Heart of Stone

2. Books Are Treasures

The gargoyles lead her to a large study beneath the glass dome. The sunlight that filtered through the coloured glass cast the large space in a soft, orange glow, reflecting on the many metal instruments in the circular room. A solid oak desk dominated the room, sitting at the middle, under the tip of the dome. It was surrounded by a sea of books and stools, parchment leaves, globes and metal devices she had never seen before.

The gargoyles chirped and waited outside, peering into the study with large eyes.

She made straight for the desk.

Thistle rummaged through the drawers, metal instruments rattling inside. She closed the drawers and lifted some loose papers strewn on top of the desk. A glint of a blade caught her eye and she grinned.

She pulled it from under a book.

It was a slender dagger with a golden hilt, beautifully decorated. It would have to do.

"What are you doing here?" a deep voice asked behind her.

Thistle spun around, the dagger in front of her.

A tall man closed the door and strode towards her. His long black cloak flapped behind him, showing the loose shirt beneath it. His reddish brown hair was long and unkempt, tangled locks hanging in his face. A thin beard lined his jaw and his mouth tightened as his gaze fell on the dagger.

Thistle back up around the desk, pointing her dagger at him. "Who are you?"

He raised a thick eyebrow. His voice was deep, but gentle. "Should I not be the one asking that? You are the one searching through my possessions."

"Do you live here?"

"I do." The man unclasped his cloak and draped it over the chair. "And there is no need for you to sleep outside, dear."

Thistle frowned, her gaze falling on the black cloak. She looked up at the man, lowering her dagger. "The cloak was yours?"

He cast his eyes down, a sad smile curling his mouth. "Yes."

She put the dagger in her sheath, which made for an ill fit, and took off her cloak.

He raised a hand. "Please, keep it. One can hardly wear two cloaks at the same time."

Thistle watched him leaf through his papers as she pinned the cloak around her shoulders once more. He was very tall, more than a head taller than she was, and she was not a short woman.

She put a hand on her hip, keeping her distance from his desk. "What of the beast?"

The man glanced up. "What of it?"

"Why doesn't it turn you to stone?"

He smiled and pushed his papers into neat piles, revealing several quills and inkpots. "How about yourself?"

She glanced at Cat's ring and gave him a flat look. His eyes followed her gaze and her raised his eyebrows. She hid the hand behind her back.

She sighed and looked around the study, the floor covered in piles of books and gleaming instruments. "What do you even do here?"

He didn't answer immediately. When he spoke, his voice was soft. "Read."

"Read?" She looked back at him. "You come here to read?"

He smiled again, his small, fleeting smile that never lingered for more than a moment. "Books are treasures of information, dear."

Thistle paused and turned back to the man. Information. Maybe there would be a book that knew how to slay the beast. She chose her words carefully. "So, there are a lot of books here?"