Chapter 7

“I can’t feel my hands,” Danel moaned.

“My eyes are so tired I can’t open them,” Bello whined.

“My leg muscles are cramped from sitting so long. I don’t think I can walk in a straight line,” Frage said. “Who are these sadistic bastards?”

Danel pressed the cold compress tighter on his forehead, pushing the ends into his temples. The water from the rag was running down the side of his face. He focused on his breathing, trying to take slow, even breaths. Eventually, his heart beat a normal rhythm. “I will need a drink or three,” he announced.

Frage chuckled. “First one to down three Ta<click>de<click>nadel bonnets wins.

“Yes, they win a free trip to the local commode for a complete purging of their innards,” Bello said as he sat up. “You know what they put in those things? They start, start I tell you, with a shot of scorching pepper sauce.”

“Too bad that recipe wasn’t on the exam,” Danel muttered. “Well, my friends, did we pass?”

He heard them spit out “don’t know” and “don’t care” and “I’ll take the bastards down to hell with me if I didn’t.”

“You missed the real question,” Frage said. “How do they catalog our exams after they’re done grading them?”

“Boo!”

“Flog the impious woman! Cast her into the mud pits and toss away the key!”

“Where are the other three of our classmates,” Danel asked.

“Edel had a bottle of gin waiting in his room. Yoodma was expelling the contents of her stomach in the toilet next to the exam room when I left and Nugerbrad was still scribbling,” Frage said. “He talks fast but he writes slow. His parents must have beat him on the wrong side of the head as a child.”

“Gerber’s alright,” Danel said. “He gets all wound up and doesn’t know what to do with himself. Once the task is done, he’s himself again.”

“Nugerbrad hates that name, Danel.”

“Nuger rhymes with booger and I’m not using that name. Sorry, it may be a cultural thing with me,” Danel said. “I need to get laid.”

“Drinks, first,” Bello said, cracking his knuckles. “Seriously, I heard of a tavern up by the wizard’s wing on the First Floor, that is supposed to have spitted meats and northern spirits found nowhere else in the Library of Ibados.”

“I don’t think I have the strength to walk there,” Danel said. “Besides, shouldn’t we wait until after we have our meetings with Head?”

“No,” they both replied emphatically.

“This floor, Third Corridor at thirty-third is the Blue Tail. They have a dark ale which light cannot penetrate and everything edible is fried in a thick fritter batter,” Frage said. “The historians and the philosophers frequent there.”

“I am revived. Hallelujah,” Danel said, standing up and tossing his cold rag into the pot by the door. “If the hysterics and the phlegmatics leave us alone, then I could really enjoy a pint of oil with my ale.”

“Look who thinks he’s clever,” Bello said, tossing his rag in the pot as well. “Let’s fill our bellies and empty of our minds of anything useful for the evening. If some kind soul must drag me back and toss my sodden carcass on the bed, so be it.”

They sauntered through the hallways and corridors to the thirty-third hallway. Danel saw the first and second reading rooms for ancient world history next door and shook his head, trying to get the library business out of his head. Apparently, the scholars of history preferred not to walk far, whereas a Librarian was typically willing to go almost anywhere in the Library of Ibados for good food and drink or even not-so-good food and drink. He had learned there was a legion of stevedores whose job was to get food and ingredients into the building from hundreds of ships that came through the harbor. The world was their food basket in the Library of Ibados.

The first sip of the ale was bitter, and it was heaven. The taste of the grain flared across his palate while his nose inhaled grasses of the first spring harvest. A basket of fried mushrooms appeared on their table, as if by magic. Danel watched Bello bite into one, only to squeak in pain as the hot oil burned his lips. Danel took a gulp or two more before trying one himself. He could feel the alcohol behind his eyeballs.

The fried onion rings almost brought Danel to his knees. He thought nothing could match that treat until he bit into a fried cheese stick, gooey and rich. Frage growled as she devoured a stick.

“I’m going to regret this tomorrow morning,” she said, slugging down half of her mug. “However, I’m going to work hard to make it a regret I won’t forget.”

Four empty baskets sat on their table as the three held their guts and moaned into their refilled mugs. They had not exchanged many words since their declarations of gluttony, and they were not inclined to talk now. The sensations of satisfied hunger were a welcomed soporific.

“What’s that stench?” an old man with a historian’s badge around his neck announced. “Can’t I go to one tavern without smelling Librarian crap?”

Danel looked at his companions through the haze of a good, quick drunk. They gave him the look back, a mixture of what-the-hell and who-do-you-think-you’re-talking-to. Danel slowly rose from his stool and began to scan the crowd for the offensive sot. He was ready to thwack some stupid ass back into the dark ages.

A hand gently rested on his shoulder and a quiet voice whispered in his ear. “We’ve got this, Librarian. Please don’t trouble yourself.” The man was dressed in shapeless workman’s clothes, but his other hand was holding a worn billy club. Another man, dressed similarly, accosted the drunk, yanking him by the elbow. The old man resisted. He was quickly subdued and hustled out of the room.

“Whoa there, horse,” Danel said, considering the scene as it resolved. “Did either of you know?” he asked as he pointed surreptitiously at the surrounding crowd. They both shook their heads. “Neither did I: not the animosity nor the nondescript security. Are we having another round or are we calling this long day well and done.”

Both agreed with well and done. Suddenly more sober than not, they walked back to their communal hallway and exchanged “goodnights” before closing their doors. Danel stripped off his shoes and his clothes, leaving them in a pile at the end of the bed. He collapsed on the mattress and knew nothing until someone shook his shoulder in the morning.

While the other Librarians were themselves at breakfast, laughing at some jokes and tossing comments, the six yellow cords sat at a table by themselves, each nursing the effects of the day before. Danel stuck to gruel and a roll with his tea, fearing anything with even a whiff of oil would set off his stomach. He was physically a bit under, but otherwise he was sitting satisfied with himself. The others looked pensive.

“Excuse me,” the Head Librarian’s personal assistant spoke over the table. “I have your appointments with the Head Librarian this morning. I’m sure you remember his office is on the Third Floor, First Corridor, twentieth hallway. In this order beginning at 08:00 is Nugerbrad, Yoodma, Edel, Bello, Frage, and finally Danel. A luncheon is scheduled in Head’s private dining room at 12:30.”

When he departed, they all looked at each other. “Why am I always last?” Danel said before anyone else could ask a question or comment.

“Hey, it’s human anatomy writ large,” Nugerbrad said. “The asshole is always last.”

The table broke up in laughter. Finally, Danel responded, “From now until eternity, your name shall forever be Gerber.”

“No, no,” Frage said. “I heard that Occopina acolyte departing his room the other morning call him ‘studmuffin.’ His new name should be Studmuffin.”