The Keeper of the Accounts of Dome Erba had kept her waiting so long in the rain that the people of the city had eaten both breakfast and lunch before she entered his office upon his arrival.
The old man with skin the color of dry, dingy parchment barely looked at her. She silently moved from her position by the door and began to pace the room to relieve a cramp in her leg. He marked his ledger with her formal identification. He had no interest in the name she had received in Dome Biblia, for it was unofficial.
He took a piece of paper and added it to a wicker basket, efficient and precise in his duties. He turned his broad face toward her. His heavily-lidded brown eyes burned hotly with rage. Celso snarled, "You are dripping wet! Look at what you have done to my rug!" He gestured down to a red oval festooned with bizarre creatures upon which she had inadvertently stepped. "Come here!" he ordered.
He did not move from his sturdy, plain chair. As she knelt, he placed the topaz in his platinum ring against her gem to collect the information regarding her Carry. "I am also deducting from the fee you will receive upon your book delivery for the water damage you have inflicted on my rug, which is all that I have left from my father's estate." His braid of grey streaked with black quivered as he expressed his indignation. Her gem gave a plaintive chirp.
He had been so late in opening his office that she thought that she should have fined him. All she could do as an equina was accept the complaint and withstand his rebuke.
"You must report back to me after you make your delivery and retrieve your pickup, for all Carry transactions, as you are aware, come through me. Now, go and complete your delivery!" he ordered; then, he returned his attention to another stack of papers. The vigorous thumping of an inked wooden stamp upon various documents followed her out of the door.
*****
She waited again in the rain before an iron gate that was the entrance to a tiled courtyard decorated with small trees finally shorn of the last of their brittle leaves by the rain. On her side of the gate, she had pulled the cord attached to a brass bell, which hung on a wooden pole carved with leaves.
No one had answered. And in the time she had waited, not a single human had offered her any shelter or small comfort. A few equinii had passed by with a greeting of, "Good running!" She had expected no more from them as they had to focus on their business as she hers.
As the dome orb began to dim again with approaching twilight, the splashing of feet in puddles sounded behind her.
"Little one, you are soaked! How long you must have waited. I am truly sorry! I am Alessandro Di Medico."
No human had ever apologized to her. Paola turned around to find the source of the kind words. A bald young man of average height who was clad in a wet blue robe fussed with an odd contraption that had unsuccessfully shielded him from the rain. He cursed the device as he tried to close it, but it resisted the retraction of its shield. "This umbrella never works right!" he howled in surrender before dropping the contrary device to the ground.
"'Umbrella'?" The equina noted the new word as she rolled around the consonants and vowels in her mouth. It sounded very feminine and almost like a name one could bestow on an equina.
With a tired sigh, Alessandro reached into the cloth bag slung over his broad shoulders. He had the stocky build and fierceness of a boxer more than that of a gentle healer. His skin was a dark olive tone that one might see in someone who farmed. "Keys, keys, keys!" he snarled as he fished about his bag. Finally, he cried out, "Victory!" as he waved a spindly metal key attached to a leather thong. He opened the gate, picked up his battered umbrella and pointed to the two story dwelling beyond. "Some hot tea and some biscuits for me. How about you? What is your preference?" he said amicably as they walked into the courtyard.
Smiling, Paola decided that the healer knew very little about the ways of her kind.
*****
Alessandro was clearly neither neat nor organized. The first level of his dwelling was covered with piles of books, both on the floor and on any piece of furniture he possessed. It was a collection worthy of the stacks that she had seen in the Library of Dome Biblia. How he found anything in the mess remained a puzzle.
The healer had taken some volumes off of a wide chair that had a thick padded cushion of rusty orange for a seat. She had sat while he changed his clothes upstairs.
That had been some time ago. His heavy footfalls above told her he scurried about, but the occasional thump also indicated that he searched for something. She shuddered and assumed that his bedroom was as cluttered as his living room.
Outside the window that looked out over the courtyard, the rain poured down more heavily than it had done earlier in the day. The wind-driven droplets combined to make rivulets, which trickled down the pane's surface. The room remained cold, for the healer had not prodded the coals in the fireplace. She sat in the darkness as the last rays of the dome's orb faded.
"A thousand pardons, little equina!" Alessandro exclaimed as he stomped down the wooden staircase. Dressed now in a brown tunic and matching trousers, he carried several large tomes that he dropped unceremoniously on a desk already overloaded with books. With a surprisingly fluid motion, he grabbed a stubby candle lodged in a bent pewter holder from above the fireplace, screeched a command, and then, plopped down the now lit wax on his desk.
