It happened back when Stain'd-by-the-sea was still by the sea. Bertrand Markson was almost 12, still in what you could call "school", and in that particular month, due to his "parents"' business, he was in "vacation".
Bertrand's "parents" - one woman and two men, all siblings, all unmarried, none related to him by blood - had an occupation that was as complicated to explain as it was to do. One day, when Bertrand graduated, he would start an apprenticeship, hopefully under one of them, and then he would be ready to take in said occupation. The boy was very excited for it.
But for now, he was just a student. His "father", Q, had an assignment in Stain'd, and he took Bertrand with him, as S was working undercover and R was called for a last minute trip to Peru.
That had not been a good year for Stain'd. Commerce was closing and some people were thinking of leaving. Q was there to try to help.
It turned out he didn't want Bertrand sticking around during important meetings, so the boy had all day for himself. The beach was pretty, but it wasn't off season so it was always full and noisy. His second option was a place that was always quiet.
Stain'd-by-the-sea's library was small compared to the ones Bertrand knew in the City. A young man dressed in a leather jacket covered with metallic pins and chains and with a cool haircut greeted him. "Welcome. I am Dashiell Qwerty. How can I help you?"
"My 'father' is working and I have nothing to do as I wait. I want to have fun."
"You came to the right place!" Dashiell gestured to the shelves.
Bertrand could already say he liked the place. One of the most important things in a good library is a good librarian, and Dashiell seemed to be just that. The boy wandered through the corridors, looking for something that caught his interest. He ended up choosing a book that a friend in the City had recommended to him not long before.
He lost track of time reading. He arrived at the hotel much later than he was supposed to, but Q was very focused on some papers and didn't even mind.
The next morning, Q left before breakfast, leaving only a small note letting Bertrand know that he would be busy with important matters again, and a few coins that weren't even enough for a can of soda. The boy sighed.
The two weeks he spent in the city were pretty much the same. Q left early and came back late, always busy, always not even exchanging a look with Bertrand. He left little money, forcing the boy to take some from the "secret" pocket in their bag. Bertrand spent most of his time in the library, reading and taking notes to show his friends when he went back.
He was disappointed. It was his first time accompanying someone on a mission, and he had hoped to be able to see a little more of the actual mission. He studied and trained so hard to be a volunteer, but he barely knew what he would be doing once he was really out there.
On the last day he spent in the town, Bertrand sat at a table in the library and stared at his commonplace book. He had hoped it would have more than short book reviews right now.
He opened it at the first page. "This belongs to B. Markson". B. Markson. Bertrand Markson. It was his "grandfather"'s name, that is, the name of Q's, R's and S's father. He had died before Bertrand was born. He had heard stories of the brave and noble volunteer he was named after.
Bertrand didn't know what it was like to have a father. His real father had also died before he was born, and his mother too died shortly after giving birth. He had heard stories about them too, whispered like secrets, and he kept them all close to his heart. S told him he had his mother's eyes.
He wished he had known them. They had been great volunteers too. He wished to be a great volunteer one day.
"Is everything alright?" Dashiell's kind voice interrupted his thoughts.
Bertrand realized he was close to tears. He weakly nodded.
"I can help you find a book, if you want." The librarian offered.
"It's alright. I don't think I want anything today."
"Are you sure? They say in every library there is a single book that can answer the question that burns like a fire in the mind." Dashiell said with a smile. "Just call me if you need anything."
The phrase stuck to Bertrand. Most times when he heard the words "library" and "fire" in the same sentence, it was not something pleasant, but that one had something about it. He tried to think of what could possibly be the question that burned like a fire in his mind.
His went back to his commonplace book. B. Markson. That was the name Q, R and S gave him. He loved them, even if sometimes they did things he didn't like. They were his family. But he also had another family, all gone before he could know them.
Was it wrong for him to want to know more about them?
The corner of his lips raised slightly. He guessed that was the question that burned like fire in his mind: Who were my parents?. He doubted that particular library had the answer to it, but he knew one in the City that had files on all volunteers.