The Seeker - Isobelle Carmody [149]
“Here!” Pavo shouted, disappearing over the crown of the rubble mound. “The entrance is over here.”
I had no desire to go into the dark alley, which waited like a toothless mouth. But Pavo was alone and calling for me. I climbed after him, the pain in my feet a welcome distraction from the fear. The mound did not extend very far into the alley, and Pavo was kneeling on the ground beyond it, scrabbling in the dirt and muttering to himself.
He looked up excitedly. “This is the entrance according to my maps, but the lock is strange. It seems to be locked from the inside. Do you think you can open it? It will be complicated.” He described the mechanism, which was indeed complex. I wondered why such a lock would be wanted to protect books when they had been so plentiful in the Beforetime.
I looked around, not liking the way the dark seemed to crouch just outside the wavering circle of torchlight. Pavo had marked out the squarish shape of a door. There was a great deal of earth layered over it, but he assured me it would make no difference. I let my mind feel out the lock until I understood how it worked. It was as much a seal as anything, more secure than any door I’d encountered—all the more so because the mechanism had malfunctioned, jamming so that it could not be opened from either side.
After a long moment, I had it. There was a distinct whirring sound, and the door swung inward. The mounded earth near our feet seemed to drop, sliding away into the revealed space, showering dirt onto the metal steps that ran down from the opening. I had expected the air to smell bad, but it was odorless, dry, and cool.
I knelt and peered in, instinctively raising my hands in defense, certain something was about to leap out at me.
“I’ll go first,” Pavo said impassively.
“Wait for me,” I said.
Climbing back to the top of the rubble, I told Reuvan to stay with Avra. Kella and Jik came to help, carrying their own torches.
“Warn us if there is any danger,” I sent to Avra.
We descended into the dark with as much joy as if it were our own grave. Except for Pavo—he went first, fearless. I came next, and behind me, Kella and Jik holding hands. As soon as my head was below ground level, I realized the ground was slightly tainted—enough to prevent me from staying in contact with Avra.
The steps took us down to a long, dark corridor.
I was struck by the smooth sameness of all the surfaces. There was no hint of the owner’s personality, no feeling that human beings had ever been there. Now that we were inside, my attack of nerves had faded, and I found myself curious about the library. Why would a library be built like a secret fortress?
“What is this place?” Jik whispered.
“Why are you whispering?” Kella whispered. They stared at one another, then exploded in a fit of nervous giggles.
“It was more than just a library,” Pavo said in a normal voice. “The Oldtimers eventually used machines to store their knowledge, and books became less important, even old-fashioned. Luckily for us they never fell completely from favor. This place was an historical storehouse. Among other things.”
I did not like his tone, but before I could ask what he meant, we rounded a bend in the corridor.
Pavo stopped dead ahead of us with a hiss of indrawn breath. I looked over his shoulder and gagged. Kella screamed, and Jik looked close to fainting.
Before us, leaning against the side of the hall, were a number of human skeletons. One was small, the size of a young child. Almost certainly the skeletons of Beforetimers.
“They’re dead. They can’t hurt you,” Pavo said, but he sounded shaken, too.
“What … what happened to them?” Kella whispered.
Pavo sighed. “There was evidence that this storehouse … was meant to store more than just books. The Oldtimers actually wrote about the possibility of the Great White, which they called ‘First Strike.’ This place was supposed to be a possible shelter, because it could be completely sealed off. They must have survived the holocaust only to be trapped here. And there was no one alive on