Free The Peculiars by Maureen Doyle McQuerry

place, nothing like any library you’ve ever seen. It doesn’t matter that I don’t have all the regular librarian training, because everything here is so different. Being a quick learner is more important than knowing all the answers.” He winked at Lena and then stopped abruptly and changed direction. He led her down a short hall to a door that opened out onto a patio overlooking the cliff. In the middle of the patio there was something that appeared to be a large cauldron with a mirror. It was enclosed in glass.
    “What is it?” Lena edged closer to the device, but her real interest was in looking over the rail to the rocks and sea below.
    “Mr. Beasley’s converting solar power into steam energy. The sun reflects off the mirrors and makes the water boil.”
    “You can do that on a stove,” Lena remarked.
    “This is on a much larger scale, and it doesn’t take wood, coal, or oil to power it. Mr. Beasley predicts coal will run out eventually, and then where will we be? Industry requires steam. This”—he gestured toward the cauldron—“can produce enough steam to power an engine. It could power an electricity generator, or perhaps a smaller one could power a motor vehicle.”
    He looked as pleased as if he had invented it himself, Lena observed. “What happens when the sun isn’t shining?”
    “Even on a cloudy day you get some energy. Ultraviolet makes it through the clouds; it just isn’t as efficient. You’re right, though. It works best in a climate with lots of sunny days. Mr.Beasley’s always experimenting. He’s even working on a flying machine. He’s a true man of science.”
    Jimson led Lena on to the library, chuckling when he heard her sharp intake of breath. The doors, with their massive metal mechanisms of revolving gears and rods, were unlike any Lena had ever seen. “Why, they’re like machines or sculpture!”
    “The inner sanctum . . . the holy of holies. Welcome to the library.” Jimson gave a short bow.
    As unconventional as the doors was the library itself. It was far more than a collection of books. It was more like a cabinet of curiosities, a museum of the strangest sort. Rich leather-bound volumes lined walls on shelves that reached twenty feet to the ceiling. Prized artifacts filled display cases. Unlike the dim, marble-floored building where her mother worked, this library was filled with filtered light from long windows. On top of a glass case a collection of small volumes glowed red, blue, and green.
    “They’re real jewels,” Jimson informed her, “rubies, emeralds, and sapphires. Mr. Beasley says they were made by Mr. Sangorski and Mr. Sutcliffe. And this book is the oldest book of medical illustrations ever written.”
    A narrow gallery halfway up the wall supported a rolling ladder to reach the higher books. Any unused wall was covered with maps—mostly of continents Lena had explored only in her imagination. Many were marked with little flags that Jimson said showed places Mr. Beasley had visited as a medical doctor and as an explorer. And then there were the display cases. Theroom was filled with variously sized oak-and-glass cases, each carefully labeled with a brass plate. Lena stepped close to the nearest one. Inside on a purple velvet background was a spear with a long blade on one end. Attached to the shaft just below the blade was what looked like all the hair from a horse’s tail. Lena read the brass plate: THE SOUL OF GENGHIS KHAN . She looked up at Jimson.
    “It’s a
sulde
from Mongolia. A warrior ties the hair from the tails of his best horses on his spear and keeps it outside his tent. It’s kind of like his name card, but Mr. Beasley says they believe it’s even more than that. It’s his identity, and when he dies it becomes his soul. This one belonged to Genghis Khan, one of the smartest men who ever lived, Mr. Beasley says.”
    Lena was reminded of the missionary ladies at Miss Brett’s, proclaiming that Peculiars had no soul. “But