by David Bokman
“I doubt that. I think he was just not as interested in the rifts as we are. And, as much as I hate to admit it, Jaio is rather proficient with that sickle, and good at teaching it. No point dwelling on it. Besides, I think Samson is right; we will see each other again.”
After giving Na a few moments to come to terms with the situation, and a few more moments to get ready and eat breakfast, the two of them braved the streets of Kardh’Ao once more. This time, their goal was to speak with the four people whose names Attila had provided them with - the four people who had found other rifts. While Mae was skeptical, she still hoped they would be able to find a pattern, a connection, anything.
Their first target was a traveler from the east, a man named Julien who, according to Attila, had feathers on his arms and a beak in place of a mouth. And probably knows how to fly, too, thought Mae. He was staying in the north-western part of town, an area that not even the skilled workers of the city had been able to restore from its destruction suffered during the war. Or perhaps it was intentionally kept derelict, serving as a reminder of what happened there, and all over the city. In any case, Mae and Na had more pressing matters to attend to than ancient history. Julien had rented lodging in an old manor that used to belong to a long-forgotten noble family. Nowadays, it could accommodate up to twenty people, so long as they paid. Unfortunately, the duo did not know which of the rooms belonged to the feathered man, and were thus forced to guess their way forward, one knock at a time. By the time they finally found the right door, they did not have many ounces of patience left.
It appeared Attila had spoken true, for the man at the other side of the door had a small, yellow beak where his mouth should have been. Whether or not the man had feathers on his arms was impossible to ascertain, on account of his shirt. “Hi Julien. We’ve just got a few questions, then we’ll leave you alone.”
Julien took a cautious step back. “You with the Townsguard? How do you know my name?”
“We look like part of the Townsguard to you?”
“We’re investigating the rifts,” said Na. “We heard you found one, and we just want to know if you perhaps remember anything more about it than you told Attila?”
“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t. My memory is a bit dark, could use some sunlight,” said Julien, still trying to determine whether or not he was in any imminent danger.
The Dart fished up a golden sun and tossed it to Julien. “Talk, so we can be done with this.”
“Much obliged. I don’t know, where do we start? It was a hole in the ground, maybe twenty yards long and ten yards wide, I don’t know. Gave off a purple glow, very faint. Ground shook quite violently before it appeared, if that’s of any help.”
“Oh, and was the sky blue when it happened? Give us something new, Julien.”
“That’s all. Out in the middle of a big field, a hole in the ground appeared, and I went to the Townsguard when I heard they were interested. I didn’t conduct a study about it. Now, if you’ll excuse me…” Before waiting for a response, the beaked man shut the door.
The three other visits proved equally fruitless. The rift-finders had either taken very basic notes or none at all, and no rift seemed to differ from the others. Similar in size, many of them out in open fields, and all of them with the faint purple glow. If nothing else, it reaffirmed that what they had found so far was correct. That, however, was faint consolation considering they had to walk all over the city, as well as pay the adventurers for their information. After bidding farewell to the last target, yet another middle-aged man with nothing useful to share, they began the deflated walk back to the inn. “It was worth a try,” said Na, mainly to convince herself they had not just wasted an entire day.
“It was one of the only leads we had. I don’t have high hopes for the library.”
“So why don’t we just go back out there and try to find more rifts ourselves? We’ve done a good job of it so far.”
“That would be the final option, yes.”
“How about…” began Na. “How about this? We spend tomorrow in the city, exhausting all our leads. We go to the library, we go back to Attila, as well as anything else we think of. And then, the day after that, we decide on a direction and start exploring?”
“Look at this!” exclaimed Mae. “She’s become an adventurer, after all.”
“I’m learning.”
The next day had barely begun before Florianna was urging Mae to get up. “The sooner we get to the library, the better,” she told her. “If we’re the only ones there, the librarians will have more time to help us!”
“We won’t find anything at that damned library,” muttered Mae.
