Eight-and-a-half-year-old June Porter stood on tiptoe to see above the research desk. She could borrow the stool, or go to the regular low desk like the other kids in her class, but she liked Miss Ryan and wanted to say hello.
Besides, she didn’t need the stool, not really. She could see. Just barely, but it counted. Just like half-years counted. And if she could see over, no one could tell her she was too young for the research desk and send her back to the babies in the children’s section.
A smiling face under salt-and-pepper hair with perched bright red glasses popped into view, nestled at the top of a triangle of hands and elbows. “Hello, June.”
“Hi, Miss Ryan.” Her tongue always twisted a bit, mostly because she thought she might want to be like the research librarian someday. “I’m here for swords today.”
“Swords!” Nut-brown eyes blinked, then stared at the ceiling. “All right.” The head vanished. “Swords.”
Miss Ryan knows everything, June thought dreamily. The most powerful mage in the town was the librarian, no matter what her dad said – not that she was supposed to talk about magic, of course. The way information just appeared, as if out of thin air, captured between the pages of a book.
Although once, she’d asked what happened when the books were opened and the information escaped. The rest of the class thought that was hilarious, and her teacher had phoned home.
Mom had sat her down very seriously that evening, and Dad joined with a glass of something glowing almost gold that smelled a little different. But how was she supposed to know what was normal and what was forbidden to speak of outside the house? Her mother’s latest diary had wiped its data after the book was full, though June didn’t understand why it was always referred to as “correcting past wrongs.” Or why that meant she had to be homeschooled now.
Then again, she wouldn’t have met her new swordfighting instructor if she’d been stuck inside the boring yellow brick building like before.
“All right,” Miss Ryan’s voice came.
June jumped, a little guilty. Her new teacher kept talking about being aware of her surroundings, what her father called “situational awareness.” But the library was a safe place, and she’d let her guard down.
“A little bit of metallurgy,” Miss Ryan continued, “which is a book on different types of metals, because different eras made swords from different metals. An encyclopedia listing types of swords, plus an instruction book illustrating some basic poses. Forms. I’m not sure what they’re called, actually.” The glasses were on her nose now, and she shoved them upward. “A fiction book on sieges, which I’m told is quite realistic.”
“I’m sure it is,” June said after an awkward pause. “Thank you.”
“Well, I’ve never been in a siege,” Miss Ryan said. “I wouldn’t know. This one is on a famous general. He wasn’t a very nice man, but he was very good at taking things over. His name was Ghengis Khan.”
“Neat,” said June. She knew it wasn’t quite the right answer, but wasn’t sure what else to say. Maybe after she read the book.
It was enough. Miss Ryan nodded. “And this one is about a young girl who trades places with her brother and learns discipline so she can learn to fight.” A wink. “She’s also a magician.”
At that, her cheeks and eyes lifted with excitement, as if she didn’t need to balance on her toes any longer. “Cool!”
Beeps, and another look through the lenses. “That’ll do you?”
“For now.” June stretched upward to seize her prizes. “I’ll be back.”
***
I have another idea for this post on magical librarians from AC Young, but couldn’t resist the urge to laud the helpful librarians of my youth. My prompt on goats in the moat went to Leigh Kimmel. Find more, over at MOTE!
