After receiving a list of books from the little Agurri girl, Timothy began to make his way towards the school’s library, which was situated on the north side of the inner keep, just beneath the great hall. There was a flight of stares at the back of the hall which lead down to a small landing between two doors.
The one on the left – a plain, sturdy, solid oak piece – lead to the armory with its countless rows of polished weapons. The one on the right, by contrast, was a dark wood, mysteriously carved in the same manner as the buttresses in the dining hall. Timothy opened this door and stepped into the library.
He was greeted by the quiet hum of various groups of students studying at tables or ranged across the floor between the ancient bookshelves.
“Greetings, young master Timothy,” the librarian said to him from behind an oversized desk. Mr. Barbacker was every inch a keeper of books. He was a short man with a thin, grey head of hair and a ridiculously oversized grey beard, which he always complemented by wearing a long, brown, velvet scholar’s gown.
Timothy turned to acknowledge the librarian’s greeting and saw that he had been in conversation with Seyanna, who was sitting on a wooden stool by his desk.
“Is there anything that I can help you with?” Mr. Barbacker asked in his raspy voice.
Timothy mused. “Actually,” he began, “Do you have any extra copies of A Warrior’s Manual on hand?”
Mr. Barbacker raised an eyebrow. “What do you need that book for?” he asked. “You’re far beyond that level.”
“Well…” Timothy stammered.
“Wait,” Seyanna interjected, looking at him strangely. “Are you getting the book for her?”
Timothy was about to reply when a large, black tabby suddenly jumped up onto Mr. Barbacker’s desk.
“Taylor!” Seyanna cried with delight. The cat purred and turned appreciatively toward her hand. “I was wondering where you had gone.”
Timothy was glad for the interruption.
“Well,” Mr. Barbacker finally said, looking a little confused. “If somebody needs the book, I’d best show you where I keep them.”
The old librarian heaved himself out of his chair and began to shuffle toward the back of the library with Timothy in tow. Seyanna got up as well, and went with them, continuing her conversation with Mr. Barbacker.
“So, you haven’t answered my question, Sir,” she said, smiling.
Mr. Barbacker smiled back. “No, I cannot say that I ever have been to Norland, although I hear that it is a beautiful country,” he replied. “But I expect that you visited my home in Jadeih when you traveled with your father.”
“When I was six, I think,” Seyanna continued. “But that was so long ago. Taylor wasn’t even born then.”
Taylor, who had leaped down from his perch on the desk and was following them through the bookshelves, mewed in protest.
“Sorry, but it’s true,” Seyanna said, looking back at her cat.
After walking through several isles of bookshelves, they arrived at a door in the back of the library’s main room. Mr. Barbacker fumbled in his pockets for a moment before producing an old, iron key.
“This,” he explained, “is the back room. I use it for storage, as well as to keep my more valuable manuscripts safe from marauding students.”
Mr. Barbacker inserted the key into the door and twisted until an echoing click was heard. As the door opened, Timothy became aware of a musty, bookish smell more pronounced then that of the general library. They stepped slowly into the dark room, feeling their way through stacks of books until Mr. Barbacker lit a candle, holding it up as he glanced around.
“There is a lamp in here somewhere,” he muttered, stroking his beard.
The flickering light of the candle cast itself strangely about, illuminating a forest of random stacks of books and deep shadows. The walls were ranged with wooden bookshelves, all filled with a number of dusty volumes and ancient histories; relics that the librarian regarded as precious. Timothy, who had never been in the room before, found his attention drawn to the back wall, a part of which was visible through the books. He could see a portion of a large mural carved into the smooth granite stone.
Picking his way through the books, Timothy walked slowly over to the wall and rested his hand on it, squinting as he examined it in the poor light. It was very much like the carvings in the dining hall and on the library door; it showed scenes of ancient, every day life. There were farmers and fields, smithies, marketplaces, hunters and forests, and even a group of children playing in a village square. But the feature of the carving which had attracted him was a large creature resembling a winged lion that was walking down a road beside a man as if the two were in conversation.
