The Black Librarian Archives

by Taylor Clogston

  Contents

  Title Page

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Epilogue

  Thanks for Reading!

  Copyright Information

  The Black Librarian Archives

  Part One

  Prologue

  Thundering bombs fell far away, but not yet far enough. The young boy clenched his teeth against the noise, thick dust drafting through the crooked house. A far-off roar turned to frenzied and urgent whining, and then stopped, and the boy saw red blossom on the other side of the dirty glass window.

  But then the man was there. His dark cloak billowed in waves that ended in a cascade of tattered threads, and the pages of the great leather book in his hand fluttered like the wings of a pale moth. His face was hidden in the hood of his cloak, showing only a firm, regal jaw unmarred by stubble. He was the man from the boy’s recent dreaming, but the boy was not asleep.

  A haze of white and gold shone beside the pitch-black cloak, but the boy could not pull away his eyes from the man himself. The cloak seemed to grow wider and fill the room as the man raised an arm to point at the boy’s chest.

  “Daniel.”

  The boy started as his name was spoken. His real name, not the one the fosters had forced upon him. The name from the life where he was loved. Dan stretched to take the dark man’s hand, and as the bombs’ hungry fingers reached out, Dan’s world shattered into thousands of mirror fragments.

  Boy and man slipped into each and every one, and Dan was finally free.

  Chapter 1

  Dan had imagined himself rising late, dressing in a rush, waving to the others with half-toasted bread in hand as he set off for his new life. He had imagined the sun shining gold on the vibrant grass, the perfect companion for an adventure. Perhaps he would meet a mysterious old man who would gift him some magical item for a young man’s kind assistance, and it would save Dan’s life in battle against evil down the road.

  Instead, a gray drizzle fell from the sky, pressing down the grass and mingling with the dirt of the road to make a sticky mud. As Dan checked his traveling pack for the last time, he sighed at the thought of how irritating the day’s journey would be.

  Ten years had passed since Dan had arrived in this world on the edge of a mirror fragment. Settled in the countryside only a half day’s travel from the closest city of Rimoir, Elrein was a much nicer place to live than London had been. Dan was headed there, where he would then travel on one of the newfangled autobuses to Ormuil, the city of scholars and wizards.

  He was to enroll in the University, an opportunity he would have thought impossible only a few years ago.

  ”An’ you have your pack?” asked Ma Winchester. She reached up on the tips of her toes to rearrange Dan’s traveling coat around his shoulders, and to straighten the boy’s hair when his guard was down. The mother of the orphanage leaned back, shaking her head with an air of disapproval at Dan’s threadbare clothing.

  For his own part, Dan couldn’t care less about the outfit. He had worked hard to afford the secondhand set bought in Rimoir, and its lack of holes and tears was good enough for him. “Yes, Ma,” he replied to the elderly lady’s question.

  “An’ you make sure to eat carefully. Don’ be goin’ and givin’ yourself a bellyache and leavin’ none for tomorrow. An’ you have your money?”

  Dan checked the pouch around his neck again. Three bent halfpenny pieces, two whole copper pennies, and five silver coins made up his small change. The bulk of Dan’s wealth was formed by an iron guilder coin, worth twenty-five true silver. In the city, that is. No one had much use for guild-sponsored coin in the countryside, and even in Rimoir the moneychangers wouldn’t give more than eighteen silver for it.

  The moneychanger who kept the village workers’ accounts had come to a bargain with Dan, paying out his harvest earnings for the past three years —valued at nineteen silver—with a single Guilder. Both Dan and the moneychanger likely believed themselves to have gotten the best of the bargain. Dan had turned nineteen silver to what would be worth twenty-five in the big city, and the changer had converted an effective eighteen to nineteen.

  Dan had no inkling how long his savings would last in the grand city of Ormuil, but he hoped it would sustain him long enough to learn for a semester. With a miracle, he would find a job during the time.

  Even though cold rain battered the countryside, Dan was impatient to leave. He shifted from one foot to another as Ma Winchester barked warnings against highwaymen and the dangers of the big city. Dan didn’t intend to fall prey to any of these, so the warning seemed pointless to him. He instead grinned and waved at the other children standing behind the orphanage mother. They didn’t smile. They loved Dan as a brother, and he them, but he wasn’t going to allow that to get in the way of his dreams. The others had already said their goodbyes the previous night; it wasn’t their custom to make a fuss of the actual process of leaving.

  So, Dan embraced the mother who had raised him for ten years. She stiffened in surprise, but returned the hug. “Oh, just be careful,” she said at last. “An’ come back to see us once in a while.”

  “I’ll do that,” said Dan with a smile. Even if they wouldn’t see him off as Dan felt was proper, he would miss the family who had made him their own. Giving a last look to his brothers and sisters he straightened, called Ruckus, and stepped out the door. A thin layer of mud coated the road, and the air was clammy and cold. Dan felt a momentary pang of regret, and imagined returning to the warm, dry orphanage where he could eat a hot breakfast and start on his chores as though nothing had ever happened. It was a comfortable thought.

  Dan gathered his coat about him, smiled apologetically at the waterlogged dog at his side, and set off down the highway.