Paola, having respectfully stood when he had reappeared, winced. Any sudden move he might make could tip over the sad little candle and set the pile of books ablaze.
Alessandro settled onto a worn and rickety chair. It groaned and creaked under his weight with such volume that she was convinced that the legs would splinter beneath him, and the healer would crash to floor.
But the calamity did not occur. The healer set his elbows on the desk. He rested his head against his hands and remained still for so long that the equina thought that he had fallen asleep. Perhaps, he had, for his head suddenly snapped up as he exclaimed, "Where are my manners!"
He jumped up and ran over to the fireplace. Poker in hand, he stabbed at the spent coals until a little glow crackled to life. With a pleased, "Bene!" the young man added wood plucked from a metal bin and tended the nascent fire until it blazed. He took a blue jug down off of the mantle and filled a metal pot by the hearth. He hung the vessel over a hook and pushed the rod toward the flames. "Hot water soon!" he chirped. He reached for a plate also on the mantle. "I forgot. These biscuits were made two days ago." He tapped one against the yellow dish patterned with blue geometric shapes. Alessandro frowned. "A bit hard, but with some dunking it should soften. Would you like this with your tea?" he asked.
Paola bowed politely. "Thank you, sir, but I choose neither to eat nor to drink!"
The young man's dark brown eyes blinked erratically for a moment as if his brain sought to make sense of her simple statement.
"Surely, you must?" he asked. "All living things must eat and drink."
Paola touched the gem at her throat. "This provides me with energy and sustenance. It is much easier to attend to my needs than to address the biological aftereffects of taking nutrition and fluid."
Alessandro returned to his tortured chair. "I see," he said, wonder creeping into his tenor voice. He added, "I have seen your kind about our city, of course, but I have never dealt directly with any equine. I would have never known that you were coming here except that I met old Celso on his way home, and he told me of your arrival." The healer looked toward the window. With the darkness that had fallen, he could see nothing beyond the glass, but his gaze clearly fixed on something outside. "It was a long day, little one. The delivery was difficult, but the child was born," he said, giving voice to his musings. He sighed. "The mother lived, but I still worry about her. Infections can take root so easily and slay one in the night."
He sat in quiet reflection until the sound of boiling water broke his reverie. He ferreted out some leaves from a squat jar on the mantle and fixed himself a cup of tea in a chipped mug before returning to the business at hand.
"What happens next?" he asked innocently.
Paola bowed. Then, she opened her pouch. Its waterproofing had kept its contents dry. She carefully retrieved the small book, which Gemma had wrapped in crimson silk. She handed it to the young man, her fingers brushing his. A drop of water fell from her arm onto his sleeve.
"By the name of Santa Victoria, you are still soaked. Forgive me!" he said. "Let me get you a towel to dry yourself."
"No, sir, it is fine," she said a bit too quickly in fear that he would run about the house once more in distraction. "You forget that when we are done here, I must return to my stable for the evening."
"Is it nice in your stable?" he asked, genuine interest coloring his question.
Paola shoved down her discomfort at his familiar manner. "It is quite nice, sir, and came highly recommended for its bath and the quality of its straw, both of which I can attest to."
He smiled broadly, his warmth filling the room and easing the chill in her body and her soul. "Indeed," he said, "a fine testament."
He picked up the little book, removed it from its wrapping and turned it around in his hands, which were not smooth, but as calloused as any farmer's. He tried to open it, but the cover and the pages would not separate. "What trick is this? Who sent this?" he said with mild annoyance.
"Here, sir, this might explain," Paola said as she pulled out the wax-sealed letter Gemma had written.
Spying the symbol of Dome Biblia, he said, "Auntie Gemmie! I should have known that old trickster had a hand in this, giving me a book that I can't open," and he laughed loudly at his own joke. He waved his hand for emphasis. "Of course, she is not really my aunt; she was mother's best friend. How they used to sing together!" The fact that the librarian had stolen the book and had warned of danger stood in paradox to his enjoyment of the object and Alessandro's memories.
Based on the healer's response, the equina attempted to conjure in her mind an image of the stout librarian in her youth. Had Gemma been born in Dome Erba, but dwelt now in Dome Biblia because of her choice of profession? Or had she visited her friend and had traveled by carriage, something few had done because of the expense? Had Gemma come from wealth?
Alessandro opened the letter. A moment before he had been filled with happiness; now, his face reflected a horrifying change. His smile vanished, and his eyes bulged from their sockets with fear.
The healer jumped up again from his chair and sent it crashing to the floor. He raced to the fireplace and threw the letter into the flames. There was a purple flash as it ignited. He dropped down to the hearthstones, his right hand clutching the fabric of his tunic. "She has ventured where she should not," he spat, "and yet–" He glanced back to his desk and the little book that apparently contained enough power to drive a human to his knees.
