Vienna Blood

62

THE LIBRARIAN ENTERED THE small room that had been designated for use as the chamber of reflection. Its walls were covered in roughcast plaster, giving it the appearance of a hermit's cave. An iron table and a wooden stool were the only pieces of furniture. He lit the single candle on the table, which projected its feeble light on a crude mural, painted white upon a black background. It depicted a cockerel and the word vitriol-an acronym of an ancient command to self-knowledge: visita interiora terrae, rectificando invenies occultam lapidem (visit the center of the earth, and by rectification you shall find the hidden stone). Resting against the table was a large rusting scythe.

Opening his sack, the librarian carefully removed several objects. The first of these was a human skull and several long bones. He arranged them carefully on the table, and next to them placed a lump of dry bread, an hourglass, and two metal dishes. From his pocket he removed two vials, the contents of which he emptied onto the dishes, creating two powdery mounds of white and yellow. The first substance was salt and the second sulfur. He made a mental note that he must return with a glass of water.

Before leaving, he paused and turned the hourglass. He watched the grains of sand pouring into the lower chamber. In just over two weeks, he would be there-sitting at this very table, writing his philosophical will. The librarian reached out and gripped the scythe. Anyone approaching him from behind might well have mistaken him for the Grim Reaper.