Summoned A Hundred Years Too Late

The first few steps were easy. Alexandra hadn’t climbed many ladders in her life, but this one was stable, and the rungs evenly spaced.

Then she looked down. She was only five steps up, but her head was already spinning.

She breathed, locked her gaze on the shelves before her, and climbed. As she did, the lanterns grew distant behind her, and the light waned.

Thankfully, she could still see. What was only darkness from below turned out to be manageable from above as the lights stopped blinding her.

Ten steps. Twenty.

The shelves slid past her slowly. Worn leather bindings in browns and deep reds, the occasional glint of gilt lettering. Up here the air was cooler, the shelves dustier.

She stopped to shift her grip and looked out.

The library spread below her. From up here the maze resolved into something almost legible. The tops of shelves ran in long, irregular lines, broken by the gaps of passages and punctuated by small pools of lantern light. Tables visible from above, the bent heads of students reduced to crowns of grey, orange, white, and yellow.

Even from up here, she couldn’t see the first floor in its entirety. In the center, a massive pillar went up to the ceiling. The staircase to the Bronze floor.

She moved the last few rungs up and found the section she’d been looking for. The books were packed tight. She worked her finger along the spines, reading titles in the dim light until she found it wedged between two volumes three times its size.

She worked it free.

It was thin. Barely twenty pages, soft-covered and without a spine title. The cover read, Definitive List of Parts Harvestable From Slimes, in small, plain lettering.

She looked down.

The floor was very far away.

She read the book perched on the ladder. It’d take more time to climb down, up, and down again than to finish it. Slime parts, as one might expect, were not many. Each subspecies had a core and the slime itself. The book suggested a few uses for both and the most appropriate way to collect and store them.

Alexandra finished it in five minutes, put the book back in place, and checked that her quest had progressed. It did.

She smiled and went down the ladder. This was the shortest book on this floor. Now, onto the next nine.

By the time she finished the ninth book, she had come to understand the library layout. She still didn’t agree with it, but at least she could navigate the maze that it was without double-checking every turn.

Reading: Read ten books (9/10).

One left. In the theology section.

She’d never been to that section, but she’d passed through it several times while looking for the cooking section. She would have liked a word with the person who thought Recipes for Mouthless Pets deserved a spot in the library, but the book didn’t even list an author.

The theology section was busier than most, which shouldn’t be a surprise considering the Iron Library was in essence a temple to the goddess of knowledge. Robes of all colors were reading heavy treatises. She even spotted a blue whose gaze stopped on her for a moment before turning back to his book.

She winced. It seemed like word of her presence had already spread among the Keepers.

The book she wanted was at eye level. It was as thin as the others, which made it easy to spot among the rest. She reached for it. It was in good condition and looked relatively new.

Account of the Apostles. The cover listed Alfred Dumries as the author.

Alexandra stood in the aisle and opened it to the first page.

The book’s content was succinct, and the author readily admitted as much. Alfred warned against the apostles, leaders of the demonic cults, but lamented the lack of knowledge on their identity. The only confirmed apostle was the Tide-Reaver, who led Valudipan’s legions of fiends against the Vanguard at the abyssal fissure.

She closed the book and tapped its cover with her index finger, her brows furrowed.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Putting it back in place, she summoned her journal.

Reading: Read ten books (10/10).

That was another common skill added to her list. She dispelled the journal without closing it.

Her stomach reminded her of its existence.

She exhaled and started walking toward the exit.

She had barely left the theology section when Qafit found her.

“Miss Alexandra, please come with me. We need to get you signed up for classes so you can start attending tomorrow.”

Alexandra clutched her stomach. “Fine, but spare me a snack first.”

Qafit looked at her. “Outside.”

She ate on the way.

The administration building was close to the library tower, but by the time they arrived, she’d finished two rolls of pastries and gotten started on the third.

The process was short. A form, a brief conversation, another form. Raymond had chosen all of her classes for her, so her input was limited. She walked out with a packed schedule.

She went straight to the refectory. Fucking malediction. It’s so inconvenient.

