Finally, some of what Gregory and Elise described matched reality.

  I stood beside a bookshelf, using the dder and a nearby cart loaded with returns as cover. Someone would be back to finish these, some of which I’d perused for a few moments. For now, it worked to keep me hidden from sight and the flow of traffi and out of the library’s offices.

  They were…well; I thought the bank outside had been massive. Not sure if illusion or costly stone-shaping magic had made them, I looked betweehree marble statues at the front, each easily a hundred feet tall.

  With how many times I’d seen Queen Aeselia driving a sword into the heart of Her Most Profane Majesty, it made me suspect that hadn’t been how it had gone down. You didn’t make sure half the representations of you were of your supposed greatest triumph down to the same pose and moment.

  Fnking her were two of her panions, the mages Deimos and Richard, astrologist and battlemage each. Holy, they all looked like they were from some a storybook, the beautiful princess, the handsome warrior, the elderly mage.

  I had it on good authority from the Imp that Richard the Brave never really washed, had two moles on his nose, and it had said his eyes were best described as watery. Deimos was not that decrepit, and her Majesty apparently used to have hair like straw.

  At their feet y offices made of oak, the roof only ing up to their respective knees. Waste of some massive statues, as I kept wat the staff. From here, there were five entrances I could see, only three of which were being used regurly.

  Iingly, most of the staff were human. More so than the make-up of the city above, and given whose symbol was above the doors, not necessarily something I could bme on Lord Montague’s prejudices.

  An odd little quirk. She’d taken back her kingdom with help from ten races, and now only one was favored. She’d quered four. One driven underground. Two holed up unassaible from any assault now. Leaving three in uneasy co-existence.

  Probably still a better state of affairs for them than the demon empire, but sometimes there was no side to bad e out ahead.

  Her Majesty’s humaric views aside, it made getting inside even more of a stretch. Some things were simple to hide, at least to aent. Tail? Tuck away. Backward bending legs and hooves? Long skirt and hope no one paid any attention to the strangeness of yait. Skin? As much clothing as possible. Giant horns poking out of your head? Right, those didn’t have an easy way to hide them!

  An issue to be solved hopefully by just avoiding anyone. My trick with my ears had already e in handy twiow, and would hopefully do so again.

  Watg the entrance, I could see oher issue. Each time before the door would open, one of the group of guards would put their badge up against a spot on the door. A lock-key meism, likely enabled by magic.

  The first problem was to get inside would mean one of those badges, which I knew from the guard’s angry mutterings, were not issued to everyone. So, aire group? That would be difficult without causing a mess, and-

  “Excuse me, but why are you here? You ’t look at these materials till they’ve been re-shelved.”

  ***

  One more possibly cussed member of the staff ter, and as I checked her dress, one badge obtained.

  “This is too easy,” I muttered to myself as I pocketed the badge.

  I sidered that though, and how for the sed time in a row someone had practically fallen into my p just in time to help me further inside.

  I was aware of how things normally turned out. If things were normal, I should be knee-deep in trouble. Probably of the shape-ging uard fvors.

  Instead, things were going….right. An unusual feeling. And ohat immediately made me suspeething had gone wrong.

  Alright. Let’s think this through. No one had intercepted me crawling out of the tuhey clearly knew about. At the same time, I hadn’t triggered a tripwire left there to guard it, and they expected only the Montagues.

  The books here were too important to be so lightly guarded? Not really. I’d gohrough some titles on that return cart, and while definitely not the kind avaible to the public, they’d hardly taih-shatteris. Alchemical texts, mage formu, ats from adventurers with minor details left in that were potentially embarrassing to certain people’s aors. Not something that people should die over for knowing. And if there were a third and fourth yer? Potentially more? The actual knowledge wuarding may be down there.

  The only thing besides those entrances wuarding here were these offices, and the badges seemed like something they weren’t used to. You didn’t put a key like that in your pocket when you could clip it to your chest. Part of the refiguration? That might expin the unfamiliarity.

  I eyed one of the two entrahat weren’t being used. Walk over when there was less traffic, see if there was anyone waiting just inside?

  ***

  Far too easy, I thought as I ehe empty hall, closing the door behind me. My ears could pick up the sound of movement, but far off. I had retive seclusion over here. Already the hall had several doors on both sides, but if the Montague’s dires had been correct…

  ***

  “Ridiculously easy,” I muttered as I looked at the door, ‘Records Hall’ inscribed into it. Not a single wrong turn, and I could hear only one persohing inside and no one else besides.

  I strode inside, an affable grin on my face as the lone oct turned around, startled.

  ***

  “This is stupid how easy this is,” I muttered as I fiying the gag. “No offense, but if I somehow got this far, you really should look into improving your security.”

  The archivist’s muffled noises sounded vaguely like an agreement, so I kept going.

  “Like it’s all very fanice vibes you have going on in here, what with the fake os and the moons and the fancy observation ets, but it’s all a bit too obvious. Their being silent helps some, but their glowing ruins it. Silent, invisible astral guides for your patrols would be much more effective.”

  “Mrr-hff-rrk. Brrgt”

  “I guess it does throw off the whole aesthetic, which reminds me I o ask who did that if I ever get the ce. Because from what I’ve seen of the current person in charge, he doesn’t seem the type for this.”