“Ah, here it is,” Mr. Barbacker said, interrupting Timothy’s thoughts. Triumphantly, he held up a lamp and lit its wick with his candle. “Now,” he continued, “I believe I put those books over here somewhere.”
While the librarian began his search, Seyanna walked carefully over to where Timothy was standing.
“It’s beautiful,” she said.
“Just like the carvings in the dining hall,” Timothy mused.
“No, I meant the creature,” she replied. She seemed to be looking at it as if she had seen it before.
“Oh,” Timothy said.
Mr. Barbacker, who had found Timothy’s book, walked up behind them.
“It is also evil,” he said, holding up the lamp to illuminate it.
“What it is?” Timothy asked.
“It’s called, um…” Mr. Barbacker said, scratching his head.
“A Druvian,” Seyanna said quietly.
“Yes,” The librarian continued. “A Druvian. A sort of mythical race from the forbidden stories of the Bards.”
“I don’t understand,” Timothy said. “Why would such a thing be carved here?”
“This fortress has not always been a school, you know,” Mr. Barbacker replied, eyeing the carving. “No one knows who the original builder was.”
The three of them stood there for a moment in silence. Finally, Taylor, who had been exploring the shelves, hopped up onto a nearby stack of books.
“Meow,” he said, questioningly.
Wordlessly, Seyanna picked him up and held him to her cheek. When Timothy glanced sideways at her, she seemed to looking at the Druvian with eyes of both sadness and longing.
“Well then,” Mr. Barbacker finally said, “here is your book, Master Timothy. Please bring it back when you are done. I must return to my work.”
The three filed out of the back room, and Mr. Barbacker headed off to resume his bookkeeping. Seyanna, who was still holding Taylor, turned to Timothy.
“You’re getting the book for Ellyra?” she asked, stroking Taylor’s head.
“Is that her name?” Timothy questioned.
Seyanna nodded.
“Her warden is punishing her by not letting her study. I just think that’s going a little too far,” he said.
“It’s worse than that,” Seyanna rejoined, setting Taylor on the floor. She watched as her cat trotted off into the bookshelves. “I’ve been trying to help her, but Rachel has made the little dear’s life miserable ever since she arrived here, and all because she’s an Agurri. None of the other girls will help her – they don’t even speak to her.”
Timothy winced at the mention of the little girl’s tribe. “I am not going to argue with what Rachel does as a warden,” he replied. “She’s graduating in a few days, anyway. I just want to make sure that Ellyra has what she needs to study.”
Seyanna looked away. “I am sure that she will thank you for that,” she said quietly. Then, turning, she walked off in the direction that her cat had gone without saying another word.
Timothy stood in the back of the library for a moment, thinking about what he had just heard.
“She’s strange, even for a girl,” he finally muttered to himself.
It didn’t take long for Timothy to finish gathering the books that Ellyra needed to study. As Seyanna had predicted, she thanked him quite politely when she received them.
“Return them to the library when you are done,” was all that he said in reply, before walking down to where John was reclining under the old apple tree.
“Satisfied?” John asked.
“Yes.” Timothy sat down.
“You know,” John said, tossing an apple into the air and catching it again, “you really shouldn’t do things like that.”
Timothy slumped back against the tree. “It just makes me angry when people are treated like that,” he sighed.
“You and me both,” John continued. “But my point is that girl is trouble. She is an Agurri, which means that most people here – including Yule – aren’t going to accept you helping her.”
“Hmm,” Timothy mumbled, staring at the ground.
John sighed. “I don’t have a personal feud with the Agurri – their lands don’t border mine,” he said, looking serious. “But I think that you owe it to Yule to at least stay away from her.”
Timothy still said nothing, but began tearing at little clumps of grass between his fingers. After a while, he stared back up to where the little girl was seated. She was pouring attentively over one of the books that he had given her, sitting with her legs crossed and the book in her lap. Her mouth was moving as well, singing quietly as she studied.
Turning back to John, Timothy shook his head. “I wish the world were a simpler place,” he said, lowly.