This is Round and Round Part 48, one in a series of stories that revolve around a weird bookshop and the people (and animals) who work and shop there.

Read Owain Part 1 (Round and Round Part 46) here.

Read Owain Part 2 (Round and Round Part 47) here.

Read more Round and Round stories here.

Together, the bookseller and Barbara descended the long stairway to where Isbetha stood. The bookseller was a bit winded when he reached her.

“It’s work coming down as well as climbing up.”

“You get used to it… after a lifetime. My father is out back. Thank you, Barbara, for bringing him down.”

“It was just a bit of quickgolden. He said he wanted to be outside.”

They followed Owain’s daughter toward the back of the house, through the kitchen and out into the backyard. Redwoods rose nearly to the clouds. But there was a gap in the trees, and one could sense that the sunrise would appear there when dawn had held it down as long as she could.

“Good morning, Owain. It is a lovely morning. Cool, but not cold. Not a cloud in the sky.”

Owain was reclining on a chaise lounge that must have been 12 feet long.

“Barbara got me down here. I could never have come down the steps on my own. My legs no longer hold me up for long, I’m afraid.”

“Coffee?” Isbetha asked.

There was a silver urn on the picnic table.

“Yes. That might clear the cobwebs. I felt I read almost all night. Why did you want to meet outside, Owain?”

“I wanted to feel the sunrise upon my face once more.”

As if on cue, the first rays burst over the horizon. Owain’s pale face took on the warm orange of the sun’s first cresting about the distant horizon.

“Ahhh…” he sighed. “The warmth makes me feel alive again. Did you have trouble sleeping?”

“No, I slept a great deal. Somehow I read ten thousand lines last night. The entire Aeneid. But that would be impossible.”

Barbara chuckled softly. “I put a drop of quickgolden on your toothbrush. That’s how you did it. It was important to remind you of your duty.”

“And my dreams. They were epic. Every book I’ve ever had.”

“Yes. We felt you should be reminded of the paths that brought you here.”

“I think with a small supply of your quickgolden, I could go through every book in the warehouse in a week.”

“Less,” she replied. “But it is extremely rare. I only gave you a microliter. It would be easy to overload your system with too much or too often.”

“Well, I thank you. The speed reading was like a roller coaster. Amazing my mind could absorb so much.”

“The mind has capabilities and capacities as yet untapped,” Barbara replied.

Owain stretched himself and bathed in the sunlight coming over the horizon. “It feels so good. Will I ever experience this again, Barbara? In the next place?”

“Who knows what dreams may come.”

“I thought you knew everything.”

“They are universes and worlds within worlds that I’ve never heard of, much less been to.”

There was a pause, and then Owain addressed the bookseller, asking, “What was your dream like?” 

“I swear I relived my life, especially my book life, in minute detail. What was the purpose of those visions, Barbara?”

“To show how much you have gained. And an example of how much you owe.”

“Owe?”

“Your debt. To the ‘book’ in this case. You can begin repaying now or in the future. But I must assure you, you are needed now more than ever. With Owain leaving, there is no one else prepared.”

“Why can’t you…”

“My place is on other ramparts in many other places. Wherever the darkness rises, I must go and shine light upon it.”

The sun was now above the horizon. It became smaller and whiter and more intense the higher it got.

The bookseller couldn’t finish his coffee. There was too much. The mug must hold 32 ounces or more.

“Well…?” Owain asked.

“Well, what?”

“He is asking if you accept,” Barbara answered.

“What are my duties?”

“To be ready.”

“Ready?”

“Like a fireman. Live your life as you always have, but be prepared should the conflagration come.”

“How will I know? How will I know what to do if I receive no training?”

“You have trained for this your whole life. When the time comes—if it comes—you will be prepared.”

They all went silent for a while. Then Owain let out a long sigh.

“I think it’s time, Isbetha. Gather the girls. Barbara, can you help me to my room?”

She nodded silently.

