Traveler (2 page)

Movement towards the back of the library caught Aislin’s attention, and her eyes widened for a moment before ducking behind a bookshelf.  The new librarian.  Of course.  Aislin knew that there was a new librarian after Mrs. Heinrich’s had retired, but she hadn’t met that person yet.  So, she did the only thing she could think of; she hid, and she watched, and she learned.  She was so used to seeing the straight-backed, silver head of Mrs. Heinrich’s tending to the books it was strange to see something so...different.  

He appeared to be a young-ish man, one who didn’t seem to fit in with all the formality and order that the library demanded.  He looked like he should be someone who should be on an athletic field...or at least in some corporate office somewhere, and not in the bowels of a library.  But, it was funny how the world worked, wasn’t it?  Sometimes, the most unsuspecting people could do the strangest things.  After all, her mother had the looks of a supermodel, or at least that was what she had been told when she was younger, and she would rather stick her nose in a book and write stories than be with people.  It was funny how that happened.  

Akin to a moth to a flame, Aislin was drawn to the fantasy section, as she always was.  The beginning of the school year was always her favorite time of the year, at least in the library, because it meant that there were so many new books to choose from.  The library’s budget always rolled over in the summer, and Mrs. Heinrich’s knew of Aislin’s desire to read anything she could get her hands on, so there were always new books when she came back to school in the fall.  This librarian, it seemed, had a love for getting in new books just like she did. There were many unfamiliar titles on the shelves, ones whose pages Aislin’s fingers itched to turn.  These would last her a few months, at least.  

Content, finally, at least for a couple hours, Aislin pulled two books off the shelves, one by Anne Bishop and one by Robert Jordan, and curled up into one of the armchairs, her skirt spilling around her feet as she made herself comfortable.  If she had any choice in the matter, this was  how she would spend most of her day.  Relaxing here...never leaving this place, and just reading her books.  Her fingers caressed the cover of the book, feeling the smooth paper, marveling at the feeling that she would be the first one to open it, that she would be the first one in this place to see what secrets it held.  

The pages always felt like rough linen, to her, a texture unique all to themselves.  She didn’t particularly like the pages that were so thin, like the pages of a Bible, that they could tear at a moment’s notice, or the pages of a textbook, too glossy and thick.  The pages of a novel, though...those pages felt like the pages of a book should; with texture, and with a smell that only grew more appealing with age.  She immersed herself in this world, and let her mind wander.  

A billowing gown of royal blue silk pooled around her ankles, and she looked with surprise at her reflection in the mirror.  Her face was the same, the green eyes staring out of a too-pale face, the red curly hair she always tried to keep under control flowing down her back and over her shoulders...but the dress, the dress and the room, they were all strange.  They felt right, but they were...different.  Aislin’s breath caught as she felt hands at her back, and she glanced over her shoulder, startled, to see a capped head bent over her, doing up the laces of the dress.  

“Be still, milady,” the maid said in a stern tone, as if she had this conversation with this high-born lady many times before, “Or we won’t be ready for the audience with your father and your fiancé.”  

“I don’t want to see him,” Aislin grumbled in the tone of a petulant teenager.  “I don’t want to marry a man I have never met before.”

The maid clucked her tongue.  “Milady, you don’t know you won’t like him.  Who knows?  Maybe he could be your dream Lord and you don’t even know it?  Give him a chance, please.  Your late departed mother, God rest her soul, would have wanted you to.”
                Resigned, Aislin sighed and let the maid finish tying up the laces of the dress, and then allowed her to put a matching pair of sapphire drops in her ears and a sapphire pendant with silver on her chest.  “There,” the maid said in satisfaction.  “Your mother’s jewels finish off the ensemble nicely.  I knew they’d look perfect on you, just like they did on her.  You look so much alike.”  

