Episode 3: Annoying and Cryptic, Chapter 4

"Still sulking?"

Ezekiel Jones' voice cut through the peaceful silence of the reading room like the first rays of dawn sunlight on a summer Monday morning. Bright. Cheerful. Demanding to be noticed. And detested by everyone whose workday alarm is set two or three hours after sunrise.

"Get lost Jones," growled Stone from his corner. He turned a page of the book in front of him and refused to look up.

"Aw, come on, mate," trilled Jones, sauntering in and depositing himself full length along the sofa. "You've got the best room in the place all to yourself here. Surely there's room for little old me?"

"You, yes," Stone admitted. "Your comments, no. You wanna stay, you don't talk. It's a reading room. It's for reading."

"And we all have plenty of reading to do," grinned the thief. "How's Cassandra getting on with hers?"

"How about I return you to the office?" Stone returned sweetly. "Without going via the stairs?"

"Okay, I get you had an argument and all," scoffed Jones, "but that's a little harsh, even for you!"

"An argument," Stone echoed. "You think I'm sulking up here because we had an argument?"

"Ah-hah! So you do admit you were sulking!" Jones crowed triumphantly. "And why exactly would you be doing that if Math Girl hadn't utterly destroyed the logic of whatever you were arguing about with her super mathemagical powers?"

Stone laughed a single derisive laugh and looked up, shaking his head. "You know nothing! You do not have a single clue what you are talking about! We did not have an argument, 'mate', I asked her to marry me and she said no!"

Silence returned to the room. In the lea of the sofa, Ezekiel rolled his eyes and pulled a face. "And you thought she'd say yes?"

"Seriously?" Stone's voice rose an octave. "Am I the only person here that did not see this coming?"

"Well, yeah," Jones sighed. "She's a mathematician, mate. Logic. Facts. Blah-de-blah. She's not religious. Why would she want to get married?"

"It ain't just about religion!" Stone snapped. "Plenty of folks get married without even bringing God into it."

"Yeah, but it is with you, isn't it?" Jones pointed out. "You're some kind of Christian, right? You disappear on Sundays for an hour or so, when you can. You knew more or less what was going on at Eve and Flynn's wedding. The responses and when to stand and all that stuff. You've been raised a good Christian boy who believes in the institution of marriage, right?"

"It ain't an institution, it's a sacrament," Stone corrected him quietly. "In the eyes of the church, whichever church you belong to, it's a sacrament. And yes, I was raised to believe in it. What of it?"

"Well, because it's just been an accepted part of your life for, I don't know, most of it," shrugged Jones, "you just seem to take it for granted that everyone feels the same. Not all of them do. You were raised with the dial of your normality meter pointing directly at marriage. She wasn't. I mean, who knows what idea of normal Cassandra was raised with. She didn't even get to enjoy Christmas! Not even as a kid! Now that really is harsh!"

"So what? You're suggesting I find a halfway point between the two and accept that?" Stone got up and stalked over to the sofa. He rested his hands on the back of the sofa and looked down at the prone young man.

"Not exactly," replied Ezekiel, pulling a face. "I'm suggesting you introduce her to your version of normality. Show her it works. Show her it's a real, meaningful, special, thing. Tell her why it's important to you. Let her see the life you want to have with her."

"In other words, give her time," summarised Stone, looking down at the boy with a raised eyebrow.

"No," replied Ezekiel, choosing his words carefully. "In other words, stop sulking here and go make up with her, then give her time."

"Huh," murmured Stone, pulling a face and shaking his head. He changed his grip on the sofa and pushed. With a thump, Ezekiel landed on the floor. "Get out."

"You said I could stay," pointed out Ezekiel, getting to his feet and rubbing his elbow.

"I believe I also said 'you don't talk'," Stone replied, pointing to the door.

"Aw, c'mon, mate: there were two people in that conversation!"

"Out!" Stone's shout echoed around the room and, hands raised in surrender, Ezekiel retreated.

XXXX

"How goes the search?" Flora asked, preceding her daughter into the chilly room. Charlene and Cassandra looked round, then made room on the table for the tea tray Mhairi carried.

