“Escape route,” Yún said.
“For nobles.”
“Definitely. That explains how Quan escaped. He used to live in the palace, after all. And now . . .” She glanced away from me, and fussed over the griffin. Her lips were pressed together, and she had that stubborn I know better than you look. Uh-oh.
“Yún—”
“No. Listen to me, Kai. I have to go after Quan myself. You have to stay here. Think about it. The chief librarian knows I’m studying for my conjuration license. He won’t wonder if I spend hours in the library.” She smiled weakly. “They might not believe the same about you. So here’s my plan. I’ll find Quan and explain what happened—”
“You don’t know these tunnels, Yún. You could get lost....”
“These tunnels are meant for scared and stupid nobles, Kai. Besides, Yao-guài can help me. Don’t worry about me. The moment Lian comes back from that thrice-cursed banquet, you and she escape through this passageway. Meet me and Quan at the university kitchens. If you don’t show by sunset, we’ll try again tomorrow morning. After that...”
It wasn’t necessary for her to spell out more. If we hadn’t met up by tomorrow morning, the emperor would have discovered our secret plans, taken Lian prisoner outright, and probably set my sorry, ugly head on display outside the palace walls.
I wanted to argue. I wanted to tie her up with ropes and find Quan myself. Except her plan made too much sense, no matter how much I hated it. I scowled at her. “Bossy girl.”
She scowled back at me. “Does that mean you’ll do as I ask?”
“You never ask,” I muttered, but before she could launch into an argument I held up my hand. “Okay. Just so you know, I hate this. All of it. But I’m not sure we have a better choice.”
Yún let her breath trickle out. “Until tonight, then.”
She hesitated a moment, then leaned forward and kissed me on the lips. The next moment she had disappeared into the gloom.
I rubbed my hand over my mouth. My lips tingled, and my whole body felt as though I were floating in a sea of magic flux.
(I liked that. I hope she does it again.)
Only one way to make sure. I shook myself back to the present, and the knowledge I had to fool the chief librarian and his assistants long enough to sneak Lian through the tunnels. I climbed back to the dusty corridor and slid through the gap into the library.
Once there, I wrote out an account of what Yún and I had discovered. I also wrote a bunch of nonsense notes—just in case. When I finished, I tucked the papers into my shirt and glanced at the bookcase, with its still-open entryway into the mysterious corridor beyond. I had no idea how to close it. And no idea how to open it back up. I just have to hope no one comes back here. It was a risk I had to take.
I sauntered out. The chief librarian was not around, just one of the clerks. “Hi,” I said. “Just going to fetch some more ink for my friend.”
No one stopped me. Whistling, I strolled out of the library and back to Lian’s rooms.
Over the next few hours, I made three more trips between Lian’s suite and the library, pretending to fetch and carry writing materials, more books, and even a pot of tea (which the clerk turned away, saying that liquids were not permitted in the library). When that got old, I set to pacing around Lian’s private study.
I was cursing the emperor and his never-ending banquets when Lian reappeared, trailed by three servants. She took one look at me and dismissed them. “You have something for me?” she said, all imperial.
“Notes from Yún.” I handed her the sheaf of papers. “She wants to know if she forgot anything.”
Lian scanned the first page and frowned. She shuffled through the sheets until she found my account. Her eyes widened and she glanced at me. “Interesting. I find that neither one of you truly understands the research I do here. Wait for me. I shall fetch a few items to bring with me to the library.”
In moments, she had changed from her formal silk robes into plain woolen ones. She handed me a heavy bag, which clinked as I took it. Money and jewels, I guessed. I slid the bag inside my shirt and we hurried back to the library.
Only to find out the bookcases had slid closed.
I muttered a string of bad words.
Lian laid a hand over the shelves where the gap should have been. Her breath hissed in surprise. “Very strong guards. But ... yes, it’s an emergency spell. It’s keyed to respond to those in great need, but only someone of the palace. Not outsiders. That doesn’t explain why ...”
She murmured a few spells. Nothing happened. Lian cursed and spoke a few words in what sounded like the ghost dragon’s language. Still nothing. “That’s odd. I would think the spells would respond to their tongue. Perhaps it’s keyed to voices or identity, to people who are official members of the court.”
Six or seven more spells did nothing. I was ready to pound on the shelves and smash my way through, when a loud click made me jump back.
Very slowly, with a faint wheezing noise, one bookcase receded from the other. A plain young man, his hair tousled and a wild look in his eyes, burst through the opening. Quan.