He’d forget. But now that Tiiran knew where to look, it didn’t matter. “Thank you!” he called over to Mattin. “If I had even half his knowledge….” he added quietly to Nikoly. “If I have time, I can read with purpose but I will never read as he does.”
“I will wager that he feels the same about your ability to see things through, or to understand that budget you’ve been glaring at.” Nikoly nudged him lightly.
“You’vebeen frowning overyourwork,” Tiiran huffed back at him. “And Mattin could understand accounting if he ever needed to learn how. He’s simply never had to watch his spending as others have.” He wondered if Nikoly had learned math for the sake of budgeting for his family’s business. “You getsomemoney when you work in a noble’s house. But not enough to be able to move freely if you want to. Not in the houses I was in. You get paid to work, you see, but not as much as in other places because they also give you room and board. Which might sound nice until you notice it means you’re never really off-duty. Oh, they say you are, but if they are shorthanded or someone gets sick, they will find you and put you to work. Perhaps there are kind noble families, the kind who have guardshappyto swear their lives to them.” Tiiran couldn’t imagine it, but it happened.
Nikoly stared back at him with wide eyes.
Tiiran rolled a wrist. “And if you don’t get along with someone, you’re still stuck working with them or, worse, often sharing a room with them. You might get clothing provided, but otherwise, you still need to pay for your own clothes to wear anywhere else. If you want to be able to leave your annoying roommate, or you are mistreated by the cook or Head of House, you have to be able to look for work elsewhere, which you cannot do in dirty scullery clothes. So you have to make your coin count, for that, or for anything else you might want. There was a cook’s assistant who sent coin to her family in the country,” he suddenly remembered that, and how he’d thought at the time that the nobles were supposed to ensure their people didn’t have to do that. That they had enough.
But some only gave their peopleenoughand never anything beyond that. Some didn’t even bother with that much, too occupied with trying for a throne.
“Both houses I worked in served the staff plain food and never anything… never anything sweet or purely to feed ‘starving senses’ as Orin would say. Itshouldbe that if your belly is full and you’re in good health, then taste shouldn’t matter. But sometimes… sometimes, you see the things nobles get to eat—that their children and their heirs get to eat—or what people in the capital have on feast days and you wish….” Tiiran looked away. “But wishing is stupid. The fae don’t listen, and if they do, apparently they’ll still fuck with you.”
“It’s said that what they do is aways ultimately for the good of the person who wished.” From Nikoly’s gentle tone, he meant no offense, but Tiiran turned back to him and scoffed.
“Like leave a baby with no one to give a shit about it? They’re about as good as my human parent, whoever the fuck they are.”
“You don’t even know your human family?” Nikoly was shocked, then frowning like a thundercloud.
Evidently, no one abandoned children in his part of the country. Tiiran had heard that; some places took in unwanted children, especially the fae ones, though he did wonder if it was out of genuine concern for the children or a fear of offending the fae.
Tiiran did his best to be gentle; Nikoly was upset enough already. “They told me I was left on a noble’s doorstep and the noble’s family refused to open the door. But I think that was a fanciful story to tell a child. More likely, I was the child of a cook or a maid, or the child of a relative of theirs. Who knows? Who cares? They didn’t.”
Nikoly’s eyes were nearly as mournful as Mattin’s could be over spilled tea. Tiiran should have snapped at him, but that sadness was for Tiiran and said clearly that Nikoly thought he’d suffered. Which maybe he had, but that wasn’t Nikoly’s fault.
Tiiran slipped off the stool, bringing them closer. “It’s all right. Aside from being an alley cat with no manners, I turned out well enough, didn’t I? It’s not likeyoutold people to abandon me. You would have been barely toddling about at the time anyway. You must have loving parents.” People with caring families were often confused by Tiiran. “And a sister—more than one sister?”
“Two.” Some of Nikoly’s sadness left him. “It’s not however you might think it is, having sisters. It’s more like your friendship with Po than anything else.” He smiled briefly when Tiiran shook his head in confusion. “I also have a half-brother, and several cousins who spent a great deal of time with us. They call me Lyli.” He paused expectantly.
