A council meeting with the King and Sabriel meant official business. Lirael turned back from the door to see the Sendings had already thought this through. One was holding up her armored coat, the other the surcoat that would go over it.
“Not the surcoat,” said Lirael thoughtfully. “Not today, thank you. My new librarian’s waistcoat over the armor.”
The librarians would like to see her wearing it, she thought. It was quite snug over the hauberk, but all the waistcoats were made to be worn over other clothes, and be loose enough to allow for the general librarian habit of shoving all sorts of things into pockets. Lirael checked them at this thought, feeling weight on both sides. The clockwork mouse was in the large left-hand pocket, but she was surprised to find a book in the right-hand side and then not surprised, when she took it out and it grew in her hand, a book bound in deep blue leather with silver clasps. The title of the book was embossed in silver on the spine.
The Book of Remembrance and Forgetting.
Like its close cousin, The Book of the Dead, the binding of this tome swarmed with Charter marks, marks of binding and closing, burning and destruction, to ensure only certain readers could even open the book, let alone read it. There was Free Magic inside, constrained and locked by boards, leather binding, glue, and stitches that were themselves as much creations of Charter Magic as any mundane process.
Lirael had left this book in her rooms in the palace at Belisaere, but it tended to show up wherever and whenever it would be needed. She had read it several times, but again like The Book of the Dead, the contents changed with each reading according to need, or the phase of the moon, or perhaps even the weather. In the Library there was a whole section devoted to attempted indices and concordances for such books, but they were never complete, and Lirael had never found even an attempted one for this particular book.
She slipped it back into the pocket. Though it was twice as wide it went in easily, shrinking on the way. Lirael felt something else there as she slipped it in place, but she knew what it would be now that the book had appeared, though like it she had left this item back in Belisaere. A small metal case that someone from Ancelstierre would presume held cigarettes, or perhaps a powder compact. But it too was a Charter Magic container or binding for the Free Magic artifact that lay inside, a double-sided mirror, one side bright reflective silver, the other . . . a rectangle of nothing, of absolute darkness.
With the Dark Mirror, combined with the knowledge contained in The Book of Remembrance and Forgetting, she could go into Death and look into the past.
The appearance of the book and the mirror meant she was probably going to have to do just that, but Lirael put it out of her mind for the moment. It was not something she wanted to do, but neither was it something she totally dreaded or feared. She just didn’t want to dwell on it, not least because the farther a Remembrancer needed to look back in time, the deeper they had to go in Death. The last time Lirael had used the Dark Mirror she had been very deep in Death indeed, on the edge of the Ninth Gate itself. She hoped she would never need to look so far back again, and doubted she ever would, for then she had needed to see something from the very Beginning, all the way back to the first breaking and binding of the Destroyer.
A Sending handed her the new sword, Raminah, in her black-and-silver sheath, already fastened to a baldric of the same dark leather with silver buckles. She slipped it over her shoulder and settled the sword at her side. It felt very companionable there. For a moment Lirael considered donning the bells as well, but there would be no need for them within the Glacier. She left them on the shelf, and went out.
She heard Nick before she saw him. All the doors along the hallway were open; his voice was coming from the reception room with the long window that looked out beyond the glacier, to the valley below. Lirael hesitated for a moment several steps short of the door, unsure of how to behave, or what to do. The intimate feeling she had of sharing a secret world with Nick from the past evening was gone now, and she had a terrible fear he would repudiate whatever had happened.
Lirael shut her eyes for a moment, gathering her strength, at the same time wondering why she needed to do so. If it was a Free Magic creature in there, or some terrible Dead revenant, she would not hesitate so, but would be straight in to deal with it.
Nick was talking to someone. Vancelle, answering now. Something about the Charter, but then Lirael heard her own name, so before anything else was said, either complimentary or detrimental, she forced herself to stride into the room with a cheery “Good morning” that sounded false even to herself.
“Almost good afternoon,” said Vancelle. “But I do not criticize. You were very weary. And Sanar told me she visited you in the early hours to dissuade a sudden departure to Yellowsands.”
