“Yes. I … I’m not sure what it was about,” I lied.
“These are troubled times in Virelith, my dear,” he said. “Pardon me, but I do not think you are originally from Quell? Are you a visitor here?”
“Yes, I … I arrived yesterday.”
“I am sorry that you have come at a time of such great upheaval, my dear. They really aren’t the best circumstances for sightseeing.”
“I was … actually coming to find you,” I said. “I am looking for a book.”
The words came out without my planning them. I had intended first to tell him about Mother, ask about the letters they had exchanged, but perhaps my instinct to keep that to myself for now was correct. I described the book as best I could while he listened.
“Ah! I had a feeling you were seeking a particular volume,” said the Book Man. “You develop a sense for these things, if you’ve been doing this as long as I have. There’s a certain look to someone searching for a book—a kind of madness in the eyes. A twitch to the nose.” His mouth quirked in a smile.
“I have this …”
I fished in my pocket and handed him the letter of introduction from the man at the market. He pushed his spectacles higher up his nose.
“The seal is broken,” he observed.
“I asked someone to read it to me.”
“Ah.”
He did not ask me yet why I sought a book so urgently if I were unable to read its contents, for which I was grateful. He read the letter with not a flicker in his expression, then put it to the side.
I leaned forward, my voice low and urgent. “I was told that you can find any book, anywhere.”
“I’m honored.” He bowed slightly in his chair. “That is my reputation.”
“There is one I absolutely have to find. I have little to give you for it,” I added. “But I can work. I can do whatever you want …”
“Whatever I want?”
I hesitated, thinking of what this might imply. He didn’t seem the type, but …
“Well,” I amended, “within reason.”
He seemed to read my mind. “I am not proposing anything … improper,” he said. “I find myself in a charitable mood and in need of help in the shop—and your rather precipitous arrival on the scene seems like a stroke of good luck. You know the Temple stitches, it says here? You must be a skilled needlewoman.”
“Apparently. That is, I didn’t know they were the Temple stitches. But yes.”
He smiled. “Then work here for a time. For me. I will look for your book, to the best of my ability and … er, I think ‘within reason’ were the exact words you used. You will have food, and a bath, and a place to sleep, if you do not mind bedding down among the books.”
I hesitated, then nodded. “And what about Baldbeak?”
“Bald …? Oh, your raven!” He pushed up his glasses and gazed at Baldbeak, who was busy cleaning between his toes.
“How odd,” he said. “He shouldn’t have been able to get in here at all. The wards are most specific about keeping out all animal life.”
“Yes, they never seem to work on him,” I said. “I don’t know why.”
“They don’t work on the spiders, either,” he sighed.
“Yes, Mo—” I cut myself off before I could tell him that Mother always said the same thing.
Baldbeak hopped from my shoulder, sidled along the chair’s arm and looked at the Book Man sidelong, then made a chirruping sound. He could be very charming when he wanted to be.
“Oh, I think he wants my biscuit,” said the Book Man, who had been just about to take a bite out of one in his hand. “Here you are, my friend.” He broke off a corner and gave it to Baldbeak, who handled it expertly, holding it in one claw while he nibbled its edges. The Book Man chuckled.
