“The First library?” I feel my eyes widen in shock.
“The library will get you within a few streets of the People’s Gate, between the First Quarter and the marketplace. The orphanage isn’t too much farther, and I might be able to organize a distraction that will allow you to climb back into your room when no one is looking. Through the kitchens, maybe?”
“What should I tell them when they find me snug in my bed? I had a bathroom emergency and no one noticed the door locked? And . . . the library? Only Firsts are allowed in there. If the Watch really does think I’m behind that bomb, and then Chairman Sun finds me skulking around underground or browsing shelves of anti-Liberation propaganda, my head would be on display at Traitor’s Arch before sunset. No trial. Just an ax.”
“You know they don’t use axes anymore, Sev. Capital punishment is much more refined these days.” Dr. Yang points to my hood. “You’re lucky it’s already cold enough we can get away with hiding your face. It’ll just look like you’re trying to stay warm. Take off your stars, keep your hood up, and walk as if you know where you are going. I can tell you which streets will get you back. It’s your only chance.” And with that, he starts down the ladder, not even checking to see that I follow him.
Truth be told, I don’t need directions. I have been to the library many times. With Mother, before . . . everything happened. The books lining the shelves are from Before. Corrupted by selfish ideology and philosophy from outside our land. Only Firsts are allowed inside, using the information to aid in their scientific research, their minds too high above it all to be tainted by impure ideals. But I know where all the fairy tales line the shelves. Row upon row of books filled with fanciful illustrations. Fairies, gnomes, witches and wizards, dragons, beautiful maidens in distress, and great heroes charging in to save them. I lived through knight duels and army raids, whispering ghosts and talking foxes, evil spells and jealous stepmothers. It’s sad that all those books are restricted to incorruptible Firsts. Kids in the Third Quarter could use dreams with some color.
I still remember settling into my favorite chair, just below the huge picture window, light seeping through the thin-cut jade and onto the floor in a beautiful display. Every hour or so, the colors rearranged themselves into a new picture. When I was very young, my mother and I pretended to capture the lights and take them home with us. Once, Mother gave me a shard of red-tinted jade, bound into a necklace. “This way you can always take the light with you.” The image of her beautifully curled hair softly glowing in the colored lights would be forever engraved in my mind.
From that day forward, I always wore the necklace. Yet it somehow disappeared with everything else I loved the night SS took me.
My stars are heavy in my hand. I don’t remember taking them off.
“Sev?” Dr. Yang calls from halfway down the ladder. “We don’t have a lot of time.”
Rough crosshatching on the rungs bites into my palms as I start down the ladder. Stupid, to follow this man. As stupid as wanting to see the library one more time. To stand in front of the picture window and remember life before I fell Asleep. Dark closes around me, the damp air becoming warmer as we descend. When my feet finally find the dirt floor, the overpowering smell of sewage has me gagging. Echoes of running water climb up from deep ditches that frame our narrow walkway. A faint light blossoms in Dr. Yang’s cupped hands, throwing dark shadows across his face. “This is just a quicklight, so it isn’t going to last long enough to get us out of here. If you run, you’ll get lost. Stay with me, and I’ll get you to the ladder that will take you into the library basement.” Dr. Yang pulls something out of his coat and sticks it in my pocket, the shadows too dark to catch a glimpse of the gift. “Those might come in handy. Just keep your chin up and don’t let anyone look you in the eyes.”
Butterflies in my stomach morph into kicks of fear every time the light flickers or my guide makes any noise. Our footsteps are the only sound I can hear on top of the faint chattering of rushing water. The dark seems to press in on me, clouding my lungs with misty fog. I’ve always been so afraid of the dark.
We pass several ladders rising up from the path, Dr. Yang breaking a new light each time the one in his hand starts to dim. We don’t stop, my companion confident at every turn, until we come to a ladder marked with a large golden circle on the lowest rung. Dr. Yang fumbles in his pocket again, producing another quicklight. He bends it in half to break open the center and watches closely as the chemicals mix, glowing a cheery yellow. Shoving it into my hand, he points up.
The metal rungs disappear into the cloud of dark above me. Stalling, I raise my light high to look around us, the yellow glow hinting at graceful curves of stone just behind the ladder. Some kind of statue. But Dr. Yang doesn’t give me a chance to look closer, pushing me toward the ladder.
I push back and look at him. “Why are you helping me?”
Dr. Yang is quiet for a moment. When he does answer, his voice is small. “I knew your mother. She was a good person trying to do good things.”
“She was a traitor. She might as well have killed my father and younger sister with her own hands, and this . . . whatever is happening today is her fault. Mother deserved what the Circle did to her.” My voice bites at my throat. She is the one who made me what I am. Infected. Fourth.
“Luckily for you, I disagree. Ready to go up?” When I nod, he lays a hand on my shoulder. It feels awkward, as though he is trying to comfort me. “I’ll be in contact. Good luck.”
The rungs of this ladder are much smoother, worn with age. After climbing for a few minutes, I look down to see if Dr. Yang is still at the bottom. I can see his light, but the flare is surprisingly small, sending shudders up my spine. Switching my eyes to the darkness in front of me is almost worse as the quicklight illuminates a gargantuan set of hands, palms together and pressed against a giant’s bare chest, the upper portion of the statue I saw at the bottom.
If I’m only as high as his hands, then how much farther do I have to climb? Gripping a smooth metal rung with one hand, I wave the light above my head, catching glimpses of a square chin and elongated earlobes, like the religious figures that appear in so many of the history books that landed in the First library. Religion. Yet another corruption the Firsts say led to our destruction Before. It never quite made sense to me that a belief in something more would have been our downfall, but Yuan Zhiwei knew what was best for us when he banned religion from the City. That’s why we still follow his teachings.
Looking up so high at the statue bends me over backward, making my head feel as if it’s falling even though I’m latched to the ladder as tightly as a tick in a mangy dog’s skin.