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“What are we doing here, Grandfather?”
“We came to see the library,” Feather said.
“I know that!" snapped Juliet, swinging her head up to glare at Feather where she was perched on Grandfather’s back in a little twist of branches and leaves he’d grown for her. “But why did it have to be this library? Look at what they’ve got outside it!"
“A little plague hut,” said Grandfather, “Very decorative.”
“Little,” muttered Juliet, sliding away with a tilt of her wings. Grandfather started to angle down, and Feather grimly hung on. The wood basket Grandfather was carrying her in was not exactly comfortable. Grandfather’s dappled wings beat back to slow himself down, but wiry as he was he was still a big weight to settle on the ground, and Feather was nearly tumbled out the basket. Behind them Juliet folded her vast wings and landed without even kicking up dust.
Ahead the half ruined library shone white in the bright sunlight, and the red and black mass of plague magic next to it was lit up with tints of purple and green. Feather, used to being under trees, found the light blinding. She scrambled out of the branches and slid down Grandfather’s side to tumble to the ground, stretching all her limbs. Grandfather ambled past her, and Juliet, still frowning, slid along at his heels. To keep up with a Guardian and an Imperial on foot Feather had to jump, flapping her wings to give herself more lift.
Juliet’s head dropped lower and lower as they got closer, and she hissed softly, under her breath. Feather could admit that aesthetically the odd flesh mound was disturbing, but it didn’t affect her the way it did Juliet. Grandfather, as always, merely seemed at one with the world; little flowers were budding around his feet. A few dragons were watching them, but with no sense of concern; two stepped a little apart to meet them; a little Fae, and, Feather saw, hopping up as high as she could, another Pearlcatcher.
Grandfather stopped and waited for them, waving a wing to stop Juliet as well, who was scraping her claws across the ground.
“Will you stop?” hissed Feather, pulling up the grass and roots that were trying to climb Grandfather’s legs.
“Don’t you feel it?” Juliet lashed her tail, and the thump it made paused the Pearlcatcher’s approach. “That mound… it’s wrong.”
“It’s different,” said Grandfather. “Tuck your head here, little one, don’t mind it.” He covered Juliet’s head with his wing, and she put her face to his leafy shoulder, still rumbling with unease.
“Welcome to the Library!” cried the Fae, flying in jerky loops around Grandfather’s head. “What’s your business?”
“Kajo, stop that,” said the Pearlcatcher, trotting up. “You’re like a gnat. Welcome travellers. I am Solfrid, and these are the Library Ruins our clan calls home. How can we help you?”
“We’re here for books,” said Juliet from under Grandfather’s wing. Feather rolled her eyes.
“Ah?” said Solfrid. “Well, yes, we have books?”
“It’s Ruinkeeper’s clan, isn’t it?” said Grandfather, “I knew of her, a long time ago. Would you mind if we came inside and talked of what we are looking for? Juliet has never had much to do with plague dragons.”
The mention of Ruinkeeper, whoever that was, seemed to ease some worries. Also Solfrid blinked her green eyes sympathetically at the gigantic Imperial cowering under the wing of the less gigantic but still substantial Guardian and lead the way inside.
Feather drew in a deep breath as she came into the wide reception hall. The smell of old leather, dry crackling paper, and wood polish wound their way delightfully into her nose. The Barrowdown had books, but underground tunnels were not dedicated archive spaces, and her own collection had to be carefully packed away when not in use, or the dirt got into them.
Grandfather handled greetings, asked about families, expanded on his connection to Ruinkeeper, who was apparently this clan’s matriarch, (he had travelled through Light territory when she was a child, and of course remembered her, because Grandfather never forgot anyone), and asked, if it was possible, if he could look at any books they had on jewellery making? He could? Thank you so much, that was kind. Juliet, removing her head from Grandfather’s armpit, looked warily around for any dragons with red eyes and then pulled out the list Driftwood had given her, and started reading off titles so rapidly that most of the dragons working as clerks were sent into a panic, and went scrambling back and forth into the stacks checking and rechecking each other’s work, so Feather settled down to wait.
But she had hardly sat down when an odd soft noise sent her back up to her feet, and she turned to see, emerging from a tunnel that seemed to lead to living space rather than books, a male Ridgeback, looking down at her over his nose.