At least the food was good here.

It was busier than in the morning. Late afternoon light came through the stained glass panels, the colors longer and deeper across the stone floor. Many tables were occupied, but many more were available.

Alexandra loaded her tray and found a seat.

This time, she’d picked something that looked like a pizza, but the tomato base had been replaced by a green paste. She brought the first slice to her mouth. It was warm. A strong vegetal taste spread through her mouth. The toppings were slices of cured meat, and their salt balanced the composition.

She licked her lips and grabbed another slice. She kept eating until the light shifted. At night, the enchantment started producing artificial light instead of merely adjusting that of the sun. She stood up with her tray, took a second serving, and returned to her seat.

The Bronze girl appeared at the edge of her table, tray in hand.

”Hi. I’m — you came.”

Alexandra looked up from her pizza. ”I have to eat, yes.”

”Good.” She set her tray down across from her, sat down, then immediately second-guessed it and half lifted it again. ”May I?”

”You already sat down.”

”Right.” She put the tray back. ”I wanted to apologize. For earlier. The questions. I do that sometimes.” She paused. ”Often, actually. My name is Haste.”

“Alexandra and I don’t mind.”

”Your hair,” Haste said, then stopped. ”Sorry. I said I’d stop.”

”You can ask.”

”Why is it white?”

Alexandra pulled another slice from her tray. “I used lifeforce for a spell.”

Haste stared at her. “Why would you do something like that?”

“In my defense, I was in a tricky situation. Plus, I didn’t exactly know this would happen.”

“I mean, it seems pretty obvious that using your own lifeforce to fuel a spell is not a good idea,” Haste said, stirring the soup she’d picked as her dinner.

Alexandra shrugged. “In retrospect. But that color is growing on me. Except the part where people think I’m a cultist.”

“It shouldn’t be an issue here. Mages do all sorts of crazy stuff. Often end up worse than you.”

The refectory had thinned out by the time Alexandra stood up. Haste had already left long ago. She stacked her tray and paused at the serving table on her way out. Pastries. She took four, wrapped them in a cloth napkin she found beside the basket, and tucked them under her arm.

She hadn’t seen Louis, nor Willow.

Outside, the courtyards were quiet. The sky had gone fully dark, and the lanterns along the academy walls threw orange light across the stones. She found her way back without any wrong turn.

Her room was as she’d left it. Bed, desk, wardrobe, mirror still sitting out where she’d put it that morning. She set the pastries on the desk and sat on the edge of the bed.

She’d climbed more ladders that day than she had in her entire life. But she wasn’t that tired.

She reached over and ate a pastry.

Aware that she didn’t need a full night of sleep, she went to bed anyway.

The next morning, she woke up before the daily reset.

She ate two pastries in bed, checked her daily quest, and got up.

The schedule Qafit had handed her was dense. She read it over while she dressed, tracing her finger down the column. First class started at the second bell, around seven. Introduction to Curses, Classroom 7, West wing.

She had time for breakfast.

The refectory was quieter in the morning. She ate fast, took a bread roll for the road, and found the West Wing.

Classroom 7 was at the end of a corridor, marked by a small wooden sign. The door was open. She stepped in.

It was smaller than she’d expected. A single window on the far wall let in pale morning light. Rows of desks, maybe fifteen in total, arranged in a shallow curve facing a board and a larger desk at the front.

A handful of students were already seated. She counted seven. Bronze robes and Silver. One looked up when she walked in, then kept talking.

She found a seat near the middle and sat down.

The Bronze students already there were talking in low voices. The two Silvers in the room were not part of the conversation. One was reading. The other was looking at the window.

The others filtered in over the next few minutes. By the time the bell rang, the room held twelve students. She was the only Iron.

Nobody said anything about it, but she caught the glances.

The professor walked in.

She hid a grimace as she recognized him.

Professor Tristan set his books on the desk at the front of the room without looking up. He opened the topmost volume, smoothed the page, and only then raised his eyes to the class.

His gaze stopped on her.