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We descend the long, steep staircase, and bear right as it splits at the bottom.
Like usual, Erma sits at her gleaming white desk. Today she is stamping books and comparing each title to a long list. These tomes are especially old, judging by their torn pages. Most likely, enchanted quills have replicated their text into new copies, and she’s marking the old books as being withdrawn from the library.
Erma doesn’t look up as we approach. She just continues stamping away at the pile of books. But with her impeccable hearing, I don’t doubt she knows we’re here. Only Erma Darkholme, who held the title Archmage of Knowledge for almost one hundred and twenty years, is bold enough to ignore my father. After all, it is he who should show her reverence. Erma would have been in charge of the Arcanium when he was studying here.
For a long while, Erma says nothing. She simply dips her stamp into a pot of crimson ink and presses it onto the first page of each book.
My father finally lets out a gentle cough. I suppose it’s unfitting for the Grandmage of Nolderan to be ignored by a mere librarian. A few adepts cast us curious looks. But that could also be because they’ve heard about me attacking Kaely.
“Erma,” my father begins, “I have a matter which only you can resolve.”
“Yes, yes, what is it?”
“It is regarding my daughter, Reyna.”
Erma looks up. Her eyes narrow at me—no doubt recalling the other day when she chased Arluin and me from the library.
I do hope she doesn’t start complaining about that in front of my father.
“I have already heard of this matter.” She uses her stamp to gesture at the adepts huddled around a table in the far corner. “They all burst into my library as soon as their lessons finished, shouting to each other about how the Grandmage’s daughter struck another adept with a fireball. The ruckus I had to deal with because of this incident!” She shakes her head, and strands of wispy white hair drift around her like clouds. “What is it then, Telric, that you require me for?”
“To oversee Reyna’s punishment.”
“What punishment is she to receive?”
“For the next month, she is to act as your assistant and help with any tasks you require completing. She is expected to help you every day after her lessons until nightfall, and from dawn to dusk on Saturdays and Sundays.”
It’s all I can do not to groan. I hadn’t expected him to be lenient with my punishment, especially not after the argument we just had, but this is going too far. I will be exhausted every day for the next month and have no time to myself.
“If you find she does not arrive promptly at these times, disappears unexpectedly while working, or does not conduct herself in the appropriate manner, then I will see to it the consequences she suffers are far worse.”
I’m certain those words are meant for me rather than Erma, though his attention remains on her. I peer at him, but his expression offers no clue as to what my alternative punishment might be.
If I behave inappropriately, will I receive the punishment Archmage Gidston suggested? A month’s suspension? That’s doubtful, since he knows it wouldn’t bother me in the least. But I can’t think what else he might have in mind.
I flash Erma a smile. It’s probably best to do as she says. And to avoid annoying her too much.
“Leave her to me.” Erma’s icy glare fixes on me. “I will see to it that she’s kept busy.”
“Thank you, Erma,” my father replies, stepping away from the desk and turning to me. He pauses, examining me carefully, as if he expects me to wreak havoc upon the Grand Library. “Be sure to stick to the times I have outlined. Or else, the consequences will be dire.”
“Dire as in suspension? Or expulsion?” I know I risk his wrath for asking, but I can’t help it. I need to know what’s at stake. In case I accidentally sleep in too late on a Sunday morning.Or something else of the sort.
My father doesn’t deign to answer the question. Without another word, he storms up the stairs.
Now I am left at Erma’s mercy.
Hopefully she won’t make my life too difficult. While she has scolded me plenty of times, she scolds many adepts every day. Surely she doesn’t bear a personal grudge against me?
Any hope I had is dashed when she points to an enormous stack of books. It towers so precariously I think it may topple over if I breathe too suddenly. And if that happens, Erma will make me pick them all up. I approach with caution.
“These books have been left out by good-for-nothing adepts like yourself,” she says, giving her current tome a particularly forceful stamp. “Each one needs returning to its rightful place.”
I do my best not to grimace. Putting them all away will mean countless hours of running around the Grand Library. But if I show any sign of reluctance, she will assign me far worse tasks. Like reorganizing the topmost shelves.
Since resistance will worsen my sentence, I give Erma the most enthusiastic nod I can muster. “Yes, ma’am!” With that, I scoop up the books lying at the top of the towering pile.
“Get to it then,” Erma growls.
