The Library (The Librarian of Alexandria Book 1) by Casey White (ebook reader 8 inch .TXT) 📗

“The arts is more than just pictures and paintings and tangible things, you know. It’s tradition. Festivals. Customs. Stories passed from mouth to mouth, carried through the generations.”

“That’s your kind of thing, is it?” Owl said. None of this seemed all that important, but then again, it was the most he’d heard the shy man say in one sitting since he’d arrived at Alexandria’s gates. If he wanted to talk about his research, Owl wasn’t going to stop him.

Will nodded, turning another page. He wasn’t at a great angle, but Owl could see ink-penned drawings lining the margins, adorning each title. “They’re all different,” Will murmured. “Each village...separated by mountains, or rivers, or just distance. They all have their own variations on the legends. And...if we’re not careful, they vanish. To fire, or flood, or sheer human idiocy.”

“Except in here.”

Will’s smile returned, more earnestly. “Except in here.” He sighed happily, closing the book. “If I can carry even a dream of that back with me, an echo...I’ll have done my part.”

Owl nodded. There was no reply to that. There were things in life even Alexandria couldn’t change, past a certain point.

Will’s eyes flicked up - and he flinched. “O-Oh,” he stammered. “Um. Thank you. Really. I’m so...so glad to have found these.”

“It’s no problem,” Owl said, his eyes widening. Keep it together, Will. We were getting somewhere. Hold on, before you-

“I-I shouldn’t take a-any more of your time,” Will said, shaking his head. “Thank you. So much. I-I’ll...I’ll be here. Reading these.” He smiled, but the expression was tight.

The moment was gone, Owl knew. He could probably coax Will back into a conversation - but they’d already made some damn good progress. If only the man would talk to him, instead of flinching at every shadow and holing up in the study like a hermit.

It was a little like training a cat, he thought with a wry chuckle. You figured out how much attention they were comfortable with, and then went with that - worked your way right up to their limit, without going over. Given time, he’d have gotten Will to hold a normal, human conversation with him. Probably.

But pushing him now wouldn’t help. Owl patted the cart one more time, taking a step back. “Right. I...I know we’re coming up on the tail end of your visit, so if you have anything else you need to make the trip a success-”

“T-Thanks,” Will said, still smiling weakly. “I’ll let you know. I appreciate it, Librarian.”

Back to titles, too? Owl drooped. “Right. Well...I should go find Olivia. It’s getting late, and-”

“I t-think she said she’d be out in the gallery again tonight,” Will said. His face might as well have been frozen entirely. “You know how she is.” The final point was accompanied by a tiny laugh.

He’d take what he could get. Owl backed away, nodding. “Right. Yup, I do.” God, did he ever. “I’ll be around, then.”

He heard one final, exhausted sigh from Will before he strode back out of the study. The doors swung shut behind him.

Indeed, he knew Olivia. The historian was like a one-woman hurricane, tearing through his Library without the slightest concern for whatever he was trying to do. He glanced to one of the braziers hanging from the wall, and groaned.

The flames were burning low. That was Alexandria’s good-night call for sure. He really, really would have preferred to not be chasing Olivia around the place. Leaving her by her lonesome out in the books was just even less preferable.

“Come on,” he mumbled. “You heard him. The gallery.”

He advanced, glancing up at the walls all the while. The Library sighed around him, shimmering faintly. He grinned. What, do you really want her out here alone all night?

A door creaked open alongside him. He chuckled. Didn’t think so.

Turning on his heel, he darted through the now-open portal. His eyes widened faintly.

A gallery, Will had said. Well, this was a gallery. Calling it by those mundane terms just didn’t do the half of explaining what the place amounted to. Marble pillars stood every dozen paces, rising to a vaulted ceiling. Brass and gilt hung from every light, from every stud in the walls. The whole place gleamed.

The pictures, though...they lined the wall to the point of vulgarity, pressed in one on top of the other. Are you showing off again? he whispered to Alexandria.

The floorboards grumbled under his feet - a no if ever he’d heard one. His brow furrowed. Alex...usually wasn’t this ostentatious. Okay, well, she was excessive. She’d be more than happy to dazzle and display her magical freedoms as she pleased. But normally she had more appreciation for presentation than this.

If this wasn’t Alexandria trying to show off for their guest, then...He picked his way through the packed-in paintings, craning his head from side to side.

“Olivia?” he called, raising his voice just a little as he passed an oil painting of a man and a dog. “You in here?”

A set of velvet curtains waggled at the wind of his passage, dust marring their deep crimson. He frowned, pausing. Silence. Nothing. Swallowing a curse, he plunged in deeper.

The next room was occupied by a massive fresco that stretched from wall to wall. He paused for a split second, smiling despite himself at the soothing, inviting waves of grass and grain and flowers. I’m okay, Alex. I’m not upset.

“Hey,” he called again, tearing his eyes off the mural. “Olivia. Come out. It’s late. Get your ass up and-”

“Shit,” someone muttered, low and soft and terse. He stopped - and leaned through the nearest doorway.

Olivia offered him a smile from her seat on the floor. He was pretty sure it was a smile, anyway. It looked as much like a grimace as anything. “H-Hey.”

“Hey,” Owl said, arching an eyebrow. He leaned against the frame. “Didn’t you hear me?”

“Didn’t you hear me respond?” she retorted.

“No. Just you swearing.”

Her nose wrinkled - but she looked away. Oh, she knew she’d been caught, then. Owl rested his head against