A Reaper at the Gates_An Ember in the Ashes by Sabaa Tahir

Author:Sabaa Tahir [Tahir, Sabaa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Young Readers Group
Published: 2018-06-11T18:30:00+00:00

XXIX: Laia

The past shall burn, and none will slow it.

The Nightbringer told me what was coming. He might as well have screamed his plans into my face. And I was too much of a fool to see it.

“No—Laia—stop!” I barely hear the voice over the roar of flames in the refugee camp. I push through the crowds of gobsmacked Mariners and Scholars, up toward the city. I could still make it to the library. I could still find the book on the Augurs. Only the upper levels of the library burn. Perhaps the lower levels have survived—

“What the hells are you doing?” Musa spins me around, face streaked with ashes and tears. “The Mariners have left the refugee camp. They’re heading to the library to try to save it. The Scholars need help, Laia!”

“Get Darin!” I shout. “And Zella and Taure. I must get to the library, Musa.”

“Aapan, there are still Scholars who—”

“When will you understand? The Resistance doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is stopping him. Because if we don’t, he sets the jinn free, and everyone dies—including all those we’ve saved.”

His answer is lost in the panic all around us. I turn and run, throwing on my invisibility and cutting through the Mariners pushing past the front gate. Hundreds of Adisa’s residents pour into the streets, many watching the library burn, stunned, others hoping to help. Fire brigade wagons scream through the streets, and soldiers unroll great snakelike hoses to pump water in from the sea.

I fly past all of them, thanking the skies for my invisibility. By the time I reach the Great Library itself, blue-robed librarians stream from the front entrances, carrying books and scrolls and artifacts, pushing carts filled with priceless tomes. Many try to return, but the blaze spreads, and their countrymen hold them back.

But there is no one to stop me, and I squeeze past the bottleneck of Mariners who are escaping through the front doors. The lower levels of the library are a sort of controlled chaos. A Mariner man stands atop a desk, bellowing orders at a small army of men and women. They obey as quickly and efficiently as if he were a Mask threatening whippings.

I gaze up. Even the first level of this place is absolutely massive, a labyrinth with a dozen hallways branching every which way. What are the chances that a book on Augur prophecies would be on this floor?

Think, Laia! The Mariners have been entrusted with the world’s knowledge for centuries because they’re careful and organized. Which means there must be a map around here somewhere. I find it carved into a plaque on the wall beside the head librarian. The library has more than twenty levels and so many types of books that my head spins. But just when I begin to despair, I spot Martial History—level 3.

The stairs are emptier than the lower level—the librarians are not stupid enough to go to the upper floors. As I pass the second level, smoke fills the stairwell and flames crackle distantly.

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