(no subject)
It had taken Dr. Henry Armitage some time to come to terms with the thought of hiring an unknown as his first assistant when he was given charge of the Orne Library back in nineteen-aught-six, but he had to admit that Mr. Stantz had proven himself time and again since that day. His knowledge of cataloging systems was excellent, as was his translation skill for several of the languages in which Armitage himself was sorely lacking (most notably his German and Sumerian; the man could read Greek fairly well too, and Latin better, but that was more a case of Armitage having little time rather than little skill). After his first week of work on organising what Armitage would consider the volumes worthy of being restricted to request-only status, it became apparent that the man held a very real reverence for even the most obscure forms of the printed word, and the chief librarian of Miskatonic University grew more willing to relax about the prospect.
There were, of course, incidents now and again where some issue or problem arose, but for the most part they were few and far between. For the most part they were matters of Stantz over-reaching some goal that Armitage had set, assuming too much about the University's willingness to tolerate specialised requests by the Library. After the third or fourth such inquiry on the man's part, Armitage simply sighed and shuffled a bit of the Library's allocations around so that there were better funds for the upkeep and maintenance of all the rare books. It was enough to quiet him, and Armitage rested easy in that knowledge.
Nevertheless, there was a night in the summer of 1908 which stuck rather firmly in Dr. Armitage's mind. Stantz's pursuit of a proper engineering degree was a matter of some amusement to the students, but one that Armitage tolerated with a smile. It kept his assistant happy, and such things made for improved performance in his time at the library; what more could Armitage ask for? If it meant that the man stayed at his post further into the night than anyone save the watchmen and the Library's guardian mastiff, there was no great harm in that. Studying over the summer was laudable enough, and set a fine example for the students, both those who lingered during the summer months and those who only toured the campus in anticipation of the coming term. Armitage himself found it easier to justify working late hours with the knowledge that someone else was close at hand, even among the more disturbing of the library's admittedly priceless texts, and it was on one such jaunt into the darker hours that he discovered their copy of the Liber Ivonis appeared to be missing. As he could not recall it being sent for repairs, Armitage quietly locked the door to the Restricted Section and went to his assistant's office.
What struck him ever after was the utter simplicity and normality of the scene. Stantz's office was stacked with books, as usual- those in the process of being assimilated into the library's collection, and those of his own reading. The engineering texts in English and German alike were as familiar a sight as any, these days; Armitage scarcely saw them. What struck him most was that Stantz was settled far back in his chair, feet propped up on his desk as casually as any first-year student, thumbing through the Liber Ivonis with the same air of curious concentration that he gave to working out particularly puzzling Russian translations. No more, no less; and every now and again he reached out for the coffee-cup resting on his desk without so much as glancing away. There was little more than bemused inquiry to the man's expression as he examined the volume of what Armitage knew full well to be blasphemous ancient lore. Certainly he showed no sign of the unease which the translated Latin had inspired in any of the previous would-be translators Armitage had ever met.
Henry Armitage stepped away from the office door before Stantz could see him. In the morning, the volume was back in its place as if it had never left. When he spoke to his assistant upon his morning arrival, Stantz showed no indication of having consumed anything unwholesome at all, answering questions with his usual cheer and good humour. Armitage did not bother to press him about the book, but resolved to keep an eye on him from that night onward, no matter how fruitless his vigil might prove.
There were, of course, incidents now and again where some issue or problem arose, but for the most part they were few and far between. For the most part they were matters of Stantz over-reaching some goal that Armitage had set, assuming too much about the University's willingness to tolerate specialised requests by the Library. After the third or fourth such inquiry on the man's part, Armitage simply sighed and shuffled a bit of the Library's allocations around so that there were better funds for the upkeep and maintenance of all the rare books. It was enough to quiet him, and Armitage rested easy in that knowledge.
Nevertheless, there was a night in the summer of 1908 which stuck rather firmly in Dr. Armitage's mind. Stantz's pursuit of a proper engineering degree was a matter of some amusement to the students, but one that Armitage tolerated with a smile. It kept his assistant happy, and such things made for improved performance in his time at the library; what more could Armitage ask for? If it meant that the man stayed at his post further into the night than anyone save the watchmen and the Library's guardian mastiff, there was no great harm in that. Studying over the summer was laudable enough, and set a fine example for the students, both those who lingered during the summer months and those who only toured the campus in anticipation of the coming term. Armitage himself found it easier to justify working late hours with the knowledge that someone else was close at hand, even among the more disturbing of the library's admittedly priceless texts, and it was on one such jaunt into the darker hours that he discovered their copy of the Liber Ivonis appeared to be missing. As he could not recall it being sent for repairs, Armitage quietly locked the door to the Restricted Section and went to his assistant's office.
What struck him ever after was the utter simplicity and normality of the scene. Stantz's office was stacked with books, as usual- those in the process of being assimilated into the library's collection, and those of his own reading. The engineering texts in English and German alike were as familiar a sight as any, these days; Armitage scarcely saw them. What struck him most was that Stantz was settled far back in his chair, feet propped up on his desk as casually as any first-year student, thumbing through the Liber Ivonis with the same air of curious concentration that he gave to working out particularly puzzling Russian translations. No more, no less; and every now and again he reached out for the coffee-cup resting on his desk without so much as glancing away. There was little more than bemused inquiry to the man's expression as he examined the volume of what Armitage knew full well to be blasphemous ancient lore. Certainly he showed no sign of the unease which the translated Latin had inspired in any of the previous would-be translators Armitage had ever met.
Henry Armitage stepped away from the office door before Stantz could see him. In the morning, the volume was back in its place as if it had never left. When he spoke to his assistant upon his morning arrival, Stantz showed no indication of having consumed anything unwholesome at all, answering questions with his usual cheer and good humour. Armitage did not bother to press him about the book, but resolved to keep an eye on him from that night onward, no matter how fruitless his vigil might prove.