With that, the Centaur galloped silently down the length of the shelves and turned the corner at a sign that Maria thought was in Elvish and didn’t understand, though it depicted tables and chairs—it was probably where one went to read in peace.
Another strange thought crossed her mind: How will the Centaur get the book back up there without the help of the Gnomes?
Will he just leave it on the table, and the Gnomes will put it up themselves? Gramps had mentioned something about Gnomes’ secret magic and their ropes and harnesses, but that seemed like a lot of work. Maybe they can levitate it up there? Whatever. It isn’t important. What was important was how frightened her grandfather, whom she had never seen this frightened, looked.
“Gramps?”
“Yes, my dear Maria?” His voice was paper-thin.
“Ves Ielan can’t be that bad, can it? I mean, I’ve seen you walk through the North Side of Akron without so much as batting an eye.”
“Oh, Maria,” he wheezed, “the North Side of Akron is a fairytale land compared to Ves Ielan.”
“I don’t believe that. The North Side is pretty bad.”
Gramps just shook his head.
“Come, Maria, we will discuss these matters outside of the castle.”
He went the opposite direction the Centaur had gone, and Maria followed.
As the stairs began to manifest out of thin air, Maria looked back and realized Sherlock was nowhere in sight.
“Go ahead, Gramps. I gotta find Sherlock.”
“That dratted dog. Sometimes I wonder why I didn’t just get a cat. It’s more fitting for a wizard, wouldn’t you say?” He paused and looked like he couldn’t help but smile. “Who am I kidding? Sherlock is much better than a cat. A little high-strung for his age, but at least he doesn’t cough up hairballs and claw the furniture, am I right?”
Maria was already halfway back into the library. A few Gnomes gave her a dirty look. She thought about flipping them the bird, but ultimately decided against it. They wouldn’t know what it meant, not here on Oriceran.
The Gnomes! The thought came into her head like a meteor hurtling straight for Earth. Follow the Gnomes!
Sure enough, as Maria got deeper into the library, the place shimmering while it came out of whatever invisibility spell it was currently under, Maria saw what looked like an Oriceran version of a circulation desk. It was much larger than any she’d ever seen on Earth; so wide that about twenty Gnomes were manning it—Or Gnoming it. A handful of the Gnomes had gathered at one section of the large circle. Their arms were up; some held books and were swatting. Others just shook balled fists at the foreign creature currently on top of the counter.
That creature, of course, was Sherlock. He was growling and barking at the Gnomes.
“Sherlock!” Maria shouted.
But she was too late. He’d said he had to pee, and apparently, he’d meant it. He lifted his leg, and a stream of yellow splashed a few unfortunate Gnomes’ bowler hats and infuriated flowers.
Look, Maria! I’m doing it! They can take my balls, but they can’t take my animalistic instincts!
Maria sprinted over and tackled him off of the desk before he could drown the poor Gnomes with his urine. Somehow, she managed to get only a couple drops on her jeans. If Sherlock had pissed on the music box, she would’ve been as infuriated as the flowers atop the Gnomes’ bowler hats.
Sherlock was quick to get to his feet, much quicker than normal, but Maria was on him, grabbing his collar and guiding him out of the library.
“I’m sorry!” she shouted. “So sorry!”
“BANNED!” one of the Gnomes shouted back. His hat was off and in his hand. He shook it, and drops of yellow liquid went in all directions.
“I mean it! We’re sorry!”
I’m not sorry. God, I feel liberated! I feel like a puppy again.
“You’re acting like a puppy, Sherlock. I’m disappointed.”
Eh, it’s better than me killing a Gnome, right? Pee washes off, but death is forever, as a wise man once said.
“I don’t know any wise men who’ve said anything remotely close to that. Good try.”
Cries of “BANNED! BANNED!” followed them all the way out of the library and to the steps.
“I honestly don’t know if I want to come back to a library where little creatures with beaks big enough to swallow my hand whole are hiding in their shelves,” Maria said.
And I don’t think I want to come back to a place where pissing on Gnomes only pisses them off. Mary’s Gnome across the street doesn’t care when I pee on him, you know? Sherlock said.
“Well, Sherlock, you and I both know that Mary’s Gnome is an inanimate object.”
So are dead squirrels, he argued.
“I don’t…really know what to say. I guess you’re right; technically, a dead squirrel is not a moving squirrel, but it’s disrespectful, man!”
Kind of like peeing on real Gnomes is disrespectful?
Maria nodded. “Now you are getting it, my canine friend. Though, I think you’ve known that for a long time. You’re not that stupid.”
Sherlock stuck his tongue out then said, You know what they say: stupid dog, stupid owners.
“Real nice, but I don’t think they say that too often. Again, good try.”
Gramps was waiting for them on a middle step that looked to be suspended in midair. “I see you found him.”
And I feel so much better! Still gotta empty the rest of my bladder, but that little bit I let out freed me up. In fact, I’m kind of thirsty now.
“Oh, c’mon, Sherlock, save it for when we get outside.”
I don’t know if I can. Are there any Gnomes around? Sherlock looked back up the steps, and Maria followed his gaze, but there were no Gnomes in sight, none
