Page 11 of Enchantment of Silver and Sea
The mental image popped into my head before I could stop it. My face gave me away, and Brielle collapsed into giggles.
We stood and carried our trays to the drop-off station near the doors to the kitchen. Brielle would likely be back to clear it later.
“Since you had to go in early, do you have to stay late, too?” Brielle asked. “Or can we walk home together?”
“Let’s walk back together.”
The genuine happiness in Brielle’s answering smile gave me a pang of guilt. She waved and bypassed the main doors to the cafeteria, taking the side door to the kitchen.
Around me, others were hurrying to finish their lunches and get back to their respective work assignments before the rain began. I was anxious to get back to mine, too, but not because of the rain.
I needed to findCato.
I finally trackedhimdown on the fifth floor. He was standing next to a cart that was piled high with books. As I got closer, I realized he was shelving them.
“I can do that,” I said hurriedly, reaching for a stack.
“Don’t worry, I’ve got this!” he insisted. “Every now and then, I just need a simple task to help me clear my head.” He added with a laugh, “Don’t take that away from me.”
I couldn’t help but laugh, too.Hejust had that effect.
Catospent most of his time in the Library, but he was the Mentor of the entire Knowledge Center. Which technically meant that he was our leader, but The Council tried to avoid using terms like that. Much less terms like “boss,” which were absolutely out of the question.
As Mentor of the Knowledge Center,Catooversaw the Library, the Culinary Preservation department, the Agricultural Preservation department, the Wildlife Preservation department, and the Human Interest department. Considering the weight of his responsibilities, I often wondered if he himself was a member of The Council. But considering the strict anonymity that The Council maintained, I knew better than to ask.
His head was shaved, his skin a deep umber, and his dark eyes always held a mischievous twinkle. Although he was happily married, there were women in the Knowledge Center who stood up a little straighter and became a little more animated whenever he was around.
To me, though,Catowas a mentor in the truest sense of the word. Sometimes, much like with Brielle and Zander, I wished that I could truly let him in. Just once.
“What’s on your mind?” Cato asked as he examined the spine of a novel.
“I was just wondering if we had any outstanding projects that required the basement.”
I hoped my voice sounded as nonchalant as I intended. When Cato’s eyes cut to mine, I instantly worried that it had not.
“Why?” he asked simply.
Lying to Cato was more nerve-wracking than lying to Brielle. However, I had read once that the most convincing lies were ones that had some truth woven into them.
“The research assignments that I’ve been working on lately have been a little…straightforward,” I began. “It’s been a while since I’ve had the opportunity to work on a more serious project. One that involves a bit more mystery and intrigue.”
“Marsh wolves aren’t intriguing enough for you?”
I rocked my head from side to side, as if considering. He seemed to buy my indecisiveness.
“We do have a couple meatier assignments in the queue.” He found the shelf that he was looking for, tucked the novel into its rightful spot, and continued down the aisle. I trailed behind him. “I can grab you the details on one.”
“That would be great!” My enthusiasm was genuine.
He abandoned the cart, and we descended the staircase to the ground level, where his office was located. He unlocked the door, and as I did every time I stepped inside his office, I marveled at how it was like stepping into his mind.
His mahogany desk was piled high with stacks of paper, books of all sizes, and multi-colored folders. The far wall featured a garden window that normally bathed the room in a pleasant glow, but today just looked out on the rain-soaked courtyard. The remaining walls were covered by floor-to-ceiling shelves, which were crammed to capacity with more books and curios.
Somehow, even though there was not a free surface to rest an elbow or write on, there was still an organization to things. A system, as Cato would say.
He unlocked the top drawer of his desk with a click. The neon yellow folder he pulled out was one that I was very familiar with. It was where he kept notes on pending basement-level projects, before they were finished and ready to be filed away. He leafed through a few packets held together by paper clips. Finally, he made an approving sound in the back of his throat as he landed on one that he liked.
“Here,” he said, hand outstretched. “Take this one.”