“And it is time we parted, old friend,” Owain said to the bookseller. “Come, give me your hands.”

The bookseller crossed to Owain and offered his hands. When Owain took them, the bookseller’s normal-size hands seemed to disappear in the grasp of Owain’s huge ones. 

“Come closer. I wish to whisper something to you.”

The bookseller rose up on his toes and leaned in toward Owain’s head. Owain raised himself a bit and spoke into his ear. In a few moments, he dropped back onto his pillows. The word “please” was the last word he spoke.

“I will send you back to the bookshop now,” Barbara said. “It is time to return.”

When the bookseller turned back, Owain was gone.

“I didn’t get time to say goodbye.”

“It was Owain’s place to speak parting words. Annirosa and Althea have duties elsewhere. Perhaps we shall all meet at the bookstore again before too much time has passed.”

The bookseller got a glimpse of the sisters, Owain’s daughters, crossing the lawn toward the house—and then Barbara gently touched her forefinger to his forehead.

Suddenly, he was back in the parking lot in front of the bookshop.

The front door burst open, the little silver bell above the doorway chiming like a tail wagging.

Setanta galloped across the porch, the wooden deck shivering under his weight.

Mathilda followed with a leisurely haste he had not seen from her before.

“Well, I’m home.”

Setanta rose and put both paws on his shoulders. Mathilda made figure eights between his legs.

“I wasn’t gone that long. Just an overnight.”

The three crossed the porch, passing the one-dollar book carts, and entered the shop. It was a couple of hours before opening. The bookseller went into his office and glanced at his desk, which was covered by a mound of papers.

Then it was back out to the counter.

“Were we busy?” he asked the cat and dog.

Mathilda leapt onto the counter, tapped the keyboard with her extended claws and pointed toward the open laptop with her nose.

The sales figures were impressive. The bookstore was continuing its renaissance with the increasing clientele interested in “physical media.” It was mostly young people, too.

“Why?” he wondered. “Have they become jaded or stressed by the constant bombardment of electronic screens?”

Something was wrong, though. There were too many lines of sales figures.

“Wait! The date! I’ve been gone for five days!?”

He sat with shock for a moment. 

Then he observed thoughtfully, “I’m wearing the same clothes I left in. I didn’t think to bring a change. I only slept there overnight. Hmmm… must be some time warp of Barbara’s.”

He sniffed.

“I don’t smell bad.”

He turned back to the laptop and switched screens with a click of the little pointing arrow. He went to his personal email account.

Then emails and texts started dropping in.

The first he opened was from Isbetha.

“Owain has passed away in his sleep surrounded by his three daughters, 13 grandchildren, 47 great-grandchildren and 11 great-great-grandchildren…”

It was from three days ago.

“He died the day after I left.”

The bookseller took a deep breath and then exhaled with a big sigh.

“He’s gone, Mathilda. Setanta, Owain is gone.”

Mathilda rubbed her cheek against his hand. Setanta flopped to the floor with a bony rattle and looked up at him balefully.

“I knew it was coming, but not this soon. I mean, I saw him… this morning? Or was it yesterday? Or three days ago… I can’t figure out what happened with the calendar. Must be some time warp of Barbara’s. Maybe that’s a downside to quickgolden.”

He read a couple dozen other emails from other booksellers and friends.

“A world without Owain…”

Then, a voice whispered in his mind. Female, sad and mournful. “You must write an ode to him.”

“An ode? Or elegy?”

“It needn’t be an epic. Begin with what he meant to you. Then what he meant to the printed word. Your heart will fill in the rest.”

“I guess this means I’m it now. Whatever ‘it’ is. I wonder if I’m supposed to do anything. Barbara hinted it was kind of like being a fireman. ‘Go about your business until you get the call.’ Then what? How will I know I’ve been called?”

He sighed again.

“I guess I’ll go mess around with some books. Things must be way behind with my being gone for five days.”