by Lynn Egan
“You should wear colors more often, Michael. They suit you.” Her voice broke him out of his reverie and he tried to chew through his current mouthful rather too quickly. The smile he saw aimed in his direction told him that she’d been peeking at his thoughts.
“Ah, excuse me, thanks. I, um, don’t pay much attention to them, honestly. Clothes, that is.” The outfit that he wore was slate grey and dark green, and he had put it on without much thought. He realized that he was hunching over his plate and self-consciously straightened his back, remembering the many etiquette lessons he’d endured as a child. He ate a bit more sedately and listened to Sparro’s conversation with the princess.
“It would be most wonderful, Your Highness, if you could tell us of the recent news on your Island. What we receive here is filtered, of course, and perhaps not as accurate as we would like, based on the past few days’ events.”
Michael surprised a fleeting look of anger on Murud’s otherwise unreadable face, but it smoothed as she looked down at her plate. “Master Sparro, without knowing what news you have received, I fear I cannot correct it. Other than the strange disappearances, there is no news besides the malady of the saava. That malady is of the utmost importance to every citizen of Murud, and even Lady Katryn has applied herself to it. Once we are able to divine what is sickening them, all will be revealed.” She spoke with confidence and conviction, but while she was watching her fork and knife, Michael had been watching Sparro’s face. Without changing expression, he had hardened slightly. He noticed the young man’s glance, raised his chin, and applied himself pointedly to his plate.
His voice was light when he spoke next, “The tree is the key, then, you say? What a comfort it must be to know that for certain, as we here on the mainland have wondered about it. Their healing must then be foremost on your mind. What actions are you taking?”
Michael shuffled a growing feeling of realization down into his newly-constructed sanctuary. Sparro wasn’t challenging the princess’s assertions that the saava was the root of the Island’s problems! It felt obvious to him that the saava was a symptom of something else. He buried the thought as Murud spoke again.
“We have had dentromageians, of course, the entire time. Saava is a type of tree which thrives on magic, and so we have the tree wizards on hand at all times. Father even hired a… agriculturalist to see if perhaps there was something scientific,” she stumbled over this unfamiliar word as she had the previous one, “wrong with them. He had found nothing by the time I left.” Her expression conveyed her distaste for the new concept.
“It is always admirable to cover every possibility, regardless of how strange it seems at first.” His voice was completely neutral as he continued, “Have you thought, perhaps, of having a Librarian in?”
Murud paused while cutting a portion of vegetable. “What purpose would that serve?”
“Well, Your Highness, it is obvious you have tried the magical and scientific explanations for the malady of the saava, and it may be time to explore the notion that they have been corrupted by some malign…”
She cut him off while laying her utensils aside, “Sir. I understand that things here on the mainland are not so clear as they are on Murud. Malign influence is not possible. The ruler of the Island is tied directly into the spirit of the land. He feels its life force and gives his own into it. There can be no corruption in the land, as there is none in my father. He has neither felt malevolence nor imparted any. We follow the Goddess and honor her Librarians as you do, but there is no need to bring them in to meddle with our achievements. Their enforcement of antiquated rules would undo a thousand years of progress. I have heard the rumors that we risk breeding a Destructor because we reject the backwards segregation popular here. We do not fear the mixing of races as you do here. That is what the king-bond prevents. The ruler will sense immediately any change of the forces in his kingdom, including the birth of a Destructor.”
Her voice had been crisp and even through the whole speech. Michael felt as though he was sitting across the table from an Aelden-shaped block of ice. He recalled Master Emryn, the Head of Nimium College, using the same tone and inflection to reprimand a student who had made a grave error. Murud’s glance of dismay in his direction told him she had heard that thought. She took a deep breath. “Forgive me, Master Sparro. It has been a difficult time. I wish to retire.”
The older man waved his hand to a servant behind him, who took Murud out of the room after she had arisen. He then turned to Michael, nodded, and continued his meal.
When the servant returned, Sparro said, “Nils, we will take our dessert by the fire in the library, please.” Nils nodded and left the room while Sparro turned again to Michael. “We will take ourselves somewhere more private when we have finished our meal.”