“The sooner we get there, the sooner you get to prove me wrong, then! Let’s go have breakfast.”
Mae did not feel brave enough to challenge Florianna’s enthusiasm, and breakfast did sound alluring. So, before long, they departed once more, this time towards the Eastern Library. Stupid name for a library, thought Mae. It’s not like there is a Western Library, or any other library at all. The people in power in Kardh’Ao had always seemed obsessed with directions, though, so the name was not a surprising one.
The weather, as it often did in this place, had turned to rain, but thankfully the raindrops were thin and light, almost refreshing. Even though most people wanted to deny it, summer was indeed ending, and autumn was creeping ever closer, bringing more and more rain and cold weather with it for each passing day.
Mae did not like rain. Some types of rain obscured vision, some hindered movement, some made you wish for a visit to Haara’s domain, but very few aided you. Because of this, she was almost happy to spot the library, its unique shape impossible to mistake. Six bookcases long and wide, and perhaps fifty high, the vertigo-inducing building was by all measurements a masterclass in verticality. After paying the one moon entry fee, newly instated by Zena, the duo entered a room which felt like it belonged half a century into the future. The walls and floor were crafted from a material unknown to both Mae and Na. The library’s lighting seemed to come from some sort of invisible source; no candles or chandeliers were visible.
Most noticeable of all, though, was the system which the visitors used to reach the different floors. The building had no stairs. Instead, the bottom level, which did not have any bookcases, was filled with archways going along its walls, twenty-eight in total. These archways seemed to serve as portals, as anyone who walked through one instantly disappeared, presumably reappearing on another level of the library. A final portal, placed in the middle of the room, instead lead back to the first level, as visitors were coming through it, not going into it. The blue glow shimmering within the archways almost reminded Florianna of the purple glow from the rifts, bewitching and magical. As they walked further into the ground floor, they saw that each portal had a number engraved on it. They also noticed that the portals leading to the higher levels were not glowing blue, but an intimidating red. Not one moment after they spotted the red portals, they also spotted a young scholar trying to go through one, with limited success. Whereas the other portals instantly made the person disappear, this red one seemed to behave like the invisible field around The Archive, acting as some sort of wall. “Sorry sir, access to the higher levels is restricted,” said one of the guards.
This guard is not one of the Townsguard. No, he was dressed in studded leather, and in place of a halberd he carried two quarterstaffs.
“Restricted? Do you know who I am? My father—”
“I’m sorry sir. Please step away from the portal.”
“I will not step away from any portal! You will open this portal to me at once, or—”
Instead of being met by an open portal, the scholar was met by the strike of a quarterstaff, quick and precise. It did not take more than one well-placed hit to render him unconscious, and the guard already had his weapon sheathed by the time the scholar hit the floor. Grabbing the young man by his shirt, the guard began carelessly pulling him out of the library.
>
“Okay,” said Na. “How about we avoid the higher levels?”
“I was afraid you were going to insist we figure out how their magic works.”
“Oh, you think we could ask someone about it?”
“Let’s focus on why we’re here.”
The current denizens of the library seemed to be predominantly scholars of varying ages and appearances. All of them were dressed in grey robes, and all of them, even the youngest members, were grey of hair. Despite the early hour, many had already made their way into the library to study everything from plants to religion. “Aha!” said Mae. “Look at this!” She had walked a bit further into the room, and found what looked to be a stone tablet placed on a plinth. “Level 2 - Flora and Fauna. Level 6 - Ancient History. Level 15 - Arcane Research. Level 20 through 28 - Restricted,” Mae recited, picking levels seemingly at random. “Level fifteen sounds like something right up your alley, huh?”
“First The Archive, then these portals, and now a floor dedicated to arcane research?” said Na. “I thought people frowned at arcanists, even persecuted them! We… They almost seem to be revered in this place.”
“Kardh’Ao has an unusually positive attitude towards arcanists, yes. Apart from this town, it’s really only in the north where… where people of your kind are welcome. But there are still plenty of people who dislike, or even hate you, make no mistake. This city is just so filled with magic that they know better than to air their discontent.”
