by Ted Dekker
A light crossed the priest’s eyes. He paced, stroking his chin.
“You’re sure you can read the Books.”
“I’m sure. And I’m sure that you have nothing to lose by testing me. If I’m wrong, you will simply return me to the dungeon. If I can’t demonstrate the power, you will do the same. But if I’m right, we will change history together.”
“And why would you want to change history with me?”
“I don’t necessarily. I want to live. That is my price. If I’m right, you will ensure the survival of me and my friends.”
Thomas knew that Ciphus probably couldn’t or wouldn’t ensure any such thing. He also knew that there was probably no power to show Ciphus. Using one of the blank Books might change things in the other reality—good reason for this plan in and of itself—but the Books would prove powerless here.
No matter. These weren’t his primary objectives. He was following another thread. A very thin thread, granted, but a thread.
“Even if I’m wrong about the power, the ability to read the Books of History will give a new power by itself.”
“So you can show me how to read them?”
Thomas smiled. “You haven’t been listening. You have no idea what you have in your hands, do you? I am your path to the power that’s justly yours.”
Ciphus picked up his glass, drained the last of the fruit juice, set it down firmly, and walked toward the door. “Then we go.”
“Now?”
“What better time? You’re right; I don’t need Qurong’s permission. I have access to the library. I will say that I’m taking you there to extract a full confession from you in writing and to interrogate you on several writings we’ve found from your Circle.”
“I will only show you what I know on one condition.”
“Yes, I know. Your life. First the Books.”
“No, one other condition. I insist that a third party be present.”
“What on earth for?”
“My protection. I want a party to witness our agreement. Someone who’s disconnected from your own authority yet has enough authority to corroborate.”
“Impossible! It would be tantamount to telling Qurong that I’m working against him!”
“Then choose someone who wants to see the Books of Histories unveiled as much as you do. Surely there’s someone Qurong respects enough to listen to in the event you turn against me, yet who doesn’t pose a threat to you.”
“I don’t see it. If you show another person this power, what value is it to me?”
“I won’t show them the power. I’ll only demonstrate that I can read the Books. This will be enough for them. How about his wife?”
“Patricia. She would just as soon shove a knife into my belly as bathe in the lake.”
“Then who is taken with the histories?”
“The librarian, Christoph. But he’s hardly better. I don’t see the value of this absurd demand. If I’m to trust you, then you’ll have to trust me.”
“You have reason to trust me. My actions have never undermined you. I, on the other hand, have enough reason to question you.”
Ciphus strode deliberately back to his desk. “Then we have no agreement.”
“Surely there’s someone in the royal court who has enough interest in the histories to bend the rules a bit.”
“The royal court is a very small community. There’s his wife and his daughter and . . .” Ciphus faced him. “His daughter’s quite taken with the histories.”
“The one who’s to marry Woref? Chelise. Fine, I don’t care who it is as long as she is impartial and has a love for the Books. There’s no risk to you. We won’t tell her that you intend to overthrow her father, only that you’ve agreed to make my case to Qurong if I can indeed reveal the knowledge contained in the Books. Out of respect to Qurong, you refuse to bother him with the matter until you’ve verified that I have something to offer.”
“No more talk of overthrowing!” Ciphus whispered harshly. “I said no such thing! It’s strictly as you said—I’m following up this matter with full intentions of bringing it to Qurong’s attention if it has any merits.”
“Of course. And you may send Chelise out of the room when it comes time for me to show you the power of the Books.”
Ciphus frowned. “Guards!” he called.
“Agreed?” Thomas asked.
“I’ll speak with her.”
The door opened a few moments later and two guards walked in.
“Return the prisoner to the dungeons.”
13
THE ARRANGEMENT was simple, though a bit suspicious to Thomas. Chelise had agreed to wait for them in the inner library at dusk after the librarian had left for the day. Why so late? Thomas wanted to know. Because Chelise often outlasted Christoph in the library, Ciphus said.
Ciphus used his own mounted guard to transport Thomas in chains through several miles of forest to an expansive walled retreat that was surprisingly beautiful. Stunning, in fact. The moment they passed the main gate, he wondered if he hadn’t awakened in his dreams, surrounded by a botanical garden in southern France.
But no, he was sleeping in a plane above the Atlantic. This royal garden was very real.
The entire complex was nestled in a large meadow that Thomas remembered well. The botanical garden hedged in by manicured shrubs was new, but the orchard had been here before. Stone paths wound perfect circles around six large lawns, a different fruit tree centered in each one. The orchard was also circular, as was the botanical garden.
This was Qurong’s circle, Thomas thought. At the center stood a two-story structure made of fine wood. Three other buildings—homes, by the looks of them—had been built in each corner of the retreat. A fourth was cordoned off behind the garden.
“The villa that Qurong will give Woref and his daughter as a wedding present,” Ciphus said. “She doesn’t know yet.”
“And that’s the library?” Thomas asked, nodding at the large building they were approaching.
“Yes.”
