Dawn came too quickly, and when it did, Vera cursed herself for not unchaining a tome that could keep the sun from climbing over the horizon.
She tried––and failed––to keep her personal bag light, but when she sorted through her room's belongings, she found too many trinkets she couldn't bring herself to part with. Perhaps she was picking up Sybil's habit of collecting things.
Sybil met her by the Conservatory's reception desk to help her gather up the requested supplies. If her own bag was heavy, the two massive sacks of rations, charms, tents, and bedrolls were akin to bricks. It was lucky that the nighttime receptionist had left them out for her to collect herself; it would've been quite embarrassing for someone to watch them struggle to haul the bags down to the basement visitors' inn.
When they reached the door to the duke's Red Room, Vera hesitated. Beside her, Sybil bounced from foot to foot with anticipation.
"Are you going to knock?" Sybil asked in a whisper.
"Eventually," Vera replied.
She willed her arm to move. Her hand hovered above the wood for a moment, then the door swung open of its own accord.
Vera stepped back, blinking. The duke stood in the doorway with his hood drawn over his face. His only belonging appeared to be a small leather satchel, already slung over his black cloak.
"You're late."
Vera frowned. They hadn't even left yet, and he already seemed to be in a sour mood.
"I had to pick these up." She gestured to the two sacks. "Here's the equipment I promised."
The duke didn't move, only eyed Sybil where she stood. "I didn't agree to travel with company."
Despite his obvious suspicion, Sybil smiled in response. "Oh, I'm not going with you. I'm only here to see Vera off."
"And to help me bring down these bags," Vera added. "Which, now that you're here, can be your job to carry"
She strained to pick up the heavier of the sacks, then shoved it in his direction. The duke stumbled back in surprise. He scarcely managed to catch it before it hit the floor.
"Excuse me––"
"You're the adventurer," Vera said, failing to keep herself from smirking. "This should be easy for you."
The duke sent her a glower so menacing that she might've looked away if she hadn't already seen so many of his glares before.
"Let's just get moving," he grunted.
He stormed past her and down the corridor. Vera bit her tongue to keep from calling after him. She didn't need any of the staff down here to know of her departure with the duke. Instead, she picked up the other sack and followed from a distance.
However, when he reached the landing for the ground floor and turned toward the atrium, she darted into his path.
"We're not going out the front gates."
"Why not?" he demanded.
She nodded toward the paneled wall of glass that blocked the entrance. "Do you want to go through the mirror-trial again? It doesn't disappear just because you completed it once."
"This place makes no sense."
Vera pointedly ignored him, turning to the back corner where the mechanism to open the secret tunnel lay.
"You're not supposed to know about this," she said, fixing him with a flat stare. "Pretend you never saw it."
When the duke said nothing, only crossing his arms in obvious impatience, Vera sighed. She kneeled to find the same bottom shelf with the herbalist's botanicum and tapped the notch to trigger the mechanism. If the duke was at all impressed as the bookshelf separated, he did not show it.
"Well," Sybil said as the torches within the tunnel flickered to life, "this is it for me. Try not to let any more mistmaws chase you."
The reminder sent a shiver down Vera's spine. She narrowed her eyes to peer into the gloom, but the choking fog from her previous visit seemed to have dissipated.
"I'll try," Vera said, turning back to Sybil. "Thanks for your help."
Sybil gave a nod. "I'll see you soon."
Vera wanted to hug her friend farewell, but doing so under the duke's unwavering glare made her skin prickle with discomfort. Instead, she mustered up a small smile.
"See you."
For just a moment, a spark of determination cut through the fear rolling within her. She would make it back here, one way or another. This would not be the last time she and Sybil saw each other.
The duke began walking before either of them could say anything more. Vera cast one more glance to her friend over her shoulder, then followed him into the shadows of the tunnel. She found the notch on the wall to close the bookcase behind them. It shut with an echoing clang, and then she was alone in the dark with the man who she never should have made a deal with.
Vera didn't have time to dwell on it. The duke set such a quick pace down the tunnel that it was all Vera could do to keep from stumbling as she trailed after him.
When they passed through the curtain of vines at the end and stepped out into the fog-drenched morning, Vera stopped short. The duke continued for several more paces before he noticed that she wasn't following, and he threw her a scowl. Vera fought to keep her winded panting from overcoming her.
"Where do you think you're going?" she asked. "I'm the one who knows where the caches are."
"I'm trying to get this over with as soon as possible."
"And here I thought you enjoyed our rigorous conversations." She released a breath. "Listen, I too would love to recover the codex quickly, but there's a reason I'm bringing you along to search for it. If I could run a marathon across the entire island, I would find it myself."
The duke responded with yet another withering glare. If looks could kill, she would've been dead and buried the moment he set foot inside the Archive.
But if he wanted someone to cower away, he made a deal with the wrong person. Corvin was bad enough. Vera could only placate so many scornful looks before she lost her mind, so she held his stare until he dropped it.
"Fine," he said at last. "Where is the next cache?"
"Not far. Fifteen minutes on foot."
"And the one after that?"
"A day or two."
"Let me see the map," the duke said, holding out an expectant hand.
Vera shrugged. "I don't have a map."
