The Book of Lies

by Melissa McShane

  “That’s more accurate. At any rate, it was built in A.D. 1400 near Knossos in Crete—not on the site of the original labyrinth, fortunately, or we would have lost it to excavations in the 19th century. Magi use it to center themselves, to regain full use of their aegis when time and battle have worn them down. You walk the Labyrinth to see what its wisdom has to show you.”

  “So it doesn’t have anything to do with the myth of the Minotaur?”

  “Not really. The builders drew their inspiration from Daedalus’s mythical creation, but there’s no creature at the center of our maze.” Iakkhos laughed. “Unless you bring it with you, in your heart.”

  I didn’t understand what he meant, but felt awkward about asking when no one else looked confused. “I’ve wondered how much influence the oracle at Delphi had over Elizabeth Abernathy, when she created our oracle.”

  “A History of Magic says she intended it to work the same, with the prophetic power attached to a man or woman,” Claude said, “but the power overwhelmed everyone who tried to take it on. A few people died.”

  “I’m just as happy not to be the embodiment of the oracle,” I said, remembering the one time I had become its body to fight off a giant invader trying to destroy the store. That had nearly killed me.

  “So what is it you do, if it isn’t being the oracle yourself?” Diane said.

  “I receive a question, and the oracle shows me what book will answer that question. It’s pretty straightforward.”

  “Helena is being modest,” Claude said. “She has faced many challenges to Abernathy’s safety and defeated them all.”

  “I heard about that,” Diane said. “The oracle was giving false prophecies?”

  “It was under the influence of a powerful illusion,” I said, feeling slightly defensive even though Diane’s question hadn’t sounded accusatory. “I helped find and destroy it.”

  “Claude’s right, that doesn’t sound straightforward at all,” Diane said. “Would you pass the salt, Nimisha?”

  I glanced at the woman next to me, who had remained silent ever since the salad had come out. “I’d never heard of the Sanctuary until this conference,” I said, feeling a little uncomfortable at being the center of attention. “What is it?”

  “It is a place for reflection and meditation,” Nimisha said. “Some Wardens come to receive a vision of their future—not ambiguous like those provided by Abernathy’s, but a clear revelation. Only one such vision is granted to a person in his or her lifetime.”

  I whistled. “Wow. I bet that’s expensive.”

  “I know little of such matters. I focus on guiding Wardens through the meditation process.”

  She made it sound as if I’d suggested she do something indecent, and I reddened slightly. “The oracle doesn’t care about money either.”

  “And yet Abernathy’s makes a great deal of money for the Board of Neutralities. As we see from this rather vulgar display.”

  I glanced nervously at the server, who had just set down a new tray filled with plates that smelled delicious. Beef Wellington, with wilted greens and fingerling potatoes, and a lovely dark red merlot. My stomach rumbled just thinking about it. “I thought all the Neutralities brought in plenty of money.”

  “They do,” Diane said, and I thought she gave Nimisha a warning look. “You may not care about money, but I’m sure Samudra pays careful attention to how much the Wardens pay for his service.”

  “We prefer not to think of it as a service,” Parvesh said. “And we do not eat beef.”

  An uncomfortable silence descended over the table. I glanced at the server again. Her face was perfectly composed, and the plate she set down in front of Nimisha held not the delicious flaky pastry of beef Wellington, but an orange-glazed chicken that didn’t look nearly so nice as what I was about to eat. Nimisha had been about to say something that by the look of her face would have been passive-aggressive, but she closed her mouth and picked up her knife and fork.

  I took a bite of my beef. Heavenly. Mom made it rarely, so it was a real treat. Conversation stopped in favor of eating and also, I thought, to let the tension pass. Nimisha sure acted like she had a stick up her butt, and Parvesh wasn’t much better. I’d been so eager to meet my counterparts I hadn’t thought they might not all be eager to meet me. When had I started thinking of Abernathy’s in terms of the money it made? Maybe the two from the Sanctuary had the right idea. And maybe I needed to stop obsessing about what they thought of me. I sipped my wine, which was dry and delicious. I didn’t know enough about wine to recognize it, but it certainly went perfectly with the beef.