It looked far too large for any library, much less one built to hold the Horde’s Books. Clearly, whatever it housed was more precious to Qurong than the Great Romance. Ciphus could surely see that much now. Maybe for the first time.
They entered through large double doors into an atrium, empty except for an ornately carved black desk and yet one more of the bronze statues of Teeleh.
“Wait here,” Ciphus told his guard.
“What about these?” Thomas held out his shackled arms.
Ciphus hesitated. “Free his arms. Leave the leg chains.”
Thomas rubbed his wrists. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet. After you.”
He followed Thomas into a two-story room that looked old despite its relatively new construction. Ten large desks covered the floor, each with its own lamp stand. The walls were lined with shelves, each filled with scrolls and bound books. Two staircases rose to the second floor, where Thomas could see similar bookcases behind a wooden railing.
He looked around, awed by the woodwork. This was the doing of Forest People. Even the books . . .
“May I?” he asked, stepping toward a bookcase.
Ciphus didn’t answer.
He withdrew a bound book from one of the shelves. It was the kind he’d taught the Circle’s scribes to use from his memories of the histories. Pounded bark bound around reams of crudely formed paper. He opened the book. The script was an elementary cursive form.
“These are our own histories, created by the scribes,” Ciphus said. “Qurong is quite taken with history. Everything is carefully recorded, even the most mundane details. During the day every desk is occupied by historians. We have our own temple scribes to record the history of Elyon since the Second Age.”
“The Second Age?”
“The Great Romance since our time as one.”
“Then you acknowledge that it’s changed.”
“Everything changes,” Ciphus sai
d.
Thomas looked around the room. “The building is larger than this one room. What’s in the rest?”
Ciphus indicated a door on the far side. “Chelise is waiting.”
Thomas walked around the desks, put his hand on a large brass handle, and pushed the door open. Several torches lit a large room lined with bookcases, floor to ceiling. Thousands of books.
Thomas released the door and stepped in. The cases rose twenty feet and were serviced by a ladder. No ornate desks or candlesticks here, just books, many more than Thomas had imagined.
Leather-bound books.
The Books of Histories?
“These . . . what are these?”
“The Books of Histories, of course.”
“This many? I . . . I had no idea there were so many! These are all Books of Histories?”
“Not exactly an encouraging admission from the man who claims to know all there is about the books,” a voice said quietly on his right.
Thomas turned. Chelise stood behind a large desk, on which she’d opened one of the Books. She stepped around the desk and walked toward them, black robe flowing around her ankles. She’d left her hood back, revealing long, dark, shiny hair. The contrast between her white face and so much black was quite startling.
“Did you think my father carried all of the Books with him wherever he went?”
Her eyes searched his, and for a moment he thought she might have recognized him from the desert.
She faced Ciphus. “I don’t have all night. Either this albino knows something or he doesn’t. We can establish that much in a few minutes.”
“Matters of the histories are never established flippantly,” Ciphus said. “I told you an hour.”
“Spare me the eloquence, Priest. Can he read them or not?” She turned to Thomas. “Show us.”
Thomas was still too stunned to think straight. He knew that this might be his only opportunity to spend any time with the Books. What were the chances of finding the particular Books that dealt with the Great Deception and the Raison Strain?
“How many are there?”
“Many,” Chelise said. “Many thousands.”
Thomas walked farther into the room. Torchlight cast a wavering yellow glow over the leather spines. “Are they categorized?”
“How can we categorize what we can’t read?” Ciphus asked.
“You can’t even read the titles?”
“How can we? They aren’t in our tongue.”
But they were in the common tongue. He looked at a Book on the nearest shelf. The Histories According to the Second of Five. What that meant he had no clue, but he could read the words easily enough. They’d all heard that the Horde couldn’t read the Books of Histories, but this seemed a bit ridiculous. Were their minds so deceived? And now Ciphus was among them.
“Did you think that the record of everything that has ever happened would be found in two or three Books?” Chelise asked.
“No. I just didn’t expect this many.” He had to find what he could about the Raison Strain. “Do you know if they are in any order? I would like to look at the one that deals with the Great Deception.”
“No, there is no order,” Ciphus said. “They were put in place by men who don’t read. I thought we’d established that.”
“Where did Qurong find them?”
Neither answered.
He looked at Chelise. “You don’t know? How could he come into possession of so many Books without a record of where he found them?”
“He says that Elyon showed them to him.”
“Elyon? Or was it Teeleh?”
“When I was younger he said Teeleh. Now he says Elyon. I don’t know which, and frankly, I don’t care. I’m interested in what they say, not where they came from.”
“What they say can only be understood by first understanding where they came from. Who wrote them.”
“This is your great secret?” Ciphus asked. “You’re going to tell us that the only way to read these Books is through your understanding of Elyon? Then don’t waste our time.”
“Did I say that Elyon wrote them?”
“Do you know who wrote them?” Chelise asked.
