No. He came here to kill, and he would’ve been efficient about it.
Ace turned to an older man stooped over a cane. “Excuse me. Could you direct us to the library?”
The old man paused to look up at Ace, his blue gaze cloud and unfocused. He nodded and waved his gnarled hand at the town. “Do you see those spires?” His voice crackled as he spoke.
Sure enough, on the far side of town, twin spires rose above the thatched rooves.
“That’s where you’ll find the Book Hoard.”
“Book Hoard?” I asked. Apparently, I was lax in naming my bookshelves.
“The library,” he said.
“Why is it called the Book Hoard?”
The man shrugged. “Isn’t that what a library is? Do you see the spires or not?”
“We do,” Ace interrupted before I could ask who named the library, and whether they were looking for new friends.
“Thank you for your assistance.” Ace tugged me along.
The old man nodded and hobbled away as we headed in the direction of the spires.
At the ragged edge of the town, the cobbled streets of Vitor gave way to tangled thistle and weathered stone.
An old library rose from the weeds and shrubs like a memory refusing to be forgotten. Leaning slightly toward the hillside, battered but unbroken, the library’s silhouette was caught between the soft glow of twilight and the inky darkness of shadows. It took us three days to get here, but the journey was worth this sight alone.
Vines curled like inked script along the library’s exterior, threading through cracks along the stone. The heavy oak doors were stained with age but still held.
I stood in front of the doors, hand in hand with Ace and stared at the craggy wood.
“It’s just a library,” Ace whispered.
“It might not hold any answers,” I said.
“True.” He squeezed my hand. “But it will still be fun to bend you over a table of books.”
I bumped my shoulder into his.
He didn’t budge. Instead, he chuckled and reached forward to open the door. The hinges creaked loudly.
“Do you think that old man can be trusted?” I asked.
Ace looked down at me, his eyebrows dipping down. “What exactly are you picturing? The old man dropping his cane and running full speed through town to tell the Vitor leader there’s a strange couple in town who want to read books?”
I huffed and let go of his hand to step into the library. A heavy scent of stale air, dust and paper washed over me. “It’s probably a very unusual request.”
Inside the library, the light filtered through colourfully paned-windows, casting jewelled shadows to dance along the warped floorboards. The shelves sagged from the weight of books.
“People travel and ask questions all the time, Mouse,” Ace closed the door behind us. It creaked shut and with a thud.
Nearby, a reading table of solid oak stood in a cascade of moonlight. Ace probably already had plans for that particular furniture, but I was drawn to it for other reasons. I walked toward the table and ran my hand along its smooth, dust covered surface. Children had once sat here. Learners. Lovers. Widows. This place spoke of a time before the galeon-phaanon war. A time of knowledge and technology instead of magic and power.
“Where do we start?”
Ace eyed the table and lifted his eyebrows. A suggestive grin spread across his face. “I have a few ideas.”
“Focus, Wolfboy.” I turned toward the books. “We aren’t here to fulfill all your lurid fantasies.”