  “I hope the Fountain is still running when I get back,” Diane said, smiling wryly. “My assistant knows to turn people away, but she’s not the most thorough when it comes to cleaning.”

  “I read in school that the Fountain of Youth was supposed to be in Florida,” I said, gratefully grasping the end of this conversational rope. “Is that true?”

  “Georgia, actually, but close enough. It’s like your store—hidden in the open, disguised as something else. In this case, it’s in a trailer park. You haven’t seen vulgar until you’ve seen a square of grass outside a double-wide covered with pink flamingos. The plastic kind.” Diane smiled sweetly at Nimisha, who ignored her. “But I imagine we don’t get as many visitors as Abernathy’s does.”

  “Does the water really make you young?”

  “It has restorative properties, yes, but it can’t keep you young indefinitely. It’s more effective at making your insides young than your outsides. But it works.”

  “I’ve used the Fountain twice now, before your time, Diane,” Iakkhos said. “I’m a hundred and two and I don’t look a day over eighty-five.”

  His droll tone of voice surprised a laugh out of me, which made him smile. “Then you remember a time before magery was divided,” I said.

  “I do. A time before the nodes became Neutralities. Before there were all these regulations on custodians. I realize it’s idealistic, but I hope to see it again in my lifetime.”

  “Not this again,” Claude said, but in a friendly way. “Iakkhos, have you any evidence that Nicolliens and Ambrosites are close to making common cause? If anything, things have become worse.”

  “And what’s this nonsense about restricting the times the factions can use a Neutrality?” Diane said. “Helena, tell us about it. I know that’s happened at Abernathy’s.”

  “The local faction heads arranged it. I’m not enforcing it, but they all do it anyway.” I mopped up the last of my sauce with a piece of crust and popped it into my mouth. “I’ve heard the Board is thinking about making it official.”

  “Ridiculous,” Nimisha said. “Ambrosites and Nicolliens live together in harmony at the Sanctuary. I wonder that you allow it.”

  Irritated, I shot back, “I just said I don’t allow it. I have no control over what the faction members decide to do. And it turns out most of them choose to obey their leaders. I’ve had one Ambrosite and one Nicollien who ignore the whole thing, and I’d hoped they would set an example for the others, but not so far.”

  “I see,” said Nimisha, somewhat mollified. “Then you will speak against it.”

  “I’m on a panel Thursday about it, so yes.”

  “I meant unofficially. You will give your opinion without fear or favor?”

  “Of course.”

  “That is good.”

  Her approval warmed me, which then made me annoyed—there was no reason I should care what this woman thought. “I have to stand up for my principles. Maybe if I can get the Board behind me, I can force Mr. Parish and Mr. Rasmussen to repeal their dictates.”

  “Good luck with that,” Iakkhos said. “The Board is notoriously slow to change its collective mind. Alterations to the Accords almost never happen. To be more specific, alterations not proposed by Board members almost never happen.”

  His certainty struck me to the heart, as if he’d laid my secret desires bare. “But if the change is s
ensible—”

  “The Board members are conscious of their role as gatekeepers of history,” Claude said, making a face. “They dislike ceding power to anyone, even a ranking custodian of a powerful Neutrality. But I don’t imagine you have any changes in mind, Helena!”

  I smiled, but inside I felt angry and miserable all at once. If the Board members were all so intractable, maybe my chance at changing the Accords was impossible. Especially since my change was ultimately selfish. I doubted many other custodians wanted the freedom to date faction members.

  The server brought us a choice of coffee or tea, then set down a beautiful frozen key lime pie I just had to make room for. They were going to have to roll me out of here on a dolly. I took a bite, then, daringly, asked Nimisha, “Have you been to Portland before? As representatives of the Sanctuary, I mean.”

  “This is our first time out of Nepal,” Nimisha said. “Though we make a thorough study of the world. It is why we speak your language well.”

