hands:
Information on the fermentation of alcohol from summer fruits.
The story by Mecledies about the formation of House Wellhome.
The Siren and the Sailor by Halbroke.
The nomad settlements and geography of the Northern Carvallen plains, circa Year of Writing 1,958.
Below the last entry, Garrowain wrote:
Earth: its discovery, people, and relationship with our own world.
As the custodian completed the ‘d’ of world, the letters flashed in the same silver light that came from The Cornerstone.
For the first time in a while, the million strong choir returned to the stage and gave a great performance of their hit Aaahhhh . To accompany them, there was a loud grinding noise coming from somewhere beyond the stone walls.
Merelie, Borne and Garrowain seemed to take this in their stride, so Max guessed it was meant to happen and that the ceiling wasn’t about to fall on his head.
‘What’s going on now?’ he asked Merelie.
‘The Library is finding the right section,’ she shouted over the din. ‘Garrowain wrote what he wishes to view in the Codex and the Library will bring it to us.’
‘The library takes you to the book you want?’
‘Yes, of course! That’s how libraries work.’
Max started to ask another question, but stopped himself. ‘This is more weird magical stuff I’m never going to understand, isn’t it?’
Merelie smiled.
The choir abruptly stopped its caterwauling and the grinding subsided. The door directly opposite the pedestal flashed silver along its edges.
‘The centre door today, it seems,’ Garrowain said and walked over to it.
Merelie and Borne followed with Max in tow, a look of deep distrust on his face. The old man pressed a hand to the door, muttered softly under his breath and it swung open.
It led onto a long corridor of bookshelves, much like the one Max had materialised in yesterday. The only difference he could spot was that here the books looked more colourful and a tad friendlier.
‘Follow me,’ said Garrowain, ‘it won’t be far along.’
The little man strode away with the assurance of someone who has done so a thousand times before. Merelie and Borne followed with similar confidence.
Max crept across the threshold, eyeing the doorway and poised to run like a scalded cat the second he spotted tentacles.
As he forced himself to speed up to catch the others, he was surprised to see books he could actually read. Not only could he read them, he’d seen a lot of them before.
‘Er… where did these come from?’ he said to Garrowain, as they walked past the entire Wilt saga by Tom Sharpe. ‘These books are from my world.’ He glanced over at the complete works of Barbara Cartland. ‘Why are they in your library?’
Garrowain stopped just opposite Men Are From Mars and Women Are From Venus. ‘We can’t understand a society without reading its words.’
‘It’s a weird selection,’ Max critiqued, wondering if the Haynes Manual for the Austin Montego was in here anywhere.
‘Your world is a new find and we are a relatively young House, Mr Bloom. We are still learning and discovering which texts to embrace. There’s been so much written by your people over the centuries.’
‘You’re not going to learn much from that one, chief,’ Max said, pointing at a copy of Paris Hilton’s biography.
Garrowain gave him another one of those insufferable smiles and continued his way along the corridor.
There were many books here, in many languages. Max supposed there was probably a sample from every country on Earth.
As they progressed, he noticed the books becoming incomprehensible again. They were evidently leaving the part of the library where books from Earth were stored and moving into a section Max guessed was full of books about Earth, written by the people of this world.
There were a lot of them. Earth looked to be quite a popular place.
He mentioned this to Merelie.
‘It is,’ she said. ‘It’s a recent discovery, fascinating to read
Information on the fermentation of alcohol from summer fruits.
The story by Mecledies about the formation of House Wellhome.
The Siren and the Sailor by Halbroke.
The nomad settlements and geography of the Northern Carvallen plains, circa Year of Writing 1,958.
Below the last entry, Garrowain wrote:
Earth: its discovery, people, and relationship with our own world.
As the custodian completed the ‘d’ of world, the letters flashed in the same silver light that came from The Cornerstone.
For the first time in a while, the million strong choir returned to the stage and gave a great performance of their hit Aaahhhh . To accompany them, there was a loud grinding noise coming from somewhere beyond the stone walls.
Merelie, Borne and Garrowain seemed to take this in their stride, so Max guessed it was meant to happen and that the ceiling wasn’t about to fall on his head.
‘What’s going on now?’ he asked Merelie.
‘The Library is finding the right section,’ she shouted over the din. ‘Garrowain wrote what he wishes to view in the Codex and the Library will bring it to us.’
‘The library takes you to the book you want?’
‘Yes, of course! That’s how libraries work.’
Max started to ask another question, but stopped himself. ‘This is more weird magical stuff I’m never going to understand, isn’t it?’
Merelie smiled.
The choir abruptly stopped its caterwauling and the grinding subsided. The door directly opposite the pedestal flashed silver along its edges.
‘The centre door today, it seems,’ Garrowain said and walked over to it.
Merelie and Borne followed with Max in tow, a look of deep distrust on his face. The old man pressed a hand to the door, muttered softly under his breath and it swung open.
It led onto a long corridor of bookshelves, much like the one Max had materialised in yesterday. The only difference he could spot was that here the books looked more colourful and a tad friendlier.
‘Follow me,’ said Garrowain, ‘it won’t be far along.’
The little man strode away with the assurance of someone who has done so a thousand times before. Merelie and Borne followed with similar confidence.
Max crept across the threshold, eyeing the doorway and poised to run like a scalded cat the second he spotted tentacles.
As he forced himself to speed up to catch the others, he was surprised to see books he could actually read. Not only could he read them, he’d seen a lot of them before.
‘Er… where did these come from?’ he said to Garrowain, as they walked past the entire Wilt saga by Tom Sharpe. ‘These books are from my world.’ He glanced over at the complete works of Barbara Cartland. ‘Why are they in your library?’
Garrowain stopped just opposite Men Are From Mars and Women Are From Venus. ‘We can’t understand a society without reading its words.’
‘It’s a weird selection,’ Max critiqued, wondering if the Haynes Manual for the Austin Montego was in here anywhere.
‘Your world is a new find and we are a relatively young House, Mr Bloom. We are still learning and discovering which texts to embrace. There’s been so much written by your people over the centuries.’
‘You’re not going to learn much from that one, chief,’ Max said, pointing at a copy of Paris Hilton’s biography.
Garrowain gave him another one of those insufferable smiles and continued his way along the corridor.
There were many books here, in many languages. Max supposed there was probably a sample from every country on Earth.
As they progressed, he noticed the books becoming incomprehensible again. They were evidently leaving the part of the library where books from Earth were stored and moving into a section Max guessed was full of books about Earth, written by the people of this world.
There were a lot of them. Earth looked to be quite a popular place.
He mentioned this to Merelie.
‘It is,’ she said. ‘It’s a recent discovery, fascinating to read
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