Chapter 1, Part i

Chapter the First

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves

Did gyre and gimble in the wabe

All mimsy were the borogroves

And the mome raths outgrabe.

Hector loved books.

He loved the way they smelled, the way they stacked up so neatly on their shelves, and how they could be organized by author, by title, by subject, in chronological order or reverse-alphabetically.

Even more that their shape and size, though, he loved reading them. As a child he had read the entire dictionary (much to the joy of his proud parents) and then proceeded to read the dictionary in Murmish and then in East Rivilian (much to the growing concern of his patient parents.) Once his young mind was primed with words and meaning, he set out on a quest to read every book he could get his hands on. He flew through picture books, children's books and school textbooks. By the time he was eight years old he was devouring young adult novels and was halfway through Gorriman's classical seven-volume series The Epic of Yorum Phurmite when his parents intervened and got him a part-time job at the local library.

And that is how he became, at age twenty-five, the Head Librarian of Dunberg Public Library.

Hector reverently laid The Adventures of Sir Jimbo on the table and tapped Tom on the shoulder. He immediately sat up, with deep bags under his eyes and a catalog card stuck to his forehead.

“I was working, I promise,” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes. Hector just smiled and watched Tom as he noticed the card on his face and hastily shuffled it into the pile sitting on the table.

“How late did you stay up last night?” Hector asked conversationally.

Tom screwed up his eyebrows in grogginess. “I wasn't reading,” he clarified. “I'll tell you that much. How late did you stay up last night?”

“Oh, I stopped checking the clock after one a.m.,” Hector said wistfully. “You have no idea how good The Adventures of Sir Jimbo are. You should really give this one a try, my friend.”

Tom grunted and sighed and returned to rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands.

There was silence for a while. This early, there was nobody else in the library. Hector listened to the tick of a nearby clock for a minute or so, then asked, “Tom, really, what were you doing last night? I've never seen you so tired on the job. You're not the type to stay up late.”

Tom made a sound like an incredulous laugh, then shook his head and sat back in his chair. “I was... well, doing chores. You know, stuff. Stuff that just had to get done.”

“What kind of stuff?”

“You know...” Tom waved his tired hands vaguely in the air. “Just... stuff.”

Hector decided not to push the question, so he just smiled, picked up The Adventures and started for the nonfiction section. Before he got far, Tom called out behind him.

“Hey, Professor Trellis is coming in this morning. You didn't forget, did you?”

“All the reports are in order,” Hector said, pivoting to face Tom. “I put the book catalogs on the office desk and made sure everything's clean and tidy.”

Tom grunted in satisfaction and lifted himself from his chair, catalog cards in hand. “Just make sure he's happy when he gets here. We don't want the New Poliston Chair of Library Services to have a bad impression of us this quarter.”

“Oh, he won't,” Hector grinned. Actually, Hector was excited for Professor Trellis's arrival. He had never met the man in person, because he was relatively new as the Head Library Chairman over in New Poliston; technically the Professor was Hector's superior, but all librarians shared a love for the books that connected them on a deep, personal level, so he didn't feel intimidated at all.

“You're Hector Blithe, aren't you?” said Professor Trellis, straightening his jacket and watching as Hector hastily scooped up The Adventures from the floor.

“Yessir,” Hector said meekly, getting his first good look at the man. He supposed that he did feel a little intimidated, after all.

The Professor nodded sternly, his stony face and well-kept hair making him look like the subject of a gloomy portrait hung up in some dusty old mansion somewhere. “The reports were in order, and I reviewed the book catalogs on my desk. I'm ready to see the library.”

“Um, sure,” said Hector, taken a little off-guard by the Head Chair's stark directness. This man doesn't waste any time or words, he thought. Everyone should waste a few words every now and then.

“Take me to the History Section,” the Professor ordered. Hector suspected that the man already well knew where the History Section was and how to get there, but he guided him there without argument. They walked in silence through the chilly library. Hector's breath fogged before him as they climbed a stairwell lined with tall windows; the frost of late November had formed a sort of crust around the edges of the glass.

Hector wasn't typically the sort of person that passed judgment on strangers, but he decided that Professor Trellis was not the typical cheerful librarian. The man's presence – combined with his pristine vest, the somber cloak draped across his shoulders, and the prim click of his polished shoes on the stone floor – chilled Hector deeper than the wintry air did. He wasn't sure why, but he carried about him a certain influence that sapped the room of conversation and pleasantries.