“So I don’t need to hide my abilities in this city?”
“Probably not, but there’s no reason not to, just to be sure. Unless you’re an Archivist or someone else powerful enough that the Townsguard can’t touch you, you never know what they decide to do.”
Drawing her attention back to the stone tablet, Na asked, “So, nothing about rifts, then?”
Mae scanned through the tablet again. “Let’s see… There’s Geology, that’s where Cadwell would go. Arcane History, but I’ve read quite a bit of history without hearing of rifts. There’s—”
“Can I help you?” inquired a voice to their left. Standing beside them was an old Aeni, his chaotic hair even more grey than the scholars’, and his face adorned with a monocle. The monocle, the man’s robes, and indeed the man himself, all looked like they belonged in the section regarding ancient history. Carried under one of his shoulders was a book almost as big as the man’s arm, featuring a symbol that both Mae and Na had seen recently.
That’s the same symbol as the Archivist had on her. “Have you heard about the rifts?” asked Na.
“I do not often trouble myself with the outside world, oh no, not often at all.” The old man spoke quickly and with a changing melody, making his words hard to follow. “I trouble myself with this library, yes. I trouble myself, for I am its curator. And you, you are its visitors, and you look to be in need of assistance.”
“You’re right about that,” said The Dart. “Have you seen anything about rifts in the books of this library, Curator?”
The Curator began turning his head left and right, as if trying to keep track of a moving object. “Rifts rifts rifts rifts, ah, rifts! Of course. I have read of rifts for we have texts about rifts in this library, we do indeed. Level… bookshelf… get out of my way!” The Curator pushed the two women aside and began stroking his finger up and down the stone tablet. “Of course, yes. Three Geology, seven Politics, twenty-four… no, no, no, not twenty-four, restricted access, Townmaster’s orders, nobody on the higher levels. Must remember.” The Curator let go of the tablet and turned around to face his two visitors. “Level three, that will be your best bet, yes, level three will have all you need. Nowhere else.”
“What’s on twenty-four?”
“Nothing on the higher levels, restricted access, Townmaster’s orders. Nobody allowed, no, no-one at all. Do not ask about the higher levels, leave them alone, best left alone, yes.”
“And do you agree with the Townmaster?” continued The Dart.
“Townmaster is right, yes, knowledge is dangerous, best to leave some stones unturned, she is right, Townmaster is always right.”
“And who has access to the restricted levels?”
“Too many questions, yes, far too many questions, you disturb the scholars, they do important work, most important. Go to level three, level three is your level, read your books, books about rifts on the third level, good books. Read them myself, read all the books, I have. Twice, thrice. Go, no more questions.”
“Just tell us—”
“Guard! We need assistance, we do, these visitors, guide them to level three, they are lost, they must get there forthwith, help them.”
“Damn it,” The Dart cursed under her breath. “Thank you for your help, Curator, but I think it is time we were on our way.”
Before the quarterstaff-armed guard had time to escort them, the duo left the library, stepping back out into the heavy rain.
“What do you think happened to him, to make him like that?” asked Florianna. “I’ve never seen somebody talk like that, be like that.”
“Age is the most terrible toxin of all.”
“And what do you think is on the higher levels, on twenty-four? If it really is information about the rifts, why would they want to hide it?”
“That is perhaps the best question you have ever asked, Na.”
“And I proved you wrong, didn’t I? There was something in the library! And we saw that same symbol again, like the one the Archivist had!” Florianna spoke as if she had just defeated a Krauk champion with her bare fists.
“Indeed. Iro’s Circle. Represents Iro, the God of Knowledge. Something about knowledge being passed from generation to generation, so it goes in a circle? I never really understood the symbolism, but then again I’m not of the religious sort. The Archive is a big fan of Iro, though, and I guess it makes sense for the library to be as well. He’s not a deity you see the common farmer worship, but in a place like this, he has his followers. In any case, those restricted levels are nothing we can use. Not until we figure out a way through those portals.”