That wasn't entirely true. She did bring along a map of the island, but she hadn't marked the locations of the caches. Those lived in her memory. If she had a more explicit guide for their path, the duke could easily take it from her and head off on his own. He'd already seen the mechanism for the hidden tunnel, so it wouldn't be difficult to deduce how to open each vault.
The duke frowned. "How could you not have a map?"
"I don't need one," Vera said. "I'm good at remembering things."
His silence told her more than words could. He was catching on. He knew that she was trying to keep her cards close to her chest.
"We'll see about that." He gestured to the shadowed woods ahead of them. "By all means, lead the way."
Vera adjusted the strap of her sack, slinging it from one shoulder to the other, than began to march down the thin trail. Her own boots crunched through the long grass and dead leaves, but no sound came from behind. She had to glance back more than once to make sure the duke was following her, and was surprised each time when he was. The man moved like a ghost.
For the next few minutes, neither of them spoke, though the buzzing aura emanating from the duke was noise enough to Vera's senses. She fought to ignore it, darting her gaze from the thick clouds above to the gnarled trees pressing into the path. They were approaching the boulder cache Vera had already checked, where the mistmaw had begun to chase her.
The air here was as damp and thick as she remembered. Ice spiked within her veins as she imagined it lurking just around the next bend.
"I want to know something," the duke's voice cut through the rustle of the woods.
Wrenched from her search for monsters, Vera nearly jumped out of her skin.
"The Silent Archive," he continued. "It's a thing of myth. There's supposed to be nymphs reading by candlelight and woodland creatures making their visitors mystical tea. Instead, it's full of boring old humans who worship bureaucracy like it's your religion."
Vera's brows lowered. Given his clear disdain for her, she hadn't expected him to make conversation.
"Have you ever been to a library?" she asked. "The books won't shelve themselves."
"Yes, I've been to a library before," the duke retorted. "And I don't appreciate how you imply that I'm illiterate."
Vera huffed. "I can't be so sure. You seem outraged by some rather logical systems. The common alphabet might be beyond your comprehension."
"A mirror-maze at the entrance of your library is not logical."
Vera shook her head. "You were just complaining that the Archive isn't mystical enough for you. At this point, I don't think you're pleased by anything."
"I just want to know where you all come from and why your system is designed to torment all who interact with it."
"You say torment, I say test."
From behind her, the duke's voice shifted from distaste to something almost mocking. "Oh, so when that receptionist at the Conservatory called you an urchin from Rotwater, he was testing you?"
Vera skidded to a halt and spun around to face him."Were you eaves––" She bit her tongue. He was goading her, and she wouldn't fall for it. "No, forget it. I don't want to know. We can walk in silence now."
"Fine."
"Fine."
Turning, Vera quickened her pace to widen the distance between them, but the duke only matched it. This simple act made her blood nearly boil over with frustration.
Actually, maybe death by mistmaw won't be so bad, she thought.
Only ten minutes in, and she already wanted to turn around. Even without his complaints, the remaining trek to the first cache stretched to an impossible length. When it finally appeared in the form of a wide, cracked tree stump, Vera nearly leapt for joy.
She let the sack of equiptment and her small personal satchel slump onto the muddy ground. She distantly knew that she should take better care of their supplies, especially so early on, but the relief of weightlessness made her reckless. The stump only came up to her knees, so she scampered over and kneeled to find the activation notch somewhere along the roots. The duke stood behind her as she worked. She emphatically ignored him.
When she found the divot, she stepped back as a rectangular cut of wood retracted into the body of the stump. This was the part where she prayed to each god in the Known World's pantheon for a miracle. If the Codex was here, they could turn around now. She could return it to its chain and Corvin would be none the wiser.
She leaned over to peer inside, and her stomach dropped. It was empty. Nothing but moss-caked wood and flecks of sawdust. She reached out a hand and patted the space for good measure, but there were no books stored there.
"Well?" came the duke's voice.
Vera clenched her fists and kicked, rather than tapped, the notch that closed the cache.
"It's not here," she hissed.
Suppressing a groan, Vera wondered how many iterations of this conversation were in her future. She crossed this location off of her mental list. Ten caches remained.
"I suppose we should keep moving," she continued. "We might be able to reach the next one tomorrow evening, if we're quick."
The duke shook his head. "More like if you're quick, since you won't tell me where we're going. Which you are not. I could search the whole island in a week if you let me."
Vera eyed him. He wasn't going to let this go, was he? She would have to keep her guard up for more than just beasts.
"Tempting," she replied, grabbing her supply sack by its strap and straining to lift it from the ground, "but I'll just have you carry this other bag from now on." She flung it at him. "I'll be able to lead us faster."
Impressively, he managed to snatch it from the air before it hit the mud.
"What in the name of the gods did you put in this? Bedrolls and rations cannot weigh this much––"
A screech came from above. Simultaneously, Vera and the duke both froze. Her heart became a hammer as she craned her neck up and scanned the air.
Something huge hovered above them. It was long-beaked and feathered, and its wingspan was so wide that it blotted out the clouds.
The name came to her. Scarbeak. Witherstone's most common aviary beast, which had a habit of snatching its prey from the ground then throwing it back down to its death.
The scarbeak screeched again, shrill and cutting. It flapped its wings once, then began to dive.
It was aiming for the very clearing where Vera stood.