CHAPTER 8
Entering the library, Longinus found himself in a small, darkened room furnished with a single desk. Behind it sat a little old man who sagged in his chair, his chin nearly level with the desk. Longinus smiled and approached.
The old librarian’s skin was gnarled and puckered, and his face and neck were dusted with so much white hair that he looked like a wizened brown root covered with confectioner’s sugar.
“You know your way around?” asked the old man, his head shaking slightly as he spoke.
Inside their folds of skin, his dark eyes were rimmed with watery red.
“This is my first time here,” said Longinus. “I normally send for books using the mobile librarians.”
“Ah, well.” The old man smiled, showing more gums than teeth. “They may be good, the mobile librarians, but they’r
