A Day in the Life of Sardis the Forgotten Librarian

Photo by Anuja Tilj on Unsplash

Sardis took a deep sip of his hot cocoa and wondered if a spaceship had ever crashed in front of his cottage before. Given all the other common occurrences in the Library that most people would find strange, it seemed strange in itself that this would be a first.

He tapped an index finger against the brown clay of his mug as he mentally shuffled through his memories. No. He couldn’t recall another time. Spacemen had come knocking on the door before, but they landed their craft elsewhere and then hiked in through a portal.

“How delightful,” Sardis muttered. At ten-thousand-years of age, it was nice to be presented with a ‘first’.

He set the mug on top of a tower of books and pulled on his long, tan coat. A London Fog, the woman at the shop had called it. He liked all the buttons. He wound a scarf around his neck, making sure his long earlobes were warmly tucked in under the fabric.

Niall, his aerial, glided over, settling on a table. The feathered lizard chirped, cocking his head.

“No,” Sardis said. “It’s best you stay inside. We don’t want them accidentally shooting both of us. It would be bad enough if they shot only one of us.”

Niall ruffled his rainbow feathers, as if a little horrified at the thought of violence. Sardis patted him on the head.

“I’m sure no shooting at all will happen,” Sardis said, “but it’s better to be safe.”

Niall’s feathers smoothed down. Sardis gave him a neck scratch before he opened the front door. A blast of cold air struck him in the face. He was glad for the warmth of the coat and scarf.

The spaceship was a rounded triangle with a glass dome on one end, where Sardis could see two figures looking down at a console. A long trail of upturned dirt ran from the craft in a straight to its beginning point some dozen feet from the treeline. Two trees were missing their tops. Branches were strewn along the edge of the woodline.

“Oh, dear,” he muttered. The nymphs were going to be perturbed. Hopefully, that was the only damage.

A hissing sound erupted from the ship. The bottom of the triangle wing nearest Sardis opened. A two-legged creature in a suit jumped out, landing on the soft grass. It wore a square helmet with a glass front. Sardis recognized the face as a human male with gold hair and dark brown eyes.

“Good morning!” Sardis said cheerily.

The human took out a rectangular device with an antenna. He switched it on, little lights flashing. The human waved it at Sardis. Sardis didn’t move, allowing the human to complete its investigation. Rather like letting a dog sniff him all over, come to think of it.

The chirping of the device reminded Sardis to focus on the moment. He looked at the spaceship and tried to remember which civilization in the multiverse had ships like this with scanners like that. But the problem with being acquainted with so many stories was that, sometimes, they all blended and smeared together.

The human seemed satisfied with the readout because he put the scanner away and pressed a button, allowing the helmet to open.

“Can you understand me?” he said, speaking slowly and enunciating. He was speaking k’erkeshii.

“Of course.” Sardis responded in perfect k’erkeshii, if he did speak in a slight Maufast accent. But he learned it through the story of a Maufastan, so what could be expected?

The k’erkeshii man frowned. “How do you know my language?”

“You, my friend, are at a nexus of worlds. And I am a curator of stories. Of course, I know your language. What brings you here?”

“We were escaping the Barlin Empire when we fell through—”

“Yes. Yes.” And Sardis could suddenly see it, like a scroll unrolling in his mind. He could see that this k’erkeshii was named P’dol and that was his wife, S’rah, in the cockpit. They had a little baby stowed in sick bay, but the child was not theirs.

He could see their whole stories, even the endings, in front of him. He saw the loss and triumph, the joy and sorrow, blooming and dying like stars. He saw the little baby grow into a stern man with laughter hidden in the corner of his mouth and tears behind his eyes.

It was dizzying and elating all at once, threatening to sweep him away into the webs of their lives. Sardis suddenly wished he hadn’t left his mug of hot cocoa inside. Chocolate grounded him.

He took a deep breath, letting the cold air knife his lungs. They could not stay. Time was slipping away and there were places these people needed to be, things for them to do. This was too bad. He would have liked to have seen the inside of the ship. Maybe they would have liked some hot cocoa.

“P’dol,” Sardis said, “you must get into your ship and fly away.”

“How—”

“This is not the place for you. If you fly up toward the—” He spat a series of equations not easily translated into this text. "--you will find your way home.”

“I don’t—”

“Off with you.” He flicked his fingers, as if P’dol was, indeed, a little dog to shoo away. “I have work.”

Turning on his heel, Sardis strode back inside. He slammed the door shut and then leaned against it, closing his eyes. He focused on breathing and on the feel of the wood under his twelve fingers. He could smell the woodfire crackling in the fireplace, mingling with the aroma of ink, paper, and that morning’s breakfast.

After a couple of minutes, the spaceship started with a whine and a whoosh that grew in volume to an earsplitting level before fading away. Several long minutes later, birdsong covered the silence.

