༄༄༄

I wake up to the sharp sound of something heavy being kicked against the couch. My eyes fly open, and alarm washes over me. Has someone sneaked into the apartments? I lie on my side, my back to the door, so I can't see anything but the cushion. Is the trespasser here to kill me? Or Loretto? The sun is just rising...Has Maricela decided I shouldn't live to see this particular dawn?

Panicking, my hand slips under my pillow, but the knife I used to hide there the previous nights is gone.

"You left your blade on the table where you sliced the cake." Loretto's voice sounds utterly unimpressed. "A terrible knight you are. Get up. I told you you'd be coming with me today."

Not a trespasser, I still get to live. Relief eases my muscles. Rubbing my eyes, I begin to turn to look at my mentor, but then stop. "Are you decent?"

"I'm the most decent person you'll ever meet."

"No, I mean dressed?"

"Yes! And you're still in pajamas. Get up." Faer heavy boot hits the couch again, making it creak and shaking the last of my sleepiness off. "You've ten minutes. Brush your curls and get dressed, or I'm dragging you outside naked."

Why don't I doubt that? Cursing, I get up.

༄༄༄

It's still early when we walk down the halls of the Great Temple, not a soul around, only stillness and lethargic morning haze sinking in through the windows. Having spent half of the night up and talking, I feel like I've been chewed and spit out into this very morning even after washing my face with cold water, yet as I glance sideways at Loretto, faer posture is unwavering, faer eyes alert. I would've thought my mentor hasn't even gone to bed if not for a crisp clean robe flowing smoothly around faer figure.

"How can you be so peppy?" I ask when we take a turn, which, if I remember correctly, leads to the library set on the basement level of the temple. "Don't you want to sleep?" Suddenly, a terrible thought crawls into my head. "Do shamans even sleep?"

"No. I--" Loretto cuts off, forgetting faer own words as faer eyes shoot in my direction and catch me looking. Confidence fades from Loretto's expression for a moment as though I've done something discouraging. "Yes. I mean..." Loretto clears faer throat. "I mean I couldn't sleep."

"Why?"

"Why are you asking so many personal questions for someone who has no right to ask personal questions at all, Eli?"

I itch to bristle in reply, but eventually only scowl and look away. For a while, we walk in silence. This morning feels right and wrong at the same time, I catch myself thinking. Right, because every morning feels so, doesn't it? Like a fresh start. Yet wrong, because for a moment, I really believed the last night built some sort of a bridge between me and Loretto, some connection, a step toward friendship. And now the sun has risen. And that connection is gone. And I don't even know why I want this friendship. "Here, not a question. A statement," I finally say, ostentatiously staring at the stone relief of the sun and moon carved in the wall we're passing. "It's unfair that you get to call me Eli, and I have to call you Mentor, Mentor."

There's a long pause before Loretto makes the conclusion opposite from what I hoped for. "Do you want me to stop calling you Eli?"

"No."

Another pause. "Alright. You can call me by my name. You do it anyway in your thoughts, I suppose." Loretto's voice sounds a fraction quieter than before, though just as firm, as fae adds, "But only when we're alone. In public, I'm still your mentor."

I don't dare smile for real, only grin inwardly to myself. So the bridge is still there. Feels like a victory on my part. At last.

༄༄༄

Surprisingly, as we descend the stairwell and enter the library, the place looks much more lively that the Great Temple's halls. The lanterns are on, illuminating the giant bookcases twice my height arranged in endless rings, and there are plenty of shamans already here, sorting out books, dusting the shelves, or reading in hermitical armchairs between the shelves.

The young woman with impressionable like a rabbit's, round eyes and wearing blue robe, just like Loretto's today, by the entrance counter doesn't even check my mentee bracelet to make sure I'm allowed to be here as she did before--or acknowledges my presence, really--only beams when she sees Loretto. When my mentor walks over to ask her something, I stay lingering by the stairs, not very passionate about communicating with sorcerous strangers more than I'm forced to, but I soon start questioning my decision. Loretto and the librarian talk for an annoyingly long while.

What they can possibly discuss for so long? I realize it's actually the first time I see Loretto talking to someone willingly--except for me, of course--instead of giving brief answers and trying to flee right away. I was pretty sure my mentor despises social interactions in general, enjoying my company so far simply because it's easier to convince yourself to enjoy something you can't avoid. But their conversation doesn't look unavoidable, and the longer it lasts, the more Loretto's mood seems to improve--faer gestures accompanying faer replies grow lighter, the corners of faer mouth jerk in a smirk now and then, so I can only guess what the topic is about. And the woman obviously enjoys Loretto's company as well, which is...well, makes me feel like an unwanted accessory.

My pride prickling, I cross my arms over my chest, leaning against one of the bookcases, wondering if I should step up and break their sweet gossiping as a quarter of an hour passes and my mentor, it appears, has forgotten I've scraped myself off the couch this early just because fae asked me to. Then why am I even here?