“Yes,” said Lirael, but she was looking at Nick. Fortunately, he was looking at her, and there was something in his eyes and face, a special light that told her he was not going to repudiate anything that happened the night before, but indeed wished to repeat the experience, and more. Lirael had caught glimpses of such looks before, between other people, and felt both their power and her uneasiness at being an onlooker to such a private, unspoken communication. She had never shared in such a look before.
“Good morning,” said Nick. He smiled and Lirael smiled back. Their secret, shared world had once again been conjured between them, coexisting with the far more mundane reality around them.
“Nicholas is proving to be a very interesting, if temporary, addition to the Library,” said Vancelle, as always calm and somewhat remote. Though she could not have failed to see how Lirael and Nick looked at each other, she did not remark on it in any way, or show she noticed. “I have found some reading which may prove useful. I think you should also speak to both Sabriel and Sameth, because there are parallels with the Abhorsen’s bells, in that they are Free Magic powers constrained or guided by Charter Magic. Deputy Harquell would also be helpful, I think, given her long study of books that have two such natures.”
“I helped Vancelle cast two spells, and stopped . . . I mean quenched . . . another,” said Nick excitedly. He came forward and took Lirael’s hands. Neither of them noticed that Lirael’s golden hand immediately glowed brighter, and small Charter marks began to fall from her fingers, like a mist of tiny gold and silver rain. “So even if I can’t cast Charter spells myself, I can help others. I could help you.”
“To be fair, you must also remember your several failures,” said Vancelle. “With little, safe spells, so no harm done. There would be considerable danger to yourself and to others if you test yourself against anything more significant before you have had a great deal more practice. For example, right now you had best let go of Lirael’s hand.”
“Oh!” exclaimed Nick. He hesitated for a moment, then released only Lirael’s golden hand, keeping her left hand tight in his right and moving to stand next to her. It was a very public statement of how he felt. Lirael edged slightly closer to him, accentuating this from her point of view as well.
Vancelle smiled, something Lirael had never seen before. She was not sure she liked it, and was quite relieved when the Librarian’s face settled back into its normal serene detachment.
“Now, I believe all of us have to join the King’s council very soon,” said Vancelle. “It may go on for some time, Lirael, so I would suggest breakfast before you come down to the Map Room. Good morning to both of you.”
As soon as she left, Lirael and Nick were kissing again, twined together near the window. Only a flash of light from the high noon sun recalled Lirael to the time. She reluctantly pulled herself away and they just held each other, Lirael careful not to touch Nick with her golden hand.
“I’ll have to work out how to get on with those spells,” said Nick, tilting his head toward her right hand.
“I’m sure you will,” said Lirael. “But we do have the King’s council to get to, and I need to eat something before we go. I don’t want to pass out in front of Touchs
tone and Sabriel.”
“Sabriel?” asked Nick anxiously. “She always scared me when she visited Sam at school. I mean, his father does a bit as well. Only not so much. If you know what I mean. Do you think they’ll be okay with me coming to the Old Kingdom . . . and . . . to be with you?”
“What does okay mean?” asked Lirael.
“Um, it means ‘all right,’” said Nick. “Will they be all right with me being here, and with you? They won’t send me back?”
“No,” said Lirael decisively. “No. I’m sure they wouldn’t, but even if they did, I wouldn’t let them.”
Nick kissed her again, quickly.
“You are a fierce librarian, aren’t you?” he said admiringly. “I like the waistcoat.”
“And you admit everything you knew and said about librarians before was completely and utterly stupid?” asked Lirael, kissing him back.
“Yes and yes,” said Nick, when they had to break free to breathe a little. “Um, am I really supposed to come to this council?”
Lirael nodded, and reluctantly pushed him away.
“Yes,” she said. “They will want to know about the Hrule and everything, your powers . . . hmm . . . come to think about it, there is a Charter Stone in the Map Room. I hope that’s going to be . . . what did you call it . . . okay?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?” asked Nick.
Quickly, Lirael told him what had happened when they crossed the Wall. Nick listened intently, his forehead creased with both concern and thought. He looked so much better, thought Lirael. The healing spells had brought back his natural color, but it was more than that. He seemed so incredibly alive now, so full of excitement and joy.