“They’ll send you candidates,” Jean whispered. He looked up. She smiled down at him. “The Booklenders. They’ll have their ears to the ground, looking for people whose research...could benefit, from a place like ours.”
“And that’s these people?” Daniel said, turning his eyes back to the page. A woman smiled up from the sheet at him, her picture pinned to the corner of the bio.
“Precisely.” Jean’s fingers brushed across the page, smoothing a wrinkle out. “You must watch them, Daniel. They’ll want to pick candidates that benefit them. Look carefully. Choose those who best deserve it, and no one else.” She chuckled. “And not too many at once. I’ve been the Librarian for decades, and I’m comfortable with more, but you shouldn’t rush into things. Two, perhaps three, for a while. No more than five at any time.”
“And no mages,” he said flashing her a grin. Something in him screamed to lighten the mood, to bring everything down just a little bit from the worrisome point it’d reached.
Jean chuckled, the corners of her eyes crinkling. “No mages.”
He laughed too, but the mention of their hunters sent his mind spinning off down a new, ominous road. “The people...” he began, then stopped.
Jean waited, tilting her head to one side, but he only made a face. “Spit it out,” she said.
“That’s...a lot of people,” he said, his eyes dropping. He wriggled lower in his chair, glancing to the stack of candidates. “Aren’t we supposed to be...secret? Isn’t...” Again, he trailed off, cringing under the look she gave him.
But she laughed again, beginning to nod. “Ah, it’s a good question, kid. Don’t worry. I said this place worked a little differently from out there, right? That we’re sleeping, in a way?”
She had said that. He bobbed his head in a nod, perking up.
“This is a sort of dream, then,” Jean said, leaning back. “And most people don’t remember their dreams when they wake up. Those who do?” She shrugged. “It’ll be a little blurry. Fogged. They’ll have their notes, Daniel, and their hazy memories, and the knowledge that something inside them...changed. Their horizons were opened.”
“O-Oh,” Daniel said.
“But that’s all,” she said, reaching out to squeeze his knee. “Besides. Even if they piece it all together, who could they tell?” Her smile twisted, turning sly. “Running around telling stories about magic libraries and people wearing bird masks would get them sent straight to the looney bin.”
“The...The l-looney bin?” Daniel squeaked, shaping his lips around the unfamiliar words. “What’s...uh. What’s that?”
The humor beginning to paint her face crumpled and faded, leaving her blank and cold again. “Ah,” she said. “Don’t...Don’t worry about it, Daniel.” Her eyelids drooped lower. “You’ll see it all soon. It’ll make more sense. Soon.”
“...Okay,” he said, shifting in his seat. It didn’t make sense. He wanted her to explain - but she didn’t like it when he argued or pushed for an answer. And he didn’t want to make her angry. Not when she looked like a strong wind might blow her over.
“It’ll be fine,” she said, forcing her smile back into face. “That’s the important part. The Library will look after you.”
“Y-Yeah,” he said, but squeaked as she stood in a rush, abandoning her chair and crossing to him. Her hand latched about his shoulder.
“Remember that much,” she said, her eyes intense. “Alexandria will look after you. She’ll protect you. You’re hers, as much as she belongs to you now.”
“I know,” he whispered.
Her fingers clenched against his jacket. “Trust her. Even when it’s hard.”
“I will.” This was wrong. This was all wrong. Her words...there was a finality to them he didn’t like, a difference between this lesson and all her others.
She seemed to realize it, too, coming back to herself in the blink of an eye. She stood, turning to the table between them, and crouched. A wire rack lay underneath it - one Daniel had never given a second look. The Library was full of trinkets and artifacts, relics from a distant age.
But Jean stood, cradling a box in her hand. Glancing up to make sure he was watching, she held it up - and then wrapped her skeletal fingers about the lid, cracking it open.
A stamp lay within, neatly tucked on top of a varnished case. She put it down on the table, then, reaching inside and pulling both free.
“It’s simple,” she said, raising the stamp for it to see. He recognized the symbol on it - he’d seen it scattered about Alexandria, from engravings on the mantleplace to paintings in the hallways.
And he’d seen it hanging around his neck. Slowly, hardly daring to move, he lifted a hand, pressing against the front of his jacket. The metallic weight of his pendant waited there - his pendant, and Jean’s.
She chuckled. He looked up - and found her looking back at him. “Keep that hidden,” she said, her voice low. “You don’t have to show it at all, if you don’t want. I wouldn’t, if I was you.” Her eyes lidded again, and she shook her head sadly. “Ahh, well. That was to be a trick for another day. Hide it - that’s all you need to know, kid.”
Hide it? Could...could he do something like that? Daniel bit his lip, closing his eyes. Jean said he could - and she’d never lied to him before. If she said so, then-
The pressure against his chest vibrated faintly - and then vanished. His hand pushed in, meeting only smooth leather and skin. He jumped, eyes going round, and started to smile nervously.
“See? It’s easy,” Jean said, then waved the stamp again. “You guessed it, though. This is connected to the Library too. It’s real straightforward.”
She teetered on her heels, as though about to fall over at any moment, but reached back toward the folder and snagged a page.
“You’ll review the candidates,” she said, hanging the page in
