

"Smells fine to me." Bruce sniffed his sandwich. "See, it's tuna, that's why it smells- oh," he said dryly. "Very punny."

Robin giggled and nearly spat out a mouthful of tuna. "So you like to read? The library should keep you busy."

"If I don't kill myself going up the stairs." Bruce chuckled politely.

For several seconds, quiet ensued. They both munched their sandwiches, searching for something to say. Robin absentmindedly traced the patterns carved around the edge of the table. She squinted and looked closely at the symbols; they were quite familiar.

"What?" Bruce leaned in to examine the carvings. "Looks like some kind of number system."

"No," Robin said, moving her plate to see the whole circle of numbers, "It's an illuminated alphabet. Whoever carved this had insane talent."

Bruce reached a hand down to touch the outermost ring of carved wood. "It looks like this could…" He moved his fingers in a circle, and the letters moved as well. When a large, ornate W was in before him, a loud clank sounded in the tables' core.

Bruce pushed back his chair and ducked under the table. "There are letters carved under here, too." He flipped around and looked at the tables' underside. For several moments, he didn't say anything.

Robin peeked under the table at Bruces' frowning face. "What does it say?"

"It's names," he mumbled, "The names of the first generation of Waynes to live here." He stared at the underside of the table. "Why would you carve the bottom of the table?"

Bruce slid himself out from under the table. "Well, who knows? It's always been a family legend that the Wayne who built this house was nutty."No- he wasn't crazy. Just smart." Robins' eyes twinkled. "It's a combination lock." she slowly began to turn the outermost ring of wood, first to A, then Y, then N, and finally E. With each letter, a clank sounded from inside the table.

Bruce and Robin held their breath. Nothing happened.

Robin huffed. "Maybe that Mr. Wayne of old was crazy." She set her elbow on the shelf next to her. "Doesn't look like it does anythi-"

Bruce lunged across the table to catch Robin as she toppled out of her chair. The bookcase swung back into the wall like a door.

"Hidden codes, secret tunnels- there's more to Wayne manor than meets the elbow," Robin said, rubbing her bruised elbow.