The Xenoworld Saga Box Set

by Kyle West

“Dear gods,” he said. He looked at me, disbelief written on his face. “Where did you learn to write like this?”

  I shrugged. “Isaru taught me a bit.”

  Haris sniffed. “Even the Prince doesn’t write this well.” His expression of wariness only increased as he digested the contents of what I’d written. “Anna and Alex? What is this nonsense?”

  “It’s nothing,” I said. “Just a dream I had. Elder Isandru wants me to write them down.”

  Haris’s eyes continued to scan the page. I resisted the urge to grab my paper back from him.

  “A young Prophetess are we?” he said. He suddenly became very serious. “But, really...this might be utter nonsense, but the writing is damn good. I have some old texts that need translating. Perhaps, if you can prove yourself...”

  “That’s all right,” I said. Haris’s brow furrowed in confusion. “I mean, English is something I only understand sometimes. It’s...strange.”

  “Yes,” Haris said. “I imagine it is. Nonetheless, this isn’t a request. Follow me.”

  I resisted my impulse to sigh, and I followed him out into the open, toward the long tables where several other apprentices were scribing.

  “Have a seat,” he said. “I’ll return shortly.”

  Haris trotted off. I considered taking off right then and there, but he still had my paper. All I could do was wait until he returned it.

  When he came back, he held a large, dusty book which he dropped on the table with a clomp. A small cloud of dust rose and tickled my nostrils.

  “Now,” he said. “Have you been instructed in scribing?”

  “No, Seeker.”

  “Tarman!”

  The tall, lean apprentice who had shown me around the library when I first arrived hurried over.

  “You are to teach Initiate Roshar the principles of scribing.”

  “Ev...everything, Seeker?”

  “Of course! Shanti is to become our newest scrivener! A replacement for that blasted Isaru!”

  “I don’t want to do this,” I said. “I’m already too busy...”

  Haris considered, and for a moment I thought he was going to agree. “You are rather busy. You work in the kitchens, don’t you? Well, enough of that. Your talent is best spent here in the stacks.”

  I wanted to protest, but I knew better than to argue with Seeker Haris.

  “You start tonight, Initiate,” Haris said, handing me back my paper. “Consider this a high honor. Scribing is a privilege I usually reserve to my apprentices.”

  With that, he turned and walked off, overseeing the writing of his pupils.

  I noticed that Tarman was looking at my paper, and his eyes widened. “You wrote that? No wonder Seeker Haris recruited you. The penmanship is beautiful.”

  I looked over my well-formed letters, complete with slightly flourished serifs, all uniform and straight.

  “It’s her again...” I said, softly.

  “What?”

  Tarman looked, as if to see someone walking in the door, but of course I had been referring to Anna.

  “Nothing. Err...shall we get started?”

  Tarman cleared his throat. “Right. Well, I suppose we can start by showing you what I’m working on...”

  Tarman stood and went to retrieve a series of papers from where he had been working. He returned and set the blank pages in front of him. The paper was fine, smooth, and looked pliable. Tarman took one of its edges between his fingers, bending it slightly. When he let go, it resumed its former shape without leaving a crease.

  “Paper made from Silverwood is of the highest quality,” he began. “There’s a papermaker south of Nava, and they supply us with all the paper we need every two weeks. Once we receive the paper, it’s stored in boxes next to Seeker Haris’s office, as I’m sure you’re already aware.”

  “So, this is basically just copying words?”

  Tarman nodded. “Long, long hours of it. It may take months to finish a shorter text. Years for a particularly long one. If a mistake is made, then the whole page has to be rewritten. That’s why scribing is a serious business and it will drive you mad. One must learn to scribe quickly while not sacrificing quality or artistry.” Tarman indicated the page in front of him, which was halfway filled with his neat, bold writing. “Haris is insistent that all scribes use a consistent style of writing, called a font. Whether big, or small, it varies from book to book. A reference might have small words and require less artistry, as its use is more practical. However, copying Mireda’s Annals would require the greater diligence and care. Such a text might even be decorated with illuminations of the scenes described in the book.”

