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The library was an awkward fixture in a land that was really nothing morethan grass and buffalo and people in (awkward) cohesion. The library stood on aledge, uselessly sheltered by cliff overhang²it was more a bother, when strayclumps of dirt and rock fell from the cliff onto the library¶s roof. It was out of  place on the ledge, for it was a semi-modern building with its glass windows andwooden door, where all the other buildings were made of red mud brick and adobe.
Their 
architects were long dead, bones since turned to powder, but the library¶sdesigners lay in new-built mausoleums. And grand mausoleums they were, too, for the library¶s designers were royal people.Why royal people²royal people with education, and knowledge, andhopefully, since they were running the country, some smarts²decided to put alibrary on a lonely cliff ledge, in a region of illiterate, nomadic peoples was beyondBildr. He was the librarian, not that anyone had known him by that title since he¶darrived. No one had even walked in the door. He¶d seen the prairie people chasing buffalo on their lithe horses on the grasses below, he¶d seen them look up at thelibrary with some odd mixture of curiosity and trepidation, but no one had knockedon the library door. Sometimes, Bildr felt that he was more an archivist than alibrarian²for after all, books were meant to be read, vellums meant to be held,letters meant to be traced with young fingers²but with the documents that hekept? None of that was happening.He sighed as he polished the window-glass, starting from the pointed archdown to the narrow sill, and thought about the library, and his own (shaky) statusas librarian. It was, he thought, a better job than his previous²helping the King¶s booksmaster restore old, damaged documents²that constant crouching over  brittle, cracked books, the squinting at faded, torn illuminations²but at least then,he felt as though he was actually doing something. Here, though his title² librarian²was prestigious, and his pay generous, it meant very little. He shelvedthe books that he received from the main library in Archetta, boxed the ones thatwere requested elsewhere, ate his three meals a day, and sent off the books, at thelocal trading post, then returned to the library to sleep in his room off the library. If reading was a religion of sorts, it was his vicarage; but unfortunately for Bildr, hissermons went unheard.That was, until Imin came along.
 
Imin was a native youth, one of the few who hadn¶t gone buffalo huntingwith the other men²to his own disappointment, and the glee of his rivals, hehadn¶t grown a beard yet, which effectively disqualified him²and was muchscorned in tribal circles. He was popularly called a good-for-nothing, the ³girl,´and various other things. He attempted to help in the kitchen, with gathering food,and cleaning buffalo skins, but was rejected by everyone. One day, after a particularly virulent verbal attack from his great-aunt, he decided that he¶d takenenough, and announced,³That¶s enough, Auntie! I¶ve taken enough from all of you! Yes, that¶s right.I¶ll go away. I¶ll just go to Archetta and make a life there. I¶ll get rich and show allthe stupid buffalo hunters what they¶re missing. Goodbye, Mother!´ And with thatrather hasty, impromptu declaration, he walked out of the tent (leaving behind agroup of utterly shocked and bewildered women) and slamming, if that can be saidwith buffalo-hide, the tent flap behind him.After walking out of the tent and walking for several minutes in the prairie,he realized that he both had no water and no food; he had no idea which directionArchetta was in; and he had no good plan as far as
how
he would ³make a lifethere.´ He stopped to sit down, pensively, and think.Bildr had moved onto polishing another window when he noticed the boysitting in the middle of the grass. He was dressed in the buffalo-skin tunic thatmarked him out as one of the nomads, but he had no horse²he was simply sittingdown in the middle of the prairie. It was a rather ridiculous sight.Imin felt rather foolish, sitting down in the middle of the prairie, on his wayto Archetta with no supplies. He would go to the trading post, except for the factthat he had no money. Only the boys who hunted buffalo and sold the skins ever had money to buy anything else. Everything else, they made or gatheredthemselves.It was a bad situation Imin was in, and he knew it. He couldn¶t simply walk  back to the tent and say, ³I¶ve changed my mind´²he would face even moreridicule and censure than he already had. He couldn¶t grab a horse or even somewater from someone else, because that would be stealing. He shook his head.Perhaps when nightfall came he could sneak back into his tent. He could say that
 
he had been bitten by a snake or something that sounded similarly heroic«wouldthat work?But he wanted to go to Archetta. Imin hadn¶t realized it when he said it, buthe wanted to go to Archetta. The question was, how would he get there? He didn¶tknow where it was.That was when he looked up and he saw the man with glasses, looking out inthe window of that odd new building on the cliff ledge. What was it that his father had said about the building? It was a library²a place where they had books.Where did that man come from? Imin realized with a smile«Archetta.Bildr had moved on to dusting the bookshelves (as though anyone would seethe neatly polished shelves) when he heard the door open. He froze in position, asthough the person would go away if he moved an inch, and turned around slowly.It was the same boy he had seen sitting down in the middle of the prairie.³Hello,´ Bildr said, sounding flustered, while in his mind, he was doing jumping jacks (someone had come into the library! For once! Joy)!³Hello,´ said the boy, cautiously. ³I¶m Imin.´³I¶m Bildr,´ the librarian nodded genially. ³Welcome to the library! Thereare lots of books²we just got a new shipment of adventure novels, actually²whatam I saying, µwe,¶ it¶s just me here, really²but anyways, it¶s one of the largestcollections West of Archetta²´³Archetta!´ Imin exclaimed, face lighting up. ³That¶s where I¶m trying togo. Can you tell me how to get there?´³Oh,´ Bildr said, a little crestfallen. That was why the boy had come uphere²that was the only reason anyone would come to a library, of course, was toask directions. There went his mental list of recommendations for reading. ³Um,it¶s a little far from here²more than twenty miles²but yes, I think so.´ His voicewas flat, and Imin noticed.³Oh,´ Imin said apologetically. ³I¶m sorry. You must have thought I came inhere to read. Have many people come in since you started?´
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