Page 3 of Must Love Libraries and Libations
I gave him a knowing look.
He narrowed his gaze at me in annoyance, took the candy anyway, then scampered away and up into the great Wyrmwood tree that sat proudly at the heart of the library. Miscreant. He was always begging for food. I would need to ask the librarians to put out a sign telling the patrons not to feed him.
At the top of the tree, the other bookwyrms roosted, either reading or dozing. I saw Merlin lying on his back, a scroll rolled out before him. He’d used magic to make it hover in the air above him in just the right reading position.
Turning from the tree, my eyes went to the workers. Izelda and Tomas were at the circulation desk speaking to patrons. Aggie stood not far from me, opposite a patron who was asking her, in a rather dramatic tone, about a spellbook.
“It’s specific to lightning,” the man told her, frustration growing in his voice. “I’ve looked everywhere. It has a blue cover, silver embossing.”
“We should look in the weather magic section,” Aggie suggested in her usual flat tone. Aggie was a smart woman with a good mind for magical entomology. But mostly, I liked that she was quiet. Some might even call her dull—dull toned, dull personality, dull manner of dressing. But I preferred her to the others. Izelda, the head librarian, laughed too loudly and too often for my liking. Tomas always wanted to joke about everything. Blessedly, Aggie never did that, even if she occasionally shared random bug facts.
“I already told you,” the wizard replied, exasperated. “I’ve looked at every tome in that section. The library has simply misshelved the book.”
“My library does not misclassify books,” I said sharply. “It’s removed for repair.”
Beside me, the stacks let out a low humph in righteous indignation.
At the sound of my voice, the wizard jumped and then turned.
“Guardian,” he said, gasping in surprise.
“Guardian,” Aggie greeted me.
I inclined my head to her, then turned to the wizard. “The stitching is frayed. I will return it to the stacks within a week.”
“Oh. Well. I see. I… Thank you, Guardian,” the man replied, looking unnerved. Not saying anything else, he turned to leave but paused when I spoke again.
“I trust you will not accuse my library or its librarians of mishandling books again, will you, Wizard Libebe?” I asked, holding his gaze with my golden eyes, ensuring my point came across very clearly.
“No. No, of course not. Right. Right. My apologies to all,” the wizard said, then turned and hurried away.
I frowned in his wake, then turned to Aggie. “Have you seen Hawthorne or Louisa May?” I asked, referring to a pair of bookwyrms who had been unusually frenetic these past few days.
“Upstairs,” she said, pointing to the balcony lofts overhead. “Magical repairs.”
“Thank you.”
Aggie nodded to me, then drifted off to attend to other business while I headed upstairs. When I reached the second floor, I held on to the rail and looked over the library. How much was the same, but I still saw the subtle passages of time…changes in the clothing of the patrons, the way the head librarians reorganized the work area, statues and paintings that had come and gone. Aside from the witch and occasional know-it-all patrons, Moonshine Hollow was a peaceful place, even if there were far more people, taverns, and noise than ever. Turning, I made my way to the magical repairs section of the library, where I found Hawthorne and Louisa May rooting around. Louisa May was deep in the stacks behind the books, but I saw a flash of her golden scales. Hawthorne, however, was perched on the very top of the shelves, looking into the storage nooks and crannies. His sapphire-colored scales glimmered in the mid-morning sunlight.
I watched them for a time, my mind considering.
“And what are we doing?” I asked, causing both of them to pause their efforts and turn to me.
Hawthorne looked me over, decided whatever he was doing was more important, then went back to rooting.
Louisa May, however, slipped off the shelves. Bookwyrms were the size of and had the agility of cats, even if they were small dragons. While wingless, their magic allowed them to fly, giving them the ability to be quick and slippery, often a bad combination when they were up to no good. Louisa May, however, was perpetually sweet. Flying to me, she landed on my shoulder and then nuzzled my chin.
“I think you are brooding,” I told her. “Am I right?”
Louisa May trilled happily in reply.
“I see. Looking for a place to nest. If I can be of assistance, you must let me know.”
The bookwyrm clicked to me, gave me a nuzzle once more, then returned to her hunt.
“The tree really is the safest place, my friends,” I told them.
Hawthorne clicked at me in disagreement.
