Chapter Eighteen: Solstice | Part 5
It took some coaxing, but eventually, the twins relented, and Thirtyx managed to keep them outdoors until nearly dinner. While Thirtyx had learned that, on some planets, the Universal Solstice was either boiling hot or incredibly frigid, Lamiakk didn’t have much in the way of seasons, and they’d gotten lucky with nice weather.
After dinner, the twins headed to Rhea’s room to make up the meditation they’d miss tomorrow in lieu of a birthday meeting with Grimmary. Thirtyx excused himself to the library, but not to continue his applications. He had a more urgent issue.
Mrs. Wiggins groaned loudly and made a show of rolling her eyes when Thirtyx entered the otherwise deserted library. “Did those junk novels degrade your ability to read signs, Venmagalion? We close at 42nd bar during Solstice Break.”
“Which gives me half a bar to ask you a favor.” He propped his elbows on the edge of her desk and placed his chin in his hands.
“A favor?” Mrs. Wiggins snorted. “That graffitied copy of the law apprenticeship catalog wasn’t enough?”
Thirtyx scratched at the back of his head. “I know I’m asking a lot, but it’s for Benn and Rhea, if that helps.”
“Let me guess: Their birthday is tomorrow, and you’re scrounging up some last-minute gifts with your nonexistent pocket money?”
“I was wondering if I could look through the old decommissioned books. It won’t be much, but they’re really homesick, and I feel… helpless.”
The librarian’s display of her pointy, draconic teeth felt like a grin despite looking more like a threat. “I may have something in mind. Wait here.”
Mrs. Wiggins approached the wall behind her desk. She dragged a claw across the brick, and it took Thirtyx several moments to realize she was drawing a sigil. He’d never seen Mrs. Wiggins do magic, but given her Dragonfolk heritage, it probably shouldn’t surprise him that she knew some basic spells.
Perhaps this one wasn’t so basic, however. The outline of a doorway bubbled to the wall’s surface.
“It’s less disorienting if you don’t look,” Mrs. Wiggins tutted as she turned the newly formed doorknob.
What did she mean, less disorienting? He opened his mouth to ask, but she and the door had vanished. Had there been a door at all?
Had he even spoken to Mrs. Wiggins, or had he conversed with the air like a lunatic?
Thirtyx wouldn’t have done that, he reasoned. Mrs. Wiggins had definitely been there, and she’d gone to get him something. But how she’d done it was a blur. Thirtyx’s mind conjured several theories about how it could have happened, each rooted in some ephemeral spark of intuition. He was picking through them when he realized Mrs. Wiggins was behind her desk again.
He jumped.
“This should be all you need.” She offered him a thick, leather-bound book with metal clasps. No words adorned the cover, just an embossed illustration of a tree that appeared worn with age.
Thirtyx undid the clasp and flipped through the pages. The text was handwritten, faded, and in an alphabet he didn’t recognize. “Mrs. Wiggins, this is a gorgeous book, but I should probably get a present for each of them, and I don’t think they can read this.”
Mrs. Wiggins chuckled. “If you don’t think that’s a suitable gift for your friends, perhaps you should take it to the trader’s stand in the rec hall. I have it on good authority that Mr. Wiggins plans to open tomorrow for last-minute Solstice gift shopping.”
“Mr. Wiggins?” Thirtyx repeated. “How long have I known you, and you’ve never mentioned your husband works in the rec hall?”
“Must have never come up. Anyway, he tends to appreciate my gifts, even if you don’t, so I bet you can trade it for something more suitable.”
Thirtyx inhaled to protest. Even if this book was the last thing he’d have picked, Mrs. Wiggins had been so good to him, and he didn’t want to be rude. But a familiar gleam in her eye made Thirtyx wonder if trading it in had been her intention all along.
He swallowed his argument. “I’ll go see him first thing in the morning. Thank you, Mrs. Wiggins.”
Calley Jones 