"It goes nowhere," Charlene replied tersely, shuffling scrolls safely away from the possibility of hot, damaging liquid spills. "But it goes, anyway."

"Well, we can't ask more than that, I dare say," replied the Cailleach. "If it is here we will find it. If it is there..."

"If it's in the Library, I'm sure..." Charlene caught a look from Flora. "I'm sure the boys have found it by now."

"The gentlemen, surely."

"Oh, no, they're boys. Even the oldest sometimes," Charlene retorted. "As for da Vinci, who knows when he'll grow up!"

"Oh, and I thought you got on well with artists?" Flora replied sweetly.

"Well, I'm sure I know who you got on well with," said Charlene in the same tone.

"Indeed, well," said Flora, changing focus to the tray on the table. "Successful or not, I thought you both deserved a wee bit warmth and sustenance. The tourists are gone now so we have the place to ourselves and Mhairi and myself can come down and help. Seonaidh will be down when her tutor leaves."

"Ah, yes, our little thief's intended," smiled Charlene.

"The lassie has been told what ill will come of it, and that her mother and I agree she should see no more of him," snapped the older woman, losing her veneer of calm for an instant. She recovered it gracefully and turned to Charlene. "I trust the same has been done at your end."

Charlene's smile didn't even try to reach her eyes. "Oh I'm sure you know better than I."

"You know I really could do with a cup of tea," interjected Cassandra, her brow wrinkling in consternation. "And those sandwiches look good. Is that tuna?"

"Smoked salmon, my dear," replied Mhairi, her eyes on Flora and Charlene. "With cucumber and lemon mayonnaise."

"Of course it is," smiled Charlene.

"When one has one's own salmon run and smokery, it's not exactly in short supply," smiled back Flora.

"Of course it's not."

"Oh-kay, you know, I really think we really should report back to the others at the Library and find out how things are going there," Cassandra blurted out in one breath.

"Do ya?" Charlene raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

Cassandra gave her a look and the retired receptionist sighed and grabbed a sandwich off the tray.

"Guess I'll see ya," she muttered, waltzing out of the room with a hand raised in farewell.

Cassandra visibly relaxed when the door swung shut behind Charlene. When she opened her eyes she saw Mhairi offering her a cup of tea. She took it, and munched her way through several sandwiches before daring to break the silence that had fallen.

"What were your marriages like?" Cassandra finally asked the other women in the room. "If you don't mind me asking that is."

"Mine died," said Mhairi, refilling her cup. "Cancer. Five years ago."

"I'm sorry," began Cassandra.

"My first husband was a soldier," cut in Flora. "A general of sorts, as it was then. He died leading his men in battle against the English. But that was a long time ago. My second lasted longer. He was a farmer at heart. He loved his land. He was a good man. A fair man, and simple, straightforward. A good father too. He divided his time between his crofters and his family as evenly as he could. Tuberculosis took him. Consumption as we called it then. But by then both daughters were grown and had husbands of their own to take care of them. I moved back here and have remained here ever since."

"Didn't your third husband want you to move in with him?" Cassandra queried.

"He may have, but I had a home and he didn't," laughed Flora. "Besides, by then I was needed here. I had a daughter. I had become the mother. By the time my second husband died, my daughter had a daughter of her own. I had become the crone. Soon my eldest daughter joined me here, with her eldest in tow, and the three have never been broken since. Maid, mother and crone, one of each. All here, all the time. With one or two short exceptions.

"So you can leave?" Cassandra confirmed. "You don't vanish in a puff of smoke if you go beyond the castle grounds?"

"No, we can leave," replied Mhairi. "We are as free to leave the Castle as you are the Library. "We're simply more linked to the Castle. You can recruit from all the great minds of the world. We rely on our bloodline. Your magic is a result of working so long in another dimension. Ours is inherited."

"Is that why you don't want Ezekiel and Seonaidh to work out?" Cassandra pressed. "Because their children might inherit both?"

Mhairi looked at Flora, and the old woman sighed before answering. "Not exactly," she said. "I have no idea how far a Librarian might pass on their magic to their offspring. What I do know is that they will always be called away from here. Away from the one place their spouse must remain. Such a thing is not easy in a marriage. Especially if one or both of them receives the same extended years as others have before."