  I nodded. I had seen some of that artwork, and they could really give life to the page. I remembered coming across one that depicted the Elekai Exile — the Red City in the distance across the river, and a mass of tattered people walking forward, facing the viewer, expressions of pain written on their faces. In the background were the soldiers of the Covenant, pikes pointed outward, faces grim, while smoke from the city rose into the red sky.

  “Paper is relatively cheap,” Tarman went on. “It’s the ink that’s expensive. Most of what you’ll be writing will be with black ink, made from gall taken from the Silverwood and blackened with carbon. Other elements might be used to lend a different color, but that doesn’t concern us for the moment.”

  I noticed that beneath each row of words was a faded black line. “Are those lines so that you write straight?”

  Tarman nodded. “Yes. It’s called ruling. You’ll notice it’s also on the outside, here.” Tarman pointed, and indeed, I could see straight lines had been drawn to produce margins. “The ink is of a special kind, called fading ink. It’ll disappear slowly over a period of months, leaving only the text and any illuminations on the page.”

  Despite myself, I was becoming interested. “How does fading ink work?”

  “No one really knows. The only difference between it and regular ink is that it contains Silverwood sap. It’s theorized that the sap attempts to revert the rest of the ink to balance with the rest of the page — essentially erasing it.”

  “And the papers are all bound at the end of the process?”

  “Yes. But by that point, your work will be done. Usually, Haris’s top apprentices, or other Scholars, handle that process. Not that it’s difficult; it’s more of a chance for them to inspect your handiwork for quality.”

  “So, you work on the same book for months and months until it’s done?”

  “Pretty much.”

  I frowned. “Why would anyone want to do that?”

  “I admit, it’s not something that’s meant for everybody, but it’s the price we pay for getting to do our own research while learning at the Scholars’ feet. As far as Haris, he is such a busy man that he only reserves instruction for his most promising pupils.”

  Tarman spent the next hour teaching the rudiments of the blocky font he was using. I was slow to learn — Anna seemed to be taking a nap at the moment — but he was patient and I was persistent. He was bemused as to why I couldn’t reproduce my former writing, and to be honest, so was I. He ended the lesson by handing me a guidebook, telling me to practice on my own until I had gotten the form down.

  I walked out of the library rubbing my right wrist, remembering what Isa had told me seemingly ages ago: the Champions will make you hurt all over, but the Scholars will take all that hurt and put it in one place.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  THE REST OF THE WEEK passed, and I was busier than ever. I wasn’t getting enough sleep and I felt myself begin to suffer in my studies. Each time I went to the library after dinner, Tarman oversaw my progress. I wasn’t writing properly yet — just copying letter after letter, Tarman tiredly correcting minor inconsistencies in my handwriting. At some point, he left me alone to go to bed, instructing me to continue working until my letters had improved. It wasn’t fair that he got to leave while I stayed, but Haris was gone, so no one was there to enforce T
arman training me.

  My mind became blank as I continued to work. My penmanship was scratchy and amateurish, and there was no way Haris would ever allow it to pollute his paper. I considered not improving at all; I didn’t really enjoy doing it, anyway. There’s something stubborn in me, though, that keeps me trying something until I can finally get it right, even if I don’t particularly enjoy the task. That determination can be a good thing as much as a bad thing.

  I closed my eyes in my seat, only opening when I heard a single tolling of the bell coming from outside. The final hour.

  The last apprentice on duty — a short young man named Elio — winked out the last lantern after casting me a glance.

  “Library’s closing, Initiate. Find your way to bed.”

  I stood, leaving my work in its place to work on tomorrow.

  I made my way up to the dorms, and when I entered my room, Isa was already asleep. She stirred as I shut the door.

  “Library?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” I said.

  I took off my boots and lay down, covering myself in the thin blanket. When I closed my eyes, I would have fallen asleep right away if it hadn’t been for Isa’s voice.

