Books are books. What’s the big deal?

I’m ashamed to admit that foolish thought was rattling around in my evidently-empty skull before I visited the library. Extensive book collections, like the one Lord Garman maintains, are no stranger to me. I regularly patronize Camdyn, the local [Book Seller], and I fancy myself an expert compared with the other crafters. They only crack open a book when they have to work the ledgers or order new colors of fritz for glass, but I read for pleasure.

I genuinely thought that I was ready for the school library. I thought it was simply a larger version of what I’d seen before: shelves lining the walls, a dusty back corner, some boxes full of books not yet sorted. So, I approached the stately towers and delicate flying buttresses of the SCA library without high expectations.

That was before I pushed open the library’s massive double doors, tiptoed past a pair of all-too-aware mana-steel golems, and beheld space itself twisting into a singularity.

Nothing I’ve ever seen remotely prepares me for the massive, magical, mind-bending maze that seems to extend out into infinity. “Library” is too tame a term for such a vast work of beauty and impossible shapes and contradictions.

My feet stutter to a stop. Words fail me. Deep inside my chest, my heart shudders, then beats faster than before, thudding in anticipation. My vision latches on to a bright point far down the line, stretching on into hyperfocal—

“First time?”

An amused voice booms next to me, cutting through the static in my mind. “Here, hold onto this. It will ground you, young man.”

A cold chunk of coarse rock, heavier than its size suggests it should be, is thrust into my hand. I fumble for a grip, almost dropping it, and feel my fractured consciousness come back to me by slow degrees. The library takes on a more normal appearance: still large, but geometric and within the bonds of reality.

“Resilient! Good. How can I help?”

I glance up at the speaker, then up again. Towering over me, bulkier than my brother, looms a granite golem. Unlike the mana-steel varieties that stand guard in perpetual war-like readiness, this golem is capable of speech and, apparently, humor.

“Did . . . you just make a pun about rocks coming from the ground?”

More rumbles of amusement. “You like it?”

Personality from a construct? Since when did a borderland city like Silaraon boast such advanced magic? I stare at the golem, my mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, overwhelmed by the power and wealth on display.

Then I catch a glimpse of a [Librarian] speaking into a small control stone a few dozen feet away, and I realize the projected voice is all theater.

Sure enough, after closer examination, I realize that the statue is fastened to a marble base. In practice, this granite automaton is not all much different from our own Iron Lunk. The enchantments may be more refined, but it’s not capable of independent thought or action. The lack of mobility is somehow comforting. I need a taste of the familiar after beholding the way the library twists space and messes with my mind.

I square my shoulders and walk up to the polished, slate-gray desk, where the librarian is now smirking at me. Wielding the paper from Ezio like a shield against my ignorance, I hand over the note. “New student this semester. Could you please help me with this textbook?”

“No problem, let me grab it. Oh, gotta get a good reading of your mana signature for the imprint. Your teacher go over that process with you already?” His voice is nasally and quick, a far cry from the basso rumble it possessed when transformed by the speaking stone linked to his construct.

When I nod in confirmation, he gives me a pinched, practiced smile. His thin face and black hair give his unusually pale face a deathly pallor, turning his smile into something ghastly. “Great! Saves time. Feel free to wait on the couch over there while I get the analyzer.”

I clear my throat. “Sorry if this is rude, but do you mind if I ask an awkward question?”

He snorts. “You already did.”

“I see. Uh, are you an actual [Librarian] by Class, or do you just work here as a student? Can you explain what kind of Skills a [Librarian] has?” I blurt out.

He chuckles nervously. “Oh. Most people want to know if I’m allergic to sunlight or if I’ve ever seen the outside world before. The answer is definitely no. To the allergy! Of course I’ve been out doors. Who hasn’t?”

Starting to regret my question, I nod along, although his compulsive tittering is a little off putting. “Right, uh, nevermind. I’m just curious to see how Skills look in action. I’ve been trying to earn some sort of mana sense.”

He blinks rapidly. “By watching Skills?”

“Yes. Is that not the right path?”

“Never say never, right?” the young librarian says, giving me a pained smile. “I mean, it’s absolutely, one-hundred-percent, totally not impossible.”

I groan. “Sounds like a dead end.”

