Boula explained, and the hire-ee stared at her.

"About...." he began uncertainly, then shook his head and stood. "Alright, well, let's go find it." He reached for the counter and grabbed something from the desk -- a reddish marble embedded in an oddly-shaped block of rough, hardened clay.

There were two hallways lined with shelves on either side of The Libra's front desk; the pair of them started off through the left one first, and Boula followed, trying to make as little noise as possible but unable to muffle the faintest clop, clop, clop. As they went through, the hallway widened, and intersected with several other hallways, extending indefinitely to the left and right. Sometimes they passed by people too, perched on stacks, intently studying pages. Boula didn't recognize anyone.

She wanted to ask if they were going the right way, but the hire-ee kept walking on, holding up the little thing he'd grabbed from the counter. The little marble in it was glowing bright red, and it flashed bars of red light across the shelves, scanning the labels right-to-left in nanoseconds. Boula tried to read them herself as they rushed along. Dentsa biology...

History of Albony Wallhatches...

Tragic Age: Prose, Playwrights...

There was no pattern to it. Neither was there pattern to their walking down these aisles. They were at it for at least a flicker before Boula finally looked down and began, quietly, "Are you --"

She yelped as she suddenly walked into his back, and he stumbled with the force of it.

"Sorry!" she cried out, and reached out to settle him, "Are you alright?!"

"Ow - get your hands off me!" he snapped, and quickly she withdrew, realized she was pinching his skin in her hooves and thumbs.

"I -- er --"

"It's fine," he said hastily. He looked up; the last thing that the ornament he had scanned was still highlighted in red light, and it was up on the eighth shelf from the bottom. He sighed.

"Wait here. I'll be back."