Brendyn Michael Forlorn's Arc

Chapter 4 of 5

Brendyn limped out of the shrine at first light. The cottage door stood open. He had expected a hut, a hermit's box. Instead, past a low garden, sat a brick building with tall arched windows and stacks of books pressed against the glass. A library. The stranger lived inside a library. He stopped at the step. In the yard, a large brass compass leaned against the wall, its face cracked, moss crawling up its rim. It was too big to carry and too strange to explain. He did not know what a person did with such a thing. He pushed the door wider. Inside, on a low table, a pile of worn books sat stacked and tilted, spines softened from use. A cup of tea cooled beside them. The stranger was not in the room. Brendyn stood at the threshold and felt his old voice rise. Go now. You know nothing about them. You cannot stay with a shadow. He reached into his coat and found the ring. He held it in his fist, the way he had held it through the night. He had stayed once. He could ask once. He sat down at the table and waited. When the stranger came in from the back, carrying a basket of roots, Brendyn spoke before the door closed. "I don't know your name," he said. "I don't know what you do here. I would like to." The stranger set the basket down. They looked at him a long moment, then pulled out the other chair and sat. They began to answer. Brendyn listened. He did not learn everything. He learned enough to stay for breakfast — and that, for now, was the thing that had changed.