He had drawn in his breath so quickly that he had made a sort of snorting sound, and now seemed too stunned by it to move. Feather smiled and nodded; he didn’t look like a library assistant, so there was no point asking him for help. Politely she moved slightly out of the way. Behind her, Juliet was trying to read Driftwood’s awful handwriting, and arguing with a Snapper and a Mirror about whether he meant ‘theft’, or ‘hibiscus’.
The Ridgeback did move forward, but only to edge a little more into the hall, and he kept looking at her.
“Hello,” said Feather, “I’m Feather.”
The Ridgeback opened his mouth, but said nothing. Juliet decided the word was really ‘canyon’, and mercifully moved away.
“We’re here to see your wonderful library,” said Feather.
The Ridgeback nodded very quickly, and then, seeming to decide they were having a conversation, lay down with a teeth-rattling thump.
Glad at least she was no longer craning her neck, Feather sat down as well. But she wished she knew which side of his nose she was supposed to look to meet his steady gaze, as it was her eyes kept darting back and forth between his, and she felt a fool.
“Um,” she glanced quickly over at Grandfather, hoping for rescue, but he was being led away by a red and purple Mirror. Juliet was clutching her list, a scroll as long as her very long arm, and looking despairingly over the piles of books being formed around her like a wall. “Um, sorry, but who are you?”
“I’m starstruck- starst- Starstrike! I’m Starstrike.” The Ridgeback, Starstrike, clamped his teeth and rattled his spines, clearly embarrassed by his stutter. He coughed. “Starstrike. Nice to meet you.”
Feather, taking pity, held out a hand to touch claws in greeting. “Starstrike? Oh! Because of your lovely white dots?”
“Yes,” said Starstrike, looking at his own shoulder like he had never seen it before. “Yes, absolutely because of that. Oh, sorry.” He stretched out his own hand and touched two of his claws to the palm of hers, because that was about all that would fit. “Your hands are so small!” he said, sliding his fingers underneath her hand to hold it gently aloft. Then realising what he was doing he flinched away. “So you’re Feather?” He smiled, a little manic. “Because of-?”
“Because of the feathers, yes.” Feather brushed the little downy tufts of fur around her eyes back. “It’s fur really. But the rest of my markings are featherish too, I suppose. Grandfather named me. He’s not technically related,” she explained, “He just adopts anything that shows its nose at our Barrow.”
“Oh?” Starstrike tilted his head. Feather fought down the familiar creeping notion that anyone she talked to found her very boring, and valiantly carried on.
“Yes. He says it’s because of his mate Footprint, but really he’s just as bad. I have about a hundred adopted family members. There’s Juliet, over there, and her mates Driftwood and Suneye, and Earthsong, and Ashthread, and Snowspring, though actually he doesn’t count, because he’s actually Grandfather’s actual son…” Aware she losing control of her conversation, Feather rallied. “But you don’t want to hear all this.”
“Actually-” he started to speak, but Feather rushed over him.
“Could you help me? I’m interested in any alchemy books you may have, but Juliet was given such a long list everyone’s taken up. I don’t suppose you know where they are? Or could you grab someone’s attention? You’re a lot bigger than me.”
Starstrike stood up. “I can do better,” he proclaimed, and motioned her forward with a wing, “I can take you myself. It’s this way.”
Feather trotted along after him, breaking into a lope when she fell behind, though she could tell he was walking slowly for her. She didn’t dare try to fly as they disappeared into the vast shelves, worried about knocking books. Starstrike had no trouble navigating his great size in the narrow gaps between bookcases, but he did take up so much room Feather dropped back to run by his tail.
“It’s just here,” Starstrike said, and Feather ducked under his belly and stopped dead as she took in the size of the section he was indicating.
“Oh,” she breathed, and went on as though in a dream, running fingers over spines, reading titles, filing away authors’ names… one book caught her eye, clearly made for a bigger breed of dragon than a Pearlcatcher, but still she couldn’t resist pulling it down and laying it reverently on the floor, turning a few pages with the very tips of her claws, almost purring at the elaborate scrolling and twisting borders on each page.
She slipped away into a world of ingredient measures, safety procedures, cauldron sizing, temperatures, timings, intricate and detailed diagrams of the steps of each and every recipe, and all of it in beautiful handwritten calligraphy. She’d have travelled three times as far in Grandfather’s uncomfortable basket to see books like these.
