5

Dust

hung in the stifling, hot air and danced in the rays of sunlight streaming in through the gaps between the curtains. Mizuki, humming a haunting ballad to herself, sat behind the counter, lost in all sorts of tricks and paperwork. Frowning and straining her eyes, the girl wrote down the last number in the row and put down her pen, examining her finished work. Staring at the drying ink, she took off her glasses and wiped them with her dress sleeve.

It was the end of the month, and Mr. Bartholomew Turner, the bookstore owner, had left at the beginning, but hadn't returned until now. Mizuki wasn't particularly concerned, since in his absence she'd been raking in a full fifty percent of the month's profits—in short, a lot. Without being modest, she had to admit that she was selling books much better than Turner, and therefore, she was the main driving force behind the whole business. For weeks, she'd been formulating a plan to try to trick him into taking her into partnership. Of course, before she could put it into action, Turner himself had to return from his mysterious departure.

Mizuki stood up, carefully placing her balance sheet in a locked drawer, and dusted off her skirt. Pushing her chair behind her, she waltzed between the shelves, stretching her arms above her head. She sighed loudly, expressing her overall satisfaction.

Balancing between the as-yet-uncataloged books stacked in several-volume columns, she reached the farthest corner of the bookstore and promptly took a seat in her favorite, worn armchair. She adjusted her glasses once more and immersed herself in TK Korvin's latest, best-selling historical novel, set in a time when the winged inhabitants of Shibai were not yet myths. Its author based his writing on the tales and legends collected in a volume by Cornelia Strauss, a historian who focused all her research on this very subject.

At least half an hour had passed since the shop closed when Mizuki heard the click of a lock being unlocked and the jingle of brass keys. She jumped to her feet and, leaving "On the Wings of the World" in the armchair, ran as fast as she could towards the source of the sounds.

She was right. A tall man with thick frames and an elegantly trimmed beard stood beside the counter, unbuttoning his jacket.

"Good morning, Mr. Turner," she said politely, and moved to help him with his suitcase. The man stopped her with a wave of his hand.

"Good morning, Mizuki. How's our business going?

It's doing very well, sir," she replied, allowing herself a small smile of satisfaction when she saw the satisfaction clearly written on his face.

"Excellent."

Turner leaned over the counter and draped his gray jacket over the back of a chair. He was tanned and tired, his hair dull and dirty. The girl looked at him more closely, only now noticing what she had missed at first glance. Bartholomew Turner was very, very sad.

"Did something happen on your journey, sir?"

Turner hesitated, sighed, cleared his throat, and finally turned and looked her straight in the eye.

"Let's just say it that way... But before I explain everything, I'd like you to know that I'm very pleased with your work here... Because it's not just my past relationship with your father that's why I'm hiring you... And that, if it were up to me, the whole thing would have ended very differently."

She looked at him over her glasses, completely unsure of what he meant, but some strange feeling told her it wasn't good.

"Would you like to have tea with me?" Unfortunately, I haven't had the chance to taste it for almost two weeks.

" She nodded, and he showed her the way to his apartment, which she knew very well. As they walked, she felt his hand on her back. She felt more and more uncomfortable by the second.

They entered his beautifully decorated living room, where Turner motioned her to sit in one of those wonderfully comfortable armchairs. Smiling apologetically at her, he left for a moment, probably to ask his maid for a pot of tea. He returned after a short while, his face once again looking sad.

"You see," he began, sitting in another, identical armchair and stroking his beard thoughtfully. "This is a very difficult situation for me, not to mention you... Actually, I should have started at the very beginning."

Mizuki nodded silently, nervously fiddling with her fingers.

"At the beginning of August, I received a letter from the Supreme Secretary of the Elders, ordering me to report to their building immediately. Of course, it was a shock. It's not every day you get summons from the Elders, and certainly not this impatient. I went there literally with my heart in my mouth, and it turned out I was quite right. You see... The entire High Council was waiting for me, sitting at the table with very somber expressions. You can imagine how I felt then."

The girl nodded, her eyes wide as she followed his movements.

Marge, an aging servant, entered the room, carrying two porcelain cups on a tray. Mizuki, with a grateful smile, took one and drank. The tea was absolutely delicious.

"I was asked," Turner continued after a few sips from his cup, "if a certain Mizuki Ashiya, a young woman from Shibai, worked at my bookstore."

