“The library,” Natalie said, proudly and smugly. “I told you.”
“Well, it’s not like you were helping at all.”
"I dont know this place, these people. Hell, I dont know this world! What was I meant to do, ask each time we passed a building if it was a library?”
"Doesnt matter,” Natalie said, dismissing his argument with a wave of her hand. “I found it.”
"You should have asked for help.”
"And miss out on you thanking me?” she scoffed.
"You’re missing out on that regardless.”
"Well, see if I help you again.”
"See if I ask,” Ezra retorted as the woman turned on her heels and stalked off. He shook his head as she turned down a alleyway they had discovered was a dead end half an hour before, watched as she quickly walked back out, throwing him a quick glance to see if he noticed – he did – and hurriedly walked towards the main road, still some hundred or so meters in the distance. He chuckled slightly and turned his attention to the building in front of him. The library. This was, according to everyone who claimed to know anything, where what he was searching for would be found.
In fairness, he couldnt really blame Natalie for getting them lost. In his experience, back home, libraries were distinctive. They were in the middle of town, accessible to anyone. They were signposted, advertised. You knew that it was a library.
This building was off the main road; not only the main road along the coast, but also off the main road that ran through this place, which was, itself, off the main road along the coast. Strange place for a major city, he thought idly. Moreover, this building looked identical to all the others along all the various side streets. Cobblestone walls, tiled roof, thick glass windows. It was more than a single story though, which made it stand out a little bit, but a good third of the buildings were also higher than the rest. But that didnt mean anything since the town hall, or the building Natalie had said was the town hall, was only a single story. The only thing that marked this as being the library was the grimy symbol above the front door. If he squinted, and remembered the art class he took on impressionism several years ago – another attempt to impress his wife – he could see how you might mistake it for a book. Or three, overlapping books. But it matched the symbol that weird old man had shown them as they arrived in town.
He slowed his breathing. It had been several long months of travel since he arrived here, and he wasnt about to start panicking about things he couldnt hope to understand now. There would be plenty of time for that once he had spoken to whoever was inside, and there definitely was someone, a flickering light from one of the upstairs windows spoke to someone moving in front of a candle.
The stairs that led up to the door werent worn from use. They didnt have the grooves of hundreds of people stepping up and in that the house in the village had. The house of the oracle. He shuddered. That woman had to have been lying. There was no way he could possibly -
He shook the thought loose and let it shrink back to the small pellet of lead that had settled in his gut since that meeting. Something else he didnt have time to panic over right now.
The stairs were worn though, but it was from neglect. The edges were chipped and a full half of the top step had fallen away entirely, leaving entry through the door an awkward half side step. Not a great omen, Ezra thought.
The door was slightly ajar, though, so he made the small climb, pushed it open all the way, hearing a grinding as it pushed along the wooden floor.
The inside, at least, looked like what he had expected. The few ye olde time fantasy movies he had watched with his sisters had prepared him for dust covered bookshelves, tables with a curious mishmash of scrolls and books, along with artefacts and other pseudo-magical items and this was not leaving him disappointed.
The door opened up into a large hall. Around the walls were floor to ceiling bookcases. Some were lined with books that, even from here, looked old and fragile. Most were covered with a layer of dust, but some looked as if they had been read recently.
Three larger shelves, also floor to ceiling, stood towards the back of the room, end on to the door Ezra stood in. Between those shelves and himself, were two large tables, one of which had a large parchment style document unrolled across it, weighted in each corner by items he could not possibly hope to identify. Next to the document were several thick red books.
The other table was almost empty, only containing three ceramic jugs and half a dozen or so glass vials, one of which held a transparent liquid.
He quietly walked through the room. The floor creaked under his slow, deliberate footsteps as he inspected, without touching, the items on the tables and a few randomly selected books in the shelves.
Before he could find the stairs that led to whoever was working on the floor above, he heard the scrape of a chair somewhere up there and someone elses footsteps, quick and decisive. He looked up to the ceiling and followed their path across the room until he found the stair case in the back corner. As he watched, black shoes appeared on the steps, followed by brown pants and then a white shirt before a curious, but slightly annoyed, face leant down to look at him.
“Hmm,” the face said, long dark hair falling around her features. “Can I help you?”
“Probably not,” Ezra shrugged. “But you’re my best option right now.”
“Make it quick,” she sighed, turning and heading back upstairs.
Ezra waited a moment before following her. The stairs creaked under his weight, just as the floor had down and for a fleeting moment, he wondered whether the whole building might fall down around him.
“Who are you?” the woman said as he entered the upstairs part of the building. Ahead of him was a hallway that stretched all the way down the building. On one side, windows looked out over the alleyway behind them and over the roofs of the shorter buildings. On the other four doors led into the upstairs rooms. Standing next to the open door of the first room, was a tall woman with long dark hair. She was not overly attractive, as Ezra saw her. Her face was angular and her chin came to a point. Her eyes were low on her face, or her hairline was high. Whichever it was, it made her forehead slightly out of proportion and he found himself struggling to work out where he should look.
Her shirt was the sort that had buttons only part of the way down it and each of them were undone. The shirt was untucked from her pants and hung down to her thighs. She had her arms crossed over her chest and looked at him as if waiting for him to finish judging her appearance.
“Well?” she insisted.
“Sorry,” he said. “Im Ezra. Im not from around here.”
“I can tell,” she said giving his appearance her own once over. “You came in with the convoy.”
“With some,” he paused. Was it right to say friends at this point? “Some other people who are travelling with me.”
“The people at the hall will set you up with some accommodation. Im busy.”
“No, thats already been sorted,” he replied. Then, remembering where he was, he corrected himself. “I’ve already had that taken care of. No, Im here for information on,” he paused again. He didnt know this woman and wasnt sure how much of his story he should tell her. “How to get home,” he finished and the look he got in return was one of deep dissatisfaction.
“You want a map, is that all? You can get maps of the entire nation at any number of merchants in every. Single. Town. Along the main road,” her demeanour wasnt one of anger, per se, more of disappointment that this was what she had been interrupted for.
He pushed on. “My home isnt on any of the maps I can buy from anyone here,” he said. “Im from another nation,” he said using the lie that Cara and Vintal had helped him come up with all those weeks ago. The woman looked at him, her head cocked slightly. Whatever her demeanour had been before, it was now straight curiosity. Exactly what he had been hoping for. “Which nation are you from?” she asked. There was a warning in her words. This wasnt just a question for information, it was a test.
“Its not one that you know,” he said, and sighed. “Can we sit?”
The woman stared at the man sitting across from her. He had just told her the most unbelievable story. Brought here from another place, another world? That stuff about what happened out west. Being captured by General Broadsword. Making his way here. None of it seemed real.
But.
She had heard stories. She thought them nothing but the ramblings of idiots, and there were plenty of them to go around. Stories of the revival of something evil. Or the death of something evil. It was hard to get a straight story out of those people at the best of times. But here was someone who didnt look crazy. He didnt look not crazy. There was something about him that was off. The way he stood, or sat. How he held himself when he thought no one was looking. How he had been looking at the items downstairs. She had never met anyone who actually looked at things before.
“Say I believe you,” she said after some time. “What do you want from me?”
“The same thing I wanted from everyone Ive met since arriving here,” he thought as an image of Cara and the stone pit flashed through his mind. “I want to go home.”