The morning was overcast, and Ismene watched snowflakes start to sift down out of the sky before she headed down for the day.

  Things seemed to be going all right with Eryx, but Ismene wouldn't be sanguine about the situation until they were back home. She'd helped select the fake checkout list to present to Harmonia, and Eryx had a carefully censored set of notes, but if her real notes got discovered, they would both be in trouble. It was strange how she felt reasonably comfortable with her own clandestine doings, but the new situation was scarier despite being smaller in scope. But it was new, Ismene thought, so of course it seemed like a greater threat.

  By the time Harmonia came down to check on her, Ismene was satisfied at being able to present an updated list of books.

  "Good," Harmonia said. "What else do you have do to for me?"

  "Poetry, and reading up on Northern novels," Ismene replied. It was even true, for the time she meant to spend on those topics.

  "Very well," Harmonia dismissed her. Once she was done those, Ismene was free to do the research she really wanted.

  Eryx had reminded Ismene that there were many things she didn't know about the Castle. She hadn't gone looking for Library materials about it for a while, and decided to see what she could do.

  The legends were simple enough. In the day of the western Empire, the Castle lands had been inhabited; at the time, it was a strange and wonderful place. When the Empire fell, when a mythical monster came from the ocean and destroyed it, the Castle had been destroyed too. After that, it had become a strange but haunted place. Of course, while the monster was probably myth, the Empire really had fallen apart, and the castle lands really were deserted.

  Browsing wasn't much use. The browsing stacks were ample, but they held a limited number of volumes. That resulted in a selection biased heavily towards whoever might be doing research at the time and whatever books were recently submitted to the Library. That was useful for Ismene when it came to Tyrenian records, since Tyrenians were overrepresented in the visitor rolls, but not when it came to anything else.

  Next, then, the catalog. The history section itself was sparse; yes, books began to appear after the point in time when the Temple's first Castle expedition took place, but Ismene had a hard time finding anything about the Castle itself. There were recent results in Tyrenian; but only observation and speculation. There did exist Tyrenian scholars who dug up ancient sites and documented them; but they did not travel to Castle lands to do so. The Assembly didn't seem interested in issuing permits, and Ismene had no idea if the Voice would even allow it.

  She started to try other items, systematically keeping notes. Trade, perhaps. Traveller's accounts. All old things, published before the modern Assembly's rules; but despite that openness, it wasn't much use. Perhaps histories of the Empire's collapse? Those weren't much help either. They had works from the west, and translations, but most were from before the downfall. The collapse had been rapid and the histories were uncertain and speculative about it. Meanwhile, the modern stories about the Monster were heavy on creativity and light on consistent details.

  Ismene decided to ask for some help.

  "Good afternoon. I'd like to look for something." Ismene approached the Hand on duty.

  "What is your query?" the Hand asked, a finger resting on the crystal that always sat on their desk.

  "History of the Castle, please," Ismene told them.

  But, for all she tried various criteria, everything Ismene could find was speculative or legendary. She was starting to wonder if the Castle's history was really so obscure, or if something else was at play. Was her conception of its origins wrong somehow? Or was the Library really incomplete, and on purpose? She knew what Eryx would suggest.

  "All right; let me try something else," Ismene said. Maybe the merchant states up north had something; surely their traders kept records. "Can I get a trade-to-Tyrenian dictionary?"

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  "You are very curious tonight," the Hand volunteered.

  They usually didn't comment on her searches. "Is, is that all right?" Ismene asked.

  "You may query," the Hand replied enigmatically.

  Dictionary in hand, Ismene retired to a reading room for a few hours. It was time-consuming, and once she had a list of terms she wanted, she tried again. Castle. Abandoned. Cultures of the continent. Southern trade.

  When she heard a knock at the reading room's door, Ismene was jarred back into the here-and-now. Was it Harmonia? Would her research get her a scolding again? She could never tell—

  "Come in," Ismene said, before she waited too long. But it wasn't Harmonia. It was the Voice.

