“That’s plenty of time to go to parties. Do not tell me you are one of those women who spends her days at sewing circles and organizing charity bazaars? I detest such things, and you are far too young for that nonsense.”
A pigeon approached Nina’s foot, bobbing its head up and down, but a dog, let loose from its leash, began chasing it and sent it flying off. The pigeons atop the statue ignored the ruckus and stayed in their place.
“I sew poorly,” she said, watching as a heavyset matron in a heavy pink hat picked up the dog and shushed it.
“Good!” he exclaimed. “You ought to be dancing.”
Nina couldn’t help but laugh at that. He seemed to take games and balls rather seriously, Mr. Lémy. It was endearing.
“Where are you headed?” he asked.
“To look at books.”
“By the gods, surely not on a pretty day. Are there books around here, anyway?”
“Past the street of the perfume-sellers,” she said, glancing in the appropriate direction. “There are a dozen shops. You haven’t noticed?”
“No. I am headed to the Philosophers Club and I should warn you, despite the name, there are no philosophers there. It’s a drinking den.”
“Where?”
“Up there,” he said, pointing at a faded building, four stories high, its windows impenetrable behind burgundy velvet.
“Why do they call it the Philosophers Club?”
“After a few drinks, all men become philosophers.”
Nina nodded, and though she knew nothing of the Philosophers Club, she imagined it would be populated with men as bright and cheery as Luc Lémy, all in their finest jackets, drinking and smoking and laughing for hours on end.
Luc took out his pocket watch and slid the cover to the side, then looked at her. “I won’t be needed for another half hour. Do you want me to escort you to your bookstore? This is not the best quarter in the city.”
“It’s not the worst either. I’ve been here before.”
“Let me be gallant. It makes me feel better,” he said, offering her his arm. “I’m sure your great-aunts would approve.”
Nina draped her hand over his arm. “If you insist. But there are no drinks inside a bookstore.”
“How dreadful.”
They walked the scant two blocks necessary to reach their destination. The bookstores were all small and crowded. They occupied the first floor of each building, but the second and third floors either served as living quarters for the owners or housed restaurants. One could pick a favorite volume and then have an economical lunch.
Nina went into the Dandelion. It was not the best bookstore on this street, but it catered to geographers, nature aficionados, and those withscientific inclinations. It sold copies of the leading scientific gazettes and popular books, but also more obscure volumes.
The aisles were narrow and the books piled high. The trick at the Dandelion was that you needed to have been there before or you wouldn’t find a thing. Nina stood on her tiptoes and brushed her fingers along the spines.
“What are you looking for?” Luc asked.
“Coronel Oudevai has been publishing drawings of the species he has seen during his travels in the Ammunok peninsula. I’m looking for the third volume. It should be out now. Here it is.”
Nina grabbed the slim volume and opened it, turning the pages. She paused at a fine watercolor that showed an armadillo against a blue sky. It was the representative animal of Iblevad, found throughout most of the southern portion of the continent and therefore not so rare as other species, but she thought it a most delightful creature despite its being common.
“There are armadillos large enough, they might carry you on their back, did you know that?” she told Luc.
“I’m not even sure what I’m looking at, and you are saying it’s as big as a horse?” he replied.
“Not so large, perhaps a pony. And there are big turtles, too. I saw a photograph showing a man riding a turtle. I’m not sure if anyone would attempt to ride an armadillo.”
He peered over her shoulder at the book. The shop was stuffy and a bead of sweat slid down Nina’s throat. It was an uncommonly warm spring, her great-aunts had told her. She’d forgotten her fan at home and made a mental note to ensure she carried it at all times.