Michael nodded and, when they were done eating, followed Sparro down a short hall and into a room that made him stop and stare for a moment. The entire space was lined with shelves from floor to ceiling, shelves brimming with books. The smell of the place was sweet and musky, and he breathed it in blissfully. He had always loved the atmosphere of a library - the natural hush and stillness, the scent of the knowledge of the ages resting comfortably, awaiting a curious reader. Even bookshops gave him this feeling sometimes if they were well kept. He raised his eyes to the domed wrought-iron lacework from which depended an elegant chandelier. He let his breath go in a sigh of appreciation.
“I agree, it is lovely. Our forebears built the house to suit the library, rather than the other way around.” Michael brought his eyes down to the little man who spoke beside him.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“It’s nice to see appreciation for the finer things is not lost on the younger generation. Do sit down when you are ready. Nils has set the wine and cakes out. We can speak freely here, for the most part. If that young lady of yours has tapped into your inner psyche, though, well, we shall see, shall we?” Sparro waved towards a sedate fireplace which had a small table and a few comfortable chairs arranged around it. A modest dessert course had been set out, and the older man sat down and began with relish. Michael took another moment to look around at the assembled tomes in genuine reverence before sitting down across from his host and sipping the good wine which had been poured for him.
“Are you able to feel or sense her?” The question was abrupt, but gently put. Almost before he had thought about it, Michael shifted his attention from the fire to the part of his mind he had become used to finding the princess in. He was about to answer when he realized the implications of the question. “Sir?”
Sparro looked up at him with an amused expression. “Michael there is much going on around you which is not being explained, and I’m afraid I am as guilty of it as the rest of them. It’s obvious that there is a connection there, from how you look at each other. She is strong at speaking to the mind - I had quite a time ignoring her earlier, my boy! You are both partly Aeld, the most magical of races. She senses you, and I dare say you sense her despite your watered blood,” he raised a hand as Michael flinched at the comment, “My dear young man in this age it is no shame, though some still view it so. So. Tell me truthfully, are you able to feel or sense her here?” His raised hand indicated the room at large.
Michael took a breath and frowned; it irked him to think that he was walking a path which wasn’t fully revealed to him. He felt he trusted Sparro farther than one would a mere broker and financier, and the house was comforting. He let his eyes wander as his inner self went to the ‘room’ the princess occupied in his head.
“I can, but not clearly. It’s like there’s a curtain between us, which there isn’t normally.”
Sparro nodded, “Good. That is as it should be. That decoration up there isn’t just for looks, you know. Wrought iron is an excellent screen for magic and the mind.” Michael looked up again at the dome above them.
“It’s a room designed to hide in?”
Sparro gave a short laugh, “It’s a library, Mi
chael! It is designed to keep the thousands of living minds which reside in it safely contained, and to allow those who visit it to keep all other minds out. Or had you not noticed that any good library feels like a world unto itself? They are made to be so!” He struck the arm of his chair with one palm to emphasize the point.
Michael blinked with surprise. He knew that libraries were special places, where the normal rules of the world didn’t seem to apply. It had never occurred to him to question the fact; mysteries were the Goddess’ gift to her people. She revered knowledge and those who sought it, so a place where knowledge gathered became sacred. He had always thought that was the root of the feeling of awe one had upon walking into a library. Now he learned it was as simple as a building and design technique? His expression must have been easy to read, because his companion chuckled.
“Dear young man, you look as though I’ve dropped a stone into your pool. If your theology is challenged, don’t let it bother you. It is no trick to build a place to be both sacred and secure. It is, in fact, necessary.”
Michael shook his head and was about to speak when Sparro interrupted him.
“We don’t have the time for philosophy, Michael Feysguir, Duke of Ishald. As I mentioned, there is much going on around you. We have little time to sift through it as it is, without adding to the pile by pulling questions from the air. Your Excellency, the key to this whole mystery may be sleeping under my roof tonight and I cannot tell you how frightened I am of a future where she succeeds in destroying the Island.”
Please leave a review if you enjoyed this novella set in the world of Nimium!
Acknowledgements
Many thanks are in order for the completion of this short work.
Nimium has been two decades in the making and so many people have been involved that it would be impossible to name them all.
Thank you to those who encouraged me; you believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself.
Thank you to those who discouraged me; I can be really ornery.
Thank you to my family and friends – those of you who know the plot, don’t give it away. I’m no good at secrets and will probably do it myself.
Most of all thank you to my children, who think this is the coolest thing I’ll do in the history of ever.
“Knowing love, I can allow all things to come and go, to be as supple as the wind, and to face all things with great courage. My heart is as open as the sky.”
~ Maya, Kama Sutra: A Tale of Love