  ***

  Dan knocked three times before the varnished oak door opened and the Librarian beckoned him in. He stepped into the small building, turning to wring out his coat on the threshold before entering.

  Nancy Green, the Librarian, threw a thick blanket over Ruckus as the dog joined Dan inside. “Don’t be shaking water all over my books!” she said with a hoarse laugh. “Nor you, little Dan.”

  “I’m not a little boy any more, Nan.” Dan grinned, sitting down on the warm flagstone floor. It was heated from below with a series of water pipes so as not to risk open flame near so many books. “And I’d hope Ruckus knows better.”

  The dog grumbled, squirming out from under the blanket. “I’ll have you know I have a great respect for books,” said Ruckus. “Some of my best friends are books.”

  “You spirits care nothing for the physical,” Nancy said with a sniff, picking up the now-wet blanket and folding it to be dried later. It smelled like earthy soil and lemons rather than wet dog, and the same scent now filled the small Library of Rimoir. “In any event,” said Nancy as she turned back to Dan, “I’m glad you stopped in to see me one last time before heading off.”

  ”Hey, I need to pay off my debts.” Dan pulled open his traveling bag, stacking the contents on a nearby reading table. The bag was fashioned of oiled canvas, so the contents were dry. From it, Dan pulled three worn books. He pushed two of them across the table, but hesitated with the last in his hands.

  The Librarian picked up the first two volumes, nodding in recognition at their titles. The Dowsing Rod and Other Stories, by Elie Quenton. Knots a Thousand, by Toquo the Smaller. “The D
owsing Rod I can see,” said Nancy, “but were you really enthralled by Toquo’s ravings on knottery?”

  “It’s not like there were many books left,” said Dan. “I’ve already read all the novels and travelogues. I mean, this was my third time through Dowsing Rod.”

  “Hmm.” Nancy cocked her head, eying the last book. “You want me to hold on to that one for you? The University’s quite a ways away. I’d hate to see it ruined.”

  Dan opened the book with care. It was thick and tattered, with a canvas cover that had once been a rich navy. What gold lettering decorated the cover was faded, but the title was still visible on the inside page. Oliver Twist, by Charles Dickens. It was the book Dan had clutched to his chest the night the mysterious man in black had rescued him from burning London. Dan couldn’t remember all the details, but he recalled retreating to the modest library of the building in which he had been hiding, the only place he had felt safe.

  And his life had improved, ironically, by his arrival at an orphanage. Still, Dan loved the book, and he read it at least once a year. Each time, of course, it became more difficult to sound out the words of the language he hadn’t spoken in a decade.

  Dan wanted to keep Oliver Twist with him, but he knew Nancy spoke sense. It would be horrible for the tome to be damaged on his journey. “All right,” he said. “Thank you. Please keep it safe. I’ll be back for it someday.”

  Nancy smiled. “It’ll keep you from forgetting this old woman when you’re a gentleman of education in your later years.”

  Ruckus made a sound halfway between a bark and a cough. “Educate him they may, but he’ll never be a gentleman.”

  Dan laughed. “I think you’re right, honestly. They can’t change me that much.”

  The elderly Librarian opened her mouth but paused, her eyes distant. She drew a reading chair out from under the table, sitting in it and motioning to the chair opposite her. “You’re dry enough, sit yourself down. You must be exhausted.”

  He sat, cocking his head at her change of demeanor. “Is something wrong, Nan?”

  “No, of course not. You’re off to become a Librarian, just like I did… Goodness, more than thirty years ago now.” The old lady sighed. “By the time you learned of the library here, I’d worked for decades.” She looked out the broad window set into the wall beside the front door. Rain pattered against it, gray and cold. “I’ve never told you what my dream was, in the beginning.”

  Dan reached down to scratch Ruckus’ head. The spirit dog scrunched his eyes in contentment, making Dan smile. “I’d assume it was to be a Librarian,” said Dan.

  “After the University, I mean. I wanted to be the most powerful magician in the world.” She paused. “What would you guess is the most efficient way for a Librarian to gain power?”

  Dan furrowed his brow in thought. Of the three primary branches of magic, Librarians had what Dan considered the oddest method. While Contractors gave sacrifices to obtain the services of spirits, and Mystics distilled their raw mana into templated spells, Librarians accumulated power over great spans of time.

  They used a technique called Archiving to record events in the past. Not in the same way a student might research a topic and then write about it—Archived words flew from the mind to the page. As a Librarian developed relationships with the people, places, and events in their Archival, they accumulated refined mana which could be reclaimed after its use.

  Pondering Nancy’s question, Dan spoke what he had suspected for some years. “I’d bet building close relationships with other Librarians is the best way to gain power, right?” A pained look flitted across Nancy’s face, and Dan recoiled, worried he had said something wrong. “I’m sorry, I…”

  “No, never mind, it’s a good idea on the face of it.” Nancy waved in dismissal. “It even works for some people. But there’s another method, one which occurs to so many bright young students full of ambition. Find a town or small city in need of a Librarian and create a monopoly on the stories and lives of its people.” She smiled again, but it was mixed with sadness and fondness. “It works well. So well, in fact, I have no desire to ever leave.

