Chapter 124 - Ghost In The Library

The reading spots were partitioned cubicles, cosily small, with soft chairs and doors that you could close and lock. I did so to mine, not at all wishing to be interrupted by some fan wanting an autograph or whatever.

The books on the combat magic were a fascinating thing. In essence, combat magic was all about speed and preparation. You either had to cast a spell fast, very fast, or to have it ready even before you got into the fight.

The prepared spells—traps—were a complex thing, something you had to weave around herself or even in herself (if you didn't fear magical contamination), and looked like something I would need to spend months, years to become competent in. The fast spells were much easier.

It was all about taking power and hurdling it into an enemy—not at all different from what I did with Christina before, except the motion had to be so trained it became automatic, because you rarely had time to think about what aspect to throw. The thin book offered quite a few ready and always available solutions with their own share of pros and cons.

The astrological objects were always there, and held enough power to destroy an army, but, as I learnt from my own experience, that much power was hard to control, especially for witches with smaller wells. The air was easier to draw on, and also always there, but there wasn't much in it to destroy and if you were to channel it, the spell might take longer.

Then, there were items that one carry with them just for the sake of channelling their aspects. But in order to have enough power to kill and to stay portable, these had to be enchanted beforehand—and that went to the first category of combat spells.

An hour later I closed both books, wrote down their names to read electronic version at home later, and went to put them in their rightful places. As I approached the shelf, I saw another person standing next to it with a cart that had a dozen of other books already piled up. The person was a man, if his broad shoulders told me something, despite the white hair that flowed down to his waist. It was quite a sight, but what I cared more for was that he and his cart were blocking my way.

"Uh, sorry, can you move aside a little?"

The man, startled, turned towards me so swiftly that his hair whipped at the shelf with an audible smack. Despite the hair, he looked not a day older than I was, if not younger. In a second, he was smiling at me. "Right! Did you come to put the books on the shelf? Hey, let me. I know their places almost as well as the lady librarian by now."

He took the books out of my hands and put them on the shelf after only a single brief glance at the covers. The places seemed correct, so I was impressed. Then I glanced at the tower of books on his cart and became even more impressed. "Are you going to read this all?"

"Oh, I've already read them!" He waved a hand at me. "No, no, these are due to a maintenance check. I'm always get tasked with this sort of stuff by the new Elder, though there are enough youngsters who can do the job just as well. Since I didn't see you around before, you must be new?"

"I thought everyone already knew," I said, puzzled by the man's strange words. New Elder? Youngsters? "I'm Diana."

The man shrugged without a care in the world. "The new generation doesn't like to talk with me. What can I do? I'm just their old Ghost. That's right, I'm Ghost, Ghost of Communism! Everyone called me that for so long that I forgot my own name!" Ghost laughed. "Really!"

Alright, I got the 'Ghost' part—white hair, white robes—but… "Communism?"

He nodded and grinned. "Yes. I remember the times like they were yesterday… I was lucky to be born at the end of the worst of it, but there still was just so much suffering to see! People these days can't even imagine."

The cheerful way Ghost described the suffering made me take a step back. The way he spoke—like an old man—made me narrow my eyes. There was not a line on his face, but his hair was white to the very roots—either recently dyed, or natural. "How old are you, Ghost?"

He laughed. "Too old, everyone says. I don't remember anymore. You can ask the lady librarian, or anyone. Oh right, if you are new, you must be confused, right? Well, I always glad to explain. Never gets old, not like me at all!" Ghost laughed again. He had a youthful, boisterous laughter, but the contagion of it was greatly diminished by the man's creepiness factor.

"I use magic to prolong my youth. Works like a clock, but I've got some side-effects now. Elder only permits me because I don't attack people on sight and don't look like a leper, but she's been threatening to forbid me it… oh, ever since she became an Elder, I think. The most of the contamination is there now." Ghost tapped at his temple, still smiling at me. "Or maybe it's just senility. I never learnt how to heal one. I was thiiis close to be an arch-witcher," he showed with his fingers just how close, "but nope, just a normal one."

I swallowed, suddenly aware of the dangers of magical contamination on a much more personal level. At the same time, there was a possibility in this man. This, this was someone who already had a lot of practice in searching for ways to go against time. I could just—

My phone's ringtone broke my line of thought. Cursing myself for not turning it on vibro as I was in a library, I hurriedly pulled it out and looked at the caller. My grandfather. Huh.