Free Codex by Lev Grossman Page A

the stark white walls a soft candy pink. The windows had all been thrown open, and a delicate, cooling breeze moved through the empty rooms. Earlier on he’d wanted to avoid people, but now, after his long afternoon of silent work, he was in a gregarious mood. He almost hoped he’d run into Laura Crowlyk. He wondered again if she lived here, if she ate her meals here and slept here at night. On his way back to the elevator he glanced through a half-open door and discovered a small, cluttered office. The walls, the floor, the tops of cabinets, even the windowsill were stacked high with manila folders, bundles of paper, black three-ring binders, bursting Redwelds tied shut with string, as if some gigantic paper-loving bird were lining its nest. It was odd to see an office with no computer in it.
    Edward hesitated a second, then stepped inside. No time like the present. He picked up the phone and called Information for the number of the Chenoweth Rare Book and Manuscript Repository. Would it still be open? The man who picked up transferred him unceremoniously to another department where he was put on hold. While he waited, Edward browsed the papers spread out on the desk: insurance forms, letters, some kind of legal wrangle about contractors buffing the floors. There were flimsy pink carbon copies of invoices for some computer work, made out to an Alberto Hidalgo.
    A woman answered.
    â€œPrivileges.”
    Edward explained that he was looking for Gervase of Langford.
    â€œBook or manuscript?” she asked curtly.
    â€œBook.” What else could it be?
    â€œAre you affiliated with an institution?”
    â€œI’m with the Went Collection,” he improvised.
    There was a muffled exchange with somebody else in the room, then the woman was back:
    â€œAre you a member of the Went family?” she asked.
    â€œI’m an employee.”
    Something in his peripheral vision caught Edward’s attention: Laura Crowlyk was standing in the doorway watching him. He did a classic guilty double take. He wrapped things up with the library.
    â€œYou’ll need to register when you arrive,” the woman warned him, “so bring photo ID and proof of address.”
    â€œGotcha.”
    They hung up. There was a moment of silence while Laura Crowlyk looked him up and down, taking in his baggy, dirty sweater and his stubbly face. Edward felt he had made a faux pas.
    â€œFinished?” she asked.
    â€œI wanted to call them before they closed for the day. Sorry. I couldn’t find you.” He’d used that excuse once already, he realized.
    â€œI haven’t been hiding.” Laura stepped into the room and began pointedly clearing off the desk, putting the papers away out of sight. Edward picked up his bag to leave.
    â€œDon’t forget to record your expenses at the Chenoweth,” she said. “They’ll charge a fee when you register. It’s quite expensive. And bring pencil and paper, if you plan to take notes. You can’t take pens into the Reading Room.”
    â€œYou’ve been there?”
    â€œOh yes, once or twice. But I can’t imagine what they have that would interest you.”
    â€œI thought I’d do some research on Gervase of Langford.”
    At this she smiled, showing lots of prominent white teeth.
    â€œAh.”
    â€œSpeaking of whom,” he said, “I haven’t found anything upstairs yet.”
    â€œI’m sure he’ll turn up.”
    â€œWhat else can you tell me about him? I’m not sure I really know what I’m looking for.”
    She shrugged.
    â€œI think you’ll know him when you see him.”
    â€œI hope so.”
    He had the distinct feeling that she was waiting for him to go. Therefore, perversely, he tried to keep the conversation going as long as possible.
    â€œYou may be underestimating my ignorance.”
    â€œYes, well I don’t know why she didn’t ask for somebody more qualified