“It is working,” said Vancelle. “The marks are responding to you. Aren’t they, Lealla?”
“Yes. I am only preparing the spell, not sending it in,” said Lealla, who had just the tip of her right forefinger resting on Nick’s forehead Charter mark. It took great skill to be able to touch a baptismal mark and not be drawn into the Charter yourself, but it was part of a healer’s technique. “This is very interesting. He seems to be able to strengthen the marks, to make the overall spell much more powerful. But it does not seem to lessen the Free Magic I feel within him, behind or perhaps underneath the Charter Magic that contains it.”
“It’s lessening me all right, though,” said Nick anxiously. “I feel like I’ve run a mile . . . I can’t keep looking at the marks, they’re too . . . it’s too difficult—”
“Then you should rest now,” said Lealla. “We will finish directing the spell. Close your eyes, relax. Fall asleep if you like.”
Nick’s eyes closed with relief. He had not seen her, Lirael thought, where she watched from the door. Both Vancelle and Lealla had glanced her way, but neither indicated she should come in, until they finished with the spell a few minutes later.
“Well met, Lirael,” said Lealla. She stepped back from the table and bowed. As she did so, Nick sat up and looked across. He seemed surprised to see Lirael, and stared at her with his mouth open. She did not realize he had never seen her out of an armored coat.
“Thank you,” said Lirael. She avoided looking at Nick, who was still staring at her. “How is the patient?”
“He does very well,” said Lealla breezily. “There is still debilitation from some time ago, but it is not serious. The wrist injury is not significant in itself, though the blood loss could have been. You did well with your healing, Lirael, as I would expect. Also . . .”
She paused, and looked at Vancelle, who nodded for her to continue.
“Furthermore, though it is still very early and much more work needs to be done, with the Librarian’s invaluable assistance I think we have begun to establish that he has become or is becoming something very interesting indeed; in fact, in some fashion he is a—”
“I’m right here,” interrupted Nick plaintively. “You don’t have to talk about me as if I’m not here.”
“I beg your pardon, young man,” said Lealla, though she continued to ignore him and address Lirael. “Now, when you came in we were in the process of having Nicholas attempt to prove our early postulation.”
“Which is what?” asked Lirael, who was having some difficulty arriving wherever Lealla was heading.
“We think Nicholas has become something akin to a Charter Stone,” said Vancelle gravely. “That is to say, a source of Charter Magic, somehow fueled by the Free Magic within him. And in our rather limited experiment just now he has shown that he can direct this power, to strengthen Charter marks and spells, and presumably to lessen them as well, should he so desire.”
“Oh,” said Lirael. She looked at Nick, who smiled at her. She smiled back, but quickly smoothed her mouth flat as she noticed Vancelle and Lealla were watching her rather than him. She couldn’t tell from their expressions what they were thinking.
“It is potentially a very dangerous power,” said Lealla, “if Nicholas cannot control it. Certain spells, augmented beyond control, or made to fail, could be fatal both for himself and those nearby . . . and it may be only one expression of his particular condition. We will need to investigate more thoroughly.”
The Infirmarian now looked directly at Nick and tapped him on the head.
“You must learn how to master your gift, as I believe it to be,” she continued. “Though others might consider it something of a curse. Now, I have many very reluctant, sneezing, and watery-eyed patients back in my Infirmary, who will try and sneak out if I’m not present, so I must be away. Abhorsen, Librarian, Mr. Nicholas Sayre, Imshi. Good evening.”
With that, she whisked past Lirael at her customary speedy pace, swinging the leather bag that was both the mark of her calling and a repository of all the nonmagical adjuncts needed for healing.
“I must return to the Library myself,” said Vancelle. “I will call upon you in the morning, Lirael. With your permission we will continue to investigate Master Sayre’s interesting powers.”
“What about my permission?” asked Nick.
“That too, of course,” said Vancelle. She hesitated, then added, “But it is perhaps best you know that as someone brought here for investigation in the Library, you are not precisely our guest but, shall we say, a ward of the Abhorsen-in-Waiting. I do not think the powers that lie within you will present a problem, yet it is ever best to take care. There will be two Second Assistant Librarians on guard on the Southscape outside your front door, Lirael, and Nicholas must not leave the Abhorsen’s Rooms unless it is with me, the Infirmarian, or yourself.”