Only when the librarian starts writing something down, as though to take notes of Loretto's orders, it hits me. They're not friends but colleagues--blue is the color of knowledge, of librarians. Loretto works here. Faris said Loretto kept caring books from the library to faer apartments and back, and every evening my mentor reads something, though fae said it wasn't a hobby. So Loretto must be doing some research, or categorizing those books. Maricela didn't want to see Loretto in faer council, but she couldn't give the job of some low-grade servant to the third most powerful shaman in Cabracan either, right? Not without making others question her impartiality.

"Are you the keeper of the shaman library?" I ask when Loretto finally turns away from the librarian and nods me to follow faer. And the local workers are quite pleased to exist under Loretto's management. But doesn't the shaman library keeper's position belong to the empress, too? Isn't it somewhat sacred to shamans? How much did Maricela want Loretto away from her secrets in the council if she was willing to entrust all shaman knowledge to Loretto?

"Yes, I'm the keeper of the library." Without waiting for my next question, fae starts toward one of the aisles. "And I care of this library a great deal for I prefer books to most people. If you wreak havoc in the only place that brings me joy in this world, you won't leave here until you clean it all up."

Can't say it's unfair. I follow Loretto deeper into faer domain, through an aisle cutting the circles of bookcases like an arrow. We take a turn, then another one, and soon I'm not certain which way we came from and how to find my way out of here.

Among other things, magic has a peculiar quality of messing with minds. The library looks infinite. It's just rings and rings of bookshelves, fading in the glow of lanterns that I can't even locale as the light seems to be coming from everywhere and nowhere at once. The ceiling is concealed behind shadows, and so are the walls--if they exist at all--and I'm pretty sure I was walking straight, no turns, the last time I was killing time and sauntering here a few weeks ago, yet I ended up by the central counter, exactly from where I started. Although every shelf has an index, I got disoriented in the repetitiveness of the rows.

My mentor doesn't seem to be disoriented. Loretto halts beside one of the shelves and, barely glancing at the books, pulls out a volume that fae hands to me.

"How don't you get lost?" I ask, accepting the book without looking.

"Should I? Every single book here exists in only one copy. If you know where the books are, you know where you are."

"So you know every book's place on every shelf?"

Loretto nods, and continues walking. "M-hm."

I roll my shoulders, shooing away my distress. I bet I can't memorize that much even if I try for years; order is the opposite of what's in my head. "How much time do you spend here, then? Doesn't this place make you feel"--What's the opposite of claustrophobic?--"agoraphobic? All this stagnated, cool air, and endlessness, endlessness, endlessness."

Striding ahead of me, Loretto gives a soft chuckle. "This library's not endless, Eli. The wards mirror the space, bending and looping it, but they don't extend it. At least not until we need more space to keep more books. Besides, it's a convenient way of guarding the place--without knowing the warding spell, you can't enter the library from anywhere but the central hall. Can't set it on fire, can't steal, and so on, not without being caught. And if you try to enter the Great Temple's basement from outside, it's...just a basement. This magic is about different planes of reality, or something like that. The same way the wards around shaman enclaves all around the world nowadays function--no outsider can stumble upon us by accident without invitation."

Nor can we leave, I add to myself. A jail. "But I saw a door here somewhere, when I visited the library last time," I say aloud instead, my voice and footsteps dissolving amidst the bookcases. "What about it?" It was small and shut, and looked almost hidden between the shelves like a portal to some secret cellar. Or a bookcase within a bookcase. "Not a magical exit?"

Loretto shakes faer head.

"What's in there, then?"

"My guess? More books."

"You don't know for sure?" This is interesting. And unsettling. "Why?" The moment the word escapes my mouth, I realize it's the same question that irked Loretto on our way to the library. "Oh. Don't answer."

"No, I will. I want you to understand. You see Maricela might have entrusted the library to me, but it clearly wasn't her favorite decision." A hint of indignation seeps into Loretto's voice as fae slows down, finally falling into step with me. "But from what I'm missing here after combing through every shelf, I suspect the books she keeps there are the ones that explain magic through science."

Something cold spikes in my chest. Disbelief? Fear? Wonder? "Is it possible?" Can science make me a sorcerer, too?

"I don't know. I can't get to those books. At least not without making quite a noise." Fae gives me a sidelong glance. "Can you?"

༄༄༄

For an excited fraction of a second, I naively believe we came to the library to indeed wreak havoc and get to those books Maricela is hiding, but alas, Loretto's ultimate intentions--whatever they are--are far less grand.

We come to a deserted corner, a ringed row so wide that the bookcases arranging it look like an almost straight line. Loretto stops, thoughtful this time, and starts browsing through books on nearby shelves, pulling some out, pushing some back in, as if looking for something hidden behind them.

Shifting from foot to foot for a few minutes, patiently waiting, I then drop to sit in a chair that stands beside a plain wooden table occupied with pens and papers for taking notes. Only now do I look down at the volume Loretto gave me on our way here. The Theory of Elemental Magic for Dummies, it says, and I can't help but groan. "Are you kidding me?" I glance up, and see that Loretto has apparently found whatever fae was looking for and now clears the shelves, methodically piling the volumes from one of the bookcases in stacks on the floor.

