Matt sighed. “And a good time will be had by all.”
* * *
The library was open, but only just.
A different human-ish person approached us. “You’ll have to use the categories marked above the shelves,” he said, “as the card index system isn’t ready.”
Card index? “Where would I go for realm politics?” I asked him.
I obediently followed his pointing finger to the signs above the shelves. One said “Realms: History and Politics.” Then he added, “Reference books do not leave the library. You’ll have to do your reading here.” He then pointed to the tables and chairs.
Librarians clearly knew how to use their fingers.
I was already in motion, but Mari offered, “Thank you so much.”
For an ogre, she had remarkably good manners.
Moments later, I was examining the books on the shelves with no small degree of astonishment. Most appeared ancient, bound in leather with spines inches thick. The titles had been largely lost to time, but new labels had been affixed to them. Not that they were very helpful.
Mari read a few aloud from the uppermost shelf. “Xairthian Politics After the Earnik War; Cisnik Reign; Trinthian History 10044-11244.”
I ran my fingers along the spines on the shelf in front of me. “Isn’t there something that gives us an overview?”
Matt was a ways down from us. “Crikey. Here’s one on the Dragon-Torshin war.” He pulled a huge book off the shelf and opened it. “It’s got drawings. Bonza.”
I glanced up at Mari. She grinned at me and pulled another massive tome off the shelves. “This might work.History of the Cryptid Council Across the Realms.”
I perked up as I took it from her. It weighed a ton, so I carried it to the nearest table and sat down with it.
Mari sat next to me and openedCryptid Council Policies, which I thought sounded even more boring than what I perused. Just scanning the table of contents made my eyelids grow heavy.
“Blimey, this is great!” Matt had plunked down across from us, and his eyes had lit right up as he spun his book around for me to see.
I stared at the ink drawing of a Dragon hovering above a tall, thin, humanoid figure that appeared to be blasting something from its hands.
Matt pointed to it. “That’s a Torshin. The berko bastards could manipulate energy. The Dragon Legion fought them over a thousand years ago, and won.”
“That’s cool,” I admitted. “But it isn’t going to help me with the politics test.”
“Well, itishistory,” Matt stated, pulling the book back to him. He flipped the page, and his face lit up again.
Watching him, my heart gave a leap. His enthusiasm for life, and tendency to meet it head on without a hint of reservation, was like a gift, really. With someone like that by your side, anything was possible. I grabbed hold of thoughts rapidly descending into the gutter and redirected them—he’d be a real asset to ourteam.
I resolved to embrace his outlook on life as I opened my book to the section titledIntroduction.
Sadly, there were no pictures. And much of it was painfully boring—but each chapter started with a description of the realm involved, and for that bit, I was riveted. So many worlds, and so many different people that lived in them. But when the narrative switched to policies the council adopted for that realm, it was a good cure for insomnia.
I settled for reading the beginning of each section. It gave me a brief look into the different realms’ issues, which worked for me. And there was even the occasional line drawing.
Meanwhile, Matt kept offering choice tidbits of information. “The average Legion Dragon is forty feet long.” His hands spanned a space that was at least thirty-seven feet short of that. “The Legion back then had over 600 Dragons, but they only have a fraction of that now.” His lips twisted in regret. “They used to have quite a few female warriors in it, but they don’t anymore.” He glanced at me to judge my reaction and, when there was none, returned to the page.
Then his eyes widened. “It says here that, during the war, the Liberi Elders restricted the Bellatis to their home realm because one of them went bonkers and fried a bunch of Torshins.”
I frowned as I worked through it. “Cara’s a Liberi, right?”
He nodded. “The Watchers are sheilas. The blokes train to become Bellatis, or warriors. But one of them was dodgy, had loads of power. He freaked everyone out, and the Liberi Elders locked all the Bellatis up.”
I frowned at him. “But—isn’t one of our instructors a Bellati?”