“It’s better than nothing!” he says in a sing-song, oddly cheerful voice. “I’m not a true [Librarian], or else I could summon the books you’ll need directly—to answer your question from earlier about Skills. The guy who runs this place doesn’t even have to leave the desk to get the books he needs. He doesn’t even need to read anymore, from what I’ve heard. Rumor has it that he can mentally cross-check any fact as long as the answer’s here in the library.”

“That’s amazing,” I breathe, instantly captivated by the idea of endless knowledge in my mind, instantly available with no more than a single thought. “Is [Librarian] hard to earn? Does it have any benefits outside the building, too?”

He shrugs. “You’d have to ask him. I’m not gonna pry into someone’s Class! Now, listen, I’ve got an idea where to check for books on mana senses after I fetch your textbook. We’ll get you sorted. Seeing mana is essential if you’re going to make progress.”

Without further fanfare, he scurries off into the depths of the library. I try to watch, but as soon as he crosses over the threshold of the lobby, he disappears from view. Explains why I don’t see any other students or teachers, I guess. Maybe no one wants to let people see what they’re researching.

Uncertain how long the [Librarian] might take to fetch the mana analyzer and the course textbook, I take his advice to sit. I step past a small potted plant that seems strangely out of place amidst the soaring columns and intricate stained glass high overhead, and sink down into a cushioned seat. I crack open the only book in Silaraon that’s not likely in the library: my gift from Ezio. My excitement at reading about Tem soon fades, however. Instead of rousing scenes of adventure and derring-do, the text is brisk and analytical, covering the three most prominent [Mage] factions and their theories of magic.

Still, if I’m here to learn, then I’m not going to do it halfway. Enthusiasm for a project isn’t what carries me through to the end, anyway. I’ve made plenty of custom glass orders that didn’t tickle my fancy, and learning to discipline myself to do the work will help me here, too. I slip out my notebook and jot down my thoughts as I read, summarizing the breakdown of the factions.

Convergence: the smallest subset of [Mages]. They strive to explain all of reality via a single, unified theory of energy and being. Regardless of whether mana or alternate sources of power are in play, they believe that if they fully understand the secrets underpinning the world, then it will unlock easily transmuting matter or energy between any of their states.

Dissonance: a counter-movement to the convergents. Not much is known about the dissonants’ goals. Appears to be a pun on “dissidents.” Agitators.

Utility: the largest group, by far. They are traditionalists, who don’t care about magic for magic’s sake, but only about political power. Their interest in developing strong [Mages] is utilitarian, as the name says. To them, magic is a means to wield strength in service to Densmore. The current advisor to the [King], the powerful [Viceroy] Tapirs, is their head [Mage].

By the time the [Librarian] returns with my textbook, my head is spinning. When will I ever need to know this? Politics are so far out of my day to day life that it seems easier to reach up and touch the moon than it is to imagine myself a player on the world stage. Shouldn’t I focus on something simple and tangible, like basic mana manipulation, instead?

The [Librarian] haphazardly drops a large box on the desk with a loud thunk that seems at odds with the quiet nature of libraries. He waves me over to his slate gray desk. “Ready? Shouldn’t hurt, just a quick prick to confirm your blood. It gives us a more exact signature for the book binding.”

I join him at the front desk, studiously ignoring my curiosity to peek into the box. Magical tools are fascinating, but I’m not here to dissect them. “Sure. Let’s get it done.”

His shoulders slump. “Well, you’re no fun. Gotta keep things interesting, since I’ve only got books and stuffy academicians to keep me company. You could at least pretend to laugh at my joke, kid.”

“Kid? I’m probably as old as you are,” I reply, staring at the smooth-cheeked young man. “And I didn’t hear a joke.”

If possible, his cheeks seem to grow even more hollow as he bites them. “Aw, man. You don’t get it? Book binding?”

When I shake my head, he scowls fiercely. “As in, the physical construction of a book? But! It’s also a play on words, since you’re about to bind yourself to the book so it’s attuned to only your mana signature for the rest of the semester. See?”

I keep staring. “Hilarious.”

His cheeks flush, and I snicker. “Ha, I got you! Serves you right for scaring me with that big old rock earlier.”

“Oh, well played,” he says, chuckling. “I thought you were just another moron without a sense of humor. I’ll be on guard next time I see you around. Name’s Marko, by the way.”

“Nuri. I’m a glassmaker, not a student. Auditing a class for this semester, so don’t expect to see much of me otherwise. I work full time.”

“Oh, which class?” Marko asks.

“Foundations of Magical Theory and Mana Manipulation. Didn’t you have to check to see if you got the right textbook?”

