Bookmarked

© 2004 Michael Bishop
All rights reserved.

They all made their one and only visit to MRL Antique Books and Manuscripts in exactly the same manner. First, they would slip in through the door, hoping that that no one would notice them in spite of the bell declaring their arrival. Then they would creep around the labyrinth of cases and stands pretending to be just another browser dallying for a few minutes or so. Occasionally, they would allow themselves to be diverted by the tillitations of Erotic Art, but that was mere detail. Sooner or later, they would find their way to Grimoires and Alchemical Protocols.

Carefully tucked in one corner as if to shield it from the world and deliberately poorly lit to add to the effect, it had been arranged like that to calm their nerves and give them the feeling that their quest was almost over. In reality, it had barely begun.

Once ensconced in the section, they would start to hack at the jungle of tomes and scrolls, trying to decipher the faded writing on the cover or inner page. Depending on their temperament and stature, some would start at the top, peering up at the row on the topmost shelf. Others would commence at the bottom, bending double in the process. Again all mere detail, because the result was always the same. Eventually, they would grind to a both literal and literary halt. They always did.

The reason for this was quite simple. The Tao of Qin was never on display: it could not be placed on the shelves just in case some literary enthusiast accidentally spied the book and decided on a whim to add it to his collection. That could not be permitted to happen. The work could only be allowed to fall into the right hands.

In desperation, they would then recheck the section before trying some of the other ones "just in case, it was in the wrong place." If they had missed Erotic Art on their initial journey, they usually discovered it at this point. Whether or not they did so, they always ended at the counter where Mariel would be waiting for them, filling the time until their arrival by reading a paper or handling new stock.

Seeing no reason to look like an old crone, Mariel did not. In fact, she found her apparent persona highly effective in handling them. It did not matter what age or sex they were, they always discounted the pretty young figure before them as a mere chit of a girl who knew nothing about matters esoteric. Still, and thanks to her sober dress, they did concede her a modicum of intelligence in being able to answer enquiries about stock in the shop and so would arrive at the next hurdle.

The ritual here repeated itself on each occasion. First, they would always approach with stealth, never coming into sight if another customer was there. However, the moment the coast was clear, they would surface as if from nowhere. They would then patiently wait until Mariel acknowledged their presence. Once they got her attention, they would never cut straight to the chase, but proceeded to beat about the bush until in an almost casual aside they finally revealed the reason for their visit.

When the tome was finally produced from under the counter, "New arrival, haven't had time to put it on display," they would glance at it almost as if it were nothing. Then, as if doing her a favour, they would nonchalantly handle it as if debating whether or not to buy it. However, Mariel always caught the gleam in their eyes and she knew that she was about to reel another one in.

Only at the end would they enquire about the price, and here Mariel always struck hard. Because she could judge to a hair how much money they had on them, she deliberately picked their pockets. The response, though, to whatever figure she gave always drew the same reply: an outward appearance of shock that such a worthless item could have so a high price tag attached to it, an inward gasp that anyone would sell such a valuable work for a song.

Consequently, they never tried to haggle, no doubt also in part because they assumed that she was hired help and thus could not have reduced the price anyway. The joke was that she would have sold them the book for any sum they offered, even given it away for nothing if that's what it would take for them to receive their copy.

Not once after the moment the tome was in their hands did they ever retreat and decide not to buy it after all.

The deal done, the book would be discreetly wrapped in brown paper; they seemed to prefer the anonymity of this form of cover to an emblazoned bag. Then, when the package was placed on the counter in front of them, it would be almost snatched away and they would disappear into the metaphorical night, never to return.

It did not matter, though. When the long wait was over and all of the tomes finally sold, Mariel would find all the owners and, one after the other, take them down. Even if any of them were alerted and ran or hid, it would be of no consequence; their copy of the Tao of Qin would forever mark their whereabouts.

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