“No, it’s incredible,” I breathed, still taking in the full scope of the space.
“Oh?” He looked around, eyes narrowed, as though trying to see what I was.
“May I?”
“Please.” He gestured with his hand, and I stepped forward, pressing the original saw symbol again. Once I heard the click, I threw the door open wide and walked in, awed by the neat stacks of lumber in all sizes and wood varieties off to one side of the room, the smell of it rich and earthy in my nose.
Tap followed behind me, a silent shadow as I moved from one thing to the next. I started at the woodworking tables, running my finger over the vices attached to the sides, poking at the variety of saws and carving tools scattered across the surfaces. There was a small puzzle box on one, along with several flat panels of wood with intricate notching to one side.
“Did you make the chairs in the kitchen?”
Tap blinked, startled by my question. “I did. How did you?—”
“They all complement one another as well as the table, but they don’t match. Similar wood, but different styles. Seems like something that might happen if they were made one at a time with a gap in between.”
He inclined his head as though congratulating me for solving a riddle.
“Can I see another?”
“Of course.”
We stepped into the hallway, and I chose the paintbrush, following the order he’d started with.
Heavy cloths were laid across the floor and covered in splatters of color. They muffled my steps as I walked from one easel to the next, looking at the partially finished paintings. Canvases, finished and blank, were stacked in dozens against the wall, empty frames in piles next to them. Cups full of brushes and endless tubes of paint lay strewn across two large, worn tabletops. One easel held a portrait in progress, a family, it looked like. One of them definitely resembled Seir. Some of the faces were complete but most were nothing more than a vague bodily outline.
We went back out, and I pressed several other symbols, looking over the room as it changed each time with wonder. He had a workshop for small metalworks and jewelry making, a room dedicated to embroidery and needlework, along with a full-size loom and dress form with a half-finished suit jacket on it. There was one with a potter’s wheel and kiln, another with a cauldron for wax and a rod with candlewicks ready to be dipped. Any craft one could want to practice, he had a room and all the tools required for it. They were dusty, but as many hours as he spent in the hall plus the little-to-no sleep he got, I could understand why. There simply was no time for him to do any, let aloneallof these things.
Finally, we went back out, and he smiled at me as he pressed the symbol that looked like a book.
“I believe this one is what you originally asked for,” he said, gesturing with his arm for me to enter first.
The library included a cozy sitting area with chairs and a sofa around a low table, all facing a fireplace. The hearth was cold and swept clean, a clear indication nobody had been in here in quite some time.
He crossed to the shelves with a tense expression and began pulling things off from several different shelves. “I’ll just… make some space. Some of these can go elsewhere.”
“Are fires even necessary here?” The question was out of my mouth before I had time to consider censoring it.
Tap huffed a low laugh as the stack in his arms grew taller. “No. The temperature can be altered other ways, but they do bring a certain comfort, wouldn’t you say?”
“Where does the smoke go?”
“Away.” He shrugged, carrying his stack over to the wall and setting them down before returning for more. I tried to see what he was taking, but none of the spines were facing out. “Don’t concern yourself overmuch with details like that, Phin. The workings of this place are complex but also very simple. I’ve shaped the living space as rooms because it’s what I’m used to, what makes me most comfortable. They didn’t always look like this, either, but that’s neither here nor there. The fireplaces and stove burn wood, the smoke goes up a chimney. The water in the faucets is either hot or cold depending on which handle you turn because that’s how it should be, and it drains away when you let out the stopper. Nothing has to be more complicated than that. The workshops can only be visited one at a time, unless you’d like for me to put the rooms side by side down the hall, then they can all exist at once. Both things can be true. If you need more space, a ceiling… I can requisition such a change, or perhaps do the enchantment myself.”
“So it’s… magic.” No other word felt as right as that one for what he was describing.
His smile was soft as he nodded. “As you say. Perhaps it is.” He set down the rest of the books he’d pulled down, the stacks not insignificant, but he hadn’t made a dent in the overall collection.
“But you still need supplies?”
“Yes. Food and other expendables need to be brought in. All the tools here were acquired over time as well. But shopping is far more convenient than it otherwise could be, given I have access to infinite portals.”
There was no arguing that.
I went to the shelves, finding that the private book collection he claimed was small was in fact quite substantial… and just as disorganized as he’d said. There were endless hours of reading material here, of all kinds, mixed together in piles and groups that made no logical sense. But I could fix that. I absolutelyneededto fix that.
Seated on a heavy rug next to the library was a stout writing desk, and atop it at least a dozen different quills and inkpots, parchment sheets, and drying powder.
“This is all truly stunning.”
