dream a little dream of me | Glowfic Constellation

That's incredibly vague.

"I think you may have just described half of this library."

Well that's very inconvenient.

"...read some spines for me."

"Uh." Camillo squints, scanning for titles that fit the criteria, such as they are. "On Nineteen-Year Cycles. A Register of Cities in the Seven Provinces. List of all dignities and administrations both civil and military. Chapters on the Manors of the Empire. The Three Doves. Stones and What they can Do. Annals of -- I don't know how to pronounce that word, I think it's a place name in a different language. Book of the Shapes of Stars. Of the Marvelous City. A Guide to the Cases of Penitent Astrologers. Dialogues of a Virgin with her Cunt."

"...penitent astrologers," she says, "What are the chapters?"

Camillo scrubs his hands on his pants before pulling the book from the shelf.

"There's ... not a table of contents, but there's section headings, hang on ... On the Clothing of Astrologers. The Practice of Renunciation. Astrologers Their Gluttony. Astrologers Their Fornication. Astrologers Their Love of Money. Wow these guys really don't like astrologers. Astrologers their -- well, it goes on like that for a while."

Flip flip flip. "Oh, here. Astrologers Penitent at the Battle of Sterwynt Bridge. Astrologers Penitent between the Battle of Sterwynt Bridge and the Coronation of the King. This is getting really specific. Astrologers penitent after the Coronation of the King. Powerful Astrologers. An Address to Astrologers."

"...astrology is reading stars, isn't it?" she says, momentarily distracted.

"Yes I think so!"

As grateful as Camillo is that he can, in fact, read the language here, he really wishes he were getting some kind of dream help with the weird spellings and tiny scratchy letters. Scanning for content is harder than it needs to be.

"...uh. Like. For with a surfeit of sweet honeys the astrologer refines the keenness of his devious mind, and kindles the baneful vices of star-gazing and star-whispering. To this end let the penitent astrologer abstain from wine and meats, according to the nature of his sin: with penance of seven days on bread and water for he who has, when not needful for navigation, looked to the stars; with penance of two forty-day periods on bread and water for he who has misled a woman as to the birth of her child..."

"They don't want you to look up at night?"

Oh god he's supposed to have cultural context here. "Uh. Maybe ... it's ... a metaphor...?"

Camillo flips forward another few pages. "...seven days on bread and water for thinking too much about Jupiter. Ten days on bread and water for thinking too much about Venus. Six months on bread and water for calling down a comet on someone's head."

Dorothy makes a valiant effort to stay on task.

"What's under 'powerful astrologers'?"

"...wow, there's like five pages of tables to help you figure out what days are safe to hear their confessions ... you're supposed to be more lenient with powerful astrologers so they're not driven to despair. On account of their enfeebled minds the which are prone to madness. And they can get out of some of the fasting by astrologizing for the church."

"I thought they weren't supposed to...do astrology."

It's sort of an afterthought. She has that faraway look again, staring at and through the book.

"You're not supposed to do improper astrology."

What is her deal???

“—It said on their clothing. What is their clothing like.”

What is this. What are they doing here.

"Are you trying to recruit an astrologer or something?"

“—what does it matter to you?”

Her arms cross in front of her, shoulders forward, core tense.

She looks not just like she expects an attack, but like she doesn’t know what direction it might come from — like she might not know how to defend herself if it came.

"This would be like six times easier if I had any idea what the goals were."

Also he's curious. So sue him.

She turns to the man watching them in the corner.

“Get out.”

And, when he tries to protest — “I swear to you we will not try to steal or harm these books. Get out.”

He gets out.

This would be a great time to murder Dorothy, if he had literally any chance against her in a fight.

"Uh. Okay."

She sits down heavily on one of the chairs. It’s a little too small for her frame.

“I don’t know. What we’re looking for.”

"In the way that makes this impossible, or the way that makes it trivial?"

“…neither. I hope.”

A deep breath.

“I know I’m looking for something. Something that’s been — lost. Or taken. Something important. But I can’t remember — I feel it, everywhere, things that are almost like it, but it’s like…catching smoke.”

"Cool. Fine. We can do that."

"If we're going to search this library for, uh, smoke, can we have a drink while we do?"

—she snorts.

“We might as well.”

She produces another coin, and tosses it to him.

“They must brew something here.”