Page 29 of Hawk & Sparrow

Raúl Galdamez

Benjamin Gertz

George Gibbs

Maurice Glennon

Vesper read the names again, tracing a line down the page with her finger. This was certainly the place where Francis Gladwell’s name should have been. She bookmarked the page with her thumb, then flipped back to its cover. 1897. There was no mistake; this was the almanac’s most recent edition. She frowned, pulling editions from the last four years from the shelf. One by one, she flipped to each almanac’s section for inventors whose last names began with G. One by one, she got the same result. Francis Gladwell hadn’t been listed as an inventor for the last five years. Vesper leaned against the table, confused. It didn’t make sense. If Mr. Gladwell had been as renowned as he was made out to be at the exhibition, surely he should have been listed. She returned each of the almanacs to their place on the shelf, then headed back toward the library’s front. Ida was still at her desk.

“Find what you need?” she asked as Vesper approached.

Vesper shook her head. “I still couldn’t find anything about him.”

Ida considered a moment before her eyes went to the back of the room. “I have one more idea,” she said.

For the third time, Vesper followed her. She’d expected the librarian to return to the reference section; instead, Ida headed for a nondescript door Vesper hadn’t noticed before. She barely had time to read the plaque that read SPECIAL COLLECTION as they passed. Inside, she found a much smaller room, furnished with only a single small table and a chair. The rest of the room was taken up with wall-to-wall shelves of books. Ida turned to face her.

“I think there’s a book in here that could be helpful,” she said. “One moment.” She searched the shelves before pulling out what looked to be an encyclopedia. It was by far the thickest book she’d brought forth, with a faded brown cloth cover and yellowed pages that suggested it was quite old.

“This is the Book of Vital Records,” Ida explained as she set it on the table. “It’s an ensorcelled text. Have you ever used one before?”

Vesper shook her head.

“It’s not difficult,” said Ida. “Ensorcelled texts have been enchanted by sorcerers. From my limited understanding, the actual process of ensorcellment is quite lengthy and complicated, which is why only a few select books are. These texts are sentient, able to provide specific information on demand when queried. The Book of Vital Records contains basic information about every person born in Victerra with a birth certificate. It dates back to 1720, and its most recent update was in 1890, so unless your inventor is under the age of nine, he should be in it.”

Vesper stared at the Book of Vital Records, slightly awed.

“To look up information on someone, simply open the book and say their name,” Ida instructed. “Here, give it a try.”

Vesper approached the Book of Vital Records slowly. It was stationary on the table, but she imagined a dormant energy within it that could come to life at any moment. She opened the book to its center and stared at the blank pages.

“Go on,” Ida encouraged her. “Test the name of someone you know first to get a feel for it.”

Vesper picked the first name that came to mind. “Maximilian Kite.”

She jumped as the book’s pages began to turn, rustling like a flock of birds taking sudden flight. Vesper tried to read the words as thousands upon thousands of blurred names flickered across the page. Just as quickly as it started, the book stopped on a page and went still. Vesper leaned forward, reading the words typed in neat black print.

NAME: Maximilian Ignatius Kite

MOTHER: Augusta Kite (Deceased)

FATHER: Virgil Kite (Deceased)

DATE OF BIRTH: 08 September 1878

DATE OF DEATH: None

He wasn’t lying about his birthday, then. Vesper took note of his middle name. Ignatius. It was a rare, old-fashioned name, and she found herself wondering where it had come from.

“Good.” Ida was looking over her shoulder. “Now try your inventor.”

Vesper’s eyes lingered on Maximilian’s name a beat longer before she said: “Francis Gladwell.”

This time, when the Book of Vital Records came to life, Vesper remained still. She watched as its aged pages turned, faster and faster in a blur until finally they stopped. Vesper felt an undeniable sense of unease. The Book of Vital Records had opened to a blank page.

“What on earth?” Ida stepped forward, frowning. “Try again.”

Vesper swallowed. “Francis Gladwell.”