The Edits

      The librarian’s job is to constantly monitor the safety of books and to keep them in order, so it isn’t unusual of Lucienne to look at the stacks when passing by them. Stacks can be thrice her height and even more, and there are so many books you can build a new foretress using them, but Lucienne always knows which books are missing and where.       She doesn’t worry about books she is working with — she knows where they are and how soon they will return to their places. Either about books taken by Lord Morpheus — the master knows the importance of the library more than many others and cares about books quietly as properly as Lucienne does.       But now some books are missing totally unconsent. Lucienne notices it and turns around to the stack she passed by, straightening up and looking throughout the shelves intently. Books are missing in several places — some at the left and shoulder-height, others at the right and very high, and two more on different shelves right in the middle. It’s not too much but it feels like huge ullages.       The one who answers about books disappearing is Mervyn, who walked by the stacks and carries missed books and some others. The only reason why he may be interested in them is the Lord Morpheus’s order but master always asks Lucienne about it. It’s usually Lucienne’s decision whether to bring the books herself or pass them on with someone else.       “Mervyn,” Lucienne calls him, “where are you taking these books?”       “Ah, Loosh…” Mervyn waggles slightly while narrowing his slit eyes and waves at her. “Writer asked. It’s just—”       “I see,” Lucienne narrows too, looking at the pile of a books in his hands. There are eight books, some are quite new and some was standing in their places without any move for… rather long. “Did they say why they need these books?”       “No, but they asked to bring to them,” he scrubs his pumpkin head’s back. “You think I shouldn’t?..”       Lucienne doesn’t think — she knows that something here is going on.       It’s common for the Writers to be kinda freaky (not as much as the Endless, but anyway), but if a librarian’s job is to save books, revise them and issue on account, then a writer’s job is to write a book once and forget about it. It doesn’t takes many attempts or returning and rereading — the Writers accepts the will of universe powers and… just write. And as soon as one book is finished, the Writer starts to write another, and so on until the every word of the universe is written down.       When the Writers start to rewrite the books, there’s almost nothing good to happen.       “Well, I’ll take the books to them myself. Thanks for finding them.”       The pile turns out to be heavy. Lucienne isn’t a stranger to the book’s weight but that’s even anxious — why does Writer need exactly these books, already written in as much detail as possible and seemingly finished? But it even more scary to guess how much in these books Writer would like to correct.       There is the writer’s office in each realm. The Dreaming’s office is the small and rather empty room with carved door and laconic golden sign on it. It’s table in the middle, messed up with books, scrolls and sheets, and an inky smell in the air. The tall carved window is drawn back from its heavy curtains just enough to let the light fall on a small corner of the table cleared for work. The candles in the chandelier are lit only at night, when Mervyn comes to replace and light them, and for this purpose there is a tall stepladder in the far corner of the office.       Lucienne slowly opens the door, without interrupting Writer from their work, and watches them before entering. Although the Writers always speaks of themselves in a more neutral manner, in the eyes of the palace’s inhabitants, their Writer appears more like a woman than a man, or something in between. Their faded hair is pinned up, the lacy sleeves of the writer’s uniform, similar to Lucienne’s librarian’s uniform, are stained with ink splashes, and there is an ink stain on their round cheek. The Writers can write three books at once, with all three of their hands, one left and two right. This is precisely what Writer is doing, without taking their eyes off any of the manuscripts.       “Thanks for bringing the books,” Writer says with a slight smile. They still noticed that the door to their place opened without knocking. All that’s left for Lucienne is come in and left the books… somewhere. Preferably somewhere they won’t knock over any of the bales.       “So…” Lucienne says with some apprehension, placing the books on the far corner of the table.       Writer doesn’t answer her, but slightly raises their wide eyebrows — they hear and accept her attempt to start a conversation. Their left hand pauses slightly over the page, and the ink almost drips from the pen, but Writer manages to wave their palm and stop the drop. Lucienne folds her hands in front of her and looks expectantly from behind her glasses.       “Some edits have arrived,” the Writer says reluctantly. It sounds short and dry, without providing any details or particulars. This is a common formulation for all Writers, when something in the fabric of the universe begins to take shape differently and things was written previously requires corrections or revision. The only difference is how each writer presents this formulation. Their Writer decides to present it in this form and not in other.       “Significant?” Lucienne has to dig for the information. After all, these edits concern the Dreaming, which she had recently almost lost.       Writer raises their different eyes — the left one with one pupil and the right one with two pupils. Even though Writer is looking simultaneously into Lucienne’s eyes, at her hands, and out the door, all three of their hands continue to write until they reach the dots.       “For now, they concern the books you brought.”       “But there may be some more?”       “If I had known whether there would be more edits and how significant they would be, I would have asked for many more books to be worked on.”       But they wouldn’t say a word about what these edits would affect and what consequences they would bring. Never to reveal the design of the universe before it comes true is one of the commandments of the Writers, and no one can go against this. But that’s not what irritates Lucienne. What irritates her is that this Writer never tries to be… a little more tactful or something?..       At the time when Lucienne just took up her position as librarian, the writer in the Dreaming was a different being. That Writer looked like an elderly man, tall and gray-haired, with a neat beard and moustache, in an always clean brown waistcoat with fine embroidery. They wrote slowly, thoughtfully and with concentration, and answered all questions politely and friendly. Lucienne enjoyed listening to their stories about the universe during the rare breaks. They had kind brown eyes and were always smiling.       When the library in the Dreaming disappeared, they disappeared too — the Guild decided that the Dreaming no longer needed a writer. Lucienne tried to keep the chronicle herself, in the way she remembered, but it was more despairing than hopeful. When Lord Morpheus returned and restored the library, the Dreaming has met its new writer — the yellow-eyed one, with sharp, short handwriting and the same manner of communication.       “I don’t need to remind you that I can only tell you that the edits exist and nothing more, do I?” they really try not to be sarcastic, but it doesn’t come out that well. “I understand your worries — once you almost lost not only the library, but the entire Dreaming. But there are orders that no one can go against.”       One of the Writer’s right hands taps nervously on the table, still holding a dried-out pen. It seems as a gentle request to leave their office as quickly as possible, and Lucienne is forced to give in—after all, the previous writer also said absolutely nothing about the plans of the universe, even if they certainly knew each of them. Behind their usual smiles and kind looks, they could well have hidden knowledge of Lord Morpheus’s imprisonment and all the damage that the Dreaming had suffered.       Perhaps, against this background, the harsh manners of their new writer do not seem so offensive. At least you’re not fooled into thinking everything will be fine.       “I have nothing to console you with,” Writer says in a much lower voice, as if between the lines, as if they shouldn’t say it and no one should hear it.       Lucienne shakes her head, indicating she doesn’t need this glimmer of sympathy. As a parting gesture, she fussily runs her fingertips over the spines of the books.       “I’ll be glad if you return them as soon as possible.”       Writer nods and returns to their manuscripts, not giving the librarian a second glance, but as soon as Lucienne steps over the threshold and almost reaches for the door handle…       “Lucienne,” Writer call out, their voice taking on a slight hoarseness, “if possible, inform Lord Morpheus of everything. I’d like him to review at least some of these edits.”       Lucienne’s fingers miss the door handle, fumble awkwardly in the air, and only then finally grasp it. She nods vaguely and mumbles something before closing the door behind her.       … well, it seems that Writer really has nothing to comfort her with.