“Opossum! Possum! Feather!”
Feather rose from her trance with a jerk, blinking and shaking, unsure for a moment of where she was. In the Library Ruins, she remembered, at the alchemy books with Starstrike. And also Juliet. Starstrike was lying on the floor, creating a little space around her, blocking Juliet out. The Imperial was forced to stick her head over his back to see her.
“Oh, Juliet.” Feather’s hand caressed the pages, and her eyes kept straying back to the book. “How’s your list going?”
“It’s gone, Possum.” Juliet snorted. “They’ve given us somewhere to eat and sleep, come on. You’ve been gone for ages. There’s a forest worth of books I need to carry back, and I’ll strangle Driftwood when I do!”
“Ages?” said Feather, bewildered.
“A little while at least,” said Starstrike. “Possum?”
Feather’s hackles bristled, and she turned finally from the book. “Oh, that’s just a baby name! Because of my white fingers. Don’t listen to Juliet, no one does.”
“I’ll remember,” Starstrike grinned.
“You better forget,” snapped Juliet. “Have you even picked any books or just read them? Well, I don’t suppose we could borrow anymore anyway. I’ve got enough to carry. Come on.”
She turned back on herself in that snakelike fashion only Imperials could manage, and slid away into the shelves. Feather shut the book, and said nothing as Starstrike took it up and put it back on the shelf.
“It’s this way,” he said.
“I’m sorry you had to stay so long,” Feather blurted out. “I’m sorry I wasted your time.”
“You didn’t.”
“I must have! All I did was read, I didn’t even find anything to take…and we’re going away tomorrow.”
Starstrike shrugged. “Come back after you’ve eaten and choose. I’ll come with you.”
“I’ll never get them home!” Feather wailed, tempted beyond endurance.
“I’ll carry them home for you.”
“Oh!” She blinked. “Is that a service you do here?”
Starstrike’s head was too high to see his expression, but his tail twitched in nervous jerks.
“It is now,” he said, and then quickly, “Come on, let’s eat.”
Confused, but happy enough, Feather smiled and followed him away through the shelves.
Dragons in this lore:
“What are we doing here, Grandfather?”
“We came to see the library,” Feather said.
“I know that!" snapped Juliet, swinging her head up to glare at Feather where she was perched on Grandfather’s back in a little twist of branches and leaves he’d grown for her. “But why did it have to be this library? Look at what they’ve got outside it!"
“A little plague hut,” said Grandfather, “Very decorative.”
“Little,” muttered Juliet, sliding away with a tilt of her wings. Grandfather started to angle down, and Feather grimly hung on. The wood basket Grandfather was carrying her in was not exactly comfortable. Grandfather’s dappled wings beat back to slow himself down, but wiry as he was he was still a big weight to settle on the ground, and Feather was nearly tumbled out the basket. Behind them Juliet folded her vast wings and landed without even kicking up dust.
Ahead the half ruined library shone white in the bright sunlight, and the red and black mass of plague magic next to it was lit up with tints of purple and green. Feather, used to being under trees, found the light blinding. She scrambled out of the branches and slid down Grandfather’s side to tumble to the ground, stretching all her limbs. Grandfather ambled past her, and Juliet, still frowning, slid along at his heels. To keep up with a Guardian and an Imperial on foot Feather had to jump, flapping her wings to give herself more lift.
Juliet’s head dropped lower and lower as they got closer, and she hissed softly, under her breath. Feather could admit that aesthetically the odd flesh mound was disturbing, but it didn’t affect her the way it did Juliet. Grandfather, as always, merely seemed at one with the world; little flowers were budding around his feet. A few dragons were watching them, but with no sense of concern; two stepped a little apart to meet them; a little Fae, and, Feather saw, hopping up as high as she could, another Pearlcatcher.
Grandfather stopped and waited for them, waving a wing to stop Juliet as well, who was scraping her claws across the ground.
“Will you stop?” hissed Feather, pulling up the grass and roots that were trying to climb Grandfather’s legs.
“Don’t you feel it?” Juliet lashed her tail, and the thump it made paused the Pearlcatcher’s approach. “That mound… it’s wrong.”
“It’s different,” said Grandfather. “Tuck your head here, little one, don’t mind it.” He covered Juliet’s head with his wing, and she put her face to his leafy shoulder, still rumbling with unease.
