c The library was an awkward fixture in a land that was really nothing more

than grass and buffalo and people in (awkward) cohesion. The library stood on a
ledge, uselessly sheltered by cliff overhang²it was more a bother, when stray
clumps of dirt and rock fell from the cliff onto the library¶s roof. It was out of
place on the ledge, for it was a semi-modern building with its glass windows and
wooden door, where all the other buildings were made of red mud brick and adobe.
Their architects were long dead, bones since turned to powder, but the library¶s
designers lay in new-built mausoleums. And grand mausoleums they were, too, for
the library¶s designers were royal people.

Why royal people²royal people with education, and knowledge, and

hopefully, since they were running the country, some smarts²decided to put a
library on a lonely cliff ledge, in a region of illiterate, nomadic peoples was beyond
Bildr. He was the librarian, not that anyone had known him by that title since he¶d
arrived. No one had even walked in the door. He¶d seen the prairie people chasing
buffalo on their lithe horses on the grasses below, he¶d seen them look up at the
library with some odd mixture of curiosity and trepidation, but no one had knocked
on the library door. Sometimes, Bildr felt that he was more an archivist than a
librarian²for after all, books were meant to be read, vellums meant to be held,
letters meant to be traced with young fingers²but with the documents that he
kept? None of that was happening.

He sighed as he polished the window-glass, starting from the pointed arch

down to the narrow sill, and thought about the library, and his own (shaky) status
as librarian. It was, he thought, a better job than his previous²helping the King¶s
booksmaster restore old, damaged documents²that constant crouching over
brittle, cracked books, the squinting at faded, torn illuminations²but at least then,
he felt as though he was actually doing something. Here, though his title²
librarian²was prestigious, and his pay generous, it meant very little. He shelved
the books that he received from the main library in Archetta, boxed the ones that
were requested elsewhere, ate his three meals a day, and sent off the books, at the
local trading post, then returned to the library to sleep in his room off the library. If
reading was a religion of sorts, it was his vicarage; but unfortunately for Bildr, his
sermons went unheard.

That was, until Imin came along.

 Imin was a native youth, one of the few who hadn¶t gone buffalo hunting
with the other men²to his own disappointment, and the glee of his rivals, he
hadn¶t grown a beard yet, which effectively disqualified him²and was much
scorned in tribal circles. He was popularly called a good-for-nothing, the ³girl,´
and various other things. He attempted to help in the kitchen, with gathering food,
and cleaning buffalo skins, but was rejected by everyone. One day, after a
particularly virulent verbal attack from his great-aunt, he decided that he¶d taken
enough, and announced,

³That¶s enough, Auntie! I¶ve taken enough from all of you! Yes, that¶s right.
I¶ll go away. I¶ll just go to Archetta and make a life there. I¶ll get rich and show all
the stupid buffalo hunters what they¶re missing. Goodbye, Mother!´ And with that
rather hasty, impromptu declaration, he walked out of the tent (leaving behind a
group of utterly shocked and bewildered women) and slamming, if that can be said
with buffalo-hide, the tent flap behind him.

After walking out of the tent and walking for several minutes in the prairie,
he realized that he both had no water and no food; he had no idea which direction
Archetta was in; and he had no good plan as far as how he would ³make a life
there.´ He stopped to sit down, pensively, and think.

Bildr had moved onto polishing another window when he noticed the boy
sitting in the middle of the grass. He was dressed in the buffalo-skin tunic that
marked him out as one of the nomads, but he had no horse²he was simply sitting
down in the middle of the prairie. It was a rather ridiculous sight.

Imin felt rather foolish, sitting down in the middle of the prairie, on his way
to Archetta with no supplies. He would go to the trading post, except for the fact
that he had no money. Only the boys who hunted buffalo and sold the skins ever
had money to buy anything else. Everything else, they made or gathered
themselves.

It was a bad situation Imin was in, and he knew it. He couldn¶t simply walk
back to the tent and say, ³I¶ve changed my mind´²he would face even more
ridicule and censure than he already had. He couldn¶t grab a horse or even some
water from someone else, because that would be stealing. He shook his head.
Perhaps when nightfall came he could sneak back into his tent. He could say that
he had been bitten by a snake or something that sounded similarly heroic«would
that work?

But he wanted to go to Archetta. Imin hadn¶t realized it when he said it, but
he wanted to go to Archetta. The question was, how would he get there? He didn¶t
know where it was.

That was when he looked up and he saw the man with glasses, looking out in
the window of that odd new building on the cliff ledge. What was it that his father
had said about the building? It was a library²a place where they had books.
Where did that man come from? Imin realized with a smile«Archetta.

Bildr had moved on to dusting the bookshelves (as though anyone would see
the neatly polished shelves) when he heard the door open. He froze in position, as
though the person would go away if he moved an inch, and turned around slowly.
It was the same boy he had seen sitting down in the middle of the prairie.