  “It’s said English is the language of business now,” Diane said. “Convenient for us, but it also makes us less likely to learn other languages. That’s unfortunate, I think.”

  “I can still understand Spanish, mostly, from my high school classes,” I said, “but I wouldn’t say I speak it at all.”

  Parvesh said something liquid-sounding in a language I didn’t recognize. “That is Nepali,” he said, “and I speak Maithali as well.”

  “It sounds beautiful,” I said.

  “I’ve never learned to speak anything but Greek,” Iakkhos said. “I just don’t have the head for it.” He tapped his translator and added, “This is a real boon. Sixty years ago I had to have someone follow me around and translate for me.”

  “French is my native tongue, but I have learned German and Russian in addition to English,” Claude said. “But Diane is correct that English is our lingua franca. You will be at no disadvantage,” he told me.

  I opened my mouth to respond, but a woman stood up from a nearby table, larger than ours, and ascended the steps of the dais some three feet away. It extended most of the length of the room and had a couple of potted plants looking alone and embarrassed about it. At the center stood a podium with a microphone and the hotel’s logo on the front.

  “Greetings, and welcome to the Conference of Neutralities,” she said in a voice that would have carried to the corners of the room even without the microphone. She had skin the color of burnished copper and wore her hair shaved close to her scalp, and I was pretty sure her business suit cost as much as my annual salary. “We hope you feel welcome here. If you have any needs, please contact a member of the hotel staff, who will assist you in whatever way necessary.

  “You have all received a copy of the program. We will post any corrections or changes each morning outside the registration table. For needs specific to your responsibilities or this conference, speak with one of our associates at that table.”

  The woman swept the room with her gaze. “We wish to remind you again of the seriousness of your duties. Enjoy yourselves, but never forget your purpose in being here. Thank you, and we will see you at the opening session tomorrow afternoon.”

  Sporadic clapping spread throughout the room as the woman returned to her seat. “Laverne Stirlaugson was born stuffy,” Claude said under his breath. “Being chairwoman of the Board has not helped her disposition.”

  I concealed a smile behind my hand. Beside me, Nimisha said, “She is due respect because of her position.”

  “I respect her position. I merely wish she would allow herself some fun.” Claude patted his lips with his napkin and laid it atop his empty plate. “I will retire now. I am tired from my journey. Ward-stepping is no easy thing.”

  “Didn’t you fly?” I said.

  “That takes far too long and is even more exhausting,” Claude said. “Faster to skim between wards, if you have two people capable of carrying you. Wouldn’t you agree, Iakkhos?”

  “I wouldn’t travel any other way.” Iakkhos stood. “And I feel tired as well. I’ll see you all in the morning.”

  I finished my dessert and rose from the table. If I was spending the night, I needed to run home and pack a few things. “Tomorrow, then,” I said.

  In the elevator, I checked my phone for messages I might have missed—nothing. I tried not to feel too disappointed. Malcolm had said it would be a while. I’d just become so used to talking to him practically every day, and I wanted to tell him about the other custodians. I liked them—well, I didn’t really like Nimisha and Parvesh, but maybe they were just cranky from their trip. I still had several days to really get to know them.

  In my suite, I collected my coat, gave the beautiful room one last loving look, and ran back to the elevator. Again, all I could hear was the hum of the motor and the ding of the door opening to admit a couple of lanyard-wearing people having an intense conversation in some Scandinavian language. They ignored me, which was nice.

  Dimly I became aware of music playing. My phone. I dug it out of my purse and saw Judy’s number on the screen. “What’s up?”

  “It’s happened,” Judy said. “Do you know Mark Woolston?”

  “The really tall guy with the buck teeth? Comes in every Wednesday at eleven sharp?”

  “Not anymore,” Judy said. “He was killed by his familiar twenty minutes ago.”

  5

  The sun shone brightly Tuesday morning, but inside Abernathy’s it might as well have been a winter storm. Nicolliens huddled in groups of three or four, talking in quiet voices. Normally there were at least three familiars leashed outside the front door during Nicollien time, snarling and growling whenever they caught sight of me. Today there were none.

