on, but I don’t like it,” she snapped. “No one is coming into my library without permission! Go and hide behind the zoology books, Arthur. I’ll deal with this person!”
Arthur needed no invitation. He hurried away from the window, into the maze of library shelves, walking as fast as he dared. He could feel his lungs tightening, losing their flexibility. Stress and fear were already feeding his asthma.
He stopped behind the zoology shelves and crouched down so that he could see through two rows of shelves to the front door, where Mrs. Banber stood guard at the front desk. She had a scanner in her hand and was angrily checking in books, the scanner beeping every few seconds as its infrared eye picked up a bar code.
Arthur tried to breathe slowly. Perhaps the handsome man couldn’t come in. If he was waiting out front, Arthur could escape through the staff entrance he’d seen at the back.
A shadow fell across the door. Arthur’s breath stopped halfway in. For an instant he thought he couldn’t breathe, but it was only a moment of panic. As he got the rest of his breath, the handsome man stopped in front of the door.
He reached out with one white-gloved hand and pushed the door open. For a hopeful moment Arthur thought he couldn’t cross that threshold. Then the man stepped into the library. As he passed the door, the antitheft scanners gave a plaintive beep and the green lights on top went out.
Mrs. Banber was out from behind her desk in a flash.
“This is a school library,” she said frostily. “Visitors must report to the front office first.”
“My name is Noon,” said the man. His voice was deep and musical, and he sounded like a famous British actor. Any famous British actor. “I am Private Secretary and Cupbearer to Mister Monday. I am looking for a boy. Ar-tor.”
He had a silver tongue, Arthur saw. Literally silver, shining in his mouth. His words were smooth and shining too. Arthur felt like coming out and saying, “Here I am.”
Mrs. Banber obviously felt the same way. Arthur could see her trembling and her hand rose, almost as if it was going to point to where he was hiding. But somehow she forced it back down.
“I…I don’t care,” said Mrs. Banber. She seemed smaller and her voice was suddenly weak. “You have…you have to report…”
“Really?” asked Noon. “You can’t allow a few words…”
“No, no,” whispered Mrs. Banber.
“A pity,” said Noon. His voice grew colder, authoritarian and threatening. He smiled, but the smile was cruel and did not extend beyond his thin lips. He ran one gloved finger along the top of a display stand and held it up in front of Mrs. Banber’s face. The tip of the glove was stained with gray dust.
The librarian stared at the finger as if it were her eye doctor’s flashlight.
“Spring cleaning must be done,” said Noon. He blew on the dust, and a little cloud of it fell on Mrs. Banber’s face. She blinked once, sneezed twice, and fell to the ground.
Arthur stared, horrified, as Noon carefully stepped over the librarian’s body and stalked past the front desk. For a second he thought Mrs. Banber was dead, till he saw her trying to get up again.
“Ar-tor,” called Noon softly, his silver tongue flickering. He had stopped just past the desk and was eyeing the shelves with obvious suspicion. “Come out, Ar-tor. I merely want to talk to you.”
“Ar-tor!”
The voice was commanding, and once again Arthur felt the urge to reveal himself, to run out. But he felt a countervailing force from the Key and the Atlas in his backpack. A soothing vibration, like a kitten purring, that reduced the force of Noon’s words. Arthur undid the bag, took the Key in his hand, and slipped the Atlas into his shirt pocket. Both were immensely comforting, and Arthur found that he could even breathe more easily.
Noon frowned, a momentary ugliness on that handsome face. Then he reached out with his white-gloved hand and opened a small cupboard
Arthur needed no invitation. He hurried away from the window, into the maze of library shelves, walking as fast as he dared. He could feel his lungs tightening, losing their flexibility. Stress and fear were already feeding his asthma.
He stopped behind the zoology shelves and crouched down so that he could see through two rows of shelves to the front door, where Mrs. Banber stood guard at the front desk. She had a scanner in her hand and was angrily checking in books, the scanner beeping every few seconds as its infrared eye picked up a bar code.
Arthur tried to breathe slowly. Perhaps the handsome man couldn’t come in. If he was waiting out front, Arthur could escape through the staff entrance he’d seen at the back.
A shadow fell across the door. Arthur’s breath stopped halfway in. For an instant he thought he couldn’t breathe, but it was only a moment of panic. As he got the rest of his breath, the handsome man stopped in front of the door.
He reached out with one white-gloved hand and pushed the door open. For a hopeful moment Arthur thought he couldn’t cross that threshold. Then the man stepped into the library. As he passed the door, the antitheft scanners gave a plaintive beep and the green lights on top went out.
Mrs. Banber was out from behind her desk in a flash.
“This is a school library,” she said frostily. “Visitors must report to the front office first.”
“My name is Noon,” said the man. His voice was deep and musical, and he sounded like a famous British actor. Any famous British actor. “I am Private Secretary and Cupbearer to Mister Monday. I am looking for a boy. Ar-tor.”
He had a silver tongue, Arthur saw. Literally silver, shining in his mouth. His words were smooth and shining too. Arthur felt like coming out and saying, “Here I am.”
Mrs. Banber obviously felt the same way. Arthur could see her trembling and her hand rose, almost as if it was going to point to where he was hiding. But somehow she forced it back down.
“I…I don’t care,” said Mrs. Banber. She seemed smaller and her voice was suddenly weak. “You have…you have to report…”
“Really?” asked Noon. “You can’t allow a few words…”
“No, no,” whispered Mrs. Banber.
“A pity,” said Noon. His voice grew colder, authoritarian and threatening. He smiled, but the smile was cruel and did not extend beyond his thin lips. He ran one gloved finger along the top of a display stand and held it up in front of Mrs. Banber’s face. The tip of the glove was stained with gray dust.
The librarian stared at the finger as if it were her eye doctor’s flashlight.
“Spring cleaning must be done,” said Noon. He blew on the dust, and a little cloud of it fell on Mrs. Banber’s face. She blinked once, sneezed twice, and fell to the ground.
Arthur stared, horrified, as Noon carefully stepped over the librarian’s body and stalked past the front desk. For a second he thought Mrs. Banber was dead, till he saw her trying to get up again.
“Ar-tor,” called Noon softly, his silver tongue flickering. He had stopped just past the desk and was eyeing the shelves with obvious suspicion. “Come out, Ar-tor. I merely want to talk to you.”
“Ar-tor!”
The voice was commanding, and once again Arthur felt the urge to reveal himself, to run out. But he felt a countervailing force from the Key and the Atlas in his backpack. A soothing vibration, like a kitten purring, that reduced the force of Noon’s words. Arthur undid the bag, took the Key in his hand, and slipped the Atlas into his shirt pocket. Both were immensely comforting, and Arthur found that he could even breathe more easily.
Noon frowned, a momentary ugliness on that handsome face. Then he reached out with his white-gloved hand and opened a small cupboard
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