Aislin smiled softly, admiring herself one last time in the glass before heading down the stairs towards her father’s audience chambers, where she knew he and her fiancé waited.  The doors were heavy and made of oak, and Aislin heard the herald announcing her presence before the doors were opened allowing Aislin entrance.  She glided in, her back straight; she didn’t know if that was because of the corset that bound her chest, or the fact that she was the daughter of a Lord, and she needed to impress whatever pompous fop of a man her father had chosen for her.  

“Father,” she murmured softly, dipping into a curtsy.

The man at the end of the chamber turned from whoever he was in conversation with, dressed head to toe in court finery of black and gold, a head of golden hair and green eyes flashing at her as he turned.  “Aislin,” he murmured softly.  “You look lovely as ever.”  

She smiled a little indulgently at her father, kissing both of his cheeks.  “Thank you father,” she murmured.  “And who is your friend?”

Her father sighed.  “Aislin, I’d like you to meet your fiancé.”  The man’s back was straight, and all she could see was a shock of dark hair and a strong figure, and then he turned towards her.  Aislin waited with held breath, unsure of what to expect, and then he spoke.  “Shouldn’t you be going to class?”

Aislin snapped out of her revery, hearing the voice from across the library.  She blushed a fierce crimson, jumping up out of the chair and grabbing the two books she had been reading close to her chest.  “I’m, I’m sorry,” she stammered.  “I didn’t realize I had dozed off.”  She hurried through the aisles of the library towards the front counter, unable to look the librarian in the eye as she slid the books across the counter towards him.  God, she was so embarrassed!  Why did she always do this to people, always make herself look like a fool?  

All she wanted was for him to check out the books.  Check out the books so she could go find a hole and crawl into it.  She was an idiot.  The beep of the machine as it scanned the barcodes beat in time with her heart.  She thought it would stop in her chest from embarrassment.  The books were slid back across the desk to her, and Aislin slipped them into her satchel.  

“Thank you,” she murmured.  “I’m sorry I dozed off.”  Still unable to look at him, and hidden behind a curtain of her red hair, Aislin ducked her head and practically ran out of the library, the door closing shut behind her.  Just in time, too.  The bell rang for third period, and she couldn’t be late on the first day of school.  

Chapter 3

The position of school librarian was not one that anyone would have thought of as prestigious nor was it one that held high chances of advancement.  And yet the job was in the ideal place at the perfect time for one Alexander Bookman, a young man that had come highly recommended by the previous librarian.  Tall and lithe in build, the twenty-four year old man looked more like the type to be on an athletic field than willingly at home within the book-filled bowels of a school library.  Still the administration had been quite pleased by his apparent dedication to the position.  He had come in during the summer to revamp and revitalize the library, changing the large space into a place that teenagers would feel welcome.  When he wasn’t searching the internet for new books to add to the library, he was rifling through the shelves of second-hand stores for old and rare books.  It had been a strenuous task that had taken most of the summer;  but by the last day of summer, he had finished and the changes were astounding.

When the morning bell rang on the first day of school, Alexander had been at the library for a few hours already, scoping out the premises and making any last minute adjustments.  Flipping through a pile of papers on his desk near the back of the library, he had an optimal view of the doorway when the first visitor entered, a young auburn-haired girl that the previous librarian had mentioned during his orientation.  Pale blue eyes discreetly swept over the girl, taking note of the way she was drawn to the section that contained the fantasy genre.  A faint smile briefly twisted his lips as a book was chosen from the shelves, one of the newer ones he had purchased during the summer.  
Hm...I wonder why she chose that particular one...
Shaking his head, he pushed the thought away and returned his attention to the paperwork he had been sorting through earlier.  After filing away the latest invoice for books, he glanced briefly at the library’s sole visitor before walking away from the desk.  He certainly wasn’t being paid to stand at the desk and look pretty.  There were several things that he was responsible for, being the head librarian in a high school library, the most pressing and necessary duty being that of checking in the last two boxes of new library books.