Questioning how much the equina knew in the tightness of his expression, the young man straightened; then, he walked to his desk. He righted his chair and sat. He picked up the book she had carried from Dome Biblia.
Would he also hurl it into the flames? And if he did, would she be compelled to retrieve it, knowing how rare any book was and how much Gemma had placed herself in danger by stealing it.
Alessandro opened a drawer in his desk and dropped the book inside of it. "To work against injustice is good," was all he said. "But sometimes...." he added, softening his rage.
Paola's racing heart slowed. Whatever the letter had said, Alessandro had made a decision. The young man gestured for her to approach his desk. "How do I record your delivery?" he asked abruptly, all friendliness gone.
She was just a servant of the humans once more. Paola indicated her gem. "Each human has a unique energy signature. Tap it three times, state your name and you will be registered. When I go to the Keeper of the Accounts tomorrow, he will transfer to his records the fact that you touched my gem and that delivery was made and accepted. He will rectify this with information Gemma provided."
The healer gave a grunt of understanding, but said, "And Couriers never deliver their goods to the wrong person?"
Paola responded hotly, "Never!"
The wind rattled the roof as he verified the transaction as she had instructed.
The stones she had received in Dome Pecora proved their value. The weight of them against her breast in the secret safety of her Courier pouch shielded her from the storm of fear she knew would erupt when she least expected it.
Paola yearned for a warm bath and solitude, but she dared to keep her promise to the Shaman. "May I ask sir: Who is the Healer Who Remembers?"
Alessandro cocked his head. "Such an odd question. But I can tell you that it is no one that I know, little one. Why do you ask?"
She would simply have to put the question before Gemma, for it was Gemma that had sent her to Dome Pecora. Surely, the librarian would be able to solve the mystery faster than she. The Shaman had contracted a Carry with her, but she had no time limit to adhere to in order to complete it. The inhabitants of Dome Pecora had waited so long to reconnect with Dome Erba. A little longer would not matter much.
*****
Her dark mood eclipsed the brightness of the day. Celso roughly set his hands around her neck as she knelt by his desk. He placed his topaz ring against her gem, which emitted the sweet tone and white flash that she associated with the completion of a Carry.
"Bah!" Celso grumbled, finding the necessary intimacy distasteful. He made several quick notes in his ledger, the scratching of his reed pen an irritant. He used a piece of paper to blot the entry. He sat back and tapped the edge of the book with approval.
The smell of pungent herbs she had secured in her pouch filled the room. Before seeing the irascible Keeper of the Accounts, she had procured them from a shop that Gemma had specified, the transaction going smoothly and swiftly. The young herbalist had tapped her gently on her shoulder. When she had smiled, her soft, round cheeks had puckered with dimples, which made her seem no more than a child for the sweetness it conveyed to her face. "Tell Gemma I have given her a little extra, equina, for the kindness she once showed me."
"You duty has ended here, for now," Celso growled, breaking her musings. "You have funds left for three more days lodgings in Dome Erba and four days time to return to Dome Biblia." He looked up at her with contempt. "Those librarians always waste energy! You should save them from themselves by returning swiftly. It will mean a bonus of currency for you, if you do."
But not without knowing one thing. Gathering her courage, Paola said, "You are indeed wise, sir."
The old man nodded, pleased and certain of the truth of her statement, and displaying a hint of his humanity in his vanity. "May I ask an indulgence. The equino known as Cappello--"
The Keeper of the Accounts had brought his fist down upon his ledger with such fury she was sure that he had cracked its spine. "It is not your place to ask anything, equina, least of all to inquire about another of your kind! You exist to serve and to run, and that is all. Now go, before I deduct currency for you insolence!"
Paola bowed and gladly left the contemptuous man, who had placed his attention back on his accounts.
A light breeze lifted the strands of her forelock. It was a good day to begin her run back to Dome Biblia. Miacarabella was surely already sitting on Gemma's ample lap as the librarian reviewed their adventure in her quartz orb.
Two conversing equinii whisked past her. "That Cappello! Imagine getting a Carry to Dome Royale! How fine a master he has to bring him such honor!" said a light grey stallion.
"Yes, I saw him streak out at dawn!" added an admiring mare whose light coat appeared to be sprinkled with paprika.
Paola headed away from the equinii and in the direction of the nearest portal out of Dome Erba. Cappello traveled to the dome that was home to many noble families and consorted with humans far above her station and her experience; it was unlikely that she would ever meet him again.