Many Are Called, Four Are Chosen

"This is too much," Eve said as Clara handed her a cup of Earl Grey.

"What, the tea?" Clara said, surprised.

"No, all this!" Eve exclaimed, gesturing wildly up at the vaulted ceiling. "Magic is real? A building sent me an envelope? I mean, come on!"

"You're only getting a taster of the madness," Clara said, resisting the urge to roll her eyes, "I've got ninjas after me."

"Ninjas?"

Clara nodded.

"It's not just that though, the magic, the sentient building, the... the ninjas," Eve said, warming to her theme, "I already have a job. I hunt terrorists. I took an oath to protect innocent people" -

- "To be a Guardian," Clara said, cutting across her. "It's just the same thing, isn't it?"

"There's only ever one Guardian in the whole world, Eve Baird," Judson said from behind them, making them turn around, "and the Library thinks it should be you."

"DO YOU MIND?" Flynn boomed from behind one of the boards. "I'm trying to solve a murder here."

Judson just shook his head at Clara, before fading into oblivion, making Eve splutter Earl Grey all over herself. Clara handed her a cloth before going over to where Flynn was, careful to keep a distance from him. Ever since she'd sat Eve down, making her a cup of tea, he'd become flamboyantly tetchy, casting Clara crippling glances designed to make her feel guilty over betraying him. But Flynn had a short memory. He hadn't wanted her here either, yet now he was expecting her to side with him against Eve, helping him expel her from the Library. But the Library had invited Eve here, so he didn't have a leg to stand on, least of all with Clara.

"Trying to solve a murder, hmm?" Clara said, raising an eyebrow. "How about a murder attempt?"

"What, you think I can't handle a homicide?" Flynn retorted.

"I'm thinking you're running before you can walk," Clara said, "which means by my book you're heading for a fall."

"Clarify, Clara."

"You can't even work out why these ninjas were trying to kill me," Clara clarified, "so what makes you think you can solve a murder?"

"What, the one in the foyer upstairs?" Eve asked as she came over to them.

"Yes," Flynn said curtly, "and good-bye!"

"So you're saying this Doctor Jonas Sheer" -

- "Shaieeeeerrrrr" -

- "Professor of Archaeology, with five PHDs was killed on your doorstep and you don't have a single lead?" Eve finished, her face disparaging.

"He has a lot of leads," Clara said, turning away, "but he doesn't know which one to follow. Before you came in, he was eeny, meeny, miny, moing it."

"Hey!" Flynn protested. "I have a plethora of possibilities! A cornucopia of clues! I just don't see how they all connect!"

"What painting is that?" Eve sudenly asked, pointing to a print-out pinned to the board.

"The Crown of King Arthur," Clara blurted out before she could stop herself.

At this outburst, Flynn just looked at her as if she'd suggested said they should burn down the Library with him locked inside.

"What!?" Clara demanded, flinging her hands up in front of her. "Don't look at me like that!"

"He was trying to show me something before he died," Flynn said, advancing on her, "and that was the something!"

"What, that piece of paper you were hiding from me?" Clara said, putting two and two together.

"You hide paper from each other?" Eve said, frowning.

"Yes, we do," Flynn said pettishly.

"Don't let me disturb your fun-time, then," Eve muttered, turning away from them.

"He was here," Clara said, returning to the subject at hand, "the man that got murdered, he was here."

"So?" Flynn said, shrugging his shoulders.

"How did he know about the Library?"

"I don't know," Flynn said, frowning, "it's one of the best kept secrets in the world."

"Think, big boy," Clara said, standing on tip-toe and tapping him on the nose, "how did he know?"

"He was very clever," Flynn said slowly.

Clara just shook her head, giving up.

"Is it possible you dropped one of your special glowing envelopes by mistake?" Eve said sarcastically. "That maybe he found it and like a fool, followed it here?"

"He was smart," Flynn said, his eyes becoming vague, "so smart that you sent him an envelope!?" he hollered at the ceiling, making Clara and Eve jump violently.

"The ceiling can't answer you," Eve pointed out, recovering herself.

"But the shelves can," Clara parried.

"The Ledger!" Flynn boomed. "The Ledger!"

~*~

"You. Are. Vexing," Flynn muttered as Eve fell into step beside him, vexing him even further.

"Oh, I like that word," Clara trilled, "vex, vexatious" -

- "It's my word, I own it," Flynn snapped, becoming distracted by the sway of her hips for a mad moment.

"You can't own a word," Clara protested.

"I can."

"Who cares? What the hell is the Ledger when it's at home?" Eve asked imperiously as Flynn flung himself at a bookcase, randomly pulling books out and scattering them on the floor.

"When a Librarian dies, the Library doesn't just send out one letter," Flynn explained, nearly getting knocked out by a hardback copy of The Essential Plato, "it sends out hundreds to qualified replacements all over the world, and invites them in for interview."

"Many are called, one is chosen," Eve said, not sounding the slightest bit impressed.

"Precisely," Flynn said, pulling out what looked like an old journal. He stared at its stained cover for a moment, before flipping it open and flicking through its pages, concentrating on the latter part of the Ledger.

"Professor Jonas Shaieeeeerrrrr," he intoned, glancing up at Clara and Eve with a glint in his eye, "with his five PHDs, he would certainly have been qualified."

"No shit, Sherlock," Clara said, crossing her arms over her chest.

"And no swearing in the Library!" Flynn admonished.

"Is he there?" Eve asked, snapping her fingers in front of Flynn's face, forcing him to focus. "Is he in this Ledger?"

"I'm checking, I'm checking," Flynn grumbled, glancing down at the pages again.

"How does the Ledger work?" Clara asked, curious. "Is it like an address book?"

"You have to sign in," Flynn said, his eyes scanning the page, Eve reading it over his shoulder," and yes he did. He's here. He said I wouldn't remember him, but he was here."

"I know this name," Eve said suddenly, snatching the Ledger out of his hands, "Dr. Abraham Thomas."

"Hmm, Professor of Physics, Doctor of Medicines," Flynn said, not really caring, "spoke four languages and hey, let's throw a party!"

"I met Dr. Thomas at a NATO conference for bio-weapons," Eve said, her voice growing distant, "he died in a car accident last month."

For the next few minutes, Flynn and Eve checked the list of names against the Internet on Eve's phone, all of them coming up dead in a variety of accidents, Clara beginning to get bored with watching them. Then Flynn froze, his eyes widening almost in horror, backing away from Eve who remained oblivious, too caught up in ticking off her Who's Who of deceased academics.

"Somebody's killing potential Librarians," Eve said slowly, "but not all of them, just these top-ranked, top dozen or so..." She stared at the Ledger page for a long moment before checking her phone again, brow furrowing. "There's four left on the list," she said, glancing up at Clara, "with no death notices."

"How?" Clara asked, stepping forwards, frowning at Flynn who was staring at her as though she'd suddenly sprouted another head.

"They didn't turn up for the interview," Eve said, "Ezekiel Jones, Cassandra Cillian, Jacob Stone and Clara Hartley" -

- "Excuse me?" Clara squeaked.

If the fury of the wind is unstoppable
I've learned to never underestimate
The impossible...