Mar tapped his quill along the side of an inkwell, flicking stray droplets of ink back into the reservoir. It was a practiced and familiar motion that his hand did without thinking. There were few people outside of the scribes guild who had penned as many words as Mar had, especially at the young age of seventeen.

To the eyes the young scholar was an altogether unimpressive specimen. Below average height, dirty blond hair, and pale skin from countless hours in the library rather than under the sun. He had the thin wiry build of someone who ate good food but not nearly enough of it and his eyes sported perpetual bags under them from reading into the wee hours of the morning rather than sleeping.

His youth, however, belied his experience. He’d worked as a bookkeeper in the library of Orlem since the age of twelve, ever since his rather embarrassing rejection from Orlem’s School of Magic, whose imposing gray walls taunted him daily as he passed through them when walking to and from the library.

While the library of Orlem contained a great many books, the vast majority of visitors were mages. Particularly young student mages from the school. At first Mar had avoided working the front desk, afraid of seeing students from the class he was originally in before the masters decided he had no talent for magic, but he grew used to their presence in time as word began to spread and the answers to constant questions of what happened to him became common knowledge.

At the moment Mar was perusing the pages of an old arcanists textbook that was over two hundred years old, jotting down notes as he scanned the dry pages. One of the masters from the school of Magic had hired him to compile a new textbook for their class from a long list of excerpts he’d collected.

The work was a bit dull, but Mar took an interest in the field, even though the magical aspects of the profession would forever be beyond his grasp. He wasn’t reading strictly for pleasure though. His bookkeeper's salary left something to be desired. Though the pay was more than enough to comfortably support most single young person's, Mar had the additional expense of paying his debt to the orphanage that had raised him until he finally was able to move out two years ago to a cheaper area of the city. His childhood care had been a bit extravagant on the assumption that he would grow into a talented mage. Without the skills he was supposed to have at this point in his life his monetary situation left something to be desired.

But between odd jobs like the one he was currently working on, minimizing expenses by moving into a cheaper area of the city, and eating scraps from the dining commons to save on food, and his tutoring sessions for the mage students, he was slowly paying off his debt. If things continued as planned by the time he hit thirty he would be a free man, able to do as he pleased.

Speaking of tutoring, he was expecting one of his students any moment now. Mar glanced up at the towering clock located near the front desk. When they had first installed the thing Mar was certain the constant ticking and swinging of that pendulum was going to drive him mad, but several years and a bit of oiling and it had become rather soothing background noise. Reading the time from the arm-long hands, Mar realized that his student was late yet again. He made a mental note to include it in the report to her parents.

His hand had been moving while his thoughts were elsewhere and Mar was surprised to find he had run out of paper. He blew the last page he had written until it was dry so the ink wouldn’t smudge and laid it in a stack with the other pages on the side of his desk. Unfortunately he’d been forbidden from using the libraries blank paper on anything other than library projects, so he would need to procure a new quire. He’d have Grob make more paper for him, then he would be able to finish up this little project for Master Warric so he could get paid.

Now that he had finished up all the work he could do for the moment, Mar decided to prop open a book to read for pleasure. He’d spotted a rather interesting one yesterday morning while shelving check-outs in the fertilizer and agriculture section. All the way on the top shelf a book had been misfiled, likely by those new bookkeepers the library took on, which was the only reason Mar noticed it. He’d read several other books in the library that referenced to the obscure book, and from what they had said the book contained a fascinating treatise on why magic should not be so rigidly defined in terms of the four fundamental elements, water, earth, wind, and fire. The author dogmatically defended the idea of magics beyond the common four, and rejected the classical elements to a degree most mages would find downright heretical!

“Watch the front desk for me, Roasie. I’m going to grab a book.”

Roasie let out a bored sigh. She was lying on the top of her desk, trying to nap. Roasie wasn’t one of the librarians or bookkeepers. She was a student from the magic school had been caught with contraband, and so was serving out her punishment by working under Mar at the library. Needless to say, she wasn’t very enthusiastic about her duties. But at least she listened to Mar’s instructions, rather than sneering at the notion of a mundane ordering her around.

