“You got a problem with that?”
“Yeah, genius. Because Oxford University is in Oxford. That’s probably how they came up with the clever name.”
Link looked around. They had landed in an open courtyard surrounded by gray stone buildings. He headed toward one of at least a dozen identical archways around them and hopped over some bushes and onto a covered walkway.
“Slow down,” Floyd called from behind him.
“Sorry.” He grabbed her and hoisted her over the bushes.
They followed the walkway through one of the buildings and onto a cobbled street right out of the movies. Students and grouchy-looking old men wearing tweed vests rushed past them.
Link glanced around. “How are we supposed to know if we’re in the right place? Maybe we should ask someone.” He stopped a scrawny guy with glasses in a Trinity College T-shirt. “Hey, dude, is this Oxford University? In the Unified Kingdom?”
The guy backed away and gave him a strange look. “Yes, I suppose it is. More or less.” He started to turn away.
“Where’s the library?” Link asked.
“Which one?”
Now it was Link’s turn to give him a strange look. “There’s more than one?”
Why?
The guy pushed his glasses back on the bridge of his nose and glanced at Floyd, which didn’t seem to make him feel any better. “Of course. Which one are you looking for?”
Link frowned. There was only one logical place, considering it was Liv. “The biggest one.”
Link stared at the enormous building, which looked about the size of a New York City block. It made Gatlin County Library back home look like an outhouse. He turned to Floyd.
“You really think that whole place is fulla books? Like the paper kind?”
She shrugged. “Only one way to find out.”
They fell into line behind a group of girls who were probably students. They all had British accents, and Link wasn’t sure what they were talking about. Even if it did seem like a scene right out of a movie or a TV show.
Link had spent enough time watching Batman to know the building was Gothic.
Like, Gotham City gothic. This place could be Wayne Manor.
With spires lining the roof that looked like serrated swords, it reminded him of a fancy church from the cover of one of those history textbooks he’d never bothered to open. But the building had the same intimidating and creepy presence as Ravenwood Manor, Ridley’s uncle’s plantation house in Gatlin.
They followed the students through the courtyard and into the main building. One by one, the students swiped what looked like ID cards to open the electronic turnstile. Link stopped when he reached it. “Crap. You need some kind of card thingy to get in. Never saw that at Hogwarts.”
“Just hop over,” Floyd said. “New York–style.”
The turnstile was only waist-high, but there were lots of people around, and he and Floyd weren’t exactly inconspicuous.
Someone cleared their throat behind them. “Excuse me,” a guy said with an English accent, holding an ID card in his hand.
“Sorry,” Link said, backing up. “We were just tryin’ to get in.”
The English guy gave them the once-over. “Only students have access to the library, unless you apply for a Reader’s Card.” He pointed behind them. “But you can buy tickets for the tour over there, next to the Great Gate.”
“Thanks.” Link tugged on Floyd’s arm. “Let’s get tickets. Then we’ll ditch the tour once we get inside.”
By the time they made it through the line and reached the ticket counter, Link was getting antsy. “Two tickets, please.” He opened his wallet. “Ma’am.”
“Seventeen pounds,” the clerk said. “Sterling.”
Link looked at the twenty-dollar bill in his hand. Everything was different over here, including the money.
He swallowed. “Yeah, okay, Mrs. Sterling, ma’am. Could you give me a minute? I gotta find some cash.” He looked at Floyd, lowering his voice. “Jeez. How much cash weighs seventeen pounds? That’s more than Lucille Ball.”
“You’re a regular poster boy for the Mortal school system, aren’t you?”
Floyd rolled her eyes and plucked the bill out of his hand. As she slid it across the counter to the clerk, Link’s twenty transformed into a weird-looking purple bill with the number twenty in the corner.
“Here you are,” the woman said, pushing the tickets back toward them.
Link grinned as they walked away. Having an Illusionist around was pretty handy. He nudged Floyd with his shoulder. “Nice trick.”
“What, that?” She tugged on the hem of her concert tee sheepishly. “Please. I was doing that in kindergarten. Wait until you see what I can do with a credit card.”
“I’m thinkin’ about what you coulda done with my report cards.”
They joined the group of tourists gathered in front of a guide, who was just getting started. “With one hundred and twenty miles of occupied shelving and twenty-nine reading rooms, the Bodleian Library is the UK’s second largest library. The largest is, of course, the British Library.”
“Aren’t they all British?” Link looked confused.
Floyd clapped a hand over his mouth. “Shut it.”
The guide ushered everyone up a narrow flight of stairs that spilled into a long room, filled floor to ceiling with books.
Link stared up at the painted panels that ran the length of the room, with dark wood beams stretching horizontally below them. The bookcases were made from the same wood, with round pillars dividing them, like the fancy bookcases in Ridley’s uncle’s study.