Cecil walked confidently down the hallway towards the library. The book on horse breeding in hand. It had taken several days, but he had finally gathered all he needed to succeed in his trespassing. The last thing on his list was to be able to pick the lock.

  Luckily, it seemed that no one frequented the area around the library doors. Which meant that he wouldn’t have to be as careful when he snuck to it. If he had been attempting one of the ballrooms, the plan would have failed before it started. Many people walked around those rooms, and used them periodically. The library however, was a relic. A token of a different time altogether. One that was no longer needed.

  In any case, he had to make sure to run by the kitchen for some cookies to offer Oakley. He hadn’t been back to the haunted house since he had been busy gathering supplies. But now that it was down to the doing, he wanted to visit it more often. And maybe get Oakley to teach him how to jump the wall. It had been a while since he had been to the kitchen. But first he things first.

  He turned left towards the library.

  Prior to this venture, Cecil had only visited the library when he had a specific reading assignment. But in order to pull this off, he would have to get acquainted with the library on a deeper level.

  Which meant visiting it almost daily.

  Unfortunately, Talmage didn’t hand out reading assignments frequently enough to justify a daily visit to the library.

  But the system of borrowing and lending was inherent to the library. Come in, thoroughly browse for a bit, borrow the book, return it the next day, and repeat. a continuing alibi to be in the library, even when he didn’t have assigned work.

  He clutched his leather book bag, which was slung over his left shoulder.

  The only downfall to his plan was that any books he borrowed, would also be read to some extent just in case Pro Ostrion asked him about it.

  For all he knew, the old librarian had read every book in the library. He was a Gnossian after all. Understanding everything in his domain might be a tenant of his religion.

  But other than reading it, the plan was simple. Read, return, continue to case the place, then borrow another book that he had some valid reason to check out.

  When he arrived at the dark double doors, he opened the right one quietly. Its hinges made no sound, or the sound they might have made was covered by the racket in the library. The loudest sound was the rhythmic snore of Pro Ostrian, as always.

  He was even louder than the three girls giggling over gossip by the giant stained glass windows opposite the door. Cecil put the noise out of mind and focused. He needed an excuse to become familiar with the scene of his crime. And picking a book or genre he was already familiar with wouldn’t do.

  Then it came to him. Oakley had said that the little house was haunted, and that group in the cellar was probably doing weird things too. All he needed was a haunted history of the palace! Cecil walked past the desk and grabbed another stick shaped lumia. None of them had been explosive so far, and he had felt bad about stealing more than he needed to. So, he had returned the two he had stolen, and started taking from the basket again.

  He stuck the glowing stick in a pocket then went into the stacks with notepad and pencil in hand. Then he took methodical notes about the warm grey staircase to the second floor, and all the things around it. From the two book cases that were near the landing to the railings that ended in roaring lion’s heads.

  It was about twenty feet in front of Pro Ostrion’s desk and was made of the same grey stone as the floor. It was even wide enough for four people to walk up it hand in hand.

  There was also a decorated side that could be easily climbed. He pocketed his pencil and paper to hang a bit from the side, secure in the knowledge that the only person who might witness was still catching flies with his cavernous mouth.

  Cecil dropped down and pulled out his pencil and paper to make note of it.

  Nice. Now if someone fell asleep upstairs and didn’t realize until after closing, he would be able to hide.

  He pocketed his things again and pulled out the stick to give an earnest effort to find the book. Cecil paced back and forth around the room for just as long as his patience could hold out. Then he went to ask Pro Ostrian for help. As he got closer the snore got louder. How could someone harmonize as they snored? He did have two big nostrils…

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  The old man sat in a large ornate cushioned chair, sinking into the blue pillows. His skinny hands barely poked out of his giant robe to meet at the peak of his stomach, imitating a holy temple. It shook gently to the harmonizing winds that billowed constantly.

  Cecil shook his head at the image. He was almost a man now, he had no time for flights of fancy. He opened his mouth to wake the old man when a glint caught his eyes.

  A neat pile of keys on the desk.

  In the open.

  For anyone to take.

  It would be so easy. Just reach out, and he’d have them.

  But warm guilt wormed in his chest.