The shelf where the book had been misfiled was against the wall back and to the left of the front desk. The shelves by the wall were seven times taller than Mar was tall, but living in a city as thoroughly infused with magic as Orlem meant that magical assistance was readily available. Mar stepped onto the plain tile set into the ground by the edge of the shelf. He tapped a glass panel and the enchantment in the stone activated, levitating off the ground. Mar signaled the contraction to move up until he reached the top row of books, then used the handles built into the shelves to guide the floating platform over to the column he was looking for.

“Kronell’s Critique of Magic, there you are.” Mar mumbled to himself as he spotted the book he was looking for. Now that he got a closer look at it he noticed it wasn’t just misfiled, but rather stacked quite precariously with several others atop it in a column going up to the ceiling. Mar grumbled to himself. Honestly, what were these new bookkeepers thinking?

Mar plucked the first book from the column and was immediately hit in the face by a spray of water that nearly knocked him off the floating platform. That would have been unfortunate. Many an inexperienced bookkeeper had broken bones after making an unfortunate slip off the platform.

Mar grabbed all the books off the current shelf and dumped them onto the platform with him, both to save to books and to give him a clear view of the problem. There was a hole in the ceiling from which the water was spilling through. It must be coming from the aqueducts that ran above the building. One of them must have sprung a leak. He’d have to seal it quickly. Many of these books were over a hundred years old and even a little water damage could ruin the bindings beyond repair.

What manner of idiot had thought it was a good idea to plug this disastrous leak with a stack of books and forget about it? Mar chose to blame the new bookkeepers, though it was equally likely that the culprit had died or retired decades ago.

There was some baked limestone powder in the other room. He could make some plaster but first he would need to find something stop the torrent of water that was spilling out of the hole. First Mar tried replacing the book, but the sudden release of pressure had expanded the break and that was no longer sufficient to seal it. Mar stripped off his tunic which was already soaking wet. He wrung it in his hands and twisted it into a tight cylinder slightly bigger than the hole in the ceiling. With a shove he jammed it inside.

Mar brought the floating platform to the ground in a hurry. Mar sprinted around the corner to the backroom, where he knew he’d find Grob sleeping.

Sure enough, there was Grob lying on the floor, bundled in nest of scrap string and paper. It likely wasn’t a comfortable bed by human standards, but as a goblin it was far better than what Grob was accustomed to in the sewers.

Mar gave him a gentle nudge with his foot. He made sure it was a soft nudge, rather than the harsh kick he would have received from anyone else.

Even though the tap was light, the little goblin leapt to its feet in alarm.

“Oh, is you, chief.” The goblin sighed in relief.

“Get up Grob, I need your help! There’s a leak. Mix up a batch of the the gray paste like I showed you!”

Fortunately the little green guy needed no further prompting. He ran off to fetch a bucket, hopefully he would get the recipe for Mar’s special plaster right. Grob was very intelligent for a goblin, but he was still a goblin.

Mar tore through the supply closet, pulling out two mops and bucket. He’d need those later no doubt. He was certain there were some— Aha! Large cork stoppers, usually used to seal ink bottles. These would plug the whole better than a rolled up shirt. Hopefully they would seal well enough for the plaster to set. The faculty would no doubt bring in an earth mage to finalize any repairs, but they couldn’t afford to simply wait. Every drop of water that fell could destroy another book.

Mar rushed over to the floating platform, only to find it sitting lifelessly in the center of a slowly expanding puddle. Mar cursed. He wasn’t privy to the higher mysteries of magic but even a mundane like him knew that introducing elemental water to a delicate earth and air based enchantment could only spell disaster.

Mar tapped the control device for the platform, trying to raise it off the ground. It was completely unresponsive. Luckily the library wasn’t totally dependent on the fickle creations of mages. They still had the ladders.

