"BIZKLO" were the letters engraved into the archway as he passed through. He wanted to presume it translated as "library" but he knew from his earlier interactions that Shevezz City had at least two and, given the unknown number of levels below ground, he did not doubt there were many more. Knowledge did not only need categorising, after all. Restrictions existed for reasons, usually sound ones, though that did depend on whose definition of "sound" and "logical" that particular library followed.

I wonder if a 'Bizklo' is a particular classification of library? he pondered, realising that this solitary Shevezzi word proved he would need to learn something of the language to fit in, there's no obvious equal word in Foyiitùn nor Common Tongue.

He continued to walk down the corridor at the pace of a basking tortoise. While he was not a librarian - as true librarians had been in the habit of reminding him - he knew that not all writing had a category, or a time period. Back home, libraries were also museums of sorts - albeit with changing examples of history, as those which were finally dated were moved into open or closed storage as appropriate. Anything with symbology or runes was kept apart from normal script writing, though only once learned mages had verified and reverified a lack of hidden mysticism.

Not that such checks are flawless, even among the most experienced and knowledgeable, he thought.

It was then that he shivered, much to his surprise.

I had not realised the outside was already warm, he thought, making a mental note to make or acquire a second cloak or tunic for indoor use, I must remember that warning about the 'delayed midday sun' effect too.

He strode to the nearest counter as decisively as he could force himself to appear.

"Greetings, please could you direct me to resources pertaining to local geology, from the perspective of landscape features and their prevailing natural elements?"

The man behind the counter, a wizened fellow with a long nose and bushy eyebrows, glanced at Kanda-Nor's badge, then appraisingly at his face, as though trying to read his mind with those still-sharp eyes.

"Visitor, are we, Sair-Kor?" he asked, before relaxing his frown, "your confusion at my question also answers it."

"I would have still answered truthfully," Kanda replied with a slight shrug, put-out, "but, if I may ask, does it matter?"

"Does it matter whether you spoke the truth, or whether you're a visitor?" the library-clerk asked, with one raised eyebrow, almost twitching with delight at the effect such questions had on new arrivals.

  Either he's a terrible humorist, or he is testing me, Kanda realised.

"Both should be questioned of the stranger," he responded, "truth should be tested, questioned and ideally, proven."

Thank the Elements I was a lecturer. This is a reminder never to cross a librarian, no matter where you are in Savàni!

"Very good, Sair-Kor. I am Findat, one of the overseers, but I often play at clerk on my days off. We welcome the enquiring mind, but as a visitor to the city, you may not remove items from this library. Though you may pace with a book, sit in a window or use whichever study method suits you best - in the library. Do take care with chill-caf, berry squash or whichever so-called 'study aid' is your preference. We charge in free labour for damages. And no, that is no joke."

Kanda-Nor coughed.

"That seems...just and reasonable. I shall take your warnings to heart. I will be sure to not take... chill-caf to your books."

Findat folded his arms, his expression still disconcertingly appraising the man.

"And," Kanda continued, "I assume 'Sair' is either an older - or more Shevezzi - form of 'Sire' or 'Sir'? Being new here, the language will take some mastering."

Findat, much to his relief, smiled properly at last.

"Your resources are through that archway and on the taller bookcase at the end of the room."

"Much obliged," Kanda replied, "I'll be..."

"...and if you need to cross-reference with theories of... elemental independence," Findat interrupted, "the ones closest to science are adjacent."

Kanda-Nor smirked and nodded.

Oh good, thought Findat, a visitor who does not believe in self-determining 'Elements'.

As that visitor turned to follow the directions he had been given, he thought

Oh good, he thinks I don't believe in self-determining Elements.  

  Presuming the counter was for other library workers and not casual readers, he made his way to a free-standing table - also circular - in the precise centre of the room. A book had been left open on a page entitled  

  This partially lay on an unfurled scroll, as though to keep it from blowing away in a city mostly sheltered from the wind, natural or Elemental. Glancing around to see if there were any reasons he should not peruse it, Kanda peered at the title, inked on the very top.

  He frowned, and carefully manoeuvred around the table to read it more easily.  

  "How long ago is that?" Kanda-Nor muttered, "if A. F. means 'After the Founding', when was year zero?"

