Free The Accidental Keyhand by Jen Swann Downey

in Petrarch’s Library.”
    â€œPremium!” cried Marcus.
    â€œFor how long?” said Dorrie hoarsely.
    â€œFor the next four weeks or so,” said Phillip, “or whenever you return to Passaic. Whichever comes first.”
    â€œWhichever comes first?” repeated Dorrie softly.
    â€œI promise,” said Phillip. “No one in Passaic has even noticed that you’re gone.”
    Dorrie’s heart beat slowly and hard as she closed her eyes and saw the pandemonium she and Marcus had left behind at the Pen and Sword Festival. Again, she saw herself falling through the floor of the Passaic Public Library and, at that very moment, all the shouting and running and sword-waving in the park coming to a grinding halt.
    She caught her breath as a horrible, wonderful realization blossomed. Perhaps Tiffany still awaited her return and Dorrie hadn’t forfeited anything to her yet. She hadn’t yet lost the bet. And in the meantime—she looked out the marvelous, impossible window—there was all this.
    â€œI’m so very sorry,” said Mistress Wu, mournfully. “It’s just how the Library works!”
    Dorrie met Marcus’s enthusiastic eyes with her own eagerly blazing ones.
    â€œThere’s another matter,” said Ursula. “The Lybrariad depends on Petrarch’s Library as a secret headquarters from which to do our work.” Her eyes flicked to Dorrie’s hands and back so quickly that Dorrie wasn’t sure she hadn’t imagined it. “Now that you’ve found us, we need time to come to some decisions.”
    Dorrie reached for breath which with to speak. “What kind of decisions?”
    â€œThere are things you’ll need to be told, things you’ll need to understand about your situation,” said Ursula carefully.
    Mistress Wu wrung her handkerchief. “I’ve sent word to Hypatia. Once she returns, we can figure out what to do. Also,” —she straightened up a line of sardines on their platter—“Francesco will want to speak with you.”
    Something in her tone made Dorrie’s fears surge back past her wonder. “Who’s Francesco?”
    Ursula looked at Dorrie steadily. “Francesco D’Avila is our director of security. He’s out of library, as well, at the moment. Dealing with more of that nasty Inquisition business.”
    â€œHe can detect a threat just about anywhere,” observed Phillip archly.
    â€œFrancesco is one of us,” said Ursula. “A lybrarian. A good man.”
    â€œDeep, deep on the inside,” said Phillip under his breath.

CHAPTER 7
    SWORDS IN THE STACKS

    It was decided that Phillip should keep Dorrie and Marcus company for the night while they recovered.
    â€œThough I daresay Francesco won’t appreciate that we let them sleep in the Mission Room,” said Mistress Wu as she and Ursula departed.
    While Phillip lit a lantern in the darkening room, Dorrie and Marcus sat in the bathrobe and dressing gown that Millie had brought and feasted on the platters of food. Their wet clothing hung over the fire screen, dripping and steaming pleasantly. After stuffing themselves full of onion soup, sardines, slice after slice of yellow cheese, and a staggering number of eclairs, Dorrie felt a deep weariness stealing over her. Phillip turned down the lantern and settled himself in one of the fat armchairs beside the fire. Dorrie and Marcus eased themselves down beneath their blankets.
    Watching the fire’s dancing flames, still and quiet at last, Dorrie realized that her fingertips still felt faintly warm and had not really stopped feeling that way since she had come through the hole. She drew the hand that Tiffany had bashed out of the blankets. A crescent of blue-black darkness had formed at the base of her thumbnail. She tucked her hand back under the blankets and stared again at the fire.
    She and Marcus truly were… elsewhere …with no