Amiri was running late. Do those people that are tardy to everything not know the terror of non-punctuality? She wasn't even thinking about this specific situation - a job interview. You needed to make a good first impression for a job interview. Being late was death for a job interview. Instead, she considered ordinary events: dinner with friends, catching a train, or simply showing up when promised. Amiri despised being late and judged others harshly for it. Now, she was late herself, and it frustrated her. "Why today, why today, why today," she chanted in sync with her hurried footsteps, racing down the neatly cobbled streets of the Library District. The moment The Wind's Edge had docked, Amiri had removed her shoes. They were sensible and comfortable, designed to assure the interviewer that she understood the hazards of dropping heavy tomes on unprotected feet. However, they were terrible for running.
The city watch had been savvy, efficient and genteel when interviewing the passengers on the Edge, mostly due to the flight's noble patronage. Still, the delay meant that Amiri, who had planned to arrive an hour early, now had only five minutes to spare. Unacceptable. So, she ran. Her long brown hair, once neatly tied up beneath a sunhat, now trailed behind her in a braid. Her satchel-style bag bounced uncomfortably against her side with each stride, but she couldn't afford to stop.
Amiri had a rough understanding of the new district, having participated in the initial "walk-through" when it first opened, alongside thousands of other Aurinthians. She had heard that transporting the books to the various libraries had been the city's most demanding task. Hundreds of soldiers were deployed for security, and almost every member of the Watch was present. Books had inevitably gone missing, but fewer than anticipated, and none important enough to cause public outcry. Amiri wondered what had been stolen from the nobleman on the airship, only later realizing that "Max" was Lord Maximillian D'Angelo of House D'Angelo, and "Marcus" was Marcus Blackwood, the Duke's son. She forced herself to compartmentalize the event, focusing on more pressing matters.
The district buzzed with activity, mostly students commuting to and from local colleges. Amiri weaved through foot traffic, occasionally hopping onto the barrier protecting pedestrians from tram tracks. Once, she narrowly avoided colliding with a little girl in a yellow dress, her hand held by her father. Amiri offered a flushed apology before continuing her sprint, finally reaching the main plaza. Across the plaza, past the large oak tree in the center, stood the College of History's Library Historia. Amiri jogged around the courtyard, slowing her pace to catch her breath. Sweating was undignified, but there were worse fates.
The steps up the Library Historia were broad and deep, with many people lounging on them eating or enjoying a drink. The central path up the stairs was kept relatively empty though, and Amiri stopped to put her socks and shoes back on, and then slowed to a walk so that she wouldn’t arrive out of breath.
The doors were tall, made of metal with engravings on the inside - Amiri didn’t stop to look too carefully, considering the time - and were standing proudly open. Heading inside, the first thing that struck her was how dark it was, and the fact that this reception hall had no books or shelves in it to speak of. What it did have, however, was a large number of receptionists, all sitting in a line behind a long rectangular table. The table had a strange design - it was high at the front, almost like a shelf, and low behind it - speaking to any of the receptionists that staffed it would mean that after approaching you would be looking down to speak to them, which Amiri did. “Hello, I’m Amiri Joyce, I have a meeting in…” checking her watch “just under five minutes with the Head Archivist Dornamell”. The receptionist was a young man with spots of red that sat high on his cheeks. He made the pleasant smalltalk you would expect, and Amiri promptly forgot his name in her nervousness. She was told to “Go down that corridor”, pointing ensued. “There is a meeting room there with an engraving of an owl on it. It's not locked, so you can make your way in and have a seat. The Head Archivist shouldn’t be too far away”.
The corridor was warm with thick rugs, the walls’ panelling painted in a warm yellow with a royal dark green highlight to break it up - the colours of the College of History’s heraldry. It had a homey feel to it.
Amiri found the door with an owl sitting on a branch embossed on it, pushing it open to find a small space mainly occupied by a table and chairs that were pushed up against the wall to make room. There was a chalkboard on the opposite wall, and a small bookshelf sat at the far end of the room, with a few tomes neatly arranged on the top shelf, the rest bare.
After taking out her notepad and pens and arranging them just so on the table in front of her, she put her bag behind her on the floor and waited. Time passed in a nervous energy. It felt like five minutes had gone by. Then longer. Amiri got up and went to the door, opening it and looking up and down the corridor. There were a few people in the hallway, the regular flow of traffic - no one beelining for the owl room that she could discern. As she started closing the door she looked closer at the owl. The branch the owl was sitting on had text on it, in small printed script in the common tongue of Astreya it read; We begin with the calling, through seeking you shall prove your worth.