  I did dozens of auguries that morning. Half were of the “how do we combat this new evil?” variety. The rest read, “Will my familiar turn on me?” The second kind were so inexpensive I wondered why Abernathy’s didn’t just give them for free the way it did auguries that might save a life. I looked into those men and women’s faces and saw fear and despair, and handed over their books more gently than I normally might have.

  Judy said very little, and that only to communicate about the store. “I saw his body,” she’d told me when she came in that morning, and that was all she would say about it. I didn’t press. Either she needed to talk about it, in which case she eventually would, or she needed to forget about it, and I shouldn’t pry. I’d done my crying for Mark late last night and now I felt exhausted by my fears for my Nicollien friends and for Malcolm’s safety.

  Around eleven, the door flew open with a crash like it hadn’t done for over a year. “I am here for an augury,” Herman Goetz boomed.

  “Oh, Mr. Goetz, I…certainly, but could you speak more quietly?”

  “I am loud when I am happy,” Goetz said, “but I will do as you ask.” His voice became marginally quieter. “Why is this place silent? You Wardens all look as though you have lost a friend.”

  “Mr. Goetz, they have lost a friend,” I said, taking his arm and drawing him closer to the counter and away from the grieving Nicolliens. “A Nicollien magus was killed last night, and they all knew him.”

  “Oh, the familiar. I have heard this. My apologies.” Goetz took off his overcoat and wiped his vast forehead with its sleeve. “Here is my augury question.”

  I unfolded the much-creased piece of paper. How do I expand my sphere of influence? I thought Goetz already had plenty of influence, as custodian of the third-largest Neutrality in Europe, but I smiled and entered the oracle.

  When I returned with Goetz’s book, I found Nimisha Rai and Parvesh Chhitri waiting by the counter. “Oh!” I said. “Just a minute—here, Mr. Goetz, that will be two thousand dollars.”

  “Very well, thank you,” Goetz said, handing me three vials of sanguinis sapiens. “Better than changing money, yes? But this store should become more modern, and receive bank transfers with automatic currency conversion. I tell you this as a friend.”

  “I agr
ee, Mr. Goetz, and it’s something we’re working on,” I said, ignoring how Judy rolled her eyes behind the man’s back. Bringing Abernathy’s into the 21st century was an ongoing struggle, one that Judy bore the brunt of, but I didn’t feel like discussing it with him.

  “Excellent, excellent. Vielen Dank, thank you so much,” Goetz said, and let me usher him out the door.

  “Welcome to Abernathy’s,” I said to the Sanctuary representatives. “This is Judy Rasmussen, my co-worker. Did you want an augury, or just to look around?”

  “We were curious,” Nimisha said. “We have heard much about this store. It seems so ordinary.”

  “That keeps it safe,” Judy said.

  Nimisha smiled, an unexpectedly friendly expression. “I meant no insult. It is simply a surprise to know what emerges from it and how that contrasts with how it looks.”

  Parvesh was looking at the nearest bookcase. “Do you have books in Nepali?”

  “I don’t know. It would damage the oracle if I knew what it contained. That’s how it operates, by indeterminacy. Anything could be inside, therefore everything is.”

  “You could use it to locate missing books,” Parvesh said, running his hand across a row of spines.

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Books that no longer exist. Books lost to humanity. The missing plays of Kalidasa, for example. Or lost folios of Shakespeare. If anything could be inside, why not such works?”

  “I…that might not be how it works, but it’s an interesting idea,” I said. Beside me, Judy’s phone buzzed with an incoming text, and she turned away to read it. “I can’t test it myself—I’m not allowed to use the oracle for myself, you know.”

  “And we have no money except what we need to return home,” Nimisha said. “But it is, as you say, an interesting idea.”

  Judy gasped. “Another killing,” she said. The Nicolliens in the room turned their attention on her. “Patty Henriksen.”

  A woman sobbed and was comforted by her companions. “Did you know her?” I asked Judy.