Loretto casts me a quick look over faer shoulder, amusement brightening faer eyes. "The kidding part is because I gave you another book on magic or on magic for dummies?"

"Both? How is another book on magic something new in my alleged studying and--why for dummies?" I hesitate for a moment, but another question burns on the tip of my tongue. "And what are you doing?" I nod at the shelf. "The mess in the only place that brings you joy?"

Loretto shakes faer head. "It's something new, because this time, you're to read out loud. This way I can make sure you're at least trying to read. For dummies, because clearly, the books for grown-ass shamans are of no interest for you to even open, and reading this shit, you'll at least entertain me. It's something new for me, refreshing my daily routine. And"--fae kneels to start the second stack of books, faer bright blue robe spilling on the dark floor around faer feet--"I'm not making a mess. I'm doing my job."

"Which is?"

"The problem with the looping wards extending the library is that they're capricious. And aura that is used here sometimes gives way, collapsing into itself and creating a sort of black holes--too much empty space in the middle of...empty space."

I've no idea what all that means until I notice a patch of blackness inside the shelf, of a size of a mini window or a portal, a little below a human waist, still partly concealed behind the books but visible now as Loretto has pulled some of them out. It looks just like the puddle of aura in the street when I broke the stolen bottle--as though colors have been erased from the painting--only lingering in the air like mist within the shelf. A shiver runs down my spine as I recall the aura burn between my fingers and see as Loretto touches the abyss without even blinking, the tips of faer fingers sinking into sheer nothingness.

Drawing faer fingers back out, Loretto then considers the shadows clinging to faer hand like black mist, leaving tiny drops of inky dew on faer skin. "If we don't track and fix these extra loops in time, they might grow big enough to swallow the entire library. And maybe the temple."

So this job is not just about dusting the shelves? I stare at the mist. Although Loretto contemplates it with a pensive spark in faer eyes, probably calculating how much of faer magic it'll take to deal with the patch, all I feel is nervousness. It's aura. To me, it's deadly. And it can potentially swallow the whole place with me inside up? This job is about keeping the local magic in check. Another reason why Maricela shouldn't have entrusted this position to someone who poses a threat. What convinced her? "Maybe I'd better help you rearrange the books?" And mind you, I'm offering despite the fact that aura can flame me like a piece of charcoal, I add inwardly.

Shaking the mist off faer fingers, Loretto shakes faer head. "No. I'm doing my job, you do yours. Read, Eli. Aloud." As I make face in reply, and Loretto laughs. The library indeed improves faer mood. "You'll love it, promise. It has pictures. And start with chapter three. The first two are too dumb, really."

As Loretto says nothing else, returning to faer job of clearing the bookshelves, I know I have to do something too, so I pull my chair closer to the table and begin flipping through the pages, nosily, looking for the third chapter. The book indeed has pictures, albeit ridiculous caricatures--with disproportional shamans casting disproportional spells in the shapes of animals made of fire and water and wind. And they're quite funny, just...

I had no idea what fae has been doing all day every day in this shaman city as every possible occupation that popped up in my head seemed too...banal for the mystery all the people and their gossip of faer created in my mind. But for some reason, I never imagined Loretto to take care of books. Why, though? The very first day we met fae was carrying books.

But librarians aren't mysterious, are they? Or powerful? They wear big glasses and old sweaters, smell of despair and stare at you like spooked rabbits when you mention a word like brothel in their presence. They're meek and humble. They don't press knives to your throats the day you meet, don't quip about you imagining them naked--then walking with their uncovered ass around you in the morning as though it's not a big deal--and I'm pretty sure they're not cut out for rubbing dried blood off your hands after you stumble upon a dead body in your own room.

Maybe it's not about the job at all, though, or being a shaman. Or even one's birthright. Maybe it's about the person. You can care for books and still be a cocky grace if you dare wish to. I haven't seen Loretto this calm and purposeful, not in anyone's presence, not even my own. Right now, Loretto isn't idle, or suspicious, or annoyed, but relaxed. Here, in this bookish jungle, Loretto is a panther in faer element. In control. No self-doubt. I can't help but admire that for I've never felt like I know where my own life is going and what it's supposed to resemble at all. I want to be just like that, I realize with a sudden pang of envy. Confident.

"Are you gonna read?" Loretto asks, finishing the third book stack and ruining my daydreaming. "Or just flip the pages? You've been talking nonstop since I woke you up. What happened?"

"I think I'm out of questions."

"Does it often happen?"

"Not really."

As I stay mute after that, Loretto stops sorting the books and turns to look at me. We stare into each other's eyes for a long while; so long I start feeling like Loretto has already made faer way to my very soul and now explores there something. Something I myself could never find.

I avert my eyes.

Loretto turns away, too. "You surprise me, Eli. And not for the first time, unfortunately. Not many people manage that lately."

"You sound like it's a bad thing."

"Very. I'm afraid I'm beginning to like you."

༄༄༄