Mizuki almost choked on her tea. She gave him an incredulous look, but he only nodded, growing even sadder.

When I confirmed it, I was given a round-trip ticket. To the elven oracle.

" "To the oracle? Why?"

The bookseller sighed, running his fingers through his hair.

"I was supposed to ask her a question about you. And depending on her answer, I was either going to fire you or bring you into the company.

" Mizuki set her cup down with a loud click.

"And what did she say?" she asked, her voice trembling.

Turner remained silent, but she already knew the answer. Her heart dropped to her stomach.

"When should I collect my things?

" "Mizuki, listen...

" "Will I at least get my August paycheck?" You see, I'm completely broke, I have no place to live, no money to buy food, and no way to pay for travel, because I won't find a job here! But it just so happens that I can't ride, and even if I could, I can't afford a horse…

"Mizuki, please hear me out… The Oracle said…

" "What did she say, that I'm not cut out to be a bookseller? I'm doing very well!

" "My dear Mizuki," Turner frowned. "How you do has nothing to do with it. The Oracle said you were created for greater purposes than sitting in a dusty bookstore."

The girl looked at him with a misty gaze.

"What if I don't want to? I like it here! I like the smell of books, I like dust, I like darkness, and I like books! I don't need anything more to be happy..." she hesitated, feeling tears running down her cheeks. "Really, nothing. I don't want to be anything more."

Her employer, guardian, and friend was silent for a long time, looking at her sadly.

"I know that," he finally said, his voice warm and soothing, like a balm. "Nevertheless, I believe the oracle. You know very well that what it says always comes true. This time, it said you wouldn't fulfill your role if you stayed in Randerwound."

Mizuki turned her tear-filled eyes to him and sniffed loudly.

"Then where else should I be, if not here? I have money, a roof over my head, food, and shelter! Where should I be?

" "The oracle said you should return to Shibai."

The girl fell silent, shocked. After a moment, in silence, she stood abruptly and began pacing back and forth across the navy blue carpet. She crossed her arms over her chest, narrowed her eyes, and covered her face with a haughty mask of contempt.

"What if I don't want to? My destiny won't be fulfilled? It's a waste of words. But if that's what you say, Mr. Turner, then I have no say in the matter. Just tell me if I get my final paycheck, because if not, I'll probably go barefoot to Shibai. The fare to Anflux alone costs sixty-five thousand kronor, and I only have ten thousand. Do you see any way out? Because I don't. So I'll probably stay here, in Randerwound, in some ditch. Great, simply great."

Her voice broke, and she didn't know when the tears began to flow again. She finally stopped, shaking and biting her lower lip to keep from sobbing loudly. And then the incredible happened.

Turner was at her side in two long strides and wrapped his strong arm around her. For a moment, she didn't react, completely unaware of what he was saying, but she quickly gave in and snuggled into his shirt.

"Of course, you'll get your August paycheck. You'll even get a raise and a bonus. And don't worry about the ride to Anflux, because I'm not so poor that my best employee can't afford the trip because of me," he said, stroking her hair. At first, she didn't understand his words at all, but within half a minute, the realization dawned on her. She jerked her head up.

"Really? You're not joking?

" "I'm not joking," he shook his head, his hair falling over his forehead. "I'm so sorry it had to turn out this way, but I don't know what to do now. The elders are telling me to act on the oracle's words."

Something tightened in her stomach as he gently removed her glasses and wiped her wet cheeks with the back of his hand. He smiled sadly.

"There's only one thing I must ask of you. The elders—and the oracle, for that matter—required absolute discretion from me. Therefore, if I may—

" "Yes, I know, lying. But you know I don't have many friends here, so don't worry," she interjected quietly. "Actually, I don't have anyone I need to tell anything to."

The bookseller's smile was very sad. With a twinkle in his eyes, he stroked her hair.

"Know," he said, his voice suddenly changing. "Know that you will always find shelter with me. If you ever return to Randerwound, my door will be open to you.

" "Thank you," she replied with complete sincerity. She wasn't prepared for his next move, but she didn't pull away when he hugged her again. Instead, she rested her head on his shoulder and breathed deeply, calming her nerves. The bookseller barely whispered, "Good luck," but she heard. And she smiled.