Sardis opened his eyes, pushing away from the door. He picked up the clay mug. The cocoa had gone cold. Niall, still on the table, chirped a question.

“All is well.” He forced a smile. Then, he remembered he was still wearing his coat and scarf. He set the mug down to take them off. “Shall we get on with the day?”

---

Sardis did not always understand how the nexus worked. For instance, why did the Library give him all the information at once, such as with P’dol and S’rah, and then sometimes didn’t? In those latter instances, he had to ask uncomfortable questions about name and place of origin when someone arrived. He had questioned the vagaries of the nexus, at first, but swiftly grew tired of the headache.

At any rate, it took all morning to write the story of P’dol and S’rah. Sardis’s hand was cramping by the time he closed the book.

Going to stand at the beginning of the stacks, he lifted the book and blew across its face.

“Off you go,” he said, tossing it like one would release a bird. And the book opened its covers like wings, flapping off happily to wherever it would shelf itself.

Sardis smiled. The child’s story would come later. “Time for lunch.”

The Library’s kitchen was cozy, with white and black tile, peachy-colored walls, and cluttered counters. The table itself was the only neat thing about it, with two place settings.

First, Sardis put together an immense salad of winter greens, radishes, herbs, and the last of the carrots. Hefting the enormous bowl in his arms, he tottered out of the kitchen. He crossed the sitting room, passing the fireplace, to a far corner. He set the bowl on the floor.

Sardis straightened and took a deep breath. “Lunchtime, Ladrew!”

Ladrew peeled himself from the wood of the wall. A barkman with long arms, long face, and long torso, he moved with exquisite slowness. Sardis could tell by the raptured look on Ladrew’s face that he was happy with the selection, so Sardis left him to get to the salad on his own time. Such was the way of barkmen.

Returning to the kitchen, Sardis put together three raw beef sandwiches on thick bread smeared with horseradish mayonnaise. He took these on a plate to the front door.

Opening the door, Sardis was greeted by Mephis, the dog-man who patrolled the grounds. Mephis always knew who to let through and who not to. He knew the girl from Earth who came through last autumn was safe in the same way he knew P’dol was safe. How? Another mystery. Mephis also always knew when it was mealtime.

Mephis’s mouth opened in a canine grin, his tongue lolling out. Smiling back, Sardis handed off the sandwiches.

There were many Library critters to feed. Even the little dust motes floating about the beams expected a little dish of paper scraps. By the time Sardis finally put together his lunch, he was very hungry.

He was experimenting with Earth food, specifically Asian. Today was mushroom and spinach noodle soup, leftover from last night. Niall ate with him, though not at the other place setting. Niall ate in the middle of the table, his tail wrapped around the bowl. The second setting remained empty.

After lunch, Sardis tidied up all the dishes, except for Ladrew’s. The barkman was only just halfway through his repast. Sardis would check on him in the evening.

The kitchen, thankfully, was self-cleaning. All Sardis had to do was scrape the scraps into the scrap bucket, stack everything in the sink, turn around three times, and say, “If you would, please.”

Leaving the kitchen to its clatter and soap bubbles, Sardis moved onto his next task of the day.

He stood at the mouth of the library stacks and took a deep breath. Then, from a hidden cupboard, he drew out a coil of rope. One end of the rope, he tied to a pillar put there just for this purpose. The other end of the rope he tied around his waist.

The rope would be as long or as short as Sardis needed. Made of mermaid scales and capricorn hair, it glittered in the light. It was also impervious to the random flows of magic in the Library. Sardis used it without fear of mysterious knots or breaks at inopportune times.

Niall settled onto his shoulder, wrapping his tail around his neck. Sardis chuckled, patting the aerial on the back, and walked into the Library.

---

Sardis understood that in other, normal libraries, workers had to re-shelve books or complete a task known as “shelf reading”, that is, carefully perusing a shelf to make sure the books were in the right order. He supposed he did the same thing but for entirely different reasons.

His boots sunk slightly into the mossy floor as he walked through the section on Tummel Island. The scent of clear, moving water hung heavy on the air. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, so he continued.

Sardis crisscrossed the Library, braving darkness and heat, sure-footing and treacherous. All the shelves were occupied. Everything sat as it should.

That is, until he reached the Baxton County section. He sighed, looking at the tumult. Books were scattered all over. A bookcase laid on its side. It was as if a great beast had torn through, wrecking mayhem on its way out.

Niall crooned a worried note.

“Just a library quake, dear,” he said. “I thought I felt one last night but put it down as a dream. I would appreciate a bit of help, you know.”

Niall launched from his shoulder and landed in a clear space nearby. He shook himself hard, motes of light swirling around him as Niall grew and grew. He grew to the size of a dog, then the size of a horse, then bigger until he towered well above Sardis.

