“Forgive my confusion,” said King Terrance. “Is a tour of the library truly necessary? I am quite familiar with libraries. We have one in Territal, after all.”
“I think you will find this one a bit different,” Myranda said.
She approached the building’s heavy wooden doors, and a pair of servants stepped up and opened them. The whole of the procession filed through the doorway into the dim interior. The stark light of day pouring through the doorway made the place seem dark as night. When the door shut, white-blue light gradually swelled. Deacon smiled as he watched small rough-cut gems set into lanterns along the walls take on a soft glow. The light revealed a place still very much in progress. The building itself was complete, but it had yet to reach the tiniest fraction of its potential. Rows of shelves stood like soldiers along the rear of the room spread before them. The rest of the room was furnished with long tables and chairs. The chairs were empty, though each table had six books laid out. Pots of ink sat beside each book. Quills bobbed into the pots and wove their way through the air in an intricate dance. It was eerily like some manner of ghostly factory, dedicated to filling books as swiftly as possible.
“I have devoted my life to knowledge,” Deacon said. “Knowledge is wealth. But it is wealth of a special sort. It is wealth that grows in value the more it is shared. My firmest belief is that nothing cannot be known. We need only seek answers, and, if we are clever and determined, we shall find them. What you see at the back of the room is my grimoire. It is, unquestionably, the greatest concentration of mystic knowledge in existence. It took a considerable amount of time and effort, but I was able to enchant a phalanx of quills with a spell I’ve long depended upon for my own purposes. Even at this scale, it will take months if not years to achieve my goal. But when it is through, five copies of each book contained within my own will have been recorded. One set shall be kept for our own people in Kenvard. The rest will be presented to Vulcrest, Ulvard, Tressor, and the Crescents.”
Queen Tanya stepped up to the nearest of the books and gazed at the page. “‘Terrax Mascill’s Poison Touch’?” she said.
“Ah, yes. At present, some of the lesser aspects of the black magic disciplines are being recorded.” Deacon marched to the back of the room and fetched a thick leather tome. “We have completed the white magic already.”
“‘Parkek’s Blood Burn,’” King Terrance read. “These are spells in your personal collection?”
“I could hardly consider my library comprehensive without them. Look, here. ‘Milliway’s Soothing Balm.’ This is a counterspell to the Blood Burn,” he said. “For everything that can harm, there is a thing that can heal. That is why a properly stocked mystic library is an indispensable defense. If we understand the darkness, we can counter it with light.”
“Is it wise to make the powers of darkness so readily available?” the king asked.
“Right now the books are merely being copied, and you’ll note, the door is under guard,” Myranda said. “When the collection is complete, the access to the books with the greatest potential threat will be limited to those with adequate knowledge to use them wisely.”
“Access will be earned through understanding. And if something is properly understood, it is implicitly safeguarded against misuse,” Deacon said.
“It isn’t misuse that concerns me, King Deacon. It is the skilled and accurate use of a spell designed to destroy. We are presently at peace. Heavens willing, we will remain so. But if war is to come again, these dark spells in the hands of our enemies…”
“No one should use magic to harm,” Deacon said. “But to hoard the most dangerous magics for fear of our enemies using them upon us betrays the intent to use them upon our enemies. Understanding is the solution. Truly understand the threat of the spell, and those too dangerous to be used with care and precision will never be used. And if a magic is to be used in anger, I would much prefer to know the tools that might be used against me. The best way to achieve this is by sharing them.”
“You have an admirably positive view of human nature,” King Terrance said, with no suggestion in his tone that he shared it. “I believe this tour is inspired in part by the very real and very firmly held belief that certain types of magic represent an existential threat to us.”
“D’Karon magic…” Deacon said. “Yes, though it pains me, the tools of the D’Karon and those spells too close to them represent what I hope will be the only class of magic that must remain forbidden from wide distribution. But even they must be understood. Come, follow me.”
He led them past the rows of drifting quills through the aisles of half-filled shelves to a peculiar book stand. It held a single book and stood beside a door far more heavily fortified than seemed appropriate for a place of knowledge. Indeed, it was a perfect match for the door to the deeper level of the palace vault.
“Beyond this door is a room set aside for the study of D’Karon magic. To date, we have yet to train any of Kenvard’s mystics to a sufficient level of knowledge to, in my judgment, safely engage with their teachings. At present, only Myranda and myself are permitted inside. But that is not to suggest that no one else will ever be permitted into this room. In time I hope that each of our kingdoms would have a handful of dedicated masters who have devoted their lives to understanding the D’Karon arts specifically to devise counters to them. To that end…”
He plucked the book from the stand. “What we have here is the present state of my understanding of the weaknesses of the most dire D’Karon spells.”
He flipped it open and drew his crystal to his hand. “This spell is used to dispel the miasma that dragoyles breathe.” He held the crystal to the page, and several arcane shapes became illuminated. “We believe that a properly empowered set of sigils like these will prevent a weak D’Karon portal from being opened nearby, regardless of whether a beacon exists to anchor one.