“Welcome to the Library!” cried the Fae, flying in jerky loops around Grandfather’s head. “What’s your business?”
“Kajo, stop that,” said the Pearlcatcher, trotting up. “You’re like a gnat. Welcome travellers. I am Solfrid, and these are the Library Ruins our clan calls home. How can we help you?”
“We’re here for books,” said Juliet from under Grandfather’s wing. Feather rolled her eyes.
“Ah?” said Solfrid. “Well, yes, we have books?”
“It’s Ruinkeeper’s clan, isn’t it?” said Grandfather, “I knew of her, a long time ago. Would you mind if we came inside and talked of what we are looking for? Juliet has never had much to do with plague dragons.”
The mention of Ruinkeeper, whoever that was, seemed to ease some worries. Also Solfrid blinked her green eyes sympathetically at the gigantic Imperial cowering under the wing of the less gigantic but still substantial Guardian and lead the way inside.
Feather drew in a deep breath as she came into the wide reception hall. The smell of old leather, dry crackling paper, and wood polish wound their way delightfully into her nose. The Barrowdown had books, but underground tunnels were not dedicated archive spaces, and her own collection had to be carefully packed away when not in use, or the dirt got into them.
Grandfather handled greetings, asked about families, expanded on his connection to Ruinkeeper, who was apparently this clan’s matriarch, (he had travelled through Light territory when she was a child, and of course remembered her, because Grandfather never forgot anyone), and asked, if it was possible, if he could look at any books they had on jewellery making? He could? Thank you so much, that was kind. Juliet, removing her head from Grandfather’s armpit, looked warily around for any dragons with red eyes and then pulled out the list Driftwood had given her, and started reading off titles so rapidly that most of the dragons working as clerks were sent into a panic, and went scrambling back and forth into the stacks checking and rechecking each other’s work, so Feather settled down to wait.
But she had hardly sat down when an odd soft noise sent her back up to her feet, and she turned to see, emerging from a tunnel that seemed to lead to living space rather than books, a male Ridgeback, looking down at her over his nose.
He had drawn in his breath so quickly that he had made a sort of snorting sound, and now seemed too stunned by it to move. Feather smiled and nodded; he didn’t look like a library assistant, so there was no point asking him for help. Politely she moved slightly out of the way. Behind her, Juliet was trying to read Driftwood’s awful handwriting, and arguing with a Snapper and a Mirror about whether he meant ‘theft’, or ‘hibiscus’.
The Ridgeback did move forward, but only to edge a little more into the hall, and he kept looking at her.
“Hello,” said Feather, “I’m Feather.”
The Ridgeback opened his mouth, but said nothing. Juliet decided the word was really ‘canyon’, and mercifully moved away.
“We’re here to see your wonderful library,” said Feather.
The Ridgeback nodded very quickly, and then, seeming to decide they were having a conversation, lay down with a teeth-rattling thump.
Glad at least she was no longer craning her neck, Feather sat down as well. But she wished she knew which side of his nose she was supposed to look to meet his steady gaze, as it was her eyes kept darting back and forth between his, and she felt a fool.
“Um,” she glanced quickly over at Grandfather, hoping for rescue, but he was being led away by a red and purple Mirror. Juliet was clutching her list, a scroll as long as her very long arm, and looking despairingly over the piles of books being formed around her like a wall. “Um, sorry, but who are you?”
“I’m starstruck- starst- Starstrike! I’m Starstrike.” The Ridgeback, Starstrike, clamped his teeth and rattled his spines, clearly embarrassed by his stutter. He coughed. “Starstrike. Nice to meet you.”
Feather, taking pity, held out a hand to touch claws in greeting. “Starstrike? Oh! Because of your lovely white dots?”
“Yes,” said Starstrike, looking at his own shoulder like he had never seen it before. “Yes, absolutely because of that. Oh, sorry.” He stretched out his own hand and touched two of his claws to the palm of hers, because that was about all that would fit. “Your hands are so small!” he said, sliding his fingers underneath her hand to hold it gently aloft. Then realising what he was doing he flinched away. “So you’re Feather?” He smiled, a little manic. “Because of-?”