  “Shanti...do you think Isaru has run away for good?”

  I didn’t know how to answer her at first. It seemed unimaginable that Elder Isandru wouldn’t be able to return with him. In this, Isandru was powerless as long as Isaru kept ahead of him.

  “I don’t know,” I answered. “I believe the Elder will find him.”

  She was quiet for a moment. I had thought she had gone to sleep, when I heard her voice again.

  “You two are close, aren’t you?”

  “In a way. Not like you’re thinking though, because there aren’t any romantic feelings. At least, not on my end. I don’t think there’s any on his end, either. And that’s okay. We’re just good friends.”

  It took Isa a moment to process what I said. “Didn’t he save you from death, though?”

  “Yes. He did. I’ll always be thankful for that. But even so...he’s more like a brother. I can’t explain why, but I just don’t think it would work. He’s a bit too...impulsive for me.”

  I felt as if she had something more to say, but she remained silent. Part of me wanted to nod off, but I had been so busy that I hadn’t talked to Isa much lately. I didn’t want her to think that I was neglecting our friendship.

  “What’s on your mind, Isa?”

  Again, she took her time in answering. “This is probably going to sound stupid. I almost don’t want to ask.”

  “Just ask.”

  “Do you think...Isaru would be interested in anyone who...” She trailed off, and immediately I could see where she was going.

  I was surprised, but I probably shouldn’t have been. Thinking back over the week, Isa had been a bit more withdrawn...even mopey.

  “I don’t know,” I said, at last. “Isaru is...different. I don’t know how to explain it, really. He’s talented, strong, and independent. There’s no reason to think he wouldn’t be interested in you. I’m sure you’ve noticed boys looking your way.”

  “It’s hard to tell whether it’s because I’m pretty, or because there aren’t many girls around,” Isa said. I heard her sit up in her bed. “It’s so much different here than at home. At home, a guy just tells you he likes you. It’s so simple. Here, it’s complicated.”

  “Maybe you can talk to him when he gets back,” I said.

  She hesitated. “If he gets back.”

  “There’s no reason to think he won’t.”

  I winced at that. There were quite a few reasons why Isaru might not be coming back, but I didn’t want to depress Isa — or myself, for that matter.

  “What if he’s run away for good? Why would he do that?”

  “I don’t know, Isa. I’ve been wondering that myself.”

  At least I could be honest about that part.

  “Maybe that’s why he fascinates me,” Isa said, her voice no longer trying to hide her admiration. “I mean...he’s different, isn’t he?” She sighed. “Am I hopeless?”

  I chuckled. “Maybe a little bit. But that’s all right. It makes you human.”

  “What about you, Shanti? Is there anyone you like?”

  “Ha. I can’t concern myself with that stuff. My life is complicated enough.”

  Isa giggled. “Yeah, right. There has to be someone.”

  “I’ll admit there are some handsome men here,” I said. “It’s just the time isn’t right.”

  “How sensible,” Isa said. “That’s what I should do.” She paused thoughtfully. “But we’re only human, right?”

  I found that I didn’t have a response for that, and was soon fast asleep.

  WHEN I AWOKE, SOMETHING about the day just felt different. I was still tired, and unfortunately, it was not a free day.

  Isa had already left the room. It seemed brighter than usual. With a start, I realized I had overslept.

  I hadn’t even heard Isa get up, and she had done nothing to wake me. That meant she must have gone off somewhere early — maybe the library.

  I quickly dressed and rinsed my face in the wash basin. I straightened my hair and left the room in a hurry. The corridor was empty, filled with sunlight from the bay windows at its end. I took to the stairs and made it to the Great Hall, where breakfast was about to be served.

  I rushed to Isa’s table and sat down. Deanna and Aela spared me a glance before returning to their conversation.

  “I was worried you wouldn’t make it,” Isa said.

  I arrived just in time to be served my meal of fruit and pancakes.

  “I don’t know how I’m going to go on,” I said. “They’re working me to the bone.”

  Deanna smiled knowingly. “Now you know why so many don’t make it.”