“So I am a prisoner,” said Nick quietly.
“No,” answered Vancelle. “Should you wish to leave, we would arrange your return to Ancelstierre. You are more a puzzle, one that is potentially dangerous. Dangerous to yourself as well. We would like to help you work out how you can master your unexpected power, but there is an argument that you might be best going back to where neither the Charter nor Free Magic exist. After all, I doubt there is another creature like the Hrule in the south, and you could go even farther away from the Wall, from us. Is that your desire?”
“No,” said Nick quickly, flashing a look at Lirael. “No. I want to stay here. And learn. Learn what I am, and what I can and can’t do.”
“Good,” said Vancelle. “And good-bye, for now.”
She bowed, turned on her heel, and left.
“Finally!” exclaimed Imshi. She bounded down the table and took Lirael by the hand. “You have to see your presents, Lirael!”
“Presents!” exclaimed Nick, swinging himself up and then off the table. He seemed very much recovered, though Lirael noticed he did not use his right hand. “Um, I missed what they’re for . . . is it your birthday?”
“No,” said Lirael.
“They’re welcome-home gifts,” burbled Imshi. “Gifts from the librarians and from the Great Library of the Clayr. For a librarian who has become one of the great, a hero of the Kingdom and beyond!”
“Not very far beyond,” said Lirael, embarrassed by Imshi’s exuberance, but determined she would not show it in front of Nick. She felt a strong urge to dip her head and hide behind her hair, but she fought it off.
“A joke!” said Imshi, laughing. “I’ve hardly ever heard you make a joke.”
“I was very shy growing up,” said Lirael to Nick, though she did not directly look at him. She hoped he would understand that she was still very shy. “Now, which box do I open first?”
“This one,” said Imshi, patting the larger box and visibly restraining her enthusiasm in a vain attempt to appear more dignified. “This one is from all the librarians together, something we had made.”
Lirael turned the key in the golden lockplate and lifted the lid. First she saw several layers of very fine, very thin pale yellow paper, which she lifted up and put aside. Underneath there was a librarian’s waistcoat. A unique waistcoat. Lirael stared at it for several seconds before she picked it up, as always noting the surprising heaviness. The waistcoats were only covered in silk; they were stiff canvas underneath, to provide better protection.
This waistcoat was blue like a Deputy Librarian’s, but the deeper shade of the Abhorsens’ surcoats, and it was embroidered with hundreds of tiny silver keys and golden stars. As Lirael held it up, she noticed there was quite a wide variation in the quality of the sewing.
“We all did a star or a key,” said Imshi proudly. She pointed at a star near the front pocket, not one of the expertly embroidered examples. “There’s mine.”
The waistcoat had a new clockwork emergency mouse in the pocket, and a bright new silver whistle already looped in place near the collar. Lirael had a distinct feeling of déjà vu as
she touched it, remembering when Imshi had told her the whistle was positioned up there so a librarian could always blow it, even if someone or something was holding her arms.
“It’s beautiful,” she said, unbuttoning the front of the waistcoat and slipping it on over her dress.
“There’s more,” said Imshi, reaching into the box herself in excitement, to take out a librarian’s dagger and a bracelet. The dagger had the usual silver-washed steel imbued with Charter marks, but the hilt was of finer work than Lirael’s old one. The bracelet was of beaten silver three fingers wide, and it was set with seven emeralds. The stones held spells to open doors in the Library, and as Lirael slipped it on, all seven began to glow, indicating they were active. This was a far cry from the single key spell she had started with as a Third Assistant Librarian, though she had surreptitiously activated several more. But with this bracelet, Lirael could open any door, hatch, grill, and lock within the whole Library, a level of access only comparable with the Librarian herself.
“Thank you,” said Lirael. She hugged Imshi, who enthusiastically hugged her back, and then Imshi turned away and hugged Nick as well.
“Hold on!” laughed Nick. He didn’t put his arms around Imshi, Lirael was pleased to note. “Why are you hugging me? I’m not the returning hero.”