“Nah. It’s all tied to the inscription on the note. That’s a good introduction to the basics if you’re interested in magic, particularly as a crafter.” Marko nods, then claps his hands together as if remembering something. He stands upright and rigid. “Wait. Who’s your teacher?”

“Ezio,” I reply, crossing my arms. “Why?”

Marko’s already bone-white face goes completely ashen. “Well, nice knowing ya.”

I roll my eyes. “Not gonna fall for that. Can’t fool me again today.”

“I’m not kidding. He’s scary,” Marko says, swallowing hard. “Just be careful, all right? It’s not the first time he’s taken on a surprise student. Not all of them make it.”

“You mean, they don’t all pass?” I clarify, although I suspect the answer is more sinister than that. My mind darts back to Ezio’s earlier conversation about a student who burned himself out trying to rank up his Skills. Did he say that the student did it on his own? Or did Ezio just say that he wished he’d given him more oversight?

“I probably shouldn’t get into it,” Marko says, chuckling nervously. “Be careful, all right? That’s all I’m saying. So! Let’s get you sorted with your mana signature.”

The analyzer turns out to be a simple crystalline machine. It almost looks like glass, but I suspect it’s actually a natural crystal, with more cohesive internal minerals. Glass is amorphous and chaotic, not fixed, according to what Ember taught me. Melina seems to agree, based on her compositional analysis Skill.

Lost in my ruminations, I barely feel the pinch for the blood draw. The machine thrums once afterward, flashing with an azure light as it analyzes my unique mana signature, or so Marko explains. A ghostly array of hazy runic formations washes over me and the textbook, which he placed on the desk in front of me, and it’s done. I’m officially bound to the book for the rest of the semester.

And what a book, I think in wonder. Easily four or five times the size of the small book I got from Ezio, this textbook looks like it was designed to sit permanently on a stand somewhere for people to admire its gilt title and elaborate artwork. Carrying the book around with me hardly seems comfortable. Or practical.

“Thanks. Guess I’ll need a bag.”

A mischievous glint sparks in Marko’s eyes. “Fun fact! We just so happen to sell book bags. Normally, there’s a student discount for our bags, but since you’re only auditing a class, and you already admitted that you’re gainfully employed, you get to pay full price.

I snort. “Fun fact, huh?”

Marko just grins at me even wider and holds out his hand until I relent and pay him the exorbitant cost. It beats trying to grapple with the book while I walk back to my cabin. He counts out my change and gives me a travel pack with shoulder straps. “Anything else I can help you with today, Nuri?”

“Yeah. I mentioned that Ezio is my instructor. Could I get a list of everything he’s ever published during his tenure? I’m not going to check them out right now, but I just want to see what’s available. Could you also list the years they were entered into the library archive?”

“Sure. You probably can’t check them out, though. A lot of the works are only available to other professors or to our graduate students. Even if you were full-time, you’re starting out with undergrad coursework.”

“What’s the difference?” I ask, scrunching up my brow and leaning against the desk. “I’m not familiar.”

“Oh! Well. They really didn't tell you much of anything did they?” Marko says, laughing with a nervous little hitch. “Ahem. All right. Most students start at about sixteen, or maybe fifteen if they are gifted and have family tutors. They study anywhere from three to five years before becoming provisional graduates of the SCA. After that, if they show promise, then they can apply for sponsorship. That usually lasts about a decade, give or take. Graduate students are extremely specialized, and the longer they've been here, the more impressive the resume, as a general rule.”

“Is Rakesh a grad student?”

“You know him? Of course you do! Explains why you got a chance to audit. Yeah he was one of the youngest scholars ever accepted into the SCA. It raised quite a kerfuffle with some of the old-timers when Ezio snatched him up as his first sponsored student. Imagine turning away all candidates for years and then boom! You swoop in and take the only student the assistant headmaster earmarked for himself. Ha!”

My eyebrows inch up my forehead. “Is that going to cause me problems? I don't want to run afoul of the assistant headmaster.”

“Nah. He won’t even know who you are,” Marco assures me while scribbling down the last title in an impressively long list. “Here. All set. Every book published since Ezio completed since he finished his graduate work three decades ago.”

I pump my fist in the air. “I knew it! He’s got to be at least fifty-five, then. Maybe older. Thanks, Marko. You’ve been a huge help.”

