Free Sworn To Raise: Courtlight #1 by Terah Edun Page B

three-story building that leaned slightly to the side, like an old man with a cane, and curtains fluttered out of the windows on each floor.
    As she entered the building, a small bell chimed. It was nowhere near the door – in fact it floated five feet in the air in the center of the room spelled by magic. She looked around with a smile. It looked as if more dust had collected in the four weeks since she’d last come here.
    She saw that the books weren’t as precariously piled as before. This time the stacks across multiple tables were no more than three or four books tall. Books took up space on floors and in the corners. The room was dark, dusty, and moldy—and she loved it. She weaved between the tables, heading for the back corner, where a small children’s area was set up. The next primer was already there, bound in green cloth that designated it as Primer Two. Primer One, which she’d brought with her to trade, was bound in brown.
    Gathering her new primer, she headed up to the second floor, where two of the journeyman bookbinders and the shop owner were hunched over loose pages in the filtered light. They all held thick needles in their hands as they hand-sewed the pages together. The books—or the fancy ones, anyway—wouldn’t stay like that. She’d asked the owner about that on her last visit, confused as to why her primer had a proper spine and hard casing. It wasn’t just sewn together with just a bit of thread. Jovelin, the store owner, stood over a large desk to her right. He had told her that a formatter was brought in once a month for the fancy books. The rest were sold as-is to the outlying towns and the poor.
    She brought the second primer to Jovelin with a cheerful, “Hello!”
    “Hello, yourself, young lady,” he said as he shifted his spectacles from the top of his head to his nose. “Ah, I see you’ve finished the first primer. Already?” he asked curiously, a sparkle in his eye.
    She nodded eagerly, dislodging her scarf from the top of her head in the process. As she shoved it back into place, he said, “Well, I’ve always enjoyed seeing a young person who reads. As promised, you can trade the first primer for the second at no cost, if…” He let the end of his sentence linger.
    With a small smile, Ciardis said, “If I promise to come back and teach your daughter a few dance steps.”
    He gave her a big smile. “Yes, this weekend will be good.”
    Suddenly a young girl in a tan dress came rushing down the stairs. She rushed up to Ciardis with her blonde curls flying behind her. She screeched to a stop almost on Ciardis’s toes, wobbling a bit before regaining her balance. Ciardis laughed at the five-year-old girl and said, “Hello, Mala.”
    “Hello, Ciardis,” Mala said a bit shyly as she attempted a curtsy.
    “Are you ready for your lessons this weekend?” Ciardis asked with a smile.
    “Yes! Papa says we can dance in the wordies’ room on the third floor!” Mala said eagerly.
    Ciardis hid a grin, thinking how cute Mala was. “Wordie” was Mala’s word for the wordsmiths who worked in her father’s shop. They created the stories and ideas that became the books he bound and sold. “Isn’t that right, Papa?” Mala said to Jovelin as she turned to look up over the desk and confirm.
    “That’s right, my poppet,” her father assured her.
    “Then I look forward to it, milady,” Ciardis said as she dipped a teasing curtsy to Mala. Mala grinned, delighted.
    Ciardis bid good day to Mala, her father, and the two binders, then exited the shop to return to the Guild. She’d needed to get back and do Sephrane’s laundry for the week.

    The next morning, she woke to a small message glowing in her tobama ball, a small, crystalline orb that held notices, and, in this case, voice messages from mages. Yawning slightly, she raised her hand and tapped the glowing orb that sat by her bedside. Knowing she’d be able to hear the message even from across the room, she stumbled over