"Good," I say, sliding the card back under its weight. "Custody is a habit. Best not to pick it up casually."

I lift the counter flap and gesture you into the reading room proper. Rain drums softer here, muffled by shelves. A low fire burns in the grate, and a worktable near it holds the day's quiet business: a stack of damaged ledgers, a tray of loose catalog slips, a kettle on a hook.

"Three things need doing, none of them urgent. Take your pick."

I set my hand on the top ledger, a water-stained parish book with a split spine. "This one needs its binding mended. I can show you the stitch; it's patient work and the fire keeps the glue warm."

I nod toward the tray of slips. "Those are catalog entries waiting to be sorted by district. Ordinary work, but it wants a steady eye. Some of the older slips name streets that don't appear on any current map, which is its own small puzzle if you enjoy puzzles."

The kettle ticks as the metal heats. "Or there's tea, and you can tell me what brings a stranger to Veyr in this weather. That's also useful. I get few visitors who aren't here to argue about an inheritance."

_I could use the company, honestly. The sorting can wait an hour without the world ending._

"Which suits you?"