“Stop!” Sardis said, waving his arms. “That’s quite large enough, thank you.”

The dust motes faded away. Sardis shifted to the side as Niall lumbered past him. With a delicate move of his enormous, taloned paw, Niall righted the bookcase. The books spilled from the shelves as he did so, creating piles of chaotic color. Disturbed magic hung in a haze by the time Niall pushed the case back into place.

“Very good,” Sardis said, trying to not feel discouraged from the mess. “Turn back now, my friend.”

Niall grumbled, a sound that should have sounded cute but, in his larger form, more resembled distant thunder.

Sardis smacked Niall hard on the back leg. “Right now, if you please.”

Niall snaked his head around and glared, upper lip curling to reveal a long fang.

Sardis put his hands on his hips. “If you don’t return to normal size, you cannot ride on my shoulder, sleep in my bed, or share meals with me.”

Immediately, golden dust motes exploded into the air. When they cleared, a normal sized Niall winged out to wheel in a tight circle above Sardis. He settled onto his shoulders with a meek chirp. Sardis patted him.

“Good boy. You’ll fly among the clouds one day. I promise.” He looked at the mess of books and scrolls. His shoulders slumped slightly. “Let’s get started.”

---

Even with the power of the Library assisting him, it took Sardis the rest of the day to put the section back in order. By the time the last book slid into place, he felt weak, sick, and dizzy. It was not good to spend so much time in the stacks, but it was even worse to let a mess sit around.

Following the rope, with Niall’s encouraging chirps punctuating his steps, Sardis stumbled back into the living area of the Library. His fingers fumbled with the knot at his waist.

The rope dropped to his feet, coiling back on its own into a neat pile. Feet dragging, Sardis barely managed to make it to his favorite, winged-back chair by the fireplace. The warmth of the fire washed over him. His heavy-lidded eyes slid shut into sleep.

---

The sound of someone walking drew Sardis into wakefulness.

His eyes blinked open, the world slowly coming into focus. A woman in a long, pine-green gown knelt beside Sardis’s writing desk. She set down a little plate of pencil shavings and tiny papers soaked in ink. Slowly, a long-fingered, dark brown hand slid out from under the desk, grasped the plate, and drew it under. The woman smiled and stood.

Sardis asked, “What brings you, Drusilla?” His mouth moved slowly, and his tongue was dry.

“Niall brings me.” The wood nymph walked over. The bits of quartz studding her twig crown caught the light. Her dark brown hair fell freely around her shoulders. Today, her eyes were spring blue. “He was very upset and would not leave my oak until I agreed to come here.”

She pressed her hand to his forehead, a small frown wrinkling her forehead.

“Am I that bad off?” he asked.

Drusilla snorted softly. “You’ve overworked yourself, is what you’ve done.” She removed her hand. “When are you going to finally hire an assistant?”

He waved his hand and sat up more in the chair. “How long have I been asleep?”

“I don’t know. It is almost the middle of the night if that helps. Can you stand up? I’ve made you dinner.”

“I expected you sooner than this.”

“Oh?”

“There was a spaceship earlier today. It harmed two trees—”

“It harmed more trees than that. It appears they almost crashed three or four times, hitting our trees, before finally making it to this clearing. The whole forest has been in an uproar. I’ve been too busy soothing tempers—” A smile broke across her face, taking away the harsh tone of her words. “To come yell at you for something that was not your fault. You know, if you ever want to see me, you can always send Niall to summon me. Or come walk into the forest yourself. The Library will still be here when you return.”

Sardis made a noncommittal noise before hoisting himself out of the chair. He kept one hand on the back of the chair as he tested his balance. Yes. His legs would hold.

“They were important, you know,” Sardis said. “The visitors? And the child they had with them was very important.”

“I’m certain of it.” She looped an arm through his.

“I can walk on my own.”

“Have you no manners? You should escort a lady to the kitchen.”

“I was not aware that was a rule of etiquette.”

“Well, it is.”

He stared down at her, feeling that odd bafflement that Drusilla always provoked in him. He never knew what to say to her, though he wished he did, because it would make her stay a little longer.

She tugged on his arm, pulling him gently along to the kitchen. “Come. I’ve made you hot cocoa.”

“Oh. Lovely. Did you make a cup for yourself?”

“Of course. I see there are two place settings. Were you expecting someone?”

He felt his face warm. “You-you can sit there if you like.”

She beamed up at him.

It had been a long day, Sardis reflected as he sat at the kitchen table. But as Drusilla heaped a serving of some sort of casserole onto his plate, Sardis thought that, perhaps, it had also been a good day. It had, at the least, a good ending. Those were his favorite stories.

---

Author’s Note: Did you enjoy Sardis’s story? Sardis first appeared in my debut short story, “The Door”. If you wish to read it, however, you’ll need to be a paid subscriber! A subscription is only $2.50 a month.