She flinched at a hideous screeching next to her right ear. Somehow the Not-Director had managed to twist himself around so he could see out the windows. “What are you doing? Make it go down!”
“Shhh,” said Lenora. “I’m flying this tube and it requires my complete concentration. If you are not perfectly silent, I’ll probably lose control and we’ll crash and die horridly.”
The Not-Director clammed up immediately. The silence was delightful beyond words.
Lenora looked back up at the tower. The tube continued to float toward its flaming top, leaving her with little doubt that this tower housed the Board. She also had little doubt that she had no idea what she was getting into, that she knew nothing about the Board, and that her bravado back in the Not-Director’s office was perhaps misplaced. She tried to console herself with the fact that an army of librarians was now in open revolt, and that someone would think of something, even if she couldn’t.
The flames drew near. Lenora became concerned. Though they didn’t seem to be actually burning anything, she wondered what effect they might have on the capsule and its passengers. To her relief, an opening appeared just beneath the flames, a bit of the stone tower wall sliding aside. The capsule floated through, came to a stop on the stone floor, and opened. Lenora got out to find that they were in a large, round room, all stone, completely empty but for a rather dizzyingly tall ladder that went up to the ceiling, ending at a trapdoor.
There was a tumbling sound as the Not-Director fell out of the tube behind her. He picked himself up and began patting his suit, muttering his list of complaints and threats once more. Lenora was reaching her limits with this man.
She marched toward the ladder, for there was nowhere else to go.
“We have to climb that?” shrieked the Not-Director. “I’m not climbing. I want an elevator.”
“Maybe you can find one out there,” said Lenora, jerking a thumb at the open door leading out into empty sky. “Meanwhile, I’m going up.” Then she had a thought. “Though the Board probably expects the most important person to be in front.”
This worked perfectly. The Not-Director pushed past her, as though terrified that Lenora might take the lead, and began to climb. Lenora allowed him a generous head start. Whatever was up there, she’d rather have the Not-Director climb into it first.
The Not-Director was at it again. “Stupid Board! So disrespectful. I should have come here before so they could see who they were dealing with!”
“Wait,” said Lenora from below. “You’ve never met the Board?”
“No,” snarled the Not-Director. “I’ve never met the king of Canada either! Who cares! I can’t possibly let everyone who works for me have that privilege.”
Now Lenora was even more glad the Not-Director was going first.
He reached the top, Lenora ten feet or so below him, not looking down, though she’d grown quite used to heights by now. The Not-Director shoved the trapdoor wide open, clambered through, straightened himself—
—and began to scream.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Lenora versus the Board
Lenora paused, looking up at the screaming Not-Director. Then another voice screamed over his: “Daddy!” And suddenly Ada flew into view, clinging to her father and sobbing.
At the sight of Ada, Lenora raced up the ladder herself, emerging into a large, round room lit dimly by thousands of candles. There were no windows anywhere to let in sunlight. The room was circled by a dozen or so pillared balconies stacked one on top of another, going all around except for three huge alcoves embedded in a semicircle in the wall.
Lenora blinked as her eyes adjusted to the dimness. For a moment, only a moment, she saw in the alcoves enormous thrones fifty feet high, on each of which sat one of three equally enormous shadowy creatures, all staring down at Lenora and the others. She blinked again, and the creatures vanished. Standing before Lenora now were three people (though of course, as Lenora knew, they were not really people at all). She had seen them all before:
A woman in a red raincoat, smiling a wicked smile.
A man in a green raincoat, grinning an evil grin.
A young girl in a long purple raincoat, baring hideous, sharp teeth.
Lenora shuddered. The Board had been right in front of her all along.
Lenora had only moments to take this all in before she was struck from the side. The projectile was Ada, who had hurled herself at Lenora, throwing her arms around her and screaming, “Lenora!” straight into her ear.
“Yes, yes, I’m here,” said Lenora, struggling to escape while her head swirled with no ideas at all on how to deal with these three creatures.
For his part, the Not-Director was somehow, again, recovering himself. He had stifled his screams and was patting down his hair and suit and struggling to change the expression on his face from fright to confidence. He jutted his chin out, frowned, and stabbed a finger at each member of the Board, one after the other.
“Now you listen to me,” he said with command. “The only one who does any firing around here is me. I’m the smartest and make the best decisions. I’m the one in charge!”
The girl in the purple raincoat laughed sharply, a noise so piercing that Lenora almost clapped her hands over her ears. The girl ignored the Not-Director and addressed Lenora. “Yes,” she said, her pointed red tongue flicking over those sharp teeth. “He’s the one in charge, isn’t he?”
“No,” said Lenora with as much firmness as she could muster. “Not anymore.”
“I am so!” cried the Not-Director. But there was uncertainty in his voice.
“His lies,” said the girl, again to Lenora, “have lost their power. He is beginning to realize that, very slowly of course.”
“Now just one minute—” started the Not-Director, but he was interrupted by the man in the green raincoat, who spoke only to Lenora.
“Do you not hate him?” said the man in a voice full of slime. “He destroyed your precious Library, after all.”
“Well, I don’t think, I, you know,” the Not-Director sputtered. “That’s not—”
“No,” said Lenora to the man. “I don’t hate him. He was only ever your tool.”
“What a shame,” sighed the man. “A girl such as you would have made a valuable ally.”
“I’m not a tool!” yelled the Not-Director. But no one was listening. Even Ada had taken her place beside Lenora now, her hands curled into trembling fists.
“You get out of here!” Ada cried. “Leave us alone, or I’ll—”
The woman in the red raincoat laughed. “You’ll what? I can see the fear in all three of you. You know you cannot stand against us. We’re going to devour all of you.” Her nose wrinkled. “Well, maybe not him. He doesn’t look very tasty. We’ll just hurl him into a void outside of time and let him float there forever.”
“No,” whispered the Not-Director. “Please … not Prin—I mean, Ada … not my daughter … I’m—”
“No,” shouted Ada, leaping in front of her father, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Please! Not my daddy. He can’t hurt you!”