Daniel’s eyes widened - and despite himself, he realized he was smiling. “So, the Library will-”
“It’s nothing so amusing.” Jean’s reply cracked between them like a whip, wiping the smile from his face. She straightened, going serious again. “Magical storms are dangerous, Daniel. They’re unpredictable, and the unwary can get out of their depth quickly. Remember - as Librarians, our first duty is to our guests.” She held up a finger, waggling it at him. “No harm shall come to guests that walk these halls. Ever.”
A finality rang out under her words, like they carried weight far beyond their syllables. Daniel inched back, his brow furrowing.
Jean’s hand dropped back down to her side. Lifting her head, she turned back to the hallway. “Come on, then.”
He pushed off, following in her wake, but his thoughts raced still.
One step passed by underfoot.
Another.
“Jean?”
She threw her head back, slowing again. “What is it?”
“What guests?”
Again, Jean stopped dead in her tracks. She turned, twisting to look back down the hallway at him.
Daniel fidgeted in place, twining his fingers together. “I-I mean, it’s just us, right? Do you mean like that man? The dreamer?”
She pursed her lips, inspecting him from bottom to top, but didn’t say a word.
He shrank back under the power of that glare. “...Jean?”
Whatever mental battle she’d been undertaking, she seemed to find her answer. Her hands slackened, going loose at her sides. “Never mind the practice,” she said, looking away at last.
He hadn’t expected that. “W-What?”
“You heard me,” she said, a bit of her wry humor returning. “I’ve got other matters to attend to. I’ve just remembered. Empty the stock cart instead.”
His mouth dropped open. Other matters? That was a lie - and even if he didn’t want to go practice the Library’s magic, he wanted to truck books around the wings even less. “But that’s boring.”
“Come find me after,” Jean said, turning away and giving a jaunty wave over her shoulder. “I’ll have something else for you to do by then.”
Within moments, she’d vanished deeper into the Library.
Daniel groaned, his shoulders slumping.
Spinning on his heel, he trudged back toward the Library’s grand entrance.
* * * * *
One more. Just one more. Daniel stretched his arm out, wishing it was longer. Wishing he was bigger. Jean kept saying he’d grow, but when?
His fingers slapped down on rough-bound leather of another tome. With a cry of victory, he pulled it from the wooden cart, stacking it onto the heap he already carried.
Loaded high enough he could barely see over the top, he wobbled deeper into the wings.
Light filtered in from overhead. He glanced up. More stained glass - this time, with a high, airy ceiling. A smile spread across his lips.
Unload the cart, Jean said. He pulled the books closer, heaving them a little higher. Alexandria was magic. She’d told him that all along. Why did he have to re-shelve everything, then?
He already knew the answer, of course - she’d told him that, too. If the books in the Library were the sum of human knowledge, like Jean always said, then more and more books would constantly arrive.
Stumbling onward another step, he leaned over far enough to peer down the hallway.
Across the way, one of the massive wooden doorways creaked open.
Daniel’s heart leapt. It was close, then. He wouldn’t have to carry the books far. The books were always thrown around at random - sometimes, he’d find a room perfectly laid out for him to study Latin, or Greek. Sometimes, it was no more organized than with the dreamer. But each time, something would step in, nudging him toward a shelf with an empty slot or a stack that could go just a little higher. Little things, barely noticed unless you were watching. Which he was.
Jean had laughed, when he’d told her about it the first time. “Nosy old broad,” she’d said, slapping the desk in front of her. “She just likes to make you tend to her, kid. She wants to be coddled and groomed, just like any other lady. Play nice, and keep her happy.”
Keep her happy, eh? Daniel twisted, putting his back to the door, and pushed his way into the marble-walled storehouse within. There. A desk sat along the side of the room, somehow empty despite the books stacked on every other inch. He couldn’t hurry over fast enough, letting his burden tumble free.
The sigh he let out was exhausted, but satisfied. He rubbed his hand down one arm, trying to massage a bit of life back into it.
Something flashed across his vision - a flicker of light from overhead, shining through the stained glass as though a cloud had passed over the sun. He paused, taken aback, and watched the colors flicker.
Play nice. Grinning, the boy scampered forward, facing that light for a moment. “You’re welcome!” he called.
His voice echoed back at him from a dozen directions, bouncing around the lofty room. The twinkle of light flashed once more, then faded.
The door waited, beckoning him. With a final giggle, he whirled toward it and dashed back into the maze of hallways beyond.
* * * * *
When he burst through the final doors, he found Jean waiting for him. He’d expected her usual spot, the overstuffed chairs in front of the fireplace. Instead, she leaned against the wall, right alongside another set of doors. Chips of paint peeled off them, falling free to dust the ground with grey and white.
She looked...old. Tired. The lines between her eyes had deepened, and he’d never seen her looking quite so downcast.
But she lifted herself enough to arch an eyebrow as he skidded to a stop. “Well?
“All done,” he said, beaming up at her. “Said I would.”
“Good,” she said, her expression softening. “I know you did.”
She held something, he realized - something smooth and curved, painted with rich browns and blacks. It hung at her side, clutched loosely between her fingers. He’d never seen anything like it before.
Sidling closer, he
