“Yeah,” Skate said, handing the book over, “but I don’t know if it’s one you already got.” Her mind raced: If he was protecting against thieves, then he didn’t know about the Ink’s rules about stealing from clients; and if he didn’t know about the Ink’s rules, then he didn’t know about the Ink at all.
Belamy glanced at the cover, and his face fell slightly. “I’m afraid it is,” he said, flipping through the pages, confirming its contents. “You’ll have to return this to wherever you found it; it’s of no use to me.” He passed it back without further ado.
Skate accepted it, doing her best to look crestfallen. “I guess I’ll just sell it for a room tonight, then,” she said gloomily.
“You’ll do no such thing,” he said, looking stern and animated once more. “That is someone else’s property, and you’ll return it as soon as possible.”
Judging by his face and tone, Skate surmised that he was being entirely serious. “You’re the one that asked me to get it for you!” she pointed out. “You knew it was someone else’s, and you were more than happy to keep it before you found out you already had one.” The wizard’s hypocrisy made her abandon caution.
“Calm yourself. I was never going to keep anything you brought me. I want to read and return them, that’s all.”
Skate shook her head in disbelief. “You’re having me st—find these things just so you can give ’em back later?”
“Well, yes. I’m no thief.”
“No, you’re treating other people’s libraries like they’re your own.”
Belamy smiled and nodded. “That’s right, and I treat my own library as equally open to anyone who asks. A book belongs to everybody in the end, doesn’t it? The stories, the lessons, the discoveries—they belong to everyone, when it’s all said and done. Think about it,” he said, drawing passionate intensity out of her skeptical expression. “When I read a story, I keep it with me, in here.” He pointed to his temple. “It’s always there, always at my disposal. Stories and histories are as real in memories as they are on the page. What need do I have to hold the book in hand—or even worse, stored on a shelf—if I keep its secrets with me wherever I go? What right do I have to pretend that I own what’s among the pages, just because I lay claim to the pages themselves?”
Skate put her hands up in grudging acceptance. “Fine, I’ll put it back where I found it.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Should I keep ‘finding’ books until I get one you don’t have?”
“That seems horribly inefficient. Let me give you a list of books, so you can—”
“I can’t remember a whole list of books.”
Belamy was nonplussed. “Well, you can bring the list with you, of course; that’s no issue.”
“I can’t read.”
Uncomfortable silence greeted this proclamation.
“Oh. Yes.” Belamy seemed lost in thought. “Oh,” he said, his eyes flashing wide and a smile cracking his lined face. “Oh! I have an idea! Wait here.” With that, he bounded up the stairs.
Skate, now alone, moved toward one of the new locks. She brought a hand near it and, after working up her courage, pressed a finger on the textured back of it. She could feel movement within. When it gave one of its periodic jerks, she pulled her hand away but continued watching it, wondering how she could possibly beat it. Hearing Belamy coming back down, she backed away from the strange device.
He appeared at the foot of the stairs, carrying a backpack in his hands, and offered it to Skate with a grin.
She eyed it dubiously. “How is a backpack supposed to help me find books? Is it magic or something?”
“The backpack? No, it’s just rough cloth and metal clasps. However,” he said, unlatching the clasp that was keeping it shut, “what’s inside will help you tremendously.” When he opened the pack all the way, a familiar pair of bat wings popped up and began flapping lightly.
Rattle poked its eyeball body out, leaving the spindly legs within the bag. It hovered in place for a few moments, looked about the room, then slowly descended back into the bag. Its eye appeared and disappeared at small holes in the sides of the bag.
Belamy clasped the bag shut. “Rattle will be joining you to help point out books that aren’t in our collection. He knows all of mine, so I trust him not to make any mistakes.”
Skate took the backpack. It was surprisingly light, given its strange cargo, but she hesitated over putting it on. “This is a bad idea.”
“What? Why?”
“‘Finding’ things takes quiet and quickness. Rattle is not quiet.” As if to accentuate her point, Rattle clicked its legs together within the bag. “See? What if it does that while we’re finding a book for you, and the people living there come to see what the noise was?”
Belamy waved a hand in front of his nose as if swatting an irritating insect. “He’ll be fine, and so will you. And if someone does discover you while you’re finding me a book, you just run. Don’t try to hurt anybody to get away.”
Skate didn’t bother reminding him that she had not tried to hurt him when the knife plunged into his side; he would not hear her. “I still want to know why you didn’t get hurt.”
“Magic.”
She pursed her lips and frowned, holding the backpack out as if to return it.
Getting the point, the old wizard made the swatting motion again. “Fine, fine. A better, more accurate detailed answer. The blade cannot harm me, nor will any others unless wielded by an extremely powerful arm or else enchanted heavily—and in the latter case, it would still take a reasonably strong arm to cause a blade to hurt. This is because of certain modifications I have made to my body, preventing harm from certain sources. These changes were made using powerful magic. If I got any more specific than that, then nothing I would start to say would make any sense, as the magic involved is very complex and dangerous besides. Does this answer satisfy you?”
Skate sized the old man up. In addition to being good at lying, she was also quite skilled in determining when others were trading in falsehoods; this was a necessary skill when living among ruffians. Belamy had not seemed to be lying, except when he’d claimed he was not being clearer for technical reasons. There was a subtle shift at that point, a lifting of his voice that told her he had begun warping the truth. He was holding something back, and he wanted the conversation dropped.
The only sounds in the room were the clicking of Rattle’s legs from within the bag and the crackling of the fire. Finally, Skate spoke. “Sure. Magic. I can deal with that. And I won’t hurt anyone. If I get caught, I’ll throw Rattle at them and run away. It’d probably scare anybody worse than a crummy knife would.”
At the mention of its name, Rattle pushed its body out of the top of the bag and looked at her. When it heard the last few words, it clicked its legs together rhythmically and bobbed its body up and down. Skate thought this must have been its version of laughing, since Belamy looked at it and smiled.
“Yes, I suppose he probably would.” The smile left the wizard’s face. “Though he must not be seen. If you are caught while finding and Rattle is seen, any witness would tie him right back to me. Not many know of Rattle’s existence, but some do. It would be putting me at risk. You can’t do that.”