Slowly, he tilted his head to the side, looking at his hand. He pressed his fingers into the dirt, savoring the feeling of the grit and grime and stone. It all felt real enough.
But Jean had never lied to him before.
“It could be that long, yes,” Crow said, her words growing more serious by the moment. “That’s...”
Her shoulders slumped incrementally. “That’s our job as Librarians, kid,” she murmured. “It’s what we do. And it’s hard, sometimes. But you’ll never be alone. You’ll have the Library, and its guests, and the dreamers.”
And you, he whispered silently. I’ll have you here too. But his lips wouldn’t shape the words. His lungs wouldn’t push them out. It was too much. Too much information, too many questions. He couldn’t begin to give them voice.
Crow cleared her throat, straightening. “It’s not so hard, Daniel,” she said softly. His skin shivered at the sound of his name, the forbidden word. “And when you do get to leave Alexandria? Those days when the last guest clears out, and the Library is empty at last?”
Her hand inched closer to his, wrapping around his fingers. “Enjoy it,” she whispered. “Make it count. Get out there and feel the sun on your face.”
“I don’t-”
“One more time,” he heard her murmur, even softer than before. “Just...one more time, I’d like to-”
“Jean?” he said, his fear rising. He wasn’t supposed to say her name. He really wasn’t supposed to say her name. But she’d said his, and they were alone in the practice yard, and-
She stiffened, her head lifting like he’d struck her. Just like that, whatever fugue had settled over her vanished. In a flash, she stood. “You know better than that,” she said, stooping down to smack his leg lightly. “Anyway. That’s a trouble for the future. Right now, you need to be stronger.”
“I know,” he said, scrambling to get himself off the ground. “I’m trying.”
“The Librarian has to be strong,” Crow said, raising a finger.
He rolled his eyes, knowing she’d never see. He’d heard it all before. “For the first rule of the Library.”
“Exactly,” she said, still holding that finger there. “Never allow any harm to come to our guests. If someone gives you trouble? You have to be strong enough to handle it without hurting them, Owl.”
“Even someone like that asshole Bill?” Owl said, frowning.
She laughed, then. “Even someone like him. They’re still guests. And when we’re so strong, there’s no excuse. We’re the peacekeepers. That doesn’t stop when they’re mean.”
Fine. He wasn’t happy with what she said, but he knew she was right. Slowly, begrudgingly, he nodded.
“Good.” Her hand slapped across the back of his shoulders lightly, driving him forward a half-step. “Now, get back out there. We’re wasting time. Chop chop!”
Her hand came up, curling toward her chest, and the air crackled ominously.
Knowing the start to a new match when he saw it, Owl ran. His mind raced, filled with plans - attacks, and defenses, and counterattacks. This time, he’d win.
But not even that could wipe away the feeling of dread simmering in his gut.
- Chapter Six -
Owl trotted past desk after desk, his eyes alight behind his mask.
No one looked up at him. No one chuckled, or scoffed, or shot a derisive glance his way. Each of them was a busy scholar with plans of their own, after all - plans he’d grown familiar with over the weeks since they’d started to filter in.
He knew each of them, too. Timothy sat on the end, his nose buried in the chemistry text Owl had pulled for him not half an hour before. It’d help him break through whatever process he was trying to perfect, Owl was sure. Ben occupied the table behind him, the entire surface filled with scrawlings of mathematics Owl couldn’t begin to understand even with his growing education.
All of them was here for a reason - and it was him who got to make their dreams come true.
Somewhere along the line, Owl had realized he liked that. It was good to be able to help, to contribute to something bigger than just himself. It was even better to do so without being laughed at or harassed.
The paper he held was still damp with ink, carefully penned moments before. He eyed it, letting his gaze trace over each letter and word. If he’d made a mistake...if he’d transcribed even a single line wrong-
No. He banished the thought, setting his jaw stubbornly. He understood. And he hadn’t messed up.
Marv sat all the way in the back corner, pulling and teasing at what had to be the last strand of silver hair left on the old man’s head. He looked up at Owl’s approach, his expression brightening. “Ah, lad. Good. I was hoping you might-”
“Here,” Owl said, breathless, and thrust the sheet toward him. “The journal entry you were struggling with.”
Marv’s brow furrowed, his eyes tensing. They widened as he reached out to take the paper, inspecting the words written there. “This...Did you-”
“I translated it for you,” Owl said, resisting the urge to bounce on his heels. “It wasn’t that hard. It was just written in a local variant. A regional dialect, kind of. Once I saw that, I just needed to find something to compare between them and-”
“Are you telling me you can read all this?” Marv said, his hands quivering gently.
Owl blinked, taken aback by the confusion and befuddled awe building in the older man’s eyes. “I...It’s just a different language,” he mumbled, feeling his cheeks flush.
“Lord in heaven, child, I’ve been studying this tongue for three decades, and I couldn’t begin to-”
“I’m a quick study,” Owl said, flashing the man a smile he knew would remain hidden. And he was a fast learner, when it came right down to it. It just so happened that he had a few tricks to help him out - like being able to access dictionaries for long-dead languages, and bring lost information to his fingertips.
The confusion in Marv’s face didn’t fade, though,
