The Library (The Librarian of Alexandria Book 1) by Casey White (surface ebook reader .TXT) 📕

seen the racks this high, with ladders hanging off the front of their fronts.  It was beautiful, yes, but it made every trip up a slow, laborious affair.

He might not have minded, if he wasn’t still sore from the day before’s activities.  When his mother had asked for help moving furniture, he’d thought nothing of it.  He’d been sure to exercise plenty in the real world, after all.  If he was to spend the majority of his life studying, he damn well wasn’t going to waste the free time he was given over a book.

Only...it’d been a lot of furniture.  He sighed, stretching his hands high over his head, and grabbed the last book off the cart.

One more.  He could do one more.

The ladder groaned as he climbed it, settling the book into a cunningly-worked sling under his arm.  The slot waited above, just a dark void waiting for its new inhabitant.

The metal rails holding the ladder to the bookshelves creaked gently when he finally came to a stop, high over the herringbone-patterned floor.  He refused to look down, refused to give in to the quiver of fear churning in his gut at the heights he was poised upon.

What would happen if I fell? his thoughts whispered, completely missing out on the ‘not going to think about it’ message.  Would the Library turn the ground to something soft and catch me?

He grabbed for the book still hanging in its harness, gripping the ladder more tightly.  Or would it let me strike?  His unease grew stronger with every breath he took.  With the void hanging underneath him, he realized he didn’t know what would happen if he died inside the Library.  Maybe he’d just wake up in his bed outside, safe and sound.

Maybe that was the answer he was looking for.

The shutters high overhead rattled with sudden, vehement urgency, and Owl chuckled to himself.  “I know.  I get it.  That’s not it.”

The wind slowed, and the rattling with it.  Rising to his tiptoes, Owl reached forward, and slotted the book into its home.

Step after careful step, he began the long journey back down the ladder.  The ache in his arms continued, marking each grab at the rungs with whispers of pain.

He was the Librarian, damn it.  He shouldn’t have to suffer through the hurts of his outside days even while he was stuck in here working.  Owl scowled at the bookshelves, shuffling down another few steps, and screwed up his face.

If he stretched his mind, he could almost remember something - a figure, an unfamiliar face.  Words hung right at the edge of his memory, whispering to him about only appearing how he wanted.

Maybe, if he tried hard enough, he could change this, too.  He bit his lip, finally reaching the bottom of the ladder, and hesitated.  His eyelids slid almost shut, soft and heavy.

He just wanted to not hurt so damn bad.  Focusing on that, he sucked in a deep breath of air, trying to soak the air around his skin with Alexandria’s strange blend of magic.

It might just have been his imagination, but he thought the ache lacing his bones faded just a little.

His mood lifted at the relief.  There.  He stretched his arms out, lacing his fingers together and pushing until his elbows popped.

“The practice fields, then?” he said out loud, glancing up to the sky-high shelves.  “Some magic training sounds like it’d be fun to do for the day, doesn’t it?”  He grinned from behind his mask.  “It’s been a while.  Besides, after that whole mess in the lab, I was thinking I should practice some snap-shielding, really get good at-”

A door creaked open from the shelves ahead of him.  Owl stopped - and inched forward.

The study waited beyond, with his office waiting on the balcony. It already glowed from within by the light of his monitors.

“Oh,” Owl said, deflating.  “Or...I guess I could do the paperwork.”

The hinges screeched, long and drawn-out, as if punctuating his acquiescence.  Owl groaned, making a face at the doorway, and shot the shelves another angry look.  “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

The Library chose not to gratify his remark with a reply, but the candles in the study twinkled brighter.

Step after step, Owl trudged back up the stairs to the second floor and his waiting office.  He grimaced as soon as he made it around the corner, greeted by the sight of the files on his desk.  The work never ended, did it?

Slowly, begrudgingly, he settled into his chair, glancing around one last time.  It was fine, wasn’t it?  He’d searched thoroughly, and the Library had been peaceful and quiet since his return.  Whatever games Alexandria had been up to, they seemed to be over for now.

Sliding his hands under his hood, he undid the buckles holding his mask on, dropping it onto a hook set into the wall.  He threw the hood back without another thought, smiling at the sensation of fresh air on his skin.  “Don’t screw me, now,” he murmured, cracking an eye open to glare at the bar-studded walls.

With no reply forthcoming, Daniel ran a hand through his hair - and pulled the top sheet off the stack.  His eyes flicked down, coming to rest on the first line.

Name.

Age.

Profession.

Background.

He hardly realized he was tapping his foot until the vibrations of it rippled up through his desk.  Biting his lip, he forced himself back to stillness.

A biologist.  A mathematician.  Another linguist - Christ, there were always so many linguists.  Daniel grinned, lifting the offending sheet closer to his nose.  What language would it be?  What culture would this man’s life’s work follow?  More importantly, did Daniel already know the language?  It was a tiny, perverse pleasure to be a step ahead of them on their own projects.

Taking one more look, he let a breath whistle out between his teeth.  Looking at their profiles was just the first step, after all.  Now, he had to look into them.  All of them.  Which meant background checks, and digging through the