While Gene led the book thief Luke through Crystal Avenue, Rosa was in the library. Today she was on the first floor rather than the fourth. She had spent three whole days on the fourth floor with little to show for it, so today she meant to look around the first floor at least.
The first floor was the noisiest part of the library. If the other floors were for reading books or quietly examining exhibits, the first seemed like a mixture of a school and a market. To the left and right of the first-floor hall, visible from the “audience chamber” where Rosa had stood when she first followed Gene inside, countless rooms had no entrances, or more precisely, only three walls. Two pillars stood before each room to distinguish it from the hall.
Each was about the right size for twenty people. Some held only two or three. Others had drawn nearly a hundred, filling the room and spilling out into the hall. They were called lecture rooms. To rent one, a teacher had to obtain the library’s authorization and establish a school. From the scene before her, however, it was obvious that even schools alike in name varied enormously in popularity and size.
Walking through the hall, Rosa slowly examined the lecture rooms. Each teacher taught something different, in an equally varied fashion. One held a book and spoke formally and clearly. Another held a small bell and meditated. One drew all manner of shapes on the floor. Another was so absorbed in his own book that he ignored students who spoke to him. One set an assignment, then lay down and snored. Another spoke so eloquently that he disturbed the room opposite. One made two students stand and debate. Others drew pictures, played instruments, embroidered, or piled scrolls around themselves to discuss grammar. One performed such strange movements that Rosa wondered if he might be mad. It truly deserved to be called a market of learning.
Among them, elegance and absurdity were not distinguished. The halting and the fluent stood side by side. Those who arrived earlier and those who came later were treated no differently. Perhaps there was some hidden hierarchy even here. To someone from a land of severe discrimination, however, the sight could only astonish, disconcert, and overwhelm. The sole thing these varied teachers had in common was the blue band each wore around one arm.
After examining dozens of classrooms on her way to the center of the hall, Rosa stopped before one. The rooms were all open, making it easy to listen in while passing. The disadvantage was that noise could not be escaped even inside.
“…Most magical incantations are in Ipnish, so there’s no way around learning it. They say Ipnish is the language of the ancient Ipna people, though there are so few records of them that it’s disputed whether they really used a fully developed Ipnish like the one you use now. In any case, go to a classics lecture if you want the history of the Ipna. Our school aims to teach Ipnish perfectly within two years. Two years. You may think it impossible in any less, but it isn’t. With the original method of study devised by our master, you’ll never have to memorize…”
Listening, Rosa almost let herself be tempted. On reflection, though, that was a beginner’s lecture in Ipnish. She was beyond the level to be taking it. Among the lectures she heard in snatches, many sounded persuasive. Their fees were low as well. To someone like Rosa, who wanted to learn but had to seek old books one volume at a time like a teacherless mountain recluse, it was a world of marvels. She was lost in the thought that she might be happy merely eating and sleeping in the library and going from lecture to lecture when someone spoke.
“Don’t take that lecture. It’ll only waste your money.”
Rosa looked at him. He was a young man. She was not the sort to converse easily with men she did not know and simply ignored him, but he continued unconcernedly.
“I tried it before. They tell you to buy some strange textbook, and if you don’t, you can’t attend class. Does that make sense when you’ve paid the fee? I thought of reporting them to the librarians, but I held back. Ipnish is hard enough. Dodging those fellows makes studying no easy task.”
Rosa still did not answer, but neither did she move away. In truth, she had many questions, and anything concerning the library interested her. She too was, after all, a country newcomer. The man chattered at length about popular lectures and schools, then suddenly pointed back in the direction she had come.
“Herunja teaches Ipnish well. The textbook’s excellent too. Listen once and you’ll see. There’s a reason he’s been first in the new-year popularity poll for three years running. Oh, and he’s particularly good at calligraphy. When you learn a prestigious language like Ipnish, you ought to write it beautifully so you can show it off. Don’t you think?”
He was a tout. The library truly had every kind of person. As Rosa began walking again, he followed for a few paces. When she gave him a proper glare, he went off to someone else. Men like that had an uncanny gift for recognizing awkward country people on their first visit to the library. And, just as uncannily, for recognizing those who were not worth talking to.
Even so, Rosa flushed, offended by the thought that she had looked an easy mark. Occupied with that feeling as she walked, she did not notice that she had gone straight into a crowd of students pouring from a popular lecture that had just ended. While she struggled pointlessly in place like a fish trying to swim up a torrent, someone whispered beside her ear.
“What a sight. I thought you’d come looking pretty now you’re a young lady. Still the same wild-haired little maid as ever.”
Rosa spun around. People passed like water. There was no way to distinguish who among them had whispered. But she felt it clearly: a faint cold breeze stirring in the warm air of the library, carrying a smell of soot she knew all too well.
Standing still as she stared after the departing people, Rosa suddenly cried out.
“It was you, wasn’t it?”
Many people turned. Dozens of eyes looked at Rosa, saying: Who is that woman? Why is she shouting? Is she mad? If she knows no manners, she should keep her mouth shut.
Rosa did not care about their looks. Her flushed face had gone pale. The people soon turned away, but Rosa hurried after them, shouting again.
“Where are you? Where did you go? Come back! Why are you hiding?”
Her voice was so loud that even students still in class looked out. Now she would have to run. But the people had already scattered, and she no longer even knew whom to pursue. Rosa stopped again. Around her, people were passing in ones and twos, as sparsely as they had at first. None looked back.
“Come out, right now!”
The last cry rang against the hall’s ceiling. By then, guards had come running. Their duty was to remove anyone who caused a disturbance, but at the sight of Rosa they merely hesitated, glancing at one another. None wanted to touch her himself. Each hoped someone else would do it.
Rosa stood with her eyes closed. She was crying.
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