Mar pulled one such ladder out of storage from where it was being kept off too the far side of the shelf. He was halfway in position with the ladder and about to climb up it when he realized it wasn’t tall enough to reach the top shelf. Normally the first third of the ladders length came from the wheeled platform, on top of which a second ladder could be unfolded to reach higher shelves. In the event that the bookkeepers needed to reach the highest shelves, a third ladder could be attached to the top of the secondary ladder, but in this case the bracket that allowed the final third of the latter to be extend was broken. Everyone used the floating platforms, so it was no wonder the break was never repaired. No matter, this would just take a little creativity!

Mar reached ran back to the supply closet and quickly cut a length of twine from the roles available for making new book bindings. Then he ripped the pole off the mop, binding it to one of its kindred to make a pole nearly twice as long as the original mop’s handle. He skewered the piece of cork stopper on the bit of metal where the mop head was usually attached and hefted the over-sized pole like a spear, resting against his chest and shoulder. It was a bit of a balancing act to ascend the ladder with only one free hand, especially carrying such an unwieldy tool, but Mar had practice lugging books to the top shelves.

Near the top step of the second third of ladder, Mar pointed his impromptu lance at the gushing gap in the ceiling and thrusted, plunging his spear’s head into the open hole. Once lodged in position, Mar twisted the shaft in his hand to dislodge the cork at the top and leave it safely plugged in the hole. His shirt would be stuck in there, but such losses were acceptable if it meant a quick and rapid fix.

Mar spotted Grob stumbling in with as large a bucket of plaster as a goblin his size could manage. Mar quickly descended the steps to grab it. He commandeered a bit of cloth and tied it to the end of his long stick. He then dipped the end of the stick in the pail of grayish plaster that the goblin presented to him.

Ordinary plaster wouldn’t work particularly well as a sealant, but Mar’s recipe included some unusual ingredients, namely a thick and gooey tree sap, that made the concoction harden much quicker than normal. It also was springy and expended slightly when dry. Mar had developed the recipe during a period of intense interest in non-magical alchemy, hoping to create a simple yet effective sealant. He’d had the delusion of selling the formula to a merchant for a year’s salary, but none that he talked to had seen the concoction as something worth more than a few silver denarii.

After putting down a few coats of his concoction, Mar decided to switch off with Grob while he went to dry off and find a new shirt. Although Mar’s plaster compound was stronger than the traditional variety, it had to be mixed thinner and put down in several layers. After laying down the sixth such layer Mar decided that although a few more could be added for security, the situation was safe enough that the goblin could take over.

Grob, being smaller than Mar, had more trouble wielding the large pole then Mar did, and as a result some of the plaster ended up a bit off target. Mar wasn’t particularly concerned. The elaborate frescoes that once decorated the library’s ceiling had long since faded into unrecognizability. A little splotch of gray here and there wouldn’t be noticed.

Mar glanced up at his handiwork and brushed the water from his face. It was a shame he’d lost his tunic, but the books were saved, so it counted as a job well done. He mentally clapped himself on the back and started thinking of possible rewards for Grob. The goblin did love candy. He was about to ask the goblin for suggestions when a shrill and piercing voice rang out through the otherwise quiet halls of the library.

“What in the abyss is going on here!” came the outraged demands of a bald headed man. While he was only slightly taller than Mar in height the older assistant-head librarian was nearly triple Mar’s weight, and it lended a warbling cadence to his voice. Mar was slightly startled by the voice, but Grob was positively petrified. The fact that Mr. Thoswallow was one of the individuals who made certain to give the goblin a firm kick whenever he saw him didn’t help in quelling the goblin’s sudden fright.

Grob yelped in fright, diving off the ladder while dropping the long pointy pole, which fell point-first into the ground at Mr. Thoswallow’s feet, who yelped and leapt back in surprise.

Mar could either grab the falling stick or the falling goblin. He didn’t hesitate to leap forward and catch Grob, who otherwise would have suffered a nasty fall.

The makeshift javelin hit the ground with a thud. It stood propped up at a right angle before gravity made itself known and brought the oblong object toppling to the ground. A deep gouge was left in the otherwise polished and unblemished stone at Mr. Thoswallow’s feet. Water began to seep out of it in a growing puddle, though unlike the clean, clear water from the ceiling, this water was a muddy brownish color.

