Mainspring Read Online Free Page A

scar. “This is old, and in the shape of a key.”
    â€œIt healed overnight. I don’t know why it is in the shape of a key.” Hethor felt like a fool, but he kept trying. “A sign, ma’am. A miracle, that I need to understand.”

    â€œA reminder, perhaps?” She smiled at him, genuine humor in her face for the first time. “Listen, boy. Her Majesty’s viceroy in Boston currently has a court mystic in residence, a self-styled sorcerer called William of Ghent. It may be possible to convince him that your visitation was real. If William believes you, then you may receive help, or at least advice, from the viceroy and his court.”
    Hethor withdrew his hand from her touch, closing his fist. “Do you believe me?”
    â€œI believe that you are telling the truth as you see it,” said Librarian Childress carefully.
    â€œBut you want to see the silver feather. As proof.”
    She nodded. “As proof. As will William. Without the feather for examination and analysis, your scar is interesting, but no more.”
    â€œI don’t know how to get my feather back from Pryce.”
    â€œI do” Librarian Childress smiled. “Leave that to me.”
    EATING A LIGHT lunch of cucumber sandwiches and tea with Librarian Childress in the staff room somewhere deep in the Divinity Library, Hethor realized that he had lost any chance of reclaiming that school day at New Haven Latin. He wasn’t sure how much he cared. Gabriel’s message was becoming more and more real to him as the hours went by, even in the absence of the feather. Or perhaps because of that absence. Hethor realized that his faith alone should have been sufficient—he was growing ashamed of having asked for a token.
    â€œHow is it,” he asked around a mouthful of unfamiliar white bread, “that you work here? I thought only men were permitted at Yale.”
    She gave him a sour look, which quickly left her face. “Women were put on this Earth by God to bear children. Just ask any man. Intelligent women are here to have intelligent sons, and otherwise keep their mouths shut. Let us just assume I wasn’t interested in having any intelligent sons.”

    â€œBut how did—”
    â€œLet us also assume that your mother apparently wasn’t interested in having any intelligent sons either.”
    Hethor subsided, chewing on a mouthful of cucumber and pale bread. After a few moments, he swallowed. “I’m sorry, ma’am.”
    She surprised him by saying “Thank you.”
    A little silver bell above the door jingled. Hethor glanced up to see a whole series of bells, with pull strings vanishing into the walls.
    â€œThey’re tuned,” said Librarian Childress. “Each note has a different meaning. Now follow me, please.”
    She led him back to the reading room and pointed up a ladder that ran on rails along the largest bank of shelves. “See the alcove up there? Climb into it and behave as though you were a statue. If you lean against the paneling at the back wall, you will be invisible to anyone in the room down here.”
    Feeling strangely excited, Hethor climbed. The alcove was dusty, littered with mouse droppings and shards of wood. It smelled of mildew. Somehow it was comforting to know that even Yale had mice, though the thought of the little creatures near all these books worried him.
    He sat back, seeing only the shelf across the room from him and part of the windows to his right, now letting in the light of the afternoon. After a moment, the door squeaked open. Had she shut it on her way out, while he was climbing?
    The librarian’s voice echoed from below. Her tones were formal. “Thank you for coming to see me on such short notice, Mister Bodean.”
    â€œIt is my pleasure, ma’am.” Pryce was less certain and haughty in his manner with her, Hethor noted with glee. “Ah … your note indicated that you