Willow raised a hand and whispered, ‘Don’t ask.’
‘O-kay,’ said the Secret Keeper. ‘Um, well, anyway – as I mentioned, I’m a bit of a guide to Library. Well, on Wednesdays and Fridays. As Secret Keepers, though, it’s our job to uncover the magical history of Starfell, particularly the lost or hidden accounts. We spend a lot of time peering under people’s floorboards or digging up artefacts.’
‘Really?’ said Willow with some surprise. She’d thought most librarians just filed books on to shelves. ‘And then you bring them here?’
‘Yes. I’d say we have the largest collection of magical history in all of Starfell, and it’s not all books. There are some practical elements too – where we put what we’ve learnt into use. Tools, instruments – all the kinds of things that help keep all of this together, you see.’
‘Wow,’ said Willow. She reached into her pocket for the StoryPass and asked, ‘Like this?’ It was currently pointing to ‘Cup of Tea?’ which Willow always thought was one of its sillier suggestions – though, to be fair, she would have liked nothing better right then …
The young woman frowned as she peered at the StoryPass. She tested the weight of it in her palm, then flicked it with a fingernail. ‘Amazing! I’ve only seen one of these early models of the Fable Chronologica before! These were rather good – could be used for more than just cataloguing.’
She beamed as the needle swung round and pointed to ‘There be Dragons’. She looked up at Feathering. ‘Ah, precisely. It’s a good model – the later ones are rather pedestrian. I’m afraid we lost that battle with the Grand Council, among others.’ She sighed and handed the StoryPass back to Willow with a wink. ‘Keep that one safe. They do tend to get bothersome here about these old models and attempt to recall them.’
‘Actually, perhaps you could help us,’ said Willow. ‘It’s magical history that we’re here for really. About plants.’
‘Ah,’ said Copernica. ‘What sort of plants?’
‘Magical ones. Ones that have been linked with the art of forgotten telling.’
‘Oh?’ said the Secret Keeper. ‘Most interesting. That’ll be in the Old Library Gardens! Come with me.’
17
The Old Library Gardens
The Old Library Gardens were deep in the heart of Library. To get there they went along dusty, book-lined corridors, up and down draughty staircases and past glass cubes, inside which people were sitting next to roaring fires on plush velvet sofas.
‘But it’s so warm outside,’ noted Willow, looking at them in surprise.
‘Not in some of these homes. Most people in these parts like to set the weather themselves,’ said Copernica, showing Willow a large stone weather dial in the shape of a sun outside a block of flats. It had several points, such as ‘DEEPLY UNPLEASANT, INFERNAL SUNSHINE’, ‘HEAVY SNOW, SLIGHTLY FROSTBITTEN’, ‘RainStormS and hot chocolate’ and, lastly, ‘Sleepy cat on warm windowsill ’.
‘Oh, these are interesting,’ said Willow, wondering which she’d most prefer. Possibly anything with chocolate, she mused.
‘I won’t get into the whole theory behind each, but it does depend on the sort of book you’re reading,’ said Copernica, eyes twinkling.
While Willow wondered about this, and which book was likely to merit, say, ‘DEEPLY UNPLEASANT, INFERNAL SUNSHINE’, they walked on towards the gardens. Willow was surprised to find that even in the heart of the old town the streets and corridors were still wide enough for Feathering, so she asked about it.
‘Well, interestingly, the town’s founder, Jellop the Obscure, actually had a dragon,’ said Copernica.
‘HAD a dragon?’ growled Feathering softly.
Copernica’s eyes bulged. ‘I mean, um, had a dragon friend.’
‘Ah yes. For a moment there I thought you were implying he was a pet,’ said Feathering.
Copernica seemed to realise this at the same moment she remembered that she was stuck inside a corridor with a rather large dragon. ‘Er, not at all!’ she said brightly, eyes wide. ‘Well, mustn’t dawdle – this way to the gardens.’ And they raced past building after building, the tour suddenly cut short.
Willow heard a quiet chuckle from the dragon.
The Old Library Gardens were a collection of mazes, the neatly pruned hedges acting as shelves filled with thousands of old books about plants and magic. Dotted around the enormous hedges were vast magical topiaries that seemed to change shape as Willow stared at them. There were some that looked like children sitting on the lawns, until one shifted to change into a dragon, and another into what looked like a cat.
‘They’re incredible,’ breathed Willow, thinking that Nolin Sometimes would love them.
‘Mischievous,’ said Copernica.
‘Really?’
‘No, that’s their name. They’re part of the Mischievous genus, known as the mischief topiary. They enjoy playing tricks … Not many people visit these Old Library Gardens. Well, there’s not much call for magical botany unless you have the skill, and very few do, as you may know. And with so few visitors it’s understandable that they’re putting on a bit of a show,’ sighed Copernica as one turned into a child again and stole the glasses off Essential’s nose.
Essential shot after it, coaxing, ‘Give them back, c’mon … There’s a good, um, plant.’
There was a snigger from the carpetbag. This stopped immediately when the cat-shaped shrub started to paw at it and it began to smoke slightly. ‘Oh nooo, oh, me greedy aunt, stop that!’
‘I am a dragon … who breathes fire,’ warned Feathering as a gang of the topiary children tried to climb on his back, one pulling at his ear. At this, they suddenly sprang back to their usual positions, each one looking just a little forlorn.
Willow shot the dragon a look.
‘Apologies, young Willow. I don’t enjoy playing the beast, but we do need to get a move on,’ said Feathering. ‘And this looks like it might take us forever,’ he added, his golden eye taking in row upon row of maze shelves.
This was, alas, very true.
‘You can ask it for what you want,’ said Copernica.
‘What do you mean?’ asked Willow.
‘Well, for instance, if I wanted to know about the genus and other properties of an old magical plant, like, say …’ She fished around for an example.
Willow suggested the first thing that popped into her mind. ‘Grumbling Gertrudes?’ Though the purple fruits always reminded her of Granny Flossy, which made her chin wobble for a moment, and suddenly there was a strange popping sound.
From within the hairy bag she heard Oswin moan, ‘Where’d the lining go?’
Willow blinked. Had she made that disappear?
No one seemed to notice her distress. Copernica, it seemed, had decided not to mention the noises she kept hearing from Willow’s bag. Perhaps when you were a Secret Keeper you were trained to turn a blind eye to things like that.
‘Okay. Come with me,’ she said, and they followed her to a clearing in the middle of the Old Library Gardens where they found what looked like a large brass clock on a waist-high podium. Instead of the time, though, it showed various sections of the library, and it only had one hand. In the centre, inked in fancy lettering, it said: Information.