Chapter 20: Not Lost

The drawer wouldn't budge. Tessa had come looking for evidence, not a fight with a cabinet. She pulled harder. The brass handle squealed.

“There's a latch under the handle. Press it first,” Sarah said.

Of course. Even opening a drawer at Night Moonveil required instructions. Tessa found the latch and pressed it. When she pulled again, the drawer slid out too quickly, nearly falling onto her feet. Zoran caught its far end before it fell.

“Careful,” he said. “Half the labels are coming loose.”

Tessa caught a slipping divider. “Whoever organized this place must have hated students.”

“Students aren't supposed to be in here,” Sarah said.

“Then I suppose the feeling was mutual.”

Zoran held the drawer steady while she searched the faded tabs. He'd kept looking for answers even after they'd parted the night before. She was beginning to trust his judgment, which was inconvenient enough without liking his company.

The legacy indexing chamber occupied an older part of Moonglass, beyond shelves most students ever saw. Preservation wards glimmered above cabinets and rolled maps. She'd come tonight as Theo Monroe, determined to return to Keeper's House before midnight.

“Professor Harrow approved the indexing records,” Sarah reminded them, unfolding a catalog guide. “Not entry to the Undercroft. His note was quite clear about clearance.”

“We haven't found an entrance to misuse,” Tessa said.

“Keep it that way.”

Zoran eased the drawer back into place. Nearby, Valerius compared an old elven notation with a transfer ledger.

“These marks indicate revisions, not dates. Your catalog enjoys making distinctions nobody asked for.”

“It was designed for people who knew the system,” Sarah said.

“So was every terrible system.”

Zoran examined the seals on a second ledger. “These are Crown review classifications. The original diplomatic copies won't be filed under them.”

Sarah pointed to another cabinet. Tessa opened its drawer and found an index entry for the Concord proceedings, cross-referenced to an old evacuation account. A date beside Aileen's name caught her eye.

“That one.” She pointed to the entry.

Zoran looked over. “How did you recognize it so quickly?”

She'd compared those dates countless times. Aileen wasn't just a name in a history book.

“I read.”

Valerius raised an eyebrow, then returned to his ledger. At least the elf knew when not to ask questions. Zoran didn't press either. Instead, he placed another register beside her.

“Then read this. The later Crown review points to a transfer reference.”

Tessa traced the code and read its entry number aloud. Sarah checked her guide.

“That isn't in the general transfer index.” She looked up at the highest shelf.

Sarah brought down a narrow ledger with a cracked leather spine. Dust rose from its cover, and Tessa stepped aside before she could sneeze on a century of paperwork.

“Restricted transfers,” Sarah said, setting it between them. “They wouldn't appear in the general index.”

Zoran found the reference number first. Of course he did. Tessa was still deciding whether the cramped figures were numbers or someone's idea of a cruel joke.

“Here.” He turned the ledger toward her. “Original Concord proceedings. Reviewed by Crown administration years after the war.”

Beneath the entry, a later hand had written the same words they'd found in the elven margin.

REMOVED FROM ACTIVE AUTHORITY.

“We already knew they changed its standing,” Tessa said. “Does this say where it went?”

“Not on this line.” Zoran checked the next column. “But it gives us a transfer series.”

Valerius leaned over the page. He translated the older elven notation beside the code, then frowned.

“Retained under restriction. Not destroyed.”

Tessa looked at the words again. Retained. Not destroyed. At least one record had survived long enough to be transferred somewhere else.

Sarah pointed to another cabinet. “Check the rest of that series.”

Tessa went to the cabinet and opened the matching index. One entry became three, then five. They covered Concord emergency proceedings, restricted appendices, and diplomatic accounts tied to the same conflicting dates she'd been investigating.

Each had survived long enough to undergo a later Crown review. Each carried the same removal classification and transfer series. She checked the numbers again. They matched.

“This wasn't one document,” she said.

“No,” Zoran answered quietly.

His expression had gone still. Tessa knew what he could have said: that classifications had reasons, that the Crown safeguarded records for everyone's benefit. Instead, he examined the seals again.

“These transfers are documented,” he said. “But the register doesn't tell us who ordered them, or why.”

“You're not going to tell me it's probably nothing?”

“I wouldn't be standing here if I thought that.”

That was hard to argue with. Sarah traced the series to the final column of the index.

“Moonveil Restricted Sublevel Archive,” she read. Her finger moved down to a second designation. “Destination: Undercroft.”

Tessa stared at the page. She had spent years believing the truth about Aileen and Kael waited somewhere she could reach only by going back. Yet pieces of their history might have survived all this time, close enough to be filed beneath her feet.

She wanted to feel relieved. Instead, she thought of all the years she'd spent believing there was nothing left to find. Zoran looked up from the ledger.

“We know where the records were sent.”

Tessa looked at Sarah. “Then how do we get in?”

Sarah didn't answer immediately. She turned the ledger toward Zoran, showing him faded symbols beneath the transfer designation.

“The Undercroft predates the modern library,” she said. “I know it exists. That doesn't mean I've ever been allowed inside.”

“You work here,” Tessa said.

“And you study here. Neither gives us unrestricted access.”

Annoyingly reasonable. Zoran examined the symbols.

“Multi-authority access required.” He pointed to one. “Crown authority.”

“The next is Keeper authority,” Sarah said. “But that third mark…”

Part of it had worn away. Tessa leaned closer, as though staring might restore the missing ink. If only history were that cooperative.

“We have two authorities standing here,” she said.

“And we still don't know what the third symbol means,” Zoran replied. “I'm not risking our safety by entering without knowing the rules.”

She wanted to argue, but he was right. Worse, he wasn't using his position to force the issue.

“This is going to end badly,” Valerius observed.

“Comforting,” Tessa said.

“I wasn't comforting you.”

Zoran closed the ledger halfway.

“We're getting in.”

“Was that a royal command?”

“No.” His gaze returned to the symbols. “A bad decision.”

Sarah gave him a look that suggested she had expected better from royalty.

“Not tonight. We find the proper access procedure first.”

She turned the ledger over, then paused. A faded floor-plan reference had been written on the back cover. Sarah fetched the older plan from a cabinet and laid it beside a modern Moonglass map.

One corner kept curling until Zoran reached around Tessa to hold it flat. His sleeve brushed her arm, and she lost her place in the measurements. He was only holding down a map. She should be able to read it.

“You're reading the same line again,” he murmured.

“I'm being thorough.”

She glanced over her shoulder and caught Zoran trying not to smile. He knew he'd distracted her, and he was enjoying it.

The old plan placed the Undercroft directly beneath the library. But the modern map showed no stairs, door, or lift leading down.

Tessa looked at Zoran.

“Still want in?”

“More than ever.”

She stared at the blank space on the map. Then how had the records gotten down there?