The liturgical reading of the will was long and drawn out.  The officiator loved the sound of his voice and proceeded to use words that even the extremely literate librarians found foreign or perplexing.  The arc of light shed by the sun on the room moved two compass points before he finally finished his encyclopedic introduction.   Some kind of woodsmoke and organic smell was periodically released through the vents to help the audience endure the heavy weight of the words and to keep the air fresh.  The front row of professional mourners left, replaced by the second stringers while the professionals costumed up for their more formal attire.  Throughout it all, vendors quietly and respectfully hawked refreshments using sign language from the aisles in the pews.<br/><br/>The beatitudes of the will are the shortest part, but these also take thirty minutes of light reading.  They were written by Hermar Scrotizue, a local master poet of some renown and legend, and everyone (well....almost everyone) was in tears before they were finished.  The mood in the room lightened considerably for this section.<br/><br/>The light from the ground pipes played by the book organ ranged from magenta to indigo with the occasional violet hue staggering back and forth.  Wind doured in through the north east chamber, sauntering left to right until it entered via the south west.  The temperature was kept at a constant furnace like quality to match the tempid tropical fortunes of the subject, with those who visited from the north countries losing an occasional article of clothing in protest but most stoicly soldiered on, fervent to maintain their fashion convictions.<br/><br/>The red, bright outfits were more like plumage as the hypnotically flashy mourners returned for the Favors to the Guntries in the Second Stretch.  The croaking frogs embedded every twenty feet in each Pew sing tribute to their rhymisical tamborines that are pitched precisely to get their attention.  The corresponding counterpart of ribbits gives an oddly organic feeling to their perfectly timed and choreographic wailing.<br/><br/>Finally, after the oddities and whatnots associated with the library itself, the city's own traditions are honored with a prayer said to each of the major gods, even of the newer interlopers though that makes many visibly uncomfortable.  There seems to be an almost unlimited amount of discomfort to go all the way around as it were.  Even still, it was totally understandable that the folks involved had certain expectations for the way they wanted a funeral to be, and to many, a library was a very secular institution.  Things were greyer than that in the protectorate, and much greyer than that here.<br/><br/>Once the reading of the actual will proceeded, it largely involved keeping a lot of books that had previously been considered likely candidates for the library pending approval of the Librarian, but things she had not yet actually approved.  It turned out that this was a lot.  Thus a few more hours passed before finally, the Reader of the will took a deep breath and said, "Now, let us proceed with the actual reading of the will, for the actual people in it, regarding the things that they will actually be receiving."