Librarian

The Treasurer was gracious about Finn's request to continue researching. He had come to a dead end about anything further on the mysterious enemy that Klain faced and appreciated the help. With the populace crying out for answers after the death of the recruits, he felt more urgency than ever to get as much information as he could.

Finn shared one or two of her topics of research with him, namely, looking up a couple of the rare herbs from the ancient book of recipes since it seemed logical that the Rhone were using them. He easily accepted the logic and authorized her access to whatever books she might need. She kept to herself the information from Jimmy, and the talk of nonhumans, and anything she learned from Dierdre. She didn't want him to think she was crazy, or even if he did believe her, reveal too much.

After all, if the Provider was a traitor, wasn't almost everyone potentially untrustworthy? She didn't think The Treasurer was bad, but still thought it wise to keep much of what she wanted to know to herself.

She would research those topics when the Treasurer was off handling other business. She was somewhat interested in the military records and records of the elections to see if she could corroborate any of Dierdre's story. Most of the recent military records were kept at the General's home, for his convenience, or the military office, but since the events she was interested in were twenty years ago, perhaps some had been moved here. The election records were certainly stored by the Treasurer.

She wondered whether she could pry into any of the Provider's records without drawing undue attention to herself. The recent failure of the emergency stores was of course an extreme thing, but if he truly was a traitor, there might be breadcrumbs of his manipulations hidden amongst the mundane recordkeeping.

She cringed, remembering the peacekeeping officer's visit. Maybe she should stay away from topics directly related to the Provider for the time being, and keep her head down. To an outsider, she wanted it to appear that she was merely assisting the Treasurer in research for the city.

She sat down with another stack of books at the table she had claimed for her purposes, and began slowly leafing through them. She'd been at it for a few hours, and the Treasurer had finally left on other business. This was her chance to start researching non-humans.

What had Jimmy mentioned? Halflings, goblins... anything else? She was sure that mythology made up many scary and interesting creatures, how was one supposed to know what was real?

Maybe none of them were real, but so far Jimmy hadn't lied to her that she knew. She flipped a few more pages of the mythology book she had opened and paused on a myth about the origin of mythological creatures.

"Once, many ages ago, a great sorcerer ruled the known lands. Ancient and ageless, he grew tired of ruling and slowly, the world began to decline into violence and selfish pursuits. Though the sorcerer had taught the people kindness and generosity, their natures were corrupted.

"The sorcerer, feeling sorrow for the victims but having not the will to intensively rule as before, divided the peoples. Those who were thieving and murderous were turned into hideous goblins, who lived underground so that the light of day would not expose their crimes. Those who were noble and selfless were blessed with long lives and beauty, the fae, who retreated from the rest of the world to live alone on mountaintops where they practiced magic and sought the sorcerer's will.

"Those who stole joy from others were rendered joyless and their souls halved; the halflings were sent to a desert as dry as their compassion. Those who thought much of themselves were raised to enormous height, and soon were unable to feed their oversized bodies; the giants died off and none survived. The rest of the people, with nothing in particular to recommend nor condemn them, were left to live in relative peace until wars and strife divided them."

Finn re-read the myth, taking notes off to the side. She began to understand Jimmy's statement that most non-humans weren't trustworthy. Their reputations, by and large, left something to be desired. She read the part about halflings carefully, thinking of what Jimmy had said about them. It wasn't much, just that they were small and his grandmother had been one. He didn't seem joyless, especially after the incident with the butter tart, but he was only one-quarter halfling.

She wondered if any of the others could intermix with humans. It would be a very interesting thing to know. She flipped through the rest of the book, which seemed to be accounts of the adventures of specific people or non-humans, and set it aside for further reading in the future. The more quickly she could weed out books that definitely weren't useful, the more time she could spend focusing on the ones that might be.

The next two books were not helpful, and the one after that was one she had pulled about rare herbs. She was pleased to find descriptions and drawings of a few of the ingredients to the 'poultice' recipe Jimmy had provided to her. She made notes about the descriptions and locations, and traced the drawings in her notes.

There was almost no possibility of finding them herself, but possessing the knowledge was her purpose today. Action could come at some later time.

She yawned and shook her head, realizing how dark the room had grown. Was it growing cloudy, or had she really stayed so long? She stretched and looked to the window, deciding it was much later than she thought and she'd better hurry home for dinner.

She quickly put away the books, taking note of the page she'd left off in the herbal book, and packed her things to leave. When she reached outside, it had started to rain in earnest, and she comforted herself that at least she wouldn't need to water the garden.

The streets had many overhanging places for second story window gardens, so she was able to dart from place to place without becoming too wet. Eventually, though, the downpour was too much to avoid. She was glad her leather bag with the papers in it was oiled and waterproofed, or she might lose all her hard work from the day.

Sighing, she slowed to a walk. Her shoes were already filled and sloshing, and her clothing fairly soaked. There was not much point in hurrying now. It would make no difference in how dry or wet she was by the time she arrived back.

The rain reminded her of the storm when Roland treated her head and leg wounds and gently plied splinters from her hand. Though exhausted and dealing with the fresh grief of losing Abby, he had been steady and gentle. Involuntarily, she brushed her palm with her fingers, sending tingles up her nerves as they recalled the sensation.

Tears joined the rain streaming down her face. She hoped against all logic that Roland was out there somewhere, still alive and trying to get back to her. Surely surviving being dragged off by wolves would be enough to allow him to be excused from the rest of his military service, and he could come find her, and take her in his arms and promise never to leave again--

She sniffled and reached for a handkerchief, only to realize it was soaked through. It was enough to make her laugh at the pathetic picture she made. Lonely woman crying in the rain without even a dry handkerchief to comfort her. She laughed a little harder and wiped the tears away with her wet sleeve, only for raindrops to immediately take their place.

Whether it was hysterics or a trauma release, suddenly the entire situation was hilarious to her. Her laughter intensified until she doubled over and had trouble catching her breath, giggling like a lunatic with an occasional hiccup in the mix. A man walking the other direction paused to stare at her, forcing her to collect herself so that she could nod politely to him before she moved on.

He probably thought she was insane. She wasn't entirely sure he was wrong.

By the time she arrived back at the Shermans', the rain had slowed significantly. She passed the garden on the way in. The flower had bloomed again, likely due to the abundant rain, but she didn't feel like gathering the pollen just now. She could do that in the morning.

As she entered the house dripping like a drowned cat, Mrs. Sherman bustled about with towels and murmurs about 'catching your death of cold'. Finn was banished briefly to her room to change into dry clothes, and was greeted when she came out with a blanket and a bowl of hot soup.

Though it was still summer out, the rain had put a chill into Finn's bones and she deeply appreciated the care Mrs. Sherman was taking of her. She sank deeper into the blanket and sipped the soup, intensely grateful to feel loved in the midst of the strife.