Scourge Twenty-Nine - Bookstore

“Where are we going first?” Felix asks.

“If you mention a place that sells food, I’m going to smack you,” I say.

She laughs and shakes her head. “Nah, I’ve had my fill for now. Really though, what are we going to check out first?”

My friends and I gather ourselves up just outside the inn’s front door. The road around the inn is actually pretty quiet, at least up to the nearest intersection, then it becomes a busy street filled with a constantly moving throng of people.

“Books?” Esme asks. She has her satchel next to her, noticeably empty of any books. “I bet there are a few shops around here. It’s something of a trade city, after all.”

“It’s actually a nice place,” Felix adds. “Like, the smell of it?”

I have no idea what that means. I do give the air a sniff though, to see if that’ll help me understand the city a bit better.

It smells like horse poop and stagnant water.

“You’re weird,” I tell Felix, which at least gets her to laugh a bit.

We start down the road the inn is on towards the main thoroughfare that crosses the city. It’s a pretty wide road, obviously designed to accommodate a lot more traffic than what’s here, but it still looks pretty busy. The shops on either side of the road are bustling, and some merchants have set up stalls on the wide sidewalks where they’re hawking goods out to anyone nearby.

We keep close to each other as we start through the crowds. We don’t really make it far though. All of us stop by the first shop and stare through the windows at the pretty dresses within. “Those look like something you’d wear,” I tell Bianca.

“You think?” she asks while inspecting the dress in the centre of the display. It has a long flowing skirt, and a corseted waist decorated with bone-white buttons and careful lacework that covers the upper chest and shoulders while leaving little to the imagination. I guess it’s a pretty daring sort of dress.

“Why do all the dresses have that thing in the back?” Felix asks.

“What thing?” I turn towards Felix who is very clearly still staring at the dress.

She points to just below the dress’ waist. “The butt bit. Why is it sticking so far out? That’s not normal.”

“There is some fabric at the rear to... accentuate things,” Bianca says. “It’s quite popular out west, I hear, and the fashion is carrying over to here.”

“It looks stupid,” Felix says. “I guess you could hide a knife in there. There’s folds and stuff so no one would see the opening to grab it.”

“Or you could hide a book,” Esme says. “But then it would be inconvenient when you try to sit down.”

“It would prevent anyone from grabbing at you,” I point out.

Esme turns my way and locks eyes with me. “Why? Are you planning to grab my book?”

I try to think of something to say, but I choke on nothing and blood rushes to my face. “Felix!”

Felix laughs, snorts, then pats me on the shoulder. “Come on! There’s a bookstore across the street! You can grab Esme’s book over there.”

“Don’t say that!”

She only laughs louder, and grabs my hand to drag me across the street. We have to bunch up and hurry across because there’s no way all the carts and carriages passing by are going to stop for us.

The first bookstore we find is a cute little place tucked in between a grocers and an alchemist’s shop. Esme and I are the first in, and we both pause at the threshold to give the air a sniff.

“Oh, yeah,” I breathe.

“I like this place already,” Esme says.

“You’re both weird,” Felix adds from behind us.

The shop isn’t very wide, but it makes up for it by being long and tall, with a staircase tucked against one wall leading to a second floor that looks like it has even more books. An older gentleman by a counter smiles at us as we take in the room. “Welcome! Are you looking for anything in particular?”

“Just looking,” I say. “How are things organised?”

He points up to a little placard hanging above a row of books. It reads “Maps” in careful print.

“Oh, thanks!” I turn to Esme. “Where do we start?”

She hums and taps her chin. "We could go by subject and interest. Fiction first, then relevant non-fiction? Or we could just canvas the shop in order, that way we won’t retread the same ground. We can start to the left, then follow all the outer walls until we come all the way around, then we tackle the unconnected shelves one by one, from left to right again.”

“And then the second floor,” I say.

“Exactly.”

I notice Bianca leaning closer to Felix behind me. “Is this normal?”

“With these two? Oh yeah. I hope you like watching paint dry because this will be about as fun,” Felix says.

“Hey, you like reading too,” I say.

She rolls her eyes at me. “I like reading a little. It’s not the same as you two.”

“You’re right,” I say as I loop an arm with Esme’s. “Come on, we’ll find the good stuff.”

Esme nods very seriously and follows me over to the nearest stack of books. Of course they all turn out to be the boring sort of history books, so I don’t actually pay them much attention. I’m here for the rare sorts of fiction that we haven’t gotten back home yet.

“If we do get anything, how are we going to carry them?” Esme asks as her gaze travels over spines.

“I can have some friends bring them back. They know how to be careful with books. And we can leave a note on the inside that they’re yours.”

“You mean, write inside the book?” Esme asks.

I bump a shoulder against hers. “Yes Esme, because you can write in books.”

“That’s heresy, you know,” she says. “Legitimately against my religious beliefs.”

I sniff. “In that case I’m a heretic.”

“You are,” she says before we share a giggle. “Oh, look, The Gods and the Ilk, that’s an uncommon book.”

“Is it?” I ask as I look at the tome she’s pulling off the shelf.

“It really is. The book’s all about the gods, but also about these creatures and people that are very strong. Ancient cultivators and elders. The problem is that one of those became a god between the book being written and its distribution, and there are a few passages in here that some churches disagreed with, so they tried to limit publication.”

“Oh,” I say. “And it’s here?”

“I guess their reach wasn’t that far,” Esme says. She bites the tip of her tongue and opens the book up to the first pages. “Oh, look, this was printed in Caselfella. They have a printing house?”

“That’s neat,” I say.

“This is press-printed,” Esme says while pinching a page. “I guess someone bought some printers from Iaria and shipped them over. Iaria uses a new printing method now, it’s a lot finer.”

I nod, even though I can’t really see the difference. Esme can though, what with her big glasses and pinched features as she studies the book. “Do you want it?”

“Want what?” she asks. “A printing press?”

“No, I meant the book. I guess I could get you a printing press too.”

She snorts. “What would I do with one of those? And where would you get one?”

“I could get some, uh, friends to push plates of letters down all day. No problem. It would take up some room, but that’s not a big deal. The paper and ink might be tricky though.”

Esme shakes her head. “No, but thanks. And I don’t really want this book, there was a copy in Montele. I remember looking at it because the story behind the book’s printing was interesting. But the book itself is boring. It’s super dry.”

“Ah, alright,” I say. “Come on, let’s find something a bit more wet to read then.”

“Val! That’s not how you describe books.”

I laughed. “It is if you want it to be,” I say. “Where’s the fiction section? Oh, and the romance.”

“Romance?” Esme asks. “Since when have you been into that?”

“I’m not, but mom is, and she’ll be happy if we send her a gift, I bet.”

“Oh, that’s nice. Maybe I should get gifts too.”

“For my mom?” I ask.

“No, for Semper... well, maybe your mom too, I suppose she’s deserved a gift or two after dealing with a daughter like you.”

“Hey!”

A snort from nearby has me half-turning to find Felix walking over. “Nice one,” she says. “Uh, Bianca and I have been talking to the old man out front. Turns out we’re not the only group to come in here.”

“Okay,” I say. I imagine she’s going somewhere with this.

“Yeah. A few of Heroe’s templars have stopped by too, just this morning at that.”

“Ah... yeah, that might be trouble.”

***