  “Mnn-frr-fuu?”

  “Yes, Montague. Have you met him?”

  From the rather violent jerk of the head and the muffled shouting almost as loud as wheried screaming for help, the archivist had heard of him.

  “I don’t disagree. From our few iions. How are these? Not too tight are they?”

  I had gotten to the legs, which after the tight job I’d done on the arms and hands I left retively light. I was tempted to just tie as tight as possible and leave him in here, blood flow be damned, but I had promised to leave the archivist as unharmed as possible.

  And alright, maybe I was a little guilty over the probable cussion I’d given to another member of the staff.

  “Thff cuff lffr.”

  “No, I think not. Not unless you’re willing to go to sleep, and I brought nothing to make that easier.”

  That was on me. rust the people giving you informatiohey’ve been ued Malvia. Or if they have holes in their knowledge. I still wasn’t fully sure which side of that the Montague’s fell in. Perhaps both?

  “Ptth dannae thuss.”

  “I will not cuss you,” I snapped. “This means the gag is going to be tightehough.”

  More muffled protests as I tied the gag off, leaving the archivist tied up to a table. I then clopped over to one of the ets.

  No bels, and I didn’t have unlimited time. Still, there had to be some order to this, and some time with these should give me some idea oo find Lord Montague. I opened a drawer, rummaging iween one divider before finally withdrawing the paper inside.

  Well, I could read the list of titles, which were clearly focused on dwarven maes and their e to modern maery, based oles. The name of the person who’d read those titles, though, was inprehensible gibberish.

  Coded, of course. I shouldn’t have expected anythio be ho, but it still led me as I looked through the binations of letters and numbers heading each of the files. A97F34T7. Whoever that was.

  It was a little annoying how the security measures put in pce were so haphazard and poorly utilized, but this ended up being what stumped me.

  That didn’t mean I cked any options.

  This had been a bit of a rush job. No alchemicals that could have had their magic detected on their way in. That wasn’t even sidering how difficult brewing potions to coerce the mind or force the truth was. No other alchemical tools, barely any tools in general.

  So this left the most unstable tool to rely on. A person.

  Sighing, I went back to the tied-up archivist.

  “So, just to be perfectly clear, I’ve done my best at soundproofing the door,” I said. “However, if you started screaming without the gag? Someone will probably hear. The moment you scream, though, I’m cutting your throat. Do you uand?”

  Muffled affirmation and a quick series of nods made it clear he did. I cut the gag.

  “You want information.”

  A statement, not a question. Not that it was hard to determihat.

  “Pretty much,” I said. “Whichever of these belongs to Lord Bartholemew Montague would be ideal.”

  “Ah, my employer,” the archivist said, sneering at the st word. “I should not be surprised.”

  “Huh, I thought the …never mind, it’s not important.”

  “We are servants of the , yet the caretaker of the archives is our employer,” the Archivist said, ign me. “How it sticks in his craw that besides the geed revenues, he must also bear the expenses-”

  “Not. Important. Are you willing to show me where the records of his readings are or not?”

  “And what do I get for helping you?” The Archivist snarled. “After you assaulted me and tied me up? How could I possibly be ively ined to you? Are you going to let me out?”

  “No,” I said. “In fact, I’ll do nothing at all.”

  “You drive a hard bargain.”

  “Some of the best,” I muttered. “Listen, what is your name?”

  “Why?” he asked me suspiciously.

  “Not because I’m going to use it to steal your soul or anything like that,” I said. “If you want to remain nameless, go ahead. It’ll make it easier on my end.”

  “Make what easier?” The Archivist asked, face falling.

  “Depersonalization helps in lessening aional es,” I answered, moving to reattach the gag. Talking hadn’t worked. Now for the other way.

  He struggled, a scream halfway out of his throat, but a light punch to his Adam’s apple killed it before it began. I attached the gag to his mouth and breathed out.

  Focus. Let nothing distract you.

  “Look, without your help, this is going to take a while,” I said, grabbing one of his arms and yanking his hand free of the binding. “Sooner I find the information I want, the sooner I’m out of your hair as well.”

  His face paled as I pulled his hand closer. His muffled screams against the gag grew. I wasn’t worried. If someone came in, I had ways of handling them as well. Besides, I could hear no one else nearby.

  “I’m going to keep my fingers level with your arm,” I said. “Then they’re going to drop one by one. If all of them drop and you haven’t agreed to help by then, yoing to be down a finger. Just nod.”

  I stretched my mouth open, jerking his hand forward before he had the wherewithal to form a fist. Fingers entered my mouth, wriggling and grasping for a way out. I lightly rested my top teeth on them.

  The first finger dropped.

  The Archivist immediately fell into frantic babbling, but no nodding. I let a few seds pass before dropping the sed finger.

  I knew you would e around to my way of thinkiually, The Imp crowed in my head.

  I rolled my eyes. Like I would actually eat the fingers. Still, I needed a stiake the carrot look appealing. My mouth closed partway.

  The sed to st finger dropped, and my teeth cut through the flesh. A coppery taste filled my mouth.