After a moment of contemplation, Mae and Na decided that heading back to Attila was the best approach. They had intended to regroup with him regardless, and the incident at the library only served to reinforce that desire. We need to get in contact with the Townmaster, get her to open up those restricted levels to us. But to get to her, we need to go through someone else. And the only person we know who could get us to her is Attila. Let’s just hope he is willing. While he was unlikely to lead them straight to Zena, it still felt like a better approach than challenging the library guards to open combat.
The westward journey to the Townsguard was a swift one, as both Mae and Na had become more adept at negotiating the busy streets. After once again telling a patrolling guard that they had business regarding the rifts, they were let into the grounds. “I wonder what’s in all the crates!” said Na as she saw the guards conducting the same routines as last time. “Maybe we could ask…” She suddenly saw a familiar face among the guards. “Cadwell? What in the world are you doing here?”
The old man put down his crate, sweat dripping down his brow. “Could ask you the same thing.”
“We’re… I suppose you could say we are aiding the Townsguard in researching the rifts.”
Cadwell spat. “In leagues with this lot? You really are desperate, aren’t you?”
“Seem to be working rather closely with them yourself.”
“Aye, I’m… It’s a long story.”
“By the Gods, Cad. We leave you alone for two days, and this is what happens?” laughed Mae. “You still sure you don’t want to join us instead?”
“Hrm.”
“In any case, we should go talk to Attila, maybe he can make some sense of the situation. Good luck with your crates, Cadwell.”
But their meeting with Attila would be postponed. Before they even took their first step, they felt an all too familiar sensation - the ground quaked.
⧫ CHAPTER XII ⧫
Samson was not sure where in West Kardh’Ao he was heading to. He was barely sure how to get there in the first place, but the increasingly pungent stench of sea and rotten fish indicated he was heading in the right direction. He was also not sure what had prompted him to do this. I want to learn how to fight, he thought. That way, people won’t call me ‘’Tiny Thim’ again. And to do so, I need Jaio. A second part was certainly his newfound wanderlust; if Jaio was going to far-away lands, Sam wanted to be a part of it. But mainly, I just want to get out of this city. He was not used to the flamboyant way of life of the upper class, and had no desire to learn it. He was used to Grensby, where the closest you could get to the upper class was a visiting merchant or a seventh cousin of a minor nobleman. He had a feeling Jaio was of a similar disposition.
As he made it through the gates separating east from west, he soon came to realize that even the slum-like society of the west was far more advanced than what he was used to, albeit perhaps equally poor. Thim of Grensby had never seen a rowboat in his life, but Samson’s eyes now feasted on caravels and carracks and other vessels big enough to house an entire village. What do they need all these boats for? he thought to himself, approaching the port. His attention was quickly drawn to a fish merchant at the edge of the port.
“Five copper, finest threadfins in the port!” the old merchant shouted as he came closer. “Five copper!”
I’ve never eaten fish before. “I’ll take a fish,” said Sam, counting up his copper. He was not used to spending money, as his pay at The Barrel had been in the form of food and lodging, but with the mountain of money Grigor had given them, five copper seemed almost inconsequential. Judging by the look of the fish, Samson quickly realized it would need to be prepared before being eaten, something he did not think he had the time nor skill for. “On second thought, I’m not that hungry, thank you.”
Sam continued his stroll along the port, spotting strange houses lifted on stilts and great machinery whose purpose he did not understand. He did not spot the Laentarian, though. He tried getting the attention of several people in the port, but all of them were too occupied with their own business to mind his. When he finally managed to stop someone - a burly man climbing down the ropes of one of the ships - he quickly came across another obstacle. The man spoke in a tongue unknown to Samson, the language sounding almost violent with its short, hard sentences. Or perhaps it was the man himself who was violent. Whatever the case, it did nothing to bring Samson closer to Jaio.
