The sudden ringing of the phone echoed harshly through the shelves, startling Solas enough that he nearly fell off his step-ladder. Grumbling a curse he set aside the books he was shelving and walked briskly towards his desk. Leaning across it, Solas turned the phone to check the caller ID. An internal extension, but not one he recognized offhand. He snatched up the handset and held it to his ear.
"Library," he said by way of greeting.
"Solas? Hi," came the other voice, tinny through the tiny speaker.
"Hello," he replied, brow furrowing as he attempted to place the voice, then added, "Anais."
"Yes, hi, I have a favor to ask," she said, hardly pausing for a response. "I've got a ton of quizzes to grade, and an AP world history class next period that needs to work on term papers. Would I be able to bring my students down to the library? They can do research, I can get my work done, and you save twenty young minds from the horrors of the internet."
Solas couldn't help but chuckle at the jibe. "Of course. I don't have any other classes scheduled before lunch. Your students will have the place to themselves."
"Perfect. Thank you, lethallin," she said, and he could hear the smile in her voice.
He mirrored her unseen expression. "Banal nadas."
Half an hour later, just after the bell, the library's double doors banged open to admit a cloud of teenagers. They milled around the entrance, mostly human but a handful of elves and dwarves. Their talk blended into a dull hum that rolled through the rotunda. Anais was the last one in, her voice rising above the students' as she shut the door behind her.
"Come on, guys, keep it moving," she said, herding them ahead of her like cats. "Put your stuff down and have a seat for a minute."
From his desk, chin resting on his knuckles, Solas watched her corral the children to the tables. She was firm with them, but not unkind. They seemed to like her, responding quickly to her demands, settling into their seats and quieting with limited protest.
"Okay, kids, today we're starting work on your term papers," she started, and began to count off criteria on her fingers. "Pick any age between Divine and Exalted, pick a topic within that age, and then give me eight to ten pages at the end of the semester. Before you start writing, I need to approve your topic. I need you to cite at least three sources in addition to your textbook. More is probably better, but that's up to you." Here she shot a wink to the librarian, who cocked an eyebrow. "At least two of your sources need to be actual books, and not just whatever you can Google up in fifteen minutes at home."
That solicited a chorus of groans, to which Anais only shrugged. "You guys have a nicer library here than half of the ones I used in college. It should not be difficult to find two relevant books in this entire building. Any questions?"
There were a few, to which she gave quick, concise answers. When it seemed there were no more queries, she shooed them away. "Go on, scatter. Get to work, I want your topics by Monday."
At their teacher's urging the students abandoned their backpacks and spread across the library, vanishing between shelves and up the stairs. Anais watched them go, then approached the librarian's huge circular desk at the center of the room.
"May I sit? Better vantage point," she asked, waving a hand at the room behind her.
"Certainly," Solas replied, motioning her around the the side to the opening in the desk. There was already a second chair, which Anais settled into.
"I'm glad to hear you appreciate my library," he said as she sat.
Anais flashed him a smile. "Well it is just lovely," she said, reaching into her bag and drawing out a thick stack of papers, paperclipped into smaller bunches. "I wasn't kidding when I said this place is nicer than several universities I could name. Three entire floors! Consider me impressed."
"Well, much as I would like to, I do not think I can take all of the credit," Solas admitted, though part of him swelled with pride at her praises. "Most of it was here when I took the position."
"Well Vivienne tells me you're some sort of book-procuring magician," she replied. She dug through her purse for a moment, eventually producing a green pen. "So I'm sure plenty of it is your doing."
"Either way," he said, only half suppressing his smile, "It pleases me to see it put to good use."
Two weeks had passed since their last conversation, at the faculty meeting. It had been pleasant, meeting another who seemed to have an appreciation for ancient history- with a rather Dalish bent on her perspective, to be sure, but all the same. Since then he had seen her only in passing in the hallway and across the parking lot, a smile and a wave.
He watched her for a moment, as she pulled the cap off the pen with her teeth and set to grading. Lit by the sun spilling through the skylight above, the red undertones in her hair were vibrant against the deep green of her vallaslin. Her dark shirt was open at the neck, giving a glimpse of warm copper skin...
Hastily he swiveled his chair away, to the purchase order request open on his computer screen and the catalogue of office supplies open on the desk. Solas busied himself with searching the catalogue for labels and printer paper and other mundanities necessary to the smooth running of the library. Any tedium to distract him from staring like a schoolboy.
For the most part the library was quiet but for the occasional scrape of a chair, the shifting of books and the scratching of pens on paper. Periodically students approached the desk, asking after a certain book or requesting Anais' opinion on research topic.
After a time there came a gentle tap on his shoulder, and he turned to find her re-paperclipping a stack of tests."What time is it?"
Solas glanced back at the lower corner of his computer. "Eleven forty-five."
"Thank you," she said, and clicked the cap back onto her pen. She stood, addressing her students scattered around the building. "Ten minutes!" she called. "Check out any books you want to take, and put away whatever you don't, please."
There was a sudden shuffle of activity, students checking out books and gathering their backpacks to cluster at the door like racehorses at the gate. Anais attempted to keep them orderly, but the closer it came to lunch, the more eager the students became. No sooner did the bell ring than they threw open the doors and flooded out, gone in less than thirty seconds as though they had never been. She let the door swing shut, expelling a breath as she returned to the desk.
