If Wishes Were Horses 12

Today's word count: 1686                          Total word count: 21,285

On Saturday morning I’d made up my mind to go back to town and ask Ami for help. After all, he’d recommended the books to me, so I hoped he’d be able to assist in my search, because I didn’t seem to be making much progress by myself. There were so many different classes of beast within the pages; all kinds of dark elves and dusky elves and light elves, and no index or even contents to help me. The author had made no attempt to keep things in any kind of system, I guess they didn’t write books that way back then. It felt like he’d written down whatever came to mind in the order it occurred to him. Heaven knew how he thought it would be useful. Maybe back whenever it was composed people had more time and could afford to sit and read things from cover to cover to find out what they needed. In this day and age, when we are used to putting a couple of words into a search engine and having thousands of possible answers appear almost immediately, this old fashioned kind of reading is hard work.  I wondered if the books were available on the net. After all, they were so ancient they must be out of copyright.

At least with an online copy I’d be able to search for dark elves, and the computer would remove all the non-starters. I had pretty much convinced myself Dee was a dark elf. Although dusky elf wasn’t out of the question, and I hadn’t quite abandoned the idea of demon. His recent behaviour seemed to have shown more evil traits than his earlier visits. At first he’d seemed just irritating. Now he had started threatening Minty I dreaded that he might be much worse than I first thought. I had to protect her at all costs. We weren’t exactly friends, just as I’d told Dee, but she counted as my best friend at work, and I did care about her welfare. I’d hate her to come to harm because of my carelessness.

I dug out my laptop and logged into the web. I’m not naturally technical and I’ll always aim for print ahead of screen, so it had lots of updating to do before it would let me take a proper look. Eventually it allowed me to search for the first book title. No joy. The internet hadn’t heard of Professor Sturnus or his scholarly work. I tried the second book and had exactly the same result. It’s rare these days to have absolutely no returns on a search. Whatever the topic, someone, somewhere has usually put something online about it. But not this time. So I had to make a trip back to the library. I packed the books in my handbag, along with my notebook, and set off into town. I took the bus again so I didn’t have to worry about parking, and besides I could read the back section of the amulets volume on the journey. Many of the descriptions seemed to match ones from the field guide, but the names differed quite considerably. This wasn’t just a case of old style spelling.  I know Chaucer and Shakespeare and all those old writers were creative with spelling, but these were not even words from the same stem.  Lots of the creatures in the field guide had German or Scandinavian sounding names, but the amulets book seemed much more English somehow. They were as different as Latin and common names for flowers. I mean, you’d never know that Impatiens and Busy Lizzie were the same plant unless someone said, would you? I needed help, and I hoped Ami could assist me. Of course if it meant I had to see him again that would be a bonus. I smiled to myself as I got off the bus and made my way to the library.

Inside the old building I marvelled again at the architecture. Even the air seemed old in this place, and it had a weird, papery smell, as if the books breathed it in and out as they sat quietly on their shelves, waiting for someone to pick them up and read them.  I like old libraries. They have a lot in common with antique shops. I could see no sign of Ami, although there were a couple of librarians wearing the red waistcoat uniform that identified them as staff. Perhaps he didn’t work weekends, I worried. That would make things difficult. I’d have to take time off work again, unless he covered the evening shift on late night opening. I wandered around between the shelves for a while until I convinced myself he wasn’t there and decided I’d have to ask at the desk. I had to make sure it sounded like I just wanted help with the books and I didn’t really mind whose help I had, even if I really wanted to see him again.

“Excuse me,” I said to the woman behind the counter, “I came here during the week to do some research and one of your librarians was very helpful. I hoped I might be able to talk to him again.”

“Him?” she replied, “We only have a couple of male librarians. Do you know his name?”

“His name tag said Ami, but that’s all I know. Dark curly hair, quite good looking.” I blushed to think I’d actually said that out loud.

“I don’t think I know that name. We have an Alan, are you sure it wasn’t him?”

“No, I’m sure it said Ami,” I answered.

“Yes, I expect it couldn’t be Alan. He’s more greying hair, and few women would call him good looking, I’m afraid. Though I wouldn’t tell him that to his face,” she gave me a conspiratorial little smile, as if to imply we were both part of the Sisterhood.

“Yes, well. This one wasn’t greying. He seemed to be a bit of an expert. I was investigating – erm – folklore, and he brought me two books that he thought would be helpful. They sort of have been, but I wanted some advice.”

“Can you remember which books they were?  Maybe I can help.”

“Of course I can remember. I still have them. He let me take them out on long term loan. I hope nobody else wants them yet.” And I reached into my bag to pull out the books.

The librarian – her badge said her name was Ms Taylor – took hold of the top one and turned it over several times, staring intently at it. Then she opened the front cover and flicked through the first few pages before closing it slowly and placing it on the desk. She picked up the second book and repeated the process before looking up at me with a stern expression.

“We really don’t like people who waste our time here. I realise most people think that librarians have nothing better to do all day than to stand around shushing at innocent readers, but we really are very busy you know.”

I looked back at her, shocked. “I don’t understand. I was here just a few days ago and one of your librarians gave me these books on long term loan. I just need his help.”

“Young lady,” she broke in, “If this is some sort of joke it is in very poor taste. Either you are playing a trick or you have had one played on you. These are not library books. If you want to carry out this kind of prank at least put in enough effort to make it convincing.”

“I promise this isn’t a joke,” I tried to say, but she barged through me again.

“No identification label, no Dewey decimal reference, no lending library stamp in the front cover, and above all, no date record to tell you when to return them.”

I couldn’t understand what was going on. I knew I’d met Ami here a couple of days before. He’d been wearing the right uniform, he had the right kind of name badge, and above all he’d found me these books. I’d made a donation in the charity box. That at least was still there.

“He said you’d let me know. I could keep them until someone else needed them. They are on long term loan. He said all I had to do was make a donation to charity.”

“Well how kind of him! There is no such thing as a long term loan at this branch. You have three weeks in which to complete your research and then return the book. The expiry date would be stamped quite clearly on the loan form, which your books do not have!”

“He said you’d know I had them and you knew how to find me. Ami…”

By now she was losing her temper and somehow she managed to raise her voice without getting louder, almost a hiss. “There is no-one by that name at this branch, nor, as far as I know, at any other in the county.  If you are not playing a trick then I suggest you have been duped. The books are not ours. You might as well keep them for as long as you want, because I have no idea who you’d need to return them to. Good morning.” With that she turned away from me and began shuffling books angrily but quietly on the far side of the counter.

What a blow! I knew I needed Ami’s help if I was going to get out of this mess. I tried not to feel despondent as I travelled home, my plans had gone astray and  I briefly wondered if Ami and the books were another of Dee’s tricks, given that I seemed to have been deceived by the whole event.  But no. The books were real. I had to have faith that my friend would return and that he would know where to find me. There was more to him than I had suspected, that was clear, but what or who exactly he was, I didn’t know.