Bard: Chapter Eight

It was quiet, and Laura liked it that way.

There were strict rules about noise in the library, and the students in their carrels were nearly silent, bent over books and scrolls and compositions. There was the faint scratching of pens over paper, and the occasional sneeze or sigh, but otherwise the library was perfectly, peacefully quiet all day long.

That’s not to say it was boring.

A shocking number of people tried to steal books. Laura had taken the job thinking she would never have to do anything other than idly stroll through the aisles, sometimes glaring at someone until they thought better of whatever mischief they’d been contemplating, but she was chasing book thieves near daily. Students trying to sneak off with a reference book that wasn’t supposed to leave the building, visitors who thought they could get one of the locked books unhooked from their security chain before anyone noticed, collectors who came prepared with tin snips for the security chains but didn’t think anyone would notice the iron band on the spine of the book before they got to the door, there were so many.

They were easy to catch, too. None of them seemed prepared for any kind of violence in their thievery. Probably they’d assumed that a wizened old librarian wouldn’t give chase our put up much of a fight. They hadn’t accounted for armed guards in a library. It made her job all the easier.

If they were a fast enough runner, sometimes they made it outside before she managed to tackle them, but she wasn’t about to complain about a nice brisk run that took her out into the sunshine and the fresh air. In fact it was usually the highlight of her day. She might enjoy the silence inside the library, but it wasn’t the brightest or freshest place in the city. Little excursions outside made for a pleasant change of pace.

She strolled through the aisles, glancing down each row as she passed, making a slow circuit of the main floor of the library. There were only a handful of students in the carrels so early in the morning, mostly they were in class, and the library was near silent. Light filtered in through windows set high against the vaulted ceilings. Some of the glass was colored, casting vibrant patches of green and purple on the floor. There were lamps, but they were few, spaced far apart, heavily glassed, and secured in place. A fire in a place like that would have been devastating, so the windows were depended upon for light.

Coming back around by the front desk, she nodded to the librarians on duty and made her way upstairs. There were less study spaces on the second floor, it being devoted to rows upon rows of carefully organized books and folders of sheet music. The rows were narrower up there, and easier to get lost in. Laura had found more than one poor first year frantically pacing the edges of the space, trying to find the staircase again.

The second floor was also home to the rare book chamber, which had its doors open all the time, but was only meant to be accessed by certain authorized individuals. A student might receive permission to enter, but mostly it was professors and important visitors. That didn’t stop people from wandering in where they didn’t belong, whether intentionally or not.

Laura peeked in the rare book chamber as she passed and spotted a boy gazing slack-jawed up at the ornate shelves. He looked barely old enough to be a first year. There was no way he was authorized. She wondered if he had missed the sign by the door or ignored it. Standing just inside the door, she planted her feet and cleared her throat politely.

The boy about jumped out of his skin, he leapt back from the shelves and turned to face her, arms rigid at his sides like a child caught sneaking sweets.

“Yes?” he croaked out, clearing he throat and trying again. “Yes?”

“Did you get permission to be in here?” she asked amiably. The boy visibly swallowed.

“Yes,” he said, nodding sharply as if that confirmed it. “I have permission.”

“May I see your pass?” Laura asked, moving slowly forward and extending her hand.

“My—My pass?”

“Professors are supposed to give their students passes to visit this chamber,” Laura explained, calmly, smiling. The poor boy looked like he might pass out.

“Ah, I—um…I think—I think he forgot to give one to me.”

“Shame,” Laura said sympathetically. “I’m afraid students aren’t allowed in without a pass. Be sure to remind your professor about it next time.”

The boy nodded rapidly, relief flooding over his face.

“I’ll do that.”

“May I walk you out?”

“I’m fine,” he said, and all but fled out the door. Laura gave the shelves a quick once-over, just the make sure she didn’t need to chase him. Everything appeared undisturbed.

Laura passed another guard on her way back downstairs, nodding in acknowledgement. They were in their street clothes, like all the guards were. The only thing to mark them as employees of the library was a silvery crest pinned to their lapel. It made it easier to walk around without being marked by potential thieves.

As she passed through the main hall, she spotted Trista coming towards the stairs. The girl lit up when she saw her, waving and quickening her pace.

“Hello!” Trista greeted her warmly, in a whisper.

“What brings you to the library today?” Laura asked quietly.

“I’m dropping a few things off for Master Llewellyn,” she replied. “And she wanted a scroll from the rare book chamber.”

Laura suppressed a smile. “Do you have a pass?”

“Oh yes.” Trista extracted the round wooden disk from the front of her robe and showed it. “I have the letter of intent to show the desk when I take it as well.”

“Excellent,” Laura said. “I’ll walk you up.”

“Thank you.”

“Busy day?”

“A bit, yes,” Trista said. “I picked up some work assisting one of the lore professors with a community class in the evenings. It starts tonight, so I’ll be home later than usual.”

“Do you really need more work?” Laura asked. “You barely sleep as it is.”

“It’s fine,” Trista said with a little shrug. “And they raised the rate on our room already.”

“We make enough,” Laura pointed out. “Even if it doubled we could still cover rent.”

“Yes, but I need to cover my part,” Trista said. “You and Liam should be able to save your extra money.”

Laura shook her head. They’d reached the rare book chamber and she posted at the door while Trista found the scroll she was after.

In stories, when a person made a deal with demon, or fell in with one, the relationship was nothing short of extortion. Humans were bled dry, worked to death, traded as slaves in the hells, or just plain eaten alive. Yet here she and Liam had tied themselves quite neatly to a real live demon, and she was fretting about depleting their savings. No one would have believed it. Laura could barely believe it. Most of the humans she'd known showed less consideration.

Trista slid the scroll case from the shelf and followed Laura back downstairs to the desk. The proper papers were presented, and she carefully tucked the case into her satchel. Laura saw her to the door.

“It was nice to see you, in the daylight,” Trista said happily.

“Nice to see you awake,” Laura replied. The girl had so many errands and classes during the day she was often gone when Laura woke up, and asleep not long after she returned home in the evening. Trista smiled.

“I’ll see you this evening.”

“Good luck with the new job.”