He’d sparked some interest in her. Speak carefully, Thomas. You can’t afford to turn Ciphus against you.
“Where are the blank Books?”
“The blank Books?” Chelise glanced at Ciphus. “I don’t care about the blank Books. I can read empty pages as well as you.”
Ciphus averted his eyes.
“Then show me the Book you have open,” Thomas said.
She let her eyes linger on him, then walked gracefully toward the desk. He followed with Ciphus at his side.
Only he knew that this woman held his fate in her hands. He had to find a way to win her trust. But watching her step lightly across the wood floor, he felt a sliver of hope. Suzan had seen something in her eyes, and he was quite sure he’d seen it too. A longing for the truth, maybe.
Chelise rounded the desk and lowered her hand to the open page. Her eyes studied the page briefly, then rose to meet his. How many times had she looked longingly at these Books, wondering what mysteries they held?
“I leave this one open,” she said.
“Why this one?”
“It’s the first Book I looked at when I was a child.”
Thomas glanced down at the open page. English script. He could read the writing perfectly well. They couldn’t know that, except for The Histories Recorded by His Beloved and the one Book he’d opened in Qurong’s tent, this was the first Book of History he’d read as well.
“And if I can read this Book—if I can tell you what it says—what will you give me?”
“Nothing.”
“My death is Woref ’s wedding gift to you. Wouldn’t you think that the life of the man who can read these Books to you would be more of a gift than his death?”
She blinked.
“I’ll have no part in this!” Ciphus said. “You said nothing—”
“It’s okay, Ciphus,” Chelise said. “I think I can speak for myself. Your life is meaningless to me. Even if you can read this Book, which you haven’t shown me, you would be useless to me. I couldn’t stand to stay in the same room with you long enough to hear you read or learn to read. Years of curiosity have brought me here tonight, but this will be the only time.”
The air seemed to have been sucked out of the room. Thomas wasn’t sure why her words crushed him, only that they did. He’d faced death before. Although her words were the death sentence to this foolish plan of his, the pain he felt wasn’t about his own death. It was about her rejection of him.
“Ciphus has promised me life,” he said.
“I said that I would present your case. It will be Qurong who determines your fate, not Chelise. You’re a fool for thinking otherwise.” It was at least a lingering hope, but the words fell flat.
He nodded and walked around the desk.
Chelise knew that her words had cut him, and she found it rather surprising. What could he possibly have expected? He knew that he was an albino. He knew that his defiance of her father would earn him a death sentence, and yet he persisted in the defiance.
If Ciphus had not been present, she might have said the same thing with less of a bite. Although it was true, the thought of being alone with any albino for long made her nervous. Even nauseated.
She watched him walk around the desk, crestfallen. To think that this man had once defied the great Martyn and even Woref. He looked anything but the warrior now. His arms were strong and his chest well muscled, but his eyes were green and his skin . . .
What would it be like to touch skin so smooth?
She dismissed the thought and stepped aside to give him room. He could have taken the Book from the other side of the desk just as easily. Instead he walked closer to her.
She was being too sensitive. He undoubtedly hated her more than she hated him. And if he didn’t, he was a fool for misunderstanding her revulsion
of his disease.
Thomas reached his hand to the page and followed the words at the top. The writing was foreign to her, but he read aloud as if he’d been reading this language all of his life.
“Kevin walked down the road slowly, drawn to the large oak at the end of the street,” he read. “He was quite sure that his heart was breaking, and the knowledge that his mother would never have to work again did nothing to help heal the wound.”
He lifted his hand, but his eyes scanned on, reading.
“What does it mean?” Chelise asked.
“It’s a story about a boy named Kevin.”
“Not the histories?”
“Yes. Yes, it’s the history of Kevin’s life, written in story form.”
“In story form?” Ciphus said. “We don’t write histories in story form. This is childish.”
“Then maybe you should think like a child to understand,” Thomas said. “The boy’s just lost his father, and the life insurance is meaningless to him.”
Chelise wasn’t sure what he meant by life insurance, but the story spoke to her. Something about the simplicity perhaps, the emotion, even the way that the albino had read it had electrified her.
“What’s the rest?”
“The rest?” Thomas was turning pages. “It would take me hours to read you the rest.”
“How do we know that you’re not just fabricating this story?” Ciphus demanded.
“You’ll have to learn to read them yourself. Or you, Chelise. What if I could teach you?”
“How?”
“By becoming your servant. I might be able to teach you to read them. All of them. What greater humiliation could Qurong heap upon me, his greatest enemy, than to chain me to a desk and force me to translate the Books? Killing me is too easy.”
“Enough!” Ciphus snapped. “You’ve made your point and it’s useless. Please, if you don’t mind, I insist that you leave us. I won’t have him spouting his lies anymore. Qurong would never approve.”
Chelise stilled a tremble in her hands and bowed her head. “I will leave, then.”
Ciphus calmed his voice. “But before you do, could you kindly show me where the blank Books have gone to. They aren’t on the shelf where I last saw them.”