“Not Ly like your friends call you?” Tiiran didn’t know why Nikoly sighed. “You must be very close to them. That’s probably why you get along better with the other assistants than I do. You grew up with people around your age, who liked you. Oh, I’ve made you look thunderous again.” Nikoly did, shooting a scowl toward the mostly empty copying tables before Tiiran touched his arm to draw his attention away. “There’s no need to be upset at them. It’s not their fault I don’t understand certain things. Ah, and now the thunder has given way to sadness. Or perhaps pity? Really, it’s not necessary.”
“I’m not pitying.” Nikoly was clipped and precise. “You were failed when you should have had family. You should have had friends, and help, and people who loved you.” He paused to take a breath before looking up again. “How did you end up here? How did you even know to ask to work at the library?”
“Oh.” Tiiran looked to the table, to Mattin, bent over his reading. He kept his voice low. “Lanth.” Nikoly obviously had not met Lanth but he would have heard her story in his time in the library. Tiiran could tell he had because he went very still. “She said she saw potential in me.” He turned back to Nikoly. “She was out at a tavern. She loved the library but she always said it was good to sit among people who weren’t librarians.” Orin would likely agree. “She saw me there, I was clearing tables and sweeping floors then, and she thought I should be educated. Which took some doing, since I didn’t know numbers or my letters at all. She had to tutor me in her spare time.”
Nikoly looked like Orin did whenever Tiiran spoke of Lanth; as if he read something else in Tiiran’s words no matter how simple and plain they were.
“I’m sorry for the loss of Lanth in your life,” Nikoly told him. “And for those who should have cared for you failing to do so. But—” Nikoly pulled in a deep breath “—you should know, I have seen fae with my own eyes—bless them. I have watched them take offerings and beheld a member of the fae when they spoke to a clan head—a position with my people that is like the head of a noble family, but notthehead of the whole family, only one branch of it. You are also not the first fae-touched I have seen. But youare, Tiiran. You’re fae-touched. They will be near you even if you don’t see them. They must have a plan for you.”
Tiiran stepped back, bumping into the stool with a noise that brought Mattin’s head up.
Tiiran stared at Nikoly. Nikoly stared back without flinching.
“And… and what?” Tiiran demanded at last. “They left me to fend for myself? If the older cook assistants hadn’t been kind to me, I wouldn’t even have known what kindnesswas. I’d never even hugged someone until I asked Orin to allow me to try. All because the fae are bashful? Because they have some plan for me but would rather not get involved?Fuckthem!”
He couldn’t handle the worried furrow of Nikoly’s brow. “Which isn’t your fault,” Tiiran added, only slightly quieter. “You meant well. But I am never going to thank them for anything.Ever,” he growled at the air around Nikoly before focusing on Nikoly again. “If I’m fae-touched, it’s probably just my destiny to be something an important beat-of-four uses as a step stool to do something great. A cog in a gear at a mill.”
Nikoly was suddenly directly before him, his hands raised as if he was about to cup Tiiran’s face to hold him still and had barely stopped himself. “You’re far more important than that. Must I make you see it? Will it take two of us?”
“Nikoly.” Tiiran was surprised to hear himself whispering. “I’m not important. That’s Master Keepers or beat-of-fours. Or the ruler, I suppose.The libraryis important. It’s been here as long as the country has, you know. I’m just working here for a while… my whole life, probably.” Though he’d never seen an older assistant. They tended to become Master Keepers, or return to merchant life, or become scholars with noble patrons. But nothing said Tiiran couldn’t stay forever if he wanted to. He only had the library. Not a future.
Though a futuremightinclude an office in the library someday, if Tiiran worked hard and the library remained standing.
As if he had already considered that fate for Tiiran, Nikoly spoke earnestly. “You’re the only reason the Great Library is still functional. Mattin is wonderful, but he’s no administrator. You’re the Head of House here.”
Tiiran opened his mouth but not a single sound emerged. He did not even think he breathed. He had only just considered the possibility of an office, yet Nikoly imagined the library safe and under his supervision.
“Nikoly,” he exhaled at last, beyond shocked. “I’m nobody.”