“This book isn’t yet a mature enough body of information to be of immediate use, but I am working every day to expand this information, and…” He glanced to Myranda. “Interruptions notwithstanding, I had hoped to have the first volume finished within the year.”
He thumped the book back down and jabbed the cover with his finger. “This is our best defense against the dark times out from which we have so recently just clawed our way.”
“Do you destroy the D’Karon information when a counter is found?” Queen Tanya asked.
“No. If we destroy it today, we might someday find ourselves without the means to study it if new threats arise.”
“Then what is to stop a rogue person from utilizing D’Karon teachings in the future?”
“Terrance, please,” Caya said. “He’s spent the last hour listing off his endless precautions. I don’t know if I have the constitution to endure another verse of that particular song.”
Myranda nodded. “As leaders and keepers of this wisdom, that is our problem to solve. We have seen the vault. We have seen this book. They are only the first of our defenses. It will be the work of our lives to protect the D’Karon goods. But it is a challenge I happily take upon my shoulders.”
“And you see yourselves as the only qualified keepers of these dangerous artifacts,” Queen Tanya said.
“At this precise moment in time, I consider the Chosen to be the only qualified keepers,” Deacon said. “But that will change. Soon your libraries will be stocked. Soon you will all have a copy of this book in its finished form. Soon people around the world will be working on learning and sharing knowledge. There will be other vaults to collect other artifacts safely.”
“And thus other places where a rogue might use those artifacts,” Queen Tanya said.
King Terrance nodded. “Yes, there seems to be something you are unwilling or unable to come to terms with, and that is the grim reality that there are some things that can never be controlled. Some knowledge must be wiped away.”
“No,” Deacon insisted.
“If the D’Ka
ron magic remains in any form, it is a threat. We cannot preserve this knowledge and still be safe from it. There is no other way.”
“That is precisely why we must always strive toward understanding. Even when those things we study seem dangerous. The most precious information comes at the greatest risk. It has always been the case. Lives are lost in the pursuit of knowledge all the time. But not nearly as many as lives that are lost to ignorance.”
“Security, freedom, knowledge, peace of mind. They are frequently at odds,” Terrance said.
“Of course they are, but of them, knowledge is paramount.”
“You value knowledge greater than security?”
“Greater than security because without knowledge of danger there can be no security. Greater than freedom because without knowledge of where we can go and what we can do there can be no freedom, and certainly greater than peace of mind. There is no mind more peaceful than one shrouded by ignorance,” he asserted sharply. “Wounds heal. People live and die. But some knowledge, if lost, can never be regained.”
Deacon’s fingers were white-knuckle tight about his crystal. It was flickering with a sickly glow. Myranda stepped to him and wrapped her hand about it.
“The point is, we are open with our methods, and we shall share them. This is something that we all must involve ourselves in.” She turned to Deacon. “Why don’t you take a moment to identify which books have been completed? Perhaps our guests would like to take them home and add them to their libraries now.”
Her eyes darted surreptitiously to the smoldering crystal in his hand. “I wouldn’t want you to be wringing your hands in idleness while we have the golden opportunity to give our neighbors the gift of knowledge.”
Deacon glanced to his hand, then back to Myranda.
“An excellent idea, my queen,” he said. “Come. Let me show you the volumes of white magic we have recorded, my friends. With these books and a few sharp minds, scores of maladies shall be a thing of the past.”
#
Some hours later, after an interminable and overly formal farewell ceremony, the royals of the other nations were sent on their way. Myranda and Deacon returned to the palace.
“With the exception of some of the protocol-mandated chaff, I believe that was an exceedingly worthwhile ceremony,” Deacon said, climbing the last of the steps to the royal quarters.
“Agreed. The D’Karon seed is stowed, the concerns of the other kingdoms have been addressed, if perhaps not wholly put to rest—”
A discordant rattling echoed through the corridor.
“— and Auntie Ivy has provided our son with a noisy new pastime,” she said.
“Music,” he mused. “It hadn’t struck me that might be an interest of his.”
“At the moment I would suggest ‘beating things with sticks’ is the far greater interest,” she said.
“Even so. There are bardic magics that draw their power and focus from rhythms.”
“You might have to entertain the possibility that he won’t turn his mind to magic.”
“Of course, but we can explore it. I don’t believe we had a master of such magics in Entwell, but I feel certain we have information in our library.”
“Perhaps you could ask about bards upon your return. We should start planning for your journey. Many preparations will need to be made. First a trip to Vulcrest to collect Desmeres. Then a trip down through to Ulvard. We will require travel papers for the two of you and the rest of your party…”
“We needn’t rush things.”
“You as much as asserted that wisdom was more important than saving lives while attempting to allay the concerns of our neighboring kingdoms a few hours ago.”
“Tact and nuance have never been strengths of mine. I may have expressed myself somewhat poorly.”
“And once you are cured, that will be less of a concern. We’ve discussed our plans for the kingdom at length. I can see to them in your absence, and with this ceremony completed, there aren’t any ceremonies from which your absence will be glaring until the end of the year. We aren’t likely to find a better time for you to take a sabbatical.”
