Legend of the Book Keeper Read Free

reserved for Wesley’s living quarters. And yet, it was not the scale of the store that continually amazed them, nor was it the ancient decorations—it was the books themselves.
    On every wall, floor to ceiling, were rich oak bookshelves brimming over with books of all colors and sizes. The floor itself had become a spellbinding labyrinth, with stacks of books piled one-on-another higher than even the tallest man could reach. A customer could get lost in the expansive maze of books and have his decaying bones found again only years later. The books appeared to be in no apparent order, instead being simply shoved into any niche that would hold them. The air had the overpowering smell of leather and paper. It also had a coarse texture as millions of dust grains floated weightlessly.
    Cody glanced up as he heard slow footsteps descending the spiral staircase from the third floor. In polite terms, as Jade preferred to put it, Wesley had pulled his weight in helping the family business sell books since 1683, as their slogan boasted. In other words, Wesley was not a young man. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, the elderly bookkeeper glided toward the customers with agility uncommon for his age. “Ah . . . I should have known it would be you two,” he said in a slow, rich voice. “It’s been two whole days. I was beginning to get worried.” An awkward silence followed. The statement had been uttered in such an emotionlessly neutral way that it left Cody unsure whether it had been intended in joke or earnest. The old man appeared oblivious to the silence and in no particular hurry to fill it with further words. After several uncomfortable moments Cody opened his mouth to speak but the elderly man turned and looked toward the two friends, as if to notice them for the first time. “What will it be this week? More Dostoevsky for you, Master Cody? Perhaps The Idiot ?” Once again Cody was struck silent, unsure whether the suggestion had been meant in seriousness or in jest.
    Before Cody could gather his wits to respond, Wesley smoothly vanished and took his post behind the front desk, commenting, “You don’t need any help. . . .” Ready to leave Wesley’s awkward presence, Cody was relieved to hear Jade call for him.
    Quickly navigating through the stacks of books, he found his friend surrounded by a pile of George Eliot works. “Jade!” He cried, catching his breath, “You’re not supposed to leave me alone with that crazy old man, remember!?”
    Jade laughed. “Don’t be a baby. Didn’t your mother ever teach you how to talk to grown-ups?” she chided him. “Now go find some more of your useless fantasy garbage while I pick a book that actually talks about the real world.” It was a disagreement that went back to the first time they had entered Wesley’s and had threatened to tear apart their blooming friendship: Jade was a reader of historical fiction; Cody adhered to the school of fantasy and science-fiction authors. In order to save the friendship, they had adopted the necessary plan of splitting up and shopping in private.
    Cody, taking leave of his friend, circled around the perimeter of the maze of books in order to avoid coming into contact with the strange store owner. Reaching the staircase, he quickly ascended to the second floor. Although the shop had been organized with no apparent pattern, one could find various stashes of similar books; Chaos masquerading as Order. The particular pile for which Cody was probing was a hoard of greats containing H. G. Wells, Tolkien, Bradbury, C. S. Lewis and more that fate had led him to on his previous visit.
    At last he found his treasure trove, hugging the corner of the room firmly, towering ten-feet high against the wall. Cody’s mouth began salivating at all the classic goodies before him. Scanning the mountain for new immigrants to the pile, his eyes bulged; a first-edition copy of T. H. White’s The Once and Future King sat as the steeple of the stack.