Guardian Cats and the Lost Books of Alexandria

Chapter 12: Strange passage

Marco had to scurry. He almost lost him when the old cat disappeared in a tangle of legs. Marco maneuvered his way through the crowd, barely catching sight of the tip of his tail, when Cicero made yet another swift turn. Marco broke into a run, dodging library patrons and scribes.

Cicero was disappearing down a long gloomy hallway. No more spacious, sky lit rooms, or the hustle and bustle of activity. Another turn and Marco was following Cicero down a dim stairway, one that seemed to be plunging them deeper and deeper under the great main hall. With each step, the passageway grew darker. With each turn of direction, Marco felt doubt and anxiety turning his stomach.

Why was Cicero always taking him down dark stairways? Once again, he bemoaned his decision to follow this cat. He swore that, if he ever escaped, he would go home and take his adventures from books—and only from books.

Grumbling to himself, he ran headlong into Cicero. The absolute darkness of the place made it impossible to see, even with his exceptional sight. Cicero sat immobile, like a statue, but unlike a statue, warmth radiated from him.

Marco took comfort in this, in spite of everything. What on earth was Cicero waiting for? And why did they need to come to this black hole of a place when there was a perfectly lovely library upstairs?

The dense silence was suffocating. A stab of fear gripped him, and he would have bolted if only he could see where he was going. He hated total darkness. The way it closed in on him… the way it grabbed him. His throat tightened.

A sound broke his morbidity; a sound so bizarre it would have frightened him except it was so fantastic.

It was the sound of laughter.

Wisps of flickering light bounced wildly around the hard stone walls, growing brighter, but not in a gradual way. Light and laughter moved down the stairs in bits and bursts. Things could not get any stranger, thought Marco.

“It took you long enough to get here," Cicero said to the still-invisible being.

"I found some old friends.” The voice reverberated out of the darkness. “It’s been centuries-uries,” she said in an echo-y voice.

“We have no time for visiting, Alaniah. Not this trip."

"Patience, my dear Cicero-ero-oh… We have come such a long way-ay-ay… You can wait a moment longer.”

The creature emerged from the darkness and fluttered into the stairwell. Marco was certain he’d seen everything by now, but hovering above him was a shimmering creature with iridescent wings. Its voice sounded like nothing he’d ever heard, sort of singing or laughing. No, maybe it was like bells. Not the big ones, but the small silvery ones.

“I think he sees me now-ow,” she lilted.

“A good sign,” said Cicero. “Marco, this is Alaniah, our tour guide.”

Alaniah flew around his head, inspecting him. "He’s very young,” she said to Cicero as though Marco couldn’t hear.

"Yes, but I believe he's the one," answered Cicero.

"The last one, you believed in him as well-ell,” she said.

Distracted by her beauty, Marco paid little attention to their words.

"Yes,” Cicero continued. “And I wasted too much time on him. Time is not something I can squander now.”

“A bit grumpy aren’t we, Cicero-ero?”

“Dear Alaniah, you know I am getting on in years. Even with your gifts to me, you must remember I am a mortal creature.”

Alaniah responded with a haunted sigh.

“Oh, Alaniah,” breathed Cicero. “I wish not to be the cause of your sadness. Your light expanded my life, and when I have ‘shuffled off this mortal coil,’ as Shakespeare said, I will have no regrets.”

“I do not know the meaning of regret. Explain, please.”

“How can I tell you about something only mortals suffer?”

“This one. You feel he is trustworthy-orthy?”

By now Marco realized something was up, and that something was about him.

“We will discover the truth soon,” said Cicero. “Now Alaniah, please let us in."

"By all means, as you are fond of saying-ing.” Then Alaniah folded up within herself, not unlike a morning glory folding up for the evening, but a soft glow still shone through her translucent wrapping.

Then Alaniah burst open, transforming the dark dungeon into something almost festive, showering them with light glitter like it was the Fourth of July.

"A bit extravagant,” teased Cicero. “Showing off for your admirer?”

“Just being practical, Cicero. Now we can all see.”

It was true. Alaniah hovered in front of an elaborately carved doorway. The doorknocker, a heavy bronze ring, creaked and rose on its hinge as though an invisible hand lifted it. Then the ring fell.

The tiny space reverberated with an earsplitting, echoing sound like the peal of a church bell from inside the tower. The door shattered and fell at the same moment, sheets of small particles cascading into a heap on the floor.

When the dust settled, his ears were still ringing, but Marco could not believe what was on the other side of the door. Now he must surely be dreaming.