The Library (The Librarian of Alexandria Book 1) Casey White (classic books for 13 year olds txt) 📖

The lanterns flickered.  The shadows seemed to sigh, swelling and then receding.

When they rounded the next corner, a set of massive wooden gates waited in their way.  Olivia stumbled to a stop with a squeal - but Owl stepped forward, putting his shoulder into one side of the doors.

It was heavy.  God damn it was heavy.  Alex, would you-

The gates gave way with a groan of metal on metal.  Sunlight gleamed down from above, soft and diffuse but bright still.  Owl winced, shading his eyes, and stood upright.

“O-Oh,” Olivia said, stepping up alongside him.  “Outside.  I thought-”

Her words fell away.  Owl glanced back, straightening his jacket.  Her eyes were round - and that smile was back on her face.

“Sweet,” she breathed.  “That’s crazy.  How have you never showed me this before?”

“What are you-” Owl began, then turned.

The doorway opened onto a courtyard, lined with trees that pressed right up against the sides of the Library.  Their branches teemed with perfectly-white flowers, of a sort he was sure he’d never seen before.  They filled the air with a sweet, mellow scent.  A path led from the gateway, paving stones carving out a boundary from the green grass that covered the rest of the yard.

The path was just an aside, though, as were the flowers.  They were just window dressing to highlight the statue that rose from a plinth in the center of the courtyard.

Olivia hurried forward, swinging her backpack free from her shoulder.  Owl just drifted out of the archway, moving more slowly.

A statue...of a man, with long hair that had been braided back, and a smooth but solemn face.  He wore a coat, too - with a high collar and a hem that swirled about his calves.

The design of the jacket was altogether too familiar, even if he’d never seen the man in his life.  Owl came to a stop, licking his lips nervously.  Uh...Alex?  Do you want to explain anything?

“Can’t believe you were- sitting on something- like this,” Olivia said between grunts, digging through her bag.

“What?” Owl said, tearing his eyes off the statue in time to see her pull a sketchbook from her bag.  “Wait, are you-”

“This is perfect,” Olivia said - and she dropped to the grass on the spot.  The pages flew past as she flipped through, folding the cover over and behind once she hit a blank sheet.  “I was so tired of drawing architecture shots.”

“You draw, too?” Owl said, amusement filling his voice.

“Yep,” Olivia said.  She slid a pencil from the binding, and started to work.  “You already know what I study.  I like history, and I like art.  So I combined them.”

“I mean, that’s fine,” Owl said.  He wandered forward, just close enough to see the lines she was sketching out.  He blinked.  It...wasn’t bad.  She wasn’t just an amateur, then.  “I’m still a little surprised, though.”

Olivia rolled her eyes, fixating in on the drawing again.  “Well...neither of them are really enough for me to make a living,” she muttered.  “History I can at least find a job with.  Art?”  She shrugged gently.  A strand of honey-brown hair slid free, dropping to hang in midair as she hunched over the book.  “Art is nice, but it’s just a hobby.  For now.”

“You don’t look much like a hobbyist,” Owl mumbled, watching the smooth lines of the figure appear on her page.

Olivia looked up.  “What’s that?”

“N-Nothing.”  His cheeks warmed.  “Um.”

Her brow furrowed.  “Um?”

Damn it, just say something.  The confusion in her expression grew, with her dark eyes still searching his mask.  Owl shook his head desperately.

“So you work in- in history, then?”

Olivia laughed, turning back to her drawing.  “Duh.  I teach.  You know that, don’t you?  It’s on that form I had to fill out.”

“O-Oh.  Well, yeah.”  Owl trudged toward the statue, cursing inwardly.  “I just...wondered.  How it worked, on your side of things.”

“My what, now?”

He sighed.  “The guild.”  A conversational escape stretched out before him - one he was all too happy to take.  “I’ve been doing this a while, but...I’m just the Librarian.”

“Just,” Olivia said with a snort.

“Don’t laugh at me,” Owl said, shooting a glance back over his shoulder.  “I have no idea how Indira finds you, or how you all wind up with the Booklenders.”

“Oh.”  Olivia pursed her lips, her pencil moving more slowly.  “It’s not that complicated.”

“I’m still curious.”  The plinth seemed to grow bigger and bigger the closer he got to it.  Owl let out a respectful whistle, letting his eyes sweep over the elegantly-carved granite.  The statue itself rose high over him, tall enough to meet the Library’s roofline if it could somehow reach out and touch it.

“I don’t...know if I should,” Olivia said.  The scritching of her pencil against the paper had stopped entirely.  “I don’t know if Indira would-”

“You’re here to learn about me,” Owl said.  “I’m not asking you to tell me what Indira’s favorite kind of tea is.  Just...I’d like to know more about you guys, while I have the chance.”

“I guess.”  A soft breeze rustled through the courtyard, and then Olivia sighed.  “It’s not fancy, Owl.  I help her with the selections, mostly.  I find people who are working on long-shot projects.  Ones they’ll be hard-pressed to finish in their lifetimes.  People who are too small, working in organizations too big for them to ever be seen.”  Another pause, another rasping of pencil against paper.  “And then we help them.”

“You find them?” Owl said, stretching his hand out.  The stone caught at his gloves, tugging against the fabric and leather.  “And then-”

“And then we reach out,” Olivia said.  “We have to be careful too, you know.  You’re not alone in that.  If we get labeled as crazies-”

“You’ll never work in academia again,” Owl said.

“Pretty much.”  She paused, going quiet.  “We offer them...opportunities.  If they sound favorable, then we add them to the list.  The one that goes to you.  And then...we give them a warning, if they’re selected.”

“I