  I looked at her. “I’m going to make it. Just watch me.”

  “You’ll need that determination,” Deanna said. “I’m just warning you. It’s about this time where your routine will get harder and harder. Things ease up a little bit by the time you’re an apprentice, but starting in a couple of months, you’ll have to start preparing for your Trials.”

  I sighed. “As if I don’t have enough to be worried about.”

  “Everyone has their problems,” Deanna said. “Action, not words, is what carries you to the goal line.”

  Deanna was starting to annoy me. “I’ve done nothing but work my whole life, and I’ve never been worked like this. At least when I worked in the fields, I was able to sleep the night away. And I keep having these strange dreams...”

  I realized I had spoken too much, but no one, with the exception of Isa, seemed to catch that the dreams were anything more than dreams.

  “My wrist is sore, I can hardly lift my blade to practice, and Haris has me training with Tarman to get my letters right...”

  “Poor you,” Deanna said, “getting an opportunity to impress one of the most influential Seekers in the Sanctum. He doesn’t just train anyone, you know.”

  I sighed. She was right, yet again. “I know I shouldn’t complain so much. It just feels so damned good.”

  Deanna offered a rare smile, seeming to allow that at least. “Our thoughts are where we have to be the most careful. Thoughts shape perception, and the moment you perceive that you are not fully capable of handling yourself...you won’t be.”

  I wanted to argue, but Deanna was still right, and frustratingly so. Even if I was complaining, she wasn’t going to coddle me.

  “You’re right,” I said.

  “I know I’m right,” Deanna said. “I’ve been here for three years now. I want to see you succeed, where most have not.” She turned and pointed to the front doors of the Sanctum. “Every month, initiates leave that door, never to return. Many of those initiates — most of them, in fact — once believed they had what it took. The Sanctum proved them wrong. The Sanctum will continue to prove most of them wrong. This place changes people, but more than that, it
shows them who they truly are. A lot of people aren’t willing to embrace that change. The Sanctum is the crucible that will test your mettle. Either you’ll break, or you’ll be shaped. And the fact of the matter is, most people break.”

  Everyone was quiet at that, the kind of quiet that only follows when someone speaks a hard truth.

  “Shanti is talented,” Isa said. “If she can’t make it...who can?”

  “It’s not merely talent, though that is a part of it,” Deanna said. “Talent can sometimes be a burden; more is expected of you. One can go their whole life putting in minimal effort with results that are just good enough. And sometimes, talents, if great enough, can outweigh the person in whom they manifest.”

  That last sentence struck a little too close to home. Deanna might have believed my natural talent made me not have to work as hard, but I didn’t believe that was true. I detected no hint of envy in her voice; she seemed comfortable with herself and her abilities, but at the same time, I did feel as if my natural Giftings did outweigh my ability to handle them. The way Anna sometimes took over — during a fight, or like last night when I had unwittingly written in perfect English — drew unwanted attention. What was more, I couldn’t replicate those abilities unless Anna somehow took over again.

  I had to live with the weight that my talents and my achievements might never be my own.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  THE NEXT DAY FOUND A visitor in the Sanctum that wasn’t expected for at least a few more days.

  King Taris arrived early in the morning, and everyone was surprised by his presence as they entered the Great Hall, seated among the Elders. From his glowering expression, it was clear that he was aware of his son’s absence and none too pleased about it. His ten or so retainers stood along the back wall, faces placid and ebony armor shining, each with a short sword sheathed at his right side and a helmet in the left hand.

  It was quiet, save for the scuffing of benches, as the Sanctum-dwellers filled the Great Hall. I sat in my usual place beside Isa while waiting for my food to be served. When it was doled out, it did nothing to elevate the mood. When people spoke, it was either with muffled voices or whispers, as if any loud speech would be enough to perturb the king. From time to time, I looked over my shoulder to steal glances at him. He ate, his face stern and unyielding, as Chief Elder Arminius spoke with him confidentially, as if trying to placate him.