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“Well...” Amiri drew the word out slowly. She closed the door and herself back into the interview room. “I think my interview has already begun”.
Looking around the room again, with fresh eyes this time Amiri again catalogued what was in the room. Chalkboard. Bookshelf. Books. Table. Chairs. The paper and pens she brought with her. Bag.
“Let's start with the books,” Amiri thought to herself, moving over to the shelf. She saw translated books in the Astreyan tongue - and mundane ones at that. A very out-of-date book "The Enchanted Forest: A Field Guide to Faeries and Other Mythical Creatures", "The Secret Histories of Magical Creatures", "The Art of Enchantment: A Guide for Practitioners", "Lost Manifestations of the Ancients Tomes", and finally a book that did catch her eye that she had never heard of "The Library of Dreams". The books were well used, but well cared for. She didn’t see anything that would help.
“We begin with the calling”, Amiri said out loud, turning the words over and trying to divine their meaning. “Well, the calling I am here for is to become a librarian. To seek knowledge, to organise it and help people find it themselves”. She looked around, as if this revelation would shine a great light on the puzzle. It didn’t. “Chalkboard next” she said resolutely.
The chalkboard was also well used, and poorly erased - with small fragments of text still legible in certain places. ‘Ri took a pen and her paper and started marking down the fragments of text she could see, starting from top left and going to the right. The fragments she collected were:
398.245 ENC
LMF 133.43 BEG
135.4 ART
583.91 MAG
001.9 LIB
398.2 LOS
Which was fairly useless to a lay person, but as Amiri had been preparing for this interview she recognized the format instantly.
“Oh, calling. It starts with the calling. Call numbers”. Libraries used call numbers like an address, it told library staff where to find the book. “I bet the next part of the interview starts when I find the right book”, looking at her list of call numbers - “I would guess it's the underlined one”. She turned to the bookshelf and immediately found that the four books on the shelf corresponded to the fragments she had.
398.245 ENC -> "The Enchanted Forest: A Field Guide to Faeries and Other Mythical Creatures"
135.4 ART -> "The Art of Enchantment: A Guide for Practitioners"
583.91 MAG -> "The Secret Histories of Magical Creatures"
001.9 LIB -> "The Library of Dreams"
398.2 LOS -> “Lost Manifestations of the Ancients Tomes”
Amiri was missing a book listed on the chalkboard, the underlined book LMF 133.43 BEG. She looked around the room. The book didn’t appear.
She gently pulled at the bookshelf and found that it was fastened securely to the wall, and didn’t come away. She pulled the chairs out from under the table and got on her knees to crawl under the table and see if it was secreted away.
“At least it's not dusty” she grunted as she pulled herself under. It was dark. She felt around under the skirts of the table but came away empty handed. As Amiri pulled herself out using the edge of the table as leverage to stand up, the table pulled towards her slightly and an incredibly satisfying soft “Thwok” sound was heard. The unmistakable sound of a paperback hitting the ground. Amiri grinned. Diving back under the table and coming up with a book that everyone had read - willingly or otherwise - "A Beginner's Guide to Spellcasting". LMF 133.43 BEG. The book had been jammed in between the table and the wall.
“Alright book, reveal your secrets” Amiri said as she flipped it open. Inscribed on the inside on the first page was a note written in pen.
“The answer lies where the stacks meet the table. LMF 002.114 HIS”
* HA Dornamell
Amiri collected her belongings back into her bag, and set the room back to the way she found it. She walked out of the Owl room and back down to the main reception hall, waiting in a line this time to talk to the receptionists. She found herself talking to the same young man as before.
“Caleb was my name if you didn’t catch it the first time, you looked a little peaky which is normal going into an interview”. He said kindly. “Did you catch the Head Archivist?” he queried, tilting his head slightly with the question.
“No, I didn’t.” Amiri replied, fishing around in her satchel and finally coming up with "A Beginner's Guide to Spellcasting", and laid it on top of the desk shelf. This had the immediate effect of a few receptionists sitting to the left and right of Caleb looking over with interest. “But I could use some directions to the library please.”
Caleb’s eyes lit up and he laughed - a pleasant sound that filled the room. “Follow me”, he said, standing. And Amiri did.