Meticulous and thorough, Alexander lost himself within the tasks at hand, taking his time in placing the books in their proper places throughout the massive library.  Humming softly under his breath, he moved about with a predatory grace, pausing occasionally to move a book to its respective shelf or to help a student who had entered his domain.  Periodically he would glance towards the girl who had ensconced herself in one of the more comfortable areas he had arranged with a few of the books.  She seemed to be enthralled with the story each time he looked, and so he didn’t worry too much about what she was doing until he had put the last book away.  

A quick glance to his watch had shown that it was nearly time for the third period bell to ring, which was quite surprising when it felt as though only twenty minutes had passed.  
Well, as the old saying goes, time flies when you’re having fun...
 Returning to his desk, he frowned slightly and looked back to the girl, noting that she seemed to have fallen asleep in the chair.  Perhaps he should awaken her and send her on her way to class, rather than allow her to drool on the pages of his books.  Clearing his throat, he raised his voice just loud enough to rouse her.  “Shouldn’t you be in class?”  He found a perverse pleasure in the way she jumped in surprise and blushed fiercely in response to his question.  Managing to hold back his laughter as she stammered her apologies, he went through the motions of checking out the books for her and making certain that the books had not been damaged by her little nap.  When he was done, he slid the books across the counter and watched in amusement as the girl practically ran out of the library.

Chapter 4

Third period was English, usually one of Aislin’s favorite classes.  She found a quiet solace in the only sounds that came from the classroom--the turning of the pages, the clearing of throats as they read.  The teacher was always so understanding of the need to just...get away, and it was refreshing.  This year, though...something was different.

As she pushed into the room where her classmates were already assembled, a sinking feeling settled in the pit of her stomach.  Something...didn’t feel right.  The classroom was too quiet, and the teacher was all wrong.  Of course, this was a new year and everything was different, but Aislin hadn’t expected it to be so...unfamiliar.

“Come sit down, Ms. Oriole,” the teacher said gruffly.  He was an elderly man, with steel-gray hair and wire-rimmed glasses.  He was dressed in a three piece wool suit with a garish orange and yellow tie.  Altogether, he seemed to not fit in at all with the high school picture.  “Miss Oriole!” he barked again. “If you’re done staring at me like I have three heads, then sit down.  Now.”  

Aislin practically jumped to attention and hurried through the rows of seats, keeping her head ducked low and a curtain of red hair over her face, too embarrassed to actually look at anyone as she moved.  She slid into the seat, placing her books on top of the desk in front of her.  God, she wanted to melt into the floor.  

“Now...” the teacher began, looking at Aislin in particular but scanning the rest of the class as well, “This year, in English, because you are seniors, we are focusing more on the nonfiction aspect of literature and the English language.  You will need this knowledge to help you in writing college admission essays, papers in school, that kind of a thing.  We will not be reading novels in class this year.”  He looked pointedly at the books that Aislin had in front of her.  She bit back the urge to roll her eyes.  This year was going to be a long one already, she could tell.  

English dragged on, and throughout most of it Aislin spaced out, staring up at the ceiling and pretending to be listening to the drivel the professor was spouting.  Theses, research, data and conclusions...those things had no place in writing, Aislin thought.  They were for mathematicians and scholars, not for writers.  Why would anyone want to write something so meaningless, anyway?  She would rather write something that could bring pleasure to the people who read it, but apparently this year that was not going to happen.  

The bell didn’t ring soon enough.  The moment it did, Aislin practically leapt from her seat, running into a number of people in her effort to escape.  Her books were scattered onto the floor, and Aislin dove to grab them, but she didn’t make it in time.  Her skirt was scattered behind her and caught on the leg of the desk as she watched the books she had just borrowed, the precious books, torn to shreds under the heels of the people as they moved from the classroom.  A soft sob escaped her as she watched them be destroyed, her green eyes wide with helpless horror.  

The fake laughs of the people, the mock sympathy, was what she couldn’t stand.  They all leered at her and pretended to be sincere...she hated them, all of them, as they ground their heels into the books they pretended to help her pick up.  All of their sympathy and their expressions, they grated on her and made her want to grind her eyes out of her head.