  He forced his klepto inclined fingers to be still.

  The man had offered to let him join his religion, and even sponsor him. He couldn’t go and steal the man’s keys and cause him the pain of replacing them. No, he would break in like an honest man.

  Besides, he couldn’t steal those now anyways. He didn't even know which key opened the front door, and which one would open some private box the old man had.

  Besides, easy wasn’t part of his plan.

  It would take months for him to pry the stone loose without damaging the seals and engraving underneath. He had to think about this in a slow and steady manner. To be cautious. Any leaps in speed might tip his hand, and he would not let the next two years pass by without his goals being accomplished.

  Mind made up, he went through the process of waking the old man.

  “Pro Ostrian? Pro Ostrian?”

  The man shifted, and the steepled hands experienced a turbulent earthquake. Cecil grabbed the book on horse breeding and slammed it on the table, “Pro Ostrian!”

  The temple split in two and grabbed the edge of the arm chair, “Who who?”

  Cecil tactfully put the manual on the “returns” pile. “Pro Ostrian, I’m looking for a book.”

  The old man adjusted his half moon glasses, “ah, young Cecil. Looking for something new I’ll wager. What has Talmage cooked up this time?”

  “Actually, this is a personal project. I've been hearing a lot of rumors and-”

  “Ah rumors. Nasty thing rumors. Little better than gossip!” His voice raised to a shout towards the end, and the giggling came to a stop. It didn’t take long before three girls passed behind him towards the door, taking turns to glare at them on their way out.

  Hey, it wasn’t his problem that they couldn’t be bothered to find a better place to tickle each other’s ears with news.

  “As I was saying, if you want to get to the bottom of the rumors, I have recently acquired some pages of Inatollian weekly, as well as some interesting essays from Istania and Yskua.”

  “As interesting as that sounds, I'm more interested in castle ghost stories.”

  “Oh? Well well. Not everyone can be as dedicated to the news as some of your siblings. In any case, I have exactly the kind of book you’re looking for.”

  Cecil’s cheeks burned. Why hadn’t he thought to come here for Talmage’s gossip assignments?

  Pro Ostrion took a small stone necklace from a drawer, then pulled out a sheet of paper, touched it a few times, then handed the necklace to Cecil, “And there you go. I’ll be here if you want to borrow any more books.”

  Cecil handed it back, “would you mind adding the pamphlets on yskua and Istania that you mentioned earlier?”

  The old man beamed, “Of course not.”

  As Cecil walked away, he couldn’t help but feel that he had lost a game. But in reality, it was just a reminder of the competition for the crown.

  A game he had lost by dint of being born last. The conversation was just a small reminder.

  Arron was a great sword fighter with a warding talent to keep out enemy telepaths. Eriss was able to feel the emotions of others, and was able to use that as her ultimate political weapon. Tavv had the weakest talent by far, he was able to misdirect someone’s attention. But hebused it to slip into places he wasn’t supposed to be. And he knew far more than he should.

  Against their talents and experience, Cecil was fighting a losing battle for the crown, and was a dead weight to his family. If winning was off the table, he needed to aim for a position that set him up as a winner with slightly different standards.

  It didn’t matter if he lost these small battles of wit, ‘cause he was thinking in the long run.

  He held out the small stone and touched it to the ends of shelves as he passed. It was a simple yes/no indicator that told you when the item looked for is contained within. The next tap caused it to glow, an indication that at least one of his books was down this aisle. As he tapped the individual cases, he read random titles. “The strange history of royal spouses”, “killers in the castle: a history of murders”, “ghosts, ghouls, grim tales, and the truth in them”. That last one had to be the one he was looking for. Sure enough when he touched the stone to the spine, it lit up faintly.

  Cecil took it off the shelf and walked to the end of the rows to search for the new articles that Pro Ostrian had recommended.

  After a few more minutes of searching, Cecil found the pamphlets he had been looking for, and had checked them out. He had valiantly ignored the little pile of keys sitting temptingly at the edge of the desk, and had put the books in his shoulder bag without mishap.

  Once the wooden door closed behind him with a soft thump, it did not squeak. Cecil started his walk to the kitchens.

  At least the doors didn’t need to be oiled.