Elise spun around, heart leaping to her throat. The man, this Librarian, now stood a mere few paces away on the floor at their level. How had he moved so fast and so silently? Up close, he cut an imposing figure despite his gaunt frame. He stood a head taller than the Coinbearer. Deep lines etched his face, and smudges of ink darkened the skin beneath his eyes, as though he'd long forgotten the need for sleep. One of his eyes was milky-white and blind; the other, behind the cracked monocle, shone a bright, feverish green.
The Librarian swept his gaze over the Coinbearer and Elise. When his eyes fell upon the Coinbearer's distinctive black cloak and the masked face beneath the hood, one bushy eyebrow arched high. "Ahh… I recall the scent of that cloth. Hell-forged, aren't we?" he said with a greedy curiosity in his tone. "And that coin I sense in your pocket… oh yes, I know what you are, Coinbearer."
Elise felt the Coinbearer tense beside her. The Librarian's mouth curled into a wide grin, revealing teeth that were unsettlingly sharp. "A renegade Coinbearer at that," he continued, voice dropping to a pleased whisper. "Your coming was foretold in the rustling of pages. A contract-breaker, wandering off with a soul Hell itself desires. How delicious." He clapped his ink-stained hands together, not in welcome but in glee at some private thought. "And you've brought me such an interesting morsel too." His glowing green eye swiveled toward Elise. She resisted the urge to shrink back from the intensity of that gaze.
The Coinbearer shifted subtly, keeping his body between Elise and the Librarian's looming presence. His gloved hand hovered near where his Coin was hidden. "We mean no harm," he said evenly. "If you know what I am, then you know why we're here."
For an immortal moment, the Coinbearer felt laid bare. No Coinbearer in memory had ever done what he had done – none had broken a contract. His kind labored in solitude, each bound to the Coin and to duty without question or camaraderie. Yet here he stood, the lone aberration, exposed in the Librarian's knowing. He steeled himself, swallowing that thought as the Librarian let out a dry chuckle.
"Seeking refuge from Hell's bloodhounds, yes, yes… and answers about the girl's oh-so-curious soul," the Librarian rasped, tapping a long ink-stained finger against his temple. "The Archives whisper many things. Special thread… seed of—" He halted abruptly, thin lips twisting as if he nearly let slip something secret. His eyes narrowed, and annoyance flashed across his face.
"Hmph. Knowledge is not free, Coinbearer," the Librarian snapped, his mood swinging toward irritation. "Nor is sanctuary. You stand in the greatest repository of stories and fates in existence. If you wish to delve deeper, there will be a price." His magnified eye gleamed as he leaned forward eagerly. "Did you bring an offering, perhaps? A story to spare? A memory or two you can live without?"
Elise's arm instinctively crossed over her chest, as if she could protect the very memories inside her heart from being plucked out. The Coinbearer's voice dropped to a careful, guarded register. "What would you have of us?" he asked warily.
The Librarian began to circle them, clasping his bony hands behind his back. His demeanor was mercurial – irritation one moment, predatory curiosity the next. "I have nearly everything here, stored safely in ink and parchment," he said, gesturing broadly to the endless shelves. "But the taste of a living memory… ah, that is a novelty I seldom enjoy. Especially from one as seasoned as you, Coinbearer."
He stopped and pointed a long finger at the Coinbearer's chest, where beneath the cloak a faint infernal glow of the violated contract still smoldered. "How many centuries have you walked with that coin, hmmm? How many lifetimes have passed under your gaze? The weight of all you've seen – can you feel it? I can." He inhaled deeply through his nose, as if catching the scent of something delicious. His expression twisted into a grin of dark satisfaction. "Yes… you carry a library of experiences within you. A very valuable collection. I wonder – would you part with some of it for the knowledge you seek?"
Elise shot a worried glance at the Coinbearer. Give up memories – pieces of himself? That was the price this creature demanded? She remembered how the three witches of the Mirror Flame had sacrificed themselves for her sake. Could they now afford to sacrifice pieces of the Coinbearer in turn?
Sensing her distress, the Coinbearer's gloved hand found Elise's and squeezed gently, a silent reassurance. He kept his gaze on the Librarian. "We will pay what is fair," he said cautiously, "but I will not be your fool. We require safe passage and answers, Librarian – not a trade that leaves us hollow."
The Librarian clicked his tongue and pulled a wounded grimace, feigning offense. "Hollow? I would never drain a guest dry… well, not unless they tried to steal from me." He bared his pointed teeth in a humorless grin. "But fair? Ah, fair is ever a matter of perspective."
With a sudden flick of his wrist, he conjured a quill pen between his fingers as if by sleight of hand. At the same instant, a parchment scroll unfurled itself in the air beside him. "Shall we draft terms, then? Standard magical contract, nothing fancy – I know Hellfolk like yourself are sticklers for contracts." He sneered the last word.
The Coinbearer stood firm, shoulders squared. "State your terms," he said coolly.
The Librarian's good eye glinted emerald bright. "Simple: I will allow you to peruse the surface stacks for general knowledge – no cost. But the deep archives, where the threads of fate can be plucked and examined – that privilege requires a donation. One memory, of my choosing, from you, Coinbearer."
Elise sucked in a sharp breath. One memory, of the Librarian's choosing? Before they could protest, the Librarian raised his quill and continued smoothly, "In exchange, I will grant you access to one fate-thread of your choosing. Perhaps the young lady's volume? Or some other secret you hunger for. I'll even throw in temporary sanctuary here – safe from the eyes of Hell – until you've read what you need. A good deal by any measure." His cracked monocle flashed as he smiled slyly.
The Coinbearer's jaw tightened beneath his mask. "And if I refuse that deal?"
The Librarian's affability melted away. His expression darkened, voice dropping to a dangerous edge. "Then, my dear rogue reaper, you will not roam these halls freely." He gave a thin, cold smile. "The door through which you came can just as easily spit you back out. And believe me, Hell's Inquisition is sniffing for you even now." He tapped the side of his long nose knowingly. "The scent of rebellion – quite pungent. You wouldn't last long out there blind to the truths you seek."
Elise felt a wave of despair crash over her. They had risked everything to reach this place; to leave empty-handed now would doom them. One look at the tight set of the Coinbearer's shoulders told her he knew it too. They truly had no choice.
After a tense moment, the Coinbearer inclined his head in reluctant assent. "One memory, then. That is the price for a look at Elise's fate thread?"
"Elise, is it?" The Librarian rolled her name across his tongue with intrusive familiarity, making Elise's skin crawl. He grinned. "Yes, indeed. One memory from you – a fair trade to glimpse the girl's story. Agreed?"
Elise's hands balled into fists at her sides. It was not fair at all – how dare he demand such a thing! She opened her mouth to object, but before any protest escaped her lips, the Coinbearer squeezed her hand gently. The gesture said trust me.
"…Agreed," the Coinbearer said, his voice resigned.
The Librarian's grin stretched impossibly wider. "Wonderful!" he chimed. The quill in his hand darted to the floating scroll and began to scribble across it of its own accord. Elegant dark-purple script glowed faintly on the parchment as it recorded the contract terms. Elise could only catch glimpses of the flowing letters spelling out the exchange they'd just consented to.