They reached the History Section. It was the largest wing of the building, and the pride and joy of Dunberg Public Library; its vaulted ceiling, polished pillars, and paintings of famous historical figures always made Hector feel like he was in a castle. He wasn't surprised that the Professor wanted to see it, for that alone was what put Dunberg on the map. Professor Trellis immediately began pacing among the fully stocked shelves of thick tomes and sheaves of records, the rich, chestnut-brown color of the wooden shelves marred somewhat under his slate-gray stare.

“Most people who come here from out of town,” Hector said, pausing to swallow the boulder in his throat. “they come here to see the History Section. It's very popular.”

“I imagine so.” Professor Trellis's voice could not have sounded more disinterested. He ran his thick fingers across the spines of several books, seemingly at random.

Hector knew that this man was his superior, and a fellow librarian (and no librarian, intimidating or otherwise, would ever dream of harming any book) but for some reason he felt the savage urge to slap the Professor's hands away from the precious volumes and scold him. He contained himself.

The Professor paced carefully among the dozens of rows of bookshelves, walking in endless cycles, scanning every shelf with his piercing gaze. Hector followed him, partly because of respect but mostly out of a desire to protect the defenseless history-books.

After what seemed to be the most agonizing three hours of Hector's life, the Professor finally seemed satisfied, or at least no longer interested. “Very well. I am going out for the day. I will be here at seven-o'clock sharp in my office, and I want you and all your coworkers to meet with me there at that time. Understood?”

“Yessir,” Hector submitted. He pulled out his daily planner and wrote down Meeting, 7:00 pm.

Without a word or even a nod, Professor Trellis glided toward the staircase and vanished. As soon as he was sure he was alone, Hector shivered uncomfortably and gritted his teeth. He tried to resist the urge to patrol the aisles of the wing to make sure everything was all right, but he felt... violated, somehow.

“Is he gone?”

Hector peeked around the corner, and saw Tom's shaggy head appearing from the stairwell.

“Yes, he's gone,” Hector sighed with relief. Tom approached, clutching his coat tightly around himself. The two laughed nervously together, realizing just how cold it was here on the second floor.

“So, what did he tell you?” Tom asked, as they lazily walked and examined the books. “Any tips, tricks of the trade? Scoldings? Wha'd he say?”

“Nothing!” Hector laughed to drown out the feelings of dread lodged between his ribs. “He just wanted to see the History Section, that's all. He didn't critique us or praise us.”

“That's funny that he'd go to the History Section first,” Tom mused, half to himself. When he didn't say anything more, Hector paused and looked him in the eye. Tom blinked nervously and looked away.

“Why would that be strange, Tom?”

“Nothing, I'm fine,” Tom blurted dismissively, and he turned and started heading for the stairwell. “Well, gotta go finish sorting the catalog cards. They ain't gonna sort themselves, you kn--”

Hector interrupted him. “Does this have anything to do with what you were doing last night?”

Tom slowed to a stop, and sighed loudly. “Um... It's... Well, not really, I was just thinking. But it really doesn't have anything to do with... er, Professor Trellis. Nope. No worries, Hec.”

Hector smiled, but he felt that there was a lot that Tom wasn't telling him. “I'm not worried, Tom. Well, I guess I'm just worried about you. I just don't want you to get in trouble again for keeping secrets.”

“Trouble! Hah!” Tom scoffed, but there was a catch in his voice. “I don't get in trouble any more. Librarians can't get into trouble.” He started laughing, and Hector chuckled as well as they walked down the stairs together. “In fact, now that I'm on the City Watch, I help solve trouble.”

Hector nodded. “Oh yes, I forgot the City Council appointed you to the Watch.”

“Yep!”

“Is that what you were doing last night?”

Tom blinked, and a flicker of guilt crossed his face again. “Um. Yes. Yes! Yes, that's exactly what I was doing. I kid you not. Ask anyone. I was there. We were all there.”

Hector grinned and wrapped his arm around Tom's bony shoulders. “Don't worry, I believe you. If you were fighting crime, you were fighting crime. There are worse things that you could have been doing.”

Tom laughed. Hector really did believe him, but as they parted ways at the foot of the stairs he quietly and carefully watched as the new City Watchman walked away with the yellow catalog cards in hand.

*