"The lunch bell is a powerful thing," Anais said, slipping back into her seat. She began neatly separating her graded and ungraded tests into piles. "It's like letting halla too close to the spindleweed patch- they'll go through the walls if they have to."
Solas considered the idiom for a moment. "Is that a common problem?" he inquired.
"What, halla and spindleweed?" she replied, placing the tests back into the depths of her bag. That purse, he thought, was probably bottomless. "Not if you're careful. Don't grow it too close to the pens. But it's like catnip to them, they'll roll in it and eat it and then act half crazy for the rest of the afternoon."
"You seem to speak from experience," he said.
"As I should," she replied. "My family keeps the clan's herd, I've spent an inordinate amount of time around them."
"I thought Clan Lavellan were primarily jewelers," Solas said, tapping his fingers on his knee thoughtfully.
Anais cocked her head in curiosity. "Primarily, yes... Sorry, lethallin, but you're fluent in the old tongue and you can read the vallaslin, and now this? For being city-born you seem to know quite a bit about the clans."
"I don't know that I would consider myself 'city-born,'" he replied, expression carefully neutral.
"Are... are you Dalish?" she said, shocked, sitting back in her chair. There was a note of sadness in her voice as she asked softly, "Did you decline your vallaslin?"
"Nor am I Dalish," he said, and the sudden tension left Anais' face. "Somewhere in between, I suppose. Curious, though," he started, before she could pry further, "That your clan would still raise halla."
There was a brief, almost imperceptible narrowing of her eyes at the quick subject change, but she did not press the issue. "Why curious? Most clans tend halla, if they have the land. Just because we don't all live in aravels anymore doesn't mean they have no use. They're sacred to us."
"Such a juxtaposition of the modern and the archaic-"
"Archaic?" she interjected, lifting her hand as though to physically stop Solas' words in the air. The set of her jaw and the high arch of her eyebrows were a warning.
"Only in that the act of raising an animal merely because tradition dictates is-"
"Is what, exactly?" she demanded. "'Archaic'? Solas, it is the year of our Maker 20:15 Renewal and yet, as it has been for two thousand years, we name each century after the visions of the old woman with the largest Dorito-shaped hat. Ferelden hasn't been in a landwar on its own soil in close to a hundred and ninety years, but something like seventy-six percent of Fereldan households own a mabari war dog. There are corners of Tevinter that still hold annual blood sacrifices to Dumat! These are 'cultural quirks' or 'just how it is,' but the Dalish choose to raise halla- for meat, for milk and cheese and horn and pelt, to ride and till our fields- and suddenly we're antiquated. Backwards."
"I'm sorry, lethallan. Abelas," he managed, through the wall of her words. "You've made a fair point."
At some point she had risen out of her chair to loom over him. He could only stare, temporarily lost for words under the fierceness of her stare and the clench of her jaw. Eventually she exhaled once, sharply, through her nose and averted her eyes. Her cheeks colored.
"Sorry," she sighed, fiddling with one of the rings on her fingers. The apology seemed more compulsory than sincere.
"The fault is mine, truly," he replied.
Anais met his gaze again, expression inscrutable. "Yeah," she said simply. "Look, I just... I spent half my college career arguing about being Dalish and explaining to dusty old professors that we're a living culture and not a set of ruins. I just jump straight to defensive over it."
"Understandable," he said. "It must have been tiring."
She scoffed, and finally lowered herself back into her chair. "'Tiring' is a generous word for it," she said. "Infuriating, more like. You're an elf in academia, you must have some idea."
"A little," he agreed. He was glad to see half a smile pull at the corner of her mouth. "If I may ask, where did you go to school?"
"I got my bachelor's in history at Wycome College in the Marches. Did my masters in anthropology at the Universite d'Orlais in Val Royeux," she said.
"You accused the Chantry of stealing Elvhen iconography while living in the very heart of Andrastianism?" Solas asked, incredulous.
"What can I say? I don't do things by halves," she said, shrugging. There was no small amount of pride in her voice, though.
"I would like to have been in the room during that particular committee hearing," he said. If Anais got so heated over halla, he could only imagine what she looked like defending her thesis to Orlesian professors. There was an incredible amount of passion contained in her slender frame, something he could admire.
"It was absolutely terrifying. And I loved it," she replied, grinning. "Living in Orlais was trying, to say the least, but Dread Wolf take me if that two years wasn't entirely worth it just to see their faces when they couldn't totally discredit me."
"Well, at least Orlais has arguably the best desserts on this side of the planet," Solas offered.
Anais laughed, nodding her agreement. "There is also that. You have a sweet tooth, then, librarian?"
"My one weakness," he said, leaning back in his chair. "Tiny cakes."
"I'll have to file that away for later use," she said, with a sly smile. "Just in case... oh shit!" She leapt to her feet, sweeping up her purse and various belongings.
"Is everything all right?" he asked, as she hurried around the desk.
"I was supposed to meet Cullen for lunch to discuss the possibility of a field trip up to Old Haven and the ruined temple," she said, turning to face him but continuing, backwards towards the exit. "Thank you, again, for letting my class in on such short notice!"
He hardly had time for a 'you're welcome' or any proper farewell before she vanished through the doors. Solas shook his head, turning back to his computer, though he smiled as he set back to work.
It was hardly a few minutes before he forced his face back into impassivity, chastising himself for falling into such a familiar pattern. Another Dalish girl, fierce and brilliant, so like the last.
A thousand years, and still the Dread Wolf made the same mistakes.