"Technically-speaking, 'A. F.' refers to a re-founding," answered the voice of another stranger who he had not heard enter the room, "much the same as," the woman continued, "my presence here is a re-entry to the room, though you knew it not."

Kanda chuckled.

"Indeed, but," he realised, "if it is a refounding, that would make this seemingly-ancient document..."

"Newer than it appears?" the woman asked, propping herself up on her white staff, "yes, it would."

Kanda-Nor carefully slid the scroll from under the book, then held it up to the light of the open window and scowled.

"It's been re-dated," he stated flatly, though still unsure what to think of it, "the ink is much different. So this was actually written before the re-founding, not after it. A shame then, that it is not a recent revelation."

"Avat Fina-Erd," the woman translated, "not exactly Shevezzi, if you catch my meaning. And I don't know why they did not use AFE as their dating acronym. Nevertheless, it was the name that the First Queen - Prima-al-Dain - gave to that period of time."

Kanda nodded and, with a touch of trepidation, replaced the scroll in roughly the same position it was before he had picked it up.

Seems awfully coincidental, at a time when water is an issue, for an ancient letter to re-emerge, regardless of when or why it was re-dated, he pondered hoping he did not appear rude.

"Worry not, I've seen enough blank student faces to know when one is concentrating," she paused, "as opposed to those who are distracted."

Kanda smirked.

"And I was concentrating on a distraction."

The woman leaned on the table and poked her staff in his side, making him wince.

"Of that, stranger, I am perfectly aware."

She eventually smiled and lowered her weapon, as Kanda now thought of it. He rubbed his side and decided not to underestimate any other citizen in a place where one had to be truly hardy to thrive.

"Thank you for your explanation and, rough treatment, deserving though it was," he smiled gently, "it was not my reason for coming, but more knowledge is better than less, so I am grateful."

"You did miss the opportunity to ask one question of that document. I say it not because I know the answer, however."

Kanda glanced back at it, wondering what he had missed.

"Oh," he said quietly, "I was so focused on what I could not see that I did not notice that which I could."

"A common flaw in all who study things closely, bear it no mind," she replied gently, "M-X-Y. That may be a key to your question. It may not. But it is a question worth considering all the same. Were I you, anyway."

After what I've been through, be glad you're not me, he did not say.

"I agree with you. I have... plenty to try and remember already, but any detail matters, so I will do my best. Thankfully I have been lent some writing materials."

"Marine Papyrus is free, paper is low cost too, and pinprick-coal is usually at a price even a traveller should be able to afford. And, unlike ink, you can erase your errors. Which is both a positive and a negative."  

"Pinprick-coal?" he asked, frowning, "oh, like thin charcoal?"  

"And sturdier, thanks to our researchers, and 'applied pressure' I believe they call it."

"I wish 'applied pressure' would make me sturdier," Kanda-Nor chuckled.

"Be careful for what you wish, Sair-Kor," the woman sternly instructed him, before relaxing again, "well, let me know if you discover a possible answer to your M-X-Y question. Be open to knowledge - and by extension - libraries, changing your purposes, plans and direction."

A serious look returned to her otherwise kindly visage, "even the libraries you cannot reach yet. I do not know your reason for being here at this time, but with your enquiring mind, you will pass for longer-term Shevezzi civilian in little to no time."

"I hope so. Now, if you'll excuse me I have research to do," he bowed slightly, "but first, how can I find you if I have 'a possible answer'?"

The woman laughed, at a pitch that seemed to resonate with the stone and echoed around the otherwise empty chambre.

"Oh, finding me is not difficult. I go where I am needed," she nodded firmly, then turned towards the door, "and my deepest thanks in not insisting on having my name. I do find presumption most rude."

With that, her staff tapping softly on the carpet, she made her way out, leaving Kanda alone with the mysterious, yet obviously-placed scroll and the bookcase he had actually come to peruse. He shook his head and faced the rows of bindings. His stomach growled and he willed it to be quiet.

I don't have the time, nor the funds, he thought in irritation.

The library was cool, and the smell of books and pressed parchments was reassuring. A small bowl of water began to reflect the few rays of sunlight that made it into the library, and Kanda slid the bowl into the shade, away from the light and what small draughts came through the window. The apple he had been gifted still ensured he did not feel thirsty.

I don't know how long that will last, he thought, time to get to work.