Deacon drummed his fingers against his side, keeping somewhat better rhythm than his son as he approached the door to their quarters.
“What will we tell the subjects? And the staff?”
“With the staff, we should be honest.” Myranda sighed. “Ideally, we would be honest with everyone. But circumstances are such that we cannot afford to be perfectly open. Particularly not on the subject of Entwell. But there is no reason for dishonesty. You, Myn, and I will leave for Vulcrest. We will give the stated purpose as… a consultation about a prisoner with ties to the Chosen. No word of that is a lie. And when I return, we shall simply, also quite honestly, say that you set off to discuss a sensitive matter with some colleagues from outside the kingdom.”
They opened the door to their quarters. Rather than one of their many servants overseeing the child, Ivy was crouched before him. A simple but well-built drum sat on the floor between them. The drum and its sticks were built in the unmistakable style of the malthropes of Den. Sadie the nanny was standing in the corner, watching the pair, ready to swoop in should she be needed.
“Mama! Dada!” Leo proclaimed when he spotted them. He started to climb to his feet.
“Wait, wait, wait!” Ivy said. “Show, show.”
She tapped out a little rhythm on the drum with her stick. Leo savagely attacked the drum with his, giggling all the way. He looked to her expectantly. She repeated the rhythm and got a second “performance” in reply.
“See? He’s learning. We take turns beating the drum. He’ll be playing in no time.” Ivy clapped. “I can’t wait until his little fingers are long enough to play something like a flute.”
“Very impressive,” Myranda said, plucking Leo from the ground.
“I hope you don’t mind. Ivy was rather insistent on spending more time with Leo. And I wasn’t able to persuade Ether to remain in her own quarters either,” Sadie said.
“Ether?” Myranda said. She raised her eyes and, for the first time, noticed Ether sitting silent and motionless beside the fireplace. “Oh! I’m terribly sorry, I didn’t notice you,” Myranda said.
She stood. “I imagine not. The child does command one’s attention.”
“He usually commands everyone else’s attention, too,” Myranda said. “I’m impressed he’s left you alone.”
Ivy smirked. “He’s a very perceptive boy. He figured out what the rest of us did a long time ago.” She leaned forward and scrunched her nose at Leo. “Auntie Ether is no fun.”
“Are you through with your official business?” Ether asked, unwilling to engage with Ivy’s taunt.
“For now. Did you want to speak with us?”
“I believe you wanted to speak with me.”
Myranda thought for a moment. “Oh! Yes, there was a matter. I am sorry, Sadie, we need the room for a moment.”
“Of course, Your Majesty.”
The young servant slipped from the room. Deacon took Leo from Myranda and set him on the ground to toddle around the room, hand in hand with his father.
“I wanted to ask you, Ether. Have you felt anything unusual recently? Anything reminiscent of D’Karon magic or any unexplained bursts of power?”
“Nothing. I would have summoned you if I had.”
“Queen Caya suggested there was a curious event in Verril. Sightings but little in the way of proof. From what she described, I imagined I would have felt something, but if you haven’t felt it either, it seems this may have simply been a handful of people letting their imaginations get the better of them. Still…”
“I will be vigilant,” Ether said.
“That’s all that I can ask. As it happens, if we are able, Deacon, Myn, and I may be heading north soon. Time permitting, we can look into the matter directly.”
“We haven’t made a firm decision in that r
egard,” Deacon called as he helped Leo to climb on his bed.
“Kings and queens are busy,” Ivy observed. “Say… are you taking Leo with you?”
“No,” Myranda said. “It will only be a few days before I return, so—”
“Let me watch him!” Ivy squealed. “Let me watch Leo, it’ll be great! I can sing him songs. I can read him books. We can play games. I want to try hide-and-seek. They have another name for it in Den, and it seems like it’d be so much fun in a castle. Ether could help too!”
The shapeshifter turned to Ivy. “I have no interest whatsoever in playing nanny to this child.”
“Ether, you’ll love it. Look at him! He is adorable.”
“I have little use for most of humans. What value is there in spending my time with an incomplete one?”
“It’ll be fun,” Ivy repeated, a bit more forcefully.
“I have Celia to look after.”
“You told me all about it last night. She has the sniffles.”
“She is mortal. Mortals are frail and near death when in good health. When ill, they are nearer to death. This is the least I can do.”
“I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you go back and ask her what she would rather you do? Should you stay and watch her sniffle or help keep an eye on the heir to the throne of Kenvard?”
Ether gave the malthrope a withering stare, then turned back to Myranda. “Do you have further need of me? For duties beyond childrearing?”
“No, Ether. Thank you, as always, for your vigilance.”
Ether nodded stiffly. She took a respectful step away from Leo and, as before, burst into wind to make her exit.
Ivy waited for the breeze to die down and flicked her ear. “She’ll be back,” she said slyly.
“You’re so sure?” Myranda said.
“The one person in the world whose opinion she seems to trust is Celia, and what do you think she’s going to tell her to do?” Ivy trotted over to Leo and gave him a tickle. “This is going to be such fun!”
The Coin of Kenvard Page 5