Huh. It seemed the library was unfortunately sandwiched between the schools aqueducts and sewers.

“Marus Orphan! I demand to know what is going on!” Mr. Thoswallow shouted, growing red in the face. Mar wasn’t sure what peeved him more, the fact that Thoswallow had used ‘orphan’ in place of his last name, or that a librarian was shouting in the library.

Mar bit his tongue. He still needed this job. “Just plugging a small leak sir. It’s taken care of.”

Mr. Thoswallow gestured at his boots which were rapidly being soaked by the brown liquid at his feet. “I told you to get rid of that bloody goblin. I knew it would be the ruin of this place the moment I first saw it, and I am now vindicated! Wait until the head-librarian hears of this debacle!”

Mar could only bite his tongue so hard. Before he could stop himself he was already speaking. “In all fairness Mr. Thoswallow, Grob never would have slipped if you hadn’t started shouting in the library. This is supposed to be a quite place, you know.”

Mr. Thoswallow’s face grew beat red with anger at the implied insubordination, though technically Mar had been working at the library as long as him. “No, no. You will not save your little pet and yourself with that silver tongue of yours! When the head-librarian hears of this either that goblin will be gone or you will be! Just be gratefully I won’t be demanding you pay for damages!”

“Mr. Thoswallow, I don’t want to make an enemy of you. But know that I have as much a voice in the head-librarian’s ear as you do, and once she hears my side of the story—”

“The ONLY thing Mistress Omela will hear is you let your filthy creature run wild through our sacred halls, destroying priceless artifacts of history and sullying the sanctity of these books with it’s presence. Need I bring up the fact that you completely and irresponsibly ignored proper procedure for when something like this happens in the library?”

Mar rolled his eyes. “You mean the procedure that says we should ring the bell and wait for a mage while the library burns around us? I don’t know about you Mr. Thoswallow, but I prefer to be a bit more proactive.”

Mr. Thoswallow got right up in Mar’s face. His bulk was intimidating so close. He jabbed a stubby finger at Mar’s chest. “I will see you throw—”

“Somebody called for a mage?” interrupted a young and feminine voice.

Mar was as surprised as Mr. Thoswallow, but he recognized the voice and was able to play along.

“Ah, yes your ladyship, thank you for your timely arrival.” Mar bowed to the fifteen year old girl who had just arrived.

“Worry not citizen. As a mage such things are my duty.” The girl replied with grace and decor.

Mr. Thoswallow was forced to follow suite. “Yes, thank you, your ladyship. I was not aware that any of your status were informed of our dilemma.”

“How could I not have? I’m quite certain half the campus could hear your bellowing. Do try to be quite in the future, this is a library after all.”

Mr. Thoswallow shuffled his feet in embarrassment as he was scolded by a girl not even a third his age. “I will endeavor to improve in the future, lady.” Mr. Thoswallow turned to excuse himself. It was considered rude to leave a mages presence without being dismissed, but the girl didn’t make an issue of it.

As soon as Mr. Thoswallow left, the girls casual condescending attitude vanished.

“I’ll never get used to being able to do that.” She whispered to Mar with a grin.

“Thanks for stepping in, Livy.” Mar said.

“Oh, it’s the least I could do after showing up half an hour late to your tutoring session. I’m really sorry. Don’t tell my mother and we’ll call it even for my help with that goon over there.”

Mar nodded. “Deal. Just give me a minute to seal this hole in the floor before the whole place starts stinking of sewage.”

Livy waved her hand in dismissal. “I’ve got it.” She gestured towards the ground and the floor smoothed over into unblemished stone once again. Livy. looked up at the ceiling and repeated the process. It was illogical, but Mar felt a twinge of sadness as his hard work was washed away so easily. Mar’s plaster seal popped out, along with the cork and his shirt, which she tossed to Mar.

“Sorry I can’t dry it. I had the spells for repairing stone already mounted in my aura, but drying off your shirt would take some concentration.”

Mar waved her off. “You’ve already done more than enough. It will dry in time. Let’s sit down and begin your studies. I do bill by the hour after all.”