“Yep. Live to serve and all that.” Marko says sarcastically. He starts to wave farewell, then stops midway through the motion as though completely frozen in place. He raises a single bony finger, staring into space while his lips twitch. “Wait, wait, just thought of something. You’re probably way behind the other students, even in a class like Fundamentals. Let me get you a primer that should help you with circulating mana. Even if you already know how to move mana around, my guess is that no one’s taught you how to do it more efficiently.”

“That sounds awesome! Are you sure I can check the primer out of the library without an instructor’s note?” I ask. “Thought that was only for actual students.”

Marko waves away my concerns. “Nah, you can’t, but I’ll get it out under my name, same as the mana senses book I promised earlier. They’re basic books, so even if you lose them, it’s not a big deal. I mean. Try not to lose them, yeah? But still! Least I can do, if you’re stuck with Ezio. I’m telling you, watch yourself.”

I nod awkwardly. “I’ll be fine. Thanks.”

Marko shrugs. “Suit yourself. Back in a jiffy with those books. Don’t lose them, or you owe me!”

“I thought you said it wasn’t a big deal!” I call at Marko’s retreating back, but he doesn’t seem to hear me before he crosses the threshold into the library proper again and disappears. Ah well. I’m sure it will all work out. Marko seems nice. I don’t think he’s going to hold this over me or anything if they go missing. Right?

=+=

Reflecting on the day when I’m back in my cabin that night, I’m still fighting off disbelief. How did I get here? I’m a little confused at how my fortunes have shifted so drastically. Yesterday, all I wanted to do was make glass, try to see mana, and improve my martial skills so that I’m not useless if there’s another beast irruption like the one in Peliharaon.

Today, I’m a student at the SCA—albeit temporarily—and I have access to an actual mana circulation primer in addition to a massive textbook.

“Thanks, Ember. You’re the best!”

I know she can’t hear my outburst, but as I sit at my small desk, looking out the window at the velvet backdrop of the night sky, I’m overwhelmed with gratitude. “I should lead with that when I talk to her about Mel joining me. Soften her up first. Flattery always goes over well.”

With great effort, I tear my gaze away from the stars overhead and focus on the book in front of me. I’m trying to read through the mana circulation primer before bed, but I keep getting distracted. My hope was that I could find a parallel between the suggestions in the book and the mana practice I’ve been doing with the glass orbs, but they’re nothing alike.

Doubt nibbles at me. Have I been doing it wrong all along? Or are there simply different methods to accomplish the same task? “If only I could see what I’m doing,” I lament for the third time in the last hour.

Initially, I wanted to jump straight into the book about how to expand my mana senses first. A quiet voice in the back of my head that sounded suspiciously like Ezio told me it’s more prudent to develop proper techniques for circulating my mana. I’m wasting energy right now by constantly leaking excess mana when I try to move it into my eyes, and most of the time I don’t even get a result, anyway. So why not go slow and steady, and start from the bottom?

“No one shapes glass while it’s cold,” I murmur, thinking back to some of my earliest memories of working with my father, before he succumbed to the mana plague. He taught me how to get a feel for the glass while we brought it up to temperature in the furnace. Even without my heat-related Skill, I developed an excellent sense for testing its readiness just by how elastic the glass seemed when I used the blowpipe to pick up a gather.

Whenever I had trouble blowing a larger bubble, or couldn’t get the glass to look the way I wanted, my father always made me go back to the glory hole and reheat the project. Invariably, the results improved. I couldn’t cheat the process and expect a good result. Regardless of the medium—glass or mana—the basics matter. Don’t overlook laying a foundation, Nuri.

I crack open the book again, reviewing the loops representing ideal mana flow, and try to visualize how I can copy it in my own body. It’s slow going, and the overlapping swirls that look like infinity figures make my head hurt, but I push forward. It’s all right if my way of doing things isn’t as good as I thought it was at first. All I can do is keep an open mind and try again. That’s the entire point of having an instructional manual and a teacher. If I already had a perfect plan, then I wouldn’t need any of that.

Two hours later, I drag myself to bed. My mind is tied in knots and my mana channels are slightly raw and tender, but I’ve made a little progress. The mana within me is feeling less sluggish in this new pattern, a bit less stubborn. I’ll keep improving with practice. And if I get stuck, I’ve got a teacher to help me. How awesome is that!

As I fall asleep, I resolve to buy Ember a whole basket of sweet rolls. It’s the least I can do for her, since she’s done so much for me.