  Tallish, lanky, and veiled, they nodded to her. “Good evening, Ismene, servant of Harmonia.”

  “Good evening, Voice,” she said, disconcerted. Was it evening already? Again with time... but she had only herself to blame for her distraction.

  “You have unusual requests this evening.” The Voice commented, with a thankfully affable tone. As affable as the Voice could get, anyway, with their flat manner.

  Ismene looked past them briefly; she didn’t want to start any rumors by being seen in conversation with the Voice, but thankfully no one was in her end of the Library. It had emptied out. “I apologize if I’m asking impertinent questions,” she said. “I am curious about your history; but it seems as if you may not wish to tell me about the Castle's past.” Suddenly, she realized that she might have stumbled upon an unwanted truth. Was it the Voice making such decisions?

  “A daunting choice for a library; to foster ignorance.” The Voice sounded almost amused.

  “My apologies,” Ismene said, concerned, but the Voice waved his hand as if brushing the thought aside.

  “Walk with me?” the Voice said. The invitation was equally unusual, and Ismene immediately accepted.

  She wasn’t sure of the protocol in such a situation; but the Voice chose to guide her along as if they were mere friends. She walked past the front desk with them, nodding politely to the desk Hand as she dropped off the dictionary.

  The main hall was dim, the lamps turned low. No one else was about, although Ismene wasn't sure it was all that late. The Voice’s veil glittered faintly in the near-dark.

  “You hit near the mark,” the Voice said suddenly. “It has been hundreds of years since the Library began; but its origins are shrouded. That is both by choice, and by circumstance. I see you know of the Monster?”

  “Yes, Voice,” Ismene said.

  “It was no myth. The Castle took action against it and, in doing so, inflicted great damage on the land.” The Voice walked slowly, and Ismene carefully kept pace. “Lives were lost. Records were destroyed. The Castle itself was gravely hurt; and so, it slept. When I became its Voice, its heart, only then did it awaken." That had been a very long time ago, Ismene thought. Had they been the sole Voice that entire time? "Together, we sought once again to exist among others. The Castle seeks to share, and share we do, in this Library; but I have guarded its privacy carefully."

  And that was, in part, the role of the Voice? Ismene was fascinated. She had so many questions.

  “The Castle appreciates that it has company,” the Voice commented. “But I, however long-lived I have become, will not live forever.” They turned down the hallway to the living quarters, and Ismene felt a hint of pique at the idea that she was being escorted to her rooms like a child found out of bounds. But that wasn't what the Voice had said.

  "Pardon me; what do you mean?" Ismene asked.

  The Voice produced a slim volume from within their voluminous veil. It was not a Library volume; it was a bound paper book. They handed it to Ismene, who took it uncertainly.

  “I would share these things with you," the Voice said. "Read, if you will. You have proven a friend to this place; and the Castle, for so long as it has a Voice, understands the value of such things as friends.”

  The statement was faintly ominous, and Ismene nodded gravely. “Thank you, Voice,” she said. They had come to her door.

  “Sleep well, Ismene,” they said, before they swept back down the hallway.

  “You, too, Voice,” Ismene said quietly.

  When she was inside her quarters, Ismene breathed a long sigh and let the tension swim around in her. The Voice had come to her! The Voice had spoken with her! The Voice had... given her a book.

  Ismene looked down at it. Disbelievingly, she read the title.

  “‘The Past Thousand Years’,” she spoke aloud. Beneath the title, there was an engraving of the Castle’s emblematic star.

  She opened the cover and read the table of contents. She smiled. It was a history book. It was even in Tyrenian.

  She laughed. The Voice hadn't tactfully steered her away from forbidden topics, after all. The Voice had given her answers.

  Ismene took the book and swung around the room, impulsively turning as if dancing with it, suddenly filled with joy. The Castle had let her have this. The Voice—or the Castle—had reservations, but they had given her this. For once in her life, Ismene had formed a connection that led down a path that didn't end in punishment or obscurity.

  She sat down in the most comfortable place she could find, and turned the page, and started to read.