Page 8 of Winter Queen
"And who do we have here?" someone asks, his voice rough from age.
I stand and turn around, facing an old man with the longest beard I've ever seen. It reaches beyond his belt, falling in white, smooth curls. If he wasn't thin and lanky, he could be the spitting image of how most children imagine Father Christmas.
Bright green eyes look at me through thick glasses, sitting precariously on the very tip of his nose. He's smiling at me and I immediately have a good feeling about him. It's an honest, true smile.
"Who are you?" I ask in return and his smile widens.
"Where are my manners! I'm the Librarian."
I frown. "Don't you have a real name?"
"I do, but it doesn't matter. I'm the Librarian, and that's all there is to it. Now, who are you, if you don't mind me asking?"
His smile is turning cheeky, as if he's playing with me.
"Wyn... ehm, Wynter. Where exactly am I?"
"Look around you. Isn't it obvious?"
I voice the suspicion I had since I woke up.
"Am I in the Library of Lives again?"
He gives me an approving nod. "You are indeed. Shall I give you the tour?"
I'm still looking around in wonder. For someone like me, this is paradise. The Palace Library is nothing compared to this.
"I've been in the Library of Lives before, but it looked very different. More... like an office."
He chuckles. "You were in the administration wing. This here is the heart of the Library, the place where everything comes together. Come, I'll show you."
He walks along the narrow corridor, expecting me to follow. Still a bit dazed, I hurry to keep up with his long strides. I'm breathing in the beautiful smell of old books and with every breath, my heart gets a little lighter. This place is amazing. A dream come true.
"The library is formed like a circle with twenty spokes. We're in the dark ages spoke just now, so let's go to something more modern. Although I love reading about the lives of some of the people back then," he says, looking wistfully at one of the books we pass.
"How many books are there?" I ask, having a hard time imagining that there are books from centuries ago.
The Librarian shrugs. "I've never counted, and new ones are added each day. Whenever a child is born, a new book is created. The Library makes space for them, and somehow, it lets us find what we need."
I let that sink in for a moment, before asking, "Does that mean every person has a book in here?"
"Didn't I just say that?"
"Yes, but... there are billions of people. How can all those books fit into one room, even one as large as this?"
He laughs. "You're thinking in human terms. Here, everything is possible. The Library isn't human, it's so much more than that. Every person who's ever lived has a book here, and they're all in this room. Tell me someone random and I'll prove it to you."
"Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart." No idea why I picked my favourite composer, but for this, I suppose he's as good as any.
We finally reach the end of the Dark Ages spoke and enter a circular space with a round table in the middle, surrounded by leather chairs. On the table are heaps of old-fashioned index cards, some of them scribbled on, others unused. Pens are lying all around, giving the impression that usually, people are working here.
The Librarian takes an empty card and writes Mozart with a flourishing script onto it. The writing glows silver for a moment, then a new line of text appears.
He notices me confused look and gives me a smile. "It saves us from having to search entire spokes. The Library tells us where to go. It's rather ingenious."
Without further explanation, he walks around the table and enters a new corridor of shelves, and I have to almost run to keep up with his large strides. It doesn't take long for him to stop and look at a dark mahogany shelf board. Just like all the others, it's bending under the weight of the books tightly stashed on top of it.
He glides a finger along the spines of the books until he finds the one he's looking for. It's a red tome, bound in thick leather.