“Because of the feathers, yes.” Feather brushed the little downy tufts of fur around her eyes back. “It’s fur really. But the rest of my markings are featherish too, I suppose. Grandfather named me. He’s not technically related,” she explained, “He just adopts anything that shows its nose at our Barrow.”
“Oh?” Starstrike tilted his head. Feather fought down the familiar creeping notion that anyone she talked to found her very boring, and valiantly carried on.
“Yes. He says it’s because of his mate Footprint, but really he’s just as bad. I have about a hundred adopted family members. There’s Juliet, over there, and her mates Driftwood and Suneye, and Earthsong, and Ashthread, and Snowspring, though actually he doesn’t count, because he’s actually Grandfather’s actual son…” Aware she losing control of her conversation, Feather rallied. “But you don’t want to hear all this.”
“Actually-” he started to speak, but Feather rushed over him.
“Could you help me? I’m interested in any alchemy books you may have, but Juliet was given such a long list everyone’s taken up. I don’t suppose you know where they are? Or could you grab someone’s attention? You’re a lot bigger than me.”
Starstrike stood up. “I can do better,” he proclaimed, and motioned her forward with a wing, “I can take you myself. It’s this way.”
Feather trotted along after him, breaking into a lope when she fell behind, though she could tell he was walking slowly for her. She didn’t dare try to fly as they disappeared into the vast shelves, worried about knocking books. Starstrike had no trouble navigating his great size in the narrow gaps between bookcases, but he did take up so much room Feather dropped back to run by his tail.
“It’s just here,” Starstrike said, and Feather ducked under his belly and stopped dead as she took in the size of the section he was indicating.
“Oh,” she breathed, and went on as though in a dream, running fingers over spines, reading titles, filing away authors’ names… one book caught her eye, clearly made for a bigger breed of dragon than a Pearlcatcher, but still she couldn’t resist pulling it down and laying it reverently on the floor, turning a few pages with the very tips of her claws, almost purring at the elaborate scrolling and twisting borders on each page.
She slipped away into a world of ingredient measures, safety procedures, cauldron sizing, temperatures, timings, intricate and detailed diagrams of the steps of each and every recipe, and all of it in beautiful handwritten calligraphy. She’d have travelled three times as far in Grandfather’s uncomfortable basket to see books like these.
“Opossum! Possum! Feather!”
Feather rose from her trance with a jerk, blinking and shaking, unsure for a moment of where she was. In the Library Ruins, she remembered, at the alchemy books with Starstrike. And also Juliet. Starstrike was lying on the floor, creating a little space around her, blocking Juliet out. The Imperial was forced to stick her head over his back to see her.
“Oh, Juliet.” Feather’s hand caressed the pages, and her eyes kept straying back to the book. “How’s your list going?”
“It’s gone, Possum.” Juliet snorted. “They’ve given us somewhere to eat and sleep, come on. You’ve been gone for ages. There’s a forest worth of books I need to carry back, and I’ll strangle Driftwood when I do!”
“Ages?” said Feather, bewildered.
“A little while at least,” said Starstrike. “Possum?”
Feather’s hackles bristled, and she turned finally from the book. “Oh, that’s just a baby name! Because of my white fingers. Don’t listen to Juliet, no one does.”
“I’ll remember,” Starstrike grinned.
“You better forget,” snapped Juliet. “Have you even picked any books or just read them? Well, I don’t suppose we could borrow anymore anyway. I’ve got enough to carry. Come on.”
She turned back on herself in that snakelike fashion only Imperials could manage, and slid away into the shelves. Feather shut the book, and said nothing as Starstrike took it up and put it back on the shelf.
“It’s this way,” he said.
“I’m sorry you had to stay so long,” Feather blurted out. “I’m sorry I wasted your time.”
“You didn’t.”
“I must have! All I did was read, I didn’t even find anything to take…and we’re going away tomorrow.”
Starstrike shrugged. “Come back after you’ve eaten and choose. I’ll come with you.”
“I’ll never get them home!” Feather wailed, tempted beyond endurance.
“I’ll carry them home for you.”
“Oh!” She blinked. “Is that a service you do here?”
Starstrike’s head was too high to see his expression, but his tail twitched in nervous jerks.
“It is now,” he said, and then quickly, “Come on, let’s eat.”
Confused, but happy enough, Feather smiled and followed him away through the shelves.
Dragons in this lore:
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