Tearha: The Number 139

Chapter Twenty-Two: The Son

Muscoh's library was located next to the port, a single storied brick building that faced the open ocean. A large trading vessel was floating offshore, awaiting the all clear from the port that would allow them to dock. A flock of birds flew overhead, and while The Watcher wanted to akin their cries to that of seagulls, the brown feathered, quadruple winged creatures were nowhere close to their white feathered counterparts.

From his bench, The Watcher pointed up to the birds. "What are they called?" he asked as Clay Barber came walking towards him.

The boy looked to the sky, glancing at the birds. "Northern kuzzards. They must be migrating."

"Kuzzards? That's a stupid name," The Watcher replied while getting to his feat.

"I don't want to hear you say that. Your name is 'Watcher'."

"Hey! Watcher is a coo—" He paused in thought. "You're right, it's kind of stupid. I'm changing my name. I'm McFly from now on."

"That's even worse." Clay snipped back.

The two walked through the single wooden door of the library. Inside, the central area was occupied by a single large rectangular table surrounded by chairs. With a quick count, a dozen shelves lined the sides of the table with the entire back wall of the building being a single bookshelf that stretched from one end of the room to the other. The room was gently lit by soft incandescent lambs accompanied by glimmers of light sifting in through the windows. To their immediate right was a small wooden table with a book and an empty chair. A plaque on the table read 'Reception'. The Watcher paused in front of the table.

Clay asked, "What's wrong?"

"I'm just thinking back."

"You were a librarian when we first met."

"Yeah. It's been what? Nearly two hundred years for me."

Clay looked solemnly to the 'Reception' plaque. "It's been nearly that long for us as well." It was odd hearing the phrase coming from the body of an ten year old, but he thought that was what others opined of him and his thousand year old age.

Soft, gentle clacks of footsteps echoed through the room. The two of them turned to face the inside of the library. Solely from the sound of her steps, they could hear the elegance of the walk behind it. A smooth, almost whisper of a gait without the dragging of feet or clacking of heels. The little girl walked out from behind a book shelf to their right, hugging a black tome as thick as her body. In skirts of pleated red and a cotton shirt of white, she smiled gently when she saw The Watcher, her strawberry blonde hair waving behind her as she approached.

She greeted with a bow. "Hello, Mister Galloway. It's good to see you again."

"It's good to see you too, Stella." The Watcher could not help but smile back at the wispy girl. He had almost forgotten how alarmingly eloquent her presence was. Even with the body of a child, Stella Barber continued to hold a poise that transcended centuries.

She nodded back, still with the same gentle smile. She gestured to the long table. "I assume you know why you're here?" She took her steps towards the nearest seat, putting her book down and taking a chair.

"You told Adelaide you knew me. You wanted me to find you." The Watcher sat beside her.

Clay left the two to their talks, standing as an uninterested guard at the front door.

Stella replied, "That's right. I would have gone to you, but there's quite a bit of limit on this child body of mine." She looked down to her chest and patted her undeveloped breasts, Clay giving an awkward cough as she did so.