Chapter 17: Day 17

Day 17,

No more pranks from the nature sprite since the mist day.  Maybe it’s taking pity on me?  Or maybe it just doesn’t want me getting too used to its antics.  Still, I can’t help but wonder if its attempt to hold the door closed that morning was purely a prank.

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Lin stopped by the Library today.  She brought the old archivist’s clothes back with her, freshly tailored, and cajoled me into trying them on.  As it turns out, making sizing adjustments to garments isn’t quite the same as patching them up.  Also, in hindsight, it probably would have helped if we’d taken measurements first.

The sleeves were now mismatched in both length and puffiness.  The shirt had gone from billowing tent to straining to button over my chest yet still flaring out with too much material lower down.  One pant leg was actually a nice fit but the other I could hardly get my foot through.

We ended up having a good laugh over it.  Lin told me to keep the old clothes she’d loaned me by way of apology and promised to get me to a proper seamstress sometime, or at least help me with the shopping and bartering come next market day.

She ended up hanging around the library half the day, picking out a book and reading through it while she reclined sideways in a chair.  Mostly I worked in silence while she read, but there were the occasional bits of small talk and occasionally I’d consult her memory on some idiosyncrasy of the old archivist’s schema or whether certain aspects of my own proposed arrangement made sense to anyone other than me.  When a visitor came in she greeted him and directed him back to the secluded corner I was working in.  I heard some snippet of him commenting that he hadn’t seen her in here in a while.

Somewhere along the line my mist night encounter came up and after the expected “are you okay?” “that must have been scary,” and etc.  Line dropped the question “Why didn’t you just spend the night here?  There’s a bed and everything.”  That last part was news to me.  As it turns out there’s a semi-hidden room in the archive that the old archivist used as a private study/bedroom.  It seems that in his later years he would sleep here more often than he’d bother making the trek all the way back to the cabin.  Lin would often stop by to wake him up in the mornings.

When I started to express irritation at yet another thing old Pat had neglected to tell me Lin pointed out that he probably didn’t actually know about this room, hidden as it is.  And in her case it simply hadn’t occurred to her that the Archivist wouldn’t know about the archivist’s secret room, even though in hindsight there’s no reason I would have.

It was around this time she mentioned that the only reason she didn’t volunteer to be the new archivist when the old one passed away was that her father was getting on in years himself and hadn’t trained anyone other than her to take his place.  Which in turn reminded her that she did still have some actual work of her own to do today that she ought to be getting to.

On her way out I mentioned that I was planning on heading up to Siren Overlook sometime in the next few days, weather permitting, and invited her to come along.  She said that sounded fun and that she’d bring some food, maybe make a picnic out of it.  I told her to pack enough for three if she does since another friend of mine would be joining us.

Speaking of which, I ought to get back in touch with James.  Perhaps I’ll walk down to visit their place for once.

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