Title: Bookman

Summary: The story of Bookman and how Lavi became his apprentice.

Rating: PG-13, borderline R in later chapters.

Content: This story may not be suitable for children under the age of 13 and may include themes of prostitution, rape, substance abuse, child abuse and/or neglect, suicide and death. May also contain depictions of alternate lifestyles, sexual situations, suicidal thoughts, and mental imbalances. But only maybe.

Author's Note: This story sprang up from too many lunchtime conversations and late night forum speculations. None of this is accurate (except the insane amount of research that I put into this), but I've been dying to write it for ages now. So here we go! Be aware that I seriously mix up cultures here, so everyone please don’t get offended! If I mess up, please let me know and I’ll go back and fix it!

This story was inspired by Artbug's Mana so if you want to read another speculationfic (a good one!) go and read it because it's spectacular.

pdpd

Somewhere on the border of China's Xizang providence and Nepal, 1875.

The Himalayas were covered with snow this time of year. The temperature had plummeted as the altitude increased, and even though he wasn't climbing Qomolangma (1), it still felt like he was trekking to the top of the world. Though he was spry for his age, Bookman found that the journey to this place every year was getting harder and harder as the years went by.

Snow covered rocks were treacherous, as were the slanted slabs of slate that made up a winding pathway to the temple in the mountain. Upon arriving, Bookman gazed up at it, as he always did upon arriving, to marvel at the craftsmanship and beauty of the structure. The entrance was of polished teak and the roof was peaked, plated in copper shingles. From there, the entrance melded into the rock; only a few other shrine-like buildings could be seen placed on the outside of the mountain. Everything else was inside with the main house and shrine situated at the very top.

Bookman passed through the entrance, past two shishi (2) guarding the door, their marble faces looking formidable and fierce though cast in stone. Then he was standing before a large door made of teak. There was a large brass knocker on the door and that was all. He knocked once, twice, and then once again. The door opened almost immediately and Bookman stepped inside, the door closing quickly behind him. The smell of incense and parchment assaulted him, much different from the thin, cold, and open air outside.

"Bookman-sama has returned."

There were two boys bowing at his feet, both clad in the Clan's navy kimono and zubon (3). They wore a gold cord around their right upper arms, signifying that they were the Door Boys, there to allow access to friends and deny it to foes. It must have been a dull job, because there were few people who came to this place as most of them held permanent residence inside the structure for many years at a time.

"Please allow us to assist you."

Bookman's traveling cloak was removed. He held on to his pack and scroll cases that he had brought with him. A pair of comfortable slippers was provided in exchange for his walking boots. Then the boys were back down on the floor, kneeling at his feet, awaiting further instruction.

"Thank the both of you," Bookman said and left.

He slid open the screen door and stepped through, sliding it shut behind him. The excited whispers of the Door Boys were merely murmurs that followed him only a short way through the long hallway. The floor was polished wood, the walls painted a shade of beige. Scrolls depicting scenes of battle, beauty, and nature lined the walls. Other than that, there was nothing, except for another sliding door at the end of the corridor. Bookman shifted the scrolls underneath his arm as he continued on, sliding the door closed behind him.

Deeper into the mountain, it got a little colder. Even though the entire Clan's base was inside of a mountain, it didn't look like the inside of one. In fact, it was set up and decorated in good taste: somewhere between a mansion and a dojo. The libraries, archives, and annexes were located in several different places throughout the place, but the main library was at the very base of the mountain. As you climbed up further, smaller libraries and archives were spread about, mingling in with the few classrooms and training dojo and the infirmary, along with all of the personnel and trainee rooms. At the highest part was the temple and just below were the private rooms for instructors, scientists, and trainers that resided there.

Bookman was headed downstairs to the main library. It wasn't long before he finally arrived at his destination: the Main Archives. In the main library, there was a subsection just for written documents of what Bookmen for generations had seen and observed. Bookman had his records and logs for the past few years with him to file away. He walked through the library, past the shelves that stretched all the way to the high ceiling, holding hundreds of thousands of books.

"Well, look who's back."

Bookman looked over to where he had heard the voice sound from. A young woman stood behind a large counter to his right. She wore a modest navy haku patasi (4) that was accented with rich reds at the tips and shoulder. A maroon bindi (5) stood out between her eyebrows. Her black hair was held back with a clip at the nape of her neck; those dark locks brought out the deep color of her tanned skin.

"Dakshina-san (6)" Bookman replied, heading over to the desk. "It's been a while."

She was a rare oddity, seeing as how the clan mostly consisted of men, with women holding minor and offices or titles sometimes considered "unimportant". But Dakshina was one of the only women in their history to hold the office of Archive Master. To be the Master of the Archives was a prestigious and noble title, requiring the individual to be intelligent, patient, and meticulous. And all these qualities the young Indian woman possessed to the highest degree.

"Indeed it has. Where have your travels taken you in these past years, Bookman-sama?" Dakshina inquired.

"Many places," Bookman answered.

He set his scroll cases down on the polished countertop. Dakshina observed them with a keen, yet quiet eye. Bookman looked at the Clan crest on her sari: an open book, a compass rose, a quill and scroll of parchment, and a balanced scale. All four of those symbols made up the principles that had been upheld by Bookmen and all of their followers for almost the past 5,000 years.

The open book represented erudition. The compass rose signified travel. The quill and scroll illustrated the recording of history. The balanced scale exemplified impartial judgment. All of these qualities were required of Bookmen and all four were to be fulfilled by the ones who recorded history.

"These are for the Archives," Bookman said, removing the scrolls from their cases.

Dakshina took one in both of her hands and brought it into the room behind the desk. Then she returned and did the same with the other two. They were large scrolls that would be filed away by date, probably never to be looked at again.

"Lavi, see to this one," Dakshina said.

A small, sickly looking boy, certainly not even past the age of eight, stumbled out of the back room. The scroll that Dakshina handed him was almost as big as he was. But it wasn't his size or pallor that attracted Bookman’s attention. Bookman wasn't sure if it was the boy's shock of bright red hair or the fact that he had only one eye. His only visible green eye scrutinized him for a moment before he disappeared into the room with the scroll.

"Your apprentice?" Bookman inquired.

"The Chancellor wants to see you," Dakshina stated, evading his question.

"I wouldn't doubt it," Bookman replied, pulling the empty scroll cases toward him.

"You should see to him immediately, before his mood turns sour," Dakshina said.

“Indeed,” Bookman concurred, turning on his heel.

“Oh, and Bookman-sama.”

He turned to look at her. The young Indian woman’s face was set in a severe look that indicated she would not take any disobedience or defiance from him.

“Do not make him angry.”

Bookman nodded at her, knowing to never cross a woman, because ‘Hell hath no fury’ and all that.

pdpd

(1) An alternate name for Mt. Everest, mostly called that by people native to Tibet and Nepal.
(2) Shishi are stone or marble lion-dogs that guard the outsides of temples. And even though this place isn't a temple, I like shishi, so...they're in there…
(3) Zubon are pants, normally worn with a karate or judo uniform. I couldn't think of what else to put them in, besides hakama (pants worn by samurai; worn today only for formal ceremonies, in the field of martial arts and sometimes for priests) which seems a little out of place.

(4) Haku Patasi: A specific sari worn by women in Nepal; it is normally a dark color with red somewhere around the waist or sleeves.

(5) Bindi: The red, circular dots that women wear on their foreheads in India.

(6) The name "Dakshina" comes from the Hindi word for "competence"