³Hello,´ Bildr said, sounding flustered, while in his mind, he was doing
jumping jacks (someone had come into the library! For once! Joy)!

³Hello,´ said the boy, cautiously. ³I¶m Imin.´

³I¶m Bildr,´ the librarian nodded genially. ³Welcome to the library! There
are lots of books²we just got a new shipment of adventure novels, actually²what
am I saying, µwe,¶ it¶s just me here, really²but anyways, it¶s one of the largest
collections West of Archetta²´

³Archetta!´ Imin exclaimed, face lighting up. ³That¶s where I¶m trying to
go. Can you tell me how to get there?´

³Oh,´ Bildr said, a little crestfallen. That was why the boy had come up
here²that was the only reason anyone would come to a library, of course, was to
ask directions. There went his mental list of recommendations for reading. ³Um,
it¶s a little far from here²more than twenty miles²but yes, I think so.´ His voice
was flat, and Imin noticed.

³Oh,´ Imin said apologetically. ³I¶m sorry. You must have thought I came in
here to read. Have many people come in since you started?´
 ³None, except you,´ Bildr said gloomily.

³I¶m really sorry,´ Imin said, and he meant it, because he knew what it
meant to be lonely. They stood in silence for a few seconds, Bildr contemplative,
Imin looking guilty, before Bildr spoke.

³Do you know how to read, at least?´

³No,´ Imin shook his head.

³Oh, but you should at least know that!´ Bildr exclaimed. A new idea
hatched in his mind. ³There¶s no way you¶ll be able to get to Archetta if you can¶t
read,´ he added sagely.

³What do you mean?´

³Well,´ Bildr said wisely, thinking quickly, ³aside from the fact that all the
signs and maps require reading, didn¶t you know that Archetta requires all entrants
to pass a²pass a basic literacy test?´ It was a white lie, he figured. If it would help
someone learn to read, it was worth it. Gr are you just doing it for some company?
he thought, before brushing away the pesky idea.

³They do?´ Imin asked, eyes round.

He¶s actually believing it, Bildr thought incredulously, nodding.

³Will you teach me, then?´ Imin asked humbly. Perhaps the librarian could
help him in more ways than one. Was he glad that he had stumbled across the
library«

Bildr nodded gleefully, and the two set off to work.

Though Imin was a quick learner, and had soon learned his letters, it took
considerably longer to get him reading out loud. It was nighttime by the time he
had managed to learn how to read a sentence (which was, Bildr thought, still quite
impressive). The librarian noticed that Imin was starting to fidget nervously,
however, around eight o¶clock.

³Do you have to be somewhere?´ Bildr asked, jokingly.

 ³Er«no«well, I¶m not sure²no,´ Imin said firmly. ³I can¶t go back to
where the rest of the tribe is, they¶ll all make fun of me for coming back. I have to
go to Archetta.´

³Nighttime isn¶t the best time to do it,´ Bildr warned. ³I suppose you can
sleep here for tonight²I¶ll give you a blanket and a pillow, you can put a few of
those benches together, and grab a book to read.´

Though the benches might not have been very comfy, Imin didn¶t mind²the
view from the window was marvelous. The way the stars twinkled, the sky shone
above the vast expanse of prairie«he could see far more out the library window,
than when he was lying down in his tent, on the grasses. He wondered what his
sisters were doing, what his great-aunt and mother thought of his rash running-
away. They were probably laughing at his foolishness and expecting him to come
back. Well, he would show them«

The next morning, Imin woke up early, the sun streaming through the
windows. Bildr, as far as he could tell, had not yet awoken, but now that he had a
map of how to get to Archetta, some water, and most importantly, the knowledge
of reading, he was ready to go. He slipped out of the library with ease, careful not
to make too much noise, and began to walk. It would be five or six hours walking,
he figured.

Bildr awoke and noticed that Imin was gone. It was a pity, but at least he had
managed to teach the boy how to read. He wondered what Imin would think when
he realized there was no literacy test at the gates²really, there were no official
gates to Archetta, just some outlying villages and then the city. rchetta, he
thought wistfully. Ironic how everything tied into Archetta²all roads led there, as
others would say. Bildr came from Archetta; the stones that built the library came
from Archetta; and, who would have thought, but the first person to visit the
library wanted to go to Archetta.

Bildr looked out the window and saw the tribe down in the prairie amassing
for a buffalo hunt²perhaps they were moving to another spot where the grasses
were better, the buffalo were fatter. He thought back on Imin, whether he would
come back to find his tribe gone somewhere else. The nomads, Bildr thought, were
temporary²they moved to and fro with the fluidity of leaves in the wind²but the
library, odd and ugly in its semi-modernness, sheltered uselessly by cliff overhang,
adjacent to old adobe houses of civilizations dead long ago«this library would
stay here so long as it could, and Bildr would too²for every Imin who might come
to the door, there would be books, literacy, letters«or directions.

THE END.