  “Turns out I grew too attached to everyone here. Especially the children. Especially your family.” Nancy reached into her robe’s front and retrieved a small, weathered book from an inside pocket. She held it on her palm and it fluttered open of its own volition, the spaces between the letters glowing a hazy blue. It was the end product of an Archival: access of the Archive itself. Dan felt as much awe at the sight of the flapping pages as he had the first time he’d seen the magic a decade ago.

  Nancy gestured to one of the bookcases lining the walls, and after a few moments of wobbling in place, a thick tome pulled free from its neighbors and flew to her hand. Nancy set down her Archive and opened the new book, showing Dan saw a list of names and dates. It was a ledger of all the children who had come to Ma Winchester’s orphanage since it had opened. “You orphans were my family,” she continued. “Mine as much as anyone else’s. All you without parents to call your own, who nonetheless belong to the shared legacy of the city and countryside. To you who had nothing, every little thing was important. I couldn’t take one of those things away from you.”

  Dan nodded. He wondered if the day would come when he would need to make a similar decision, and what he’d end up doing if faced with it.

  Nancy looked up. “So remember me as you learn, Dan. If you have a dream, keep hold of it. If you want to live a life of scholarly peace, do so. If your dream is to be the greatest wizard in the world, pursue that instead.” She nodded at the bookshelves. “For every happy ending in one of these stories, there are a hundred men who got the life they thought they wanted and spent the rest of it wondering if there could have been something more.”

  Dan forced a nervous laugh. “Miracles, Nan, no need to be so serious.”

  The smile returned to her kind face. “I’m sorry, I should be trying to get you excited and all that. Don’t mind me too much, young as you are. You’ll have plenty of time to decide what you want in life.” She looked past Dan. “It sounds like the rain has let up a bit. With a miracle it’ll be all gone by the time your autobus gets here.”

  Ruckus barked and made a threatening gesture as if to shake water all over the walls again. Nancy glared at him, and Dan laughed. “Thanks,” he said, gathering his things and walking toward the door, “for everything you’ve done for me over these years. I’m gonna make you proud, just watch.”

  Dan opened the door and walked outside into the lightening drizzle, and Ruckus followed. Nancy wiped dampness from her eye after he had gone, and prepared for the day’s work.

  Chapter 2

  Dan breathed in the musty air of Ormuil as he stepped down from the autobus, ignoring the dozen or so other travelers who hustled past him from the autobus’ rickety walkway. Ruckus came down after him, sniffing about with a doggish look of chagrin. He wouldn’t enjoy the smells of the city any more than Dan did: sulfur, sewage, and other acrid, indefinable stenches.

  Ormuil was a large place, full of shops and narrow streets bounded on every side by tenements and inns. The shops all around piqued Dan’s interest, but those would have to wait until he was situated at the University.

  Dan looked around until he caught the attention of a young boy who agreed to show him the way to the University. Dan followed for a good fifteen minutes, passing through alleys and streets filthy with rotting garbage as well as the occasional pleasant location like a public garden and a not-too-busy marketplace.

  At length Dan found himself only a few hundred feet from the wrought iron gate of the University at Ormuil, the goal of his travel. He gave his dirty-faced guide the halfpenny he had promised before passing through the gate, hauling his bag after him. The grounds seemed well-kept with short grass and interspersed shrubberies. A thick-slabbed brick walkway led in several directions through the yard, and a good number of students passed by. Dan spoke up after moving through a small gro
up, asking for directions to the admissions office, and they pointed him to the tallest building in the University complex.

  It rose six stories, comprised of smooth blue stone with black iron accents, its doors the glossy dark brown of varnished oak. The other buildings were as striking and broad, but much shorter, the tallest rising only three stories. The whole of the compound seemed castle-like, blocky low buildings with a single spire rising above the rest.

  Dan felt awed, though he tried not to show it. He needed to exude confidence, to show these people he deserved to be at the University. He clutched Nancy Green’s letter of recommendation, worrying his sweatiness would dampen the paper, but too afraid to let it out of his immediate possession. Dan put his hand to the door that stood like a towering sentinel, feeling its weight, taking one last look behind him before shoving the door open with all the strength built over the three years of labor that had earned him this opportunity. He entered the University.

  Inside, a young man with a shaved head and spectacles sat at a low desk, a tall stack of papers to his left, scribbling with a silver fountain pen. He was the only other person in the room, which struck Dan as odd. Where were all the other applicants? He paused in front of the desk, uncertain, and the clerk glanced up.

  “Yes, can I help you?” he asked.

  “Hi, I’m looking to speak to the headmaster about entrance.”

  “Of course.” The clerk turned back to his papers, scratching something on the page before him. “The headmistress is in a meeting now, but will be free shortly after lunch. If you can wait that long, she’ll see you.” He looked up and smiled sympathetically. “Entrances were two days ago, you know. You’re a little late.”

  Dan felt his heart turn to ice. “What? I was told it’s always been today’s date!”

  “It was, until a few years ago. It changed due to a conflict with the annual farmer’s fair being the day before. After putting up with it for decades they decided enough was enough. Sorry.”