by P. D. Kalnay
Ivy said she would start by examining the records about Janik’s trial to see if any information not generally known was tucked away in the library. I focused on getting into the dungeons. The biggest obstacles were the gollen. Dula told us a few interesting if unhelpful stories regarding the legion of library protectors. Multiple firsthand accounts backed up the stories he told.
The most telling, took place eighteen thousand years back, and recounted the gollen’s destruction of a dragon who’d come to see what treasures the library held. No guardians were lost in a battle that brought down one of the most powerful creatures in the world. The dragon’s skeleton was even on display, circling the outer wall of the Hall of Bones.
Dula said it had only been a lesser dragon, many generations removed from Morantal, but Ivy argued that there were no weak dragons.
I went to see what information the library had on moonstone. Obviously, it had magical properties. Dula didn’t know what any of those were, not having the slightest interest in minerals or enchantment—which led old Jack to the Hall of Minerals. The hall was a warren of shelved texts and stones on display. Huge raw chunks of precious metals and gems sat out on pedestals, unguarded. It looked exactly like a place dragons would pillage.
After wandering the hall for an hour, I eventually found the moonstone. Three fist sized chunks sat in a display case. The case was unlocked, and I took out each chunk in turn. Like the moons in the night sky, the stones were pink, whitish silver, and bluish-green. They looked dull compared to their larger, shining counterparts. The only notable thing about the rocks was their weight. Each felt more like a heavy metal in the hand than volcanic rock. Books and scrolls about the minerals were shelved by the samples, so I pulled one at random and read. Fae was like the Latin of the First World, and used for most works of scholarship—meaning I could read most of the tomes.
I faced the same difficulty researching moonstone that we faced in the library in general. There were a lot of books on the topic. They ranged from what might have passed for science, to stories involving moonstone, to what I thought must be some kind of poetry. I read the words, but, in most cases, I lacked the education to understand the information or references in those books. By the end of a long session of browsing I learned a few interesting tidbits, but nothing of which I could make practical use.
I read that moonstone was rare—I’d already known that. I also learned that most of the known supply stood on guard in the library. The pink and silver varieties were almost non-existent.
One book outlined experiments using moonstone in enchantments of various kinds. The petrathen enchanter who wrote the book finally gave up on the stuff as a waste of time. His experiments showed that the power of the stone waned and waxed with the moons above and diminished in potency as time passed. The only exception to the rule appeared to be the gollen, and he’d spent a fruitless century failing to uncover their secrets. All of which added up to… a whole lot of nothing, and an afternoon wasted.
***
I met up with Ivy at Dula’s door, just before the dinner hour. She looked as dejected as I felt.
“Any luck,” she asked.
“No, nothing useful. You?”
“There are exhaustive records of the Dragon Lord’s trial. Every word spoken—recorded and filed. There are endless treatises concerning the impact that the fall of the Order had on trade and the balance of power. There are even–”
“But?”
“But I found no information or even speculation on the method by which they carried out his sentence. That secret was well-kept. We might spend a thousand years searching and still find nothing of use. Vraith Stormshadow must be our focus.”
“Agreed. There was nothing useful about gollen or moonstone either.”
“Then in the worst case, we must wait for the council to meet and plead our case.”
That was a long wait, and my gut still said we were on a schedule.
“Let’s have dinner and forget about it for a while,” I suggested.
***
I’ll freely confess that I was less diligent in staying the course on my third day searching the library.
The Library of Anukdun was amazing and although it had books, in the millions, the other things were even more interesting. I knew I was supposed to be exploring in search of a way into the dungeons, but I ended up spending an entire afternoon in the Hall of Machines, an immense hall, bigger than Marielain’s workshop, filled with machinery. Machines to do every imaginable task and others that did things about which I had no clue. Each had a plaque naming the device and listing references leading to other information within the stacks.
Not reading the background info amounted to all the self-control I managed.
I could tell that most of the machines in the hall were ancient, and some of the oldest remained in operation. Perpetual motion may be a physically impossible hoax on Earth, but on the First World…
The Hall of Machines was located high in a central part of the library complex, and on one side of the massive hall stood aircraft hangar-sized doors with a smaller door cut from the middle of one. The smaller door was unlocked and led to a narrow balcony with no railing. Twenty stories below swirled the Dun, and I had a nice view of the southern bank. It was a bizarre place for any door, big or small… until one considered the machines next to it.
They were flying machines.
A blimp with three deflated bladders sat on one side of the big doors reminding me of an upside-down trimaran. On the other side sat a smaller machine that was equally weird, but infinitely more awesome. I wished Ivy was there to see it. A golden mechanical bird nested on the stone floor with wings held tight to its sides. Every feather was a work of art, and until I got right up next to it, I couldn’t tell that they weren’t individual feathers. The builder had sculpted the sections of wing and body to resemble life for no practical reason I could determine, creating the most beautiful aircraft I’d ever seen.
It had jointed wings and no propeller, and I suspected it flew by replicating a bird’s flight, something never achieved in human aviation. An integrated saddle sat behind the head, but it was devoid of stick or flight controls—unsurprising in a world that ran on magic.
Grudgingly, I left the giant bird behind without flying it or learning of its history. I wished I’d made it. It was that awesome. Then I reminded myself that we’d survived a long, dangerous journey to reach the library. We weren’t there to have fun.
Chapter 29 – The Hall of Oracles
Ivy and Dula also returned ahead of dinner, and I told them about the bird.
“I have never visited the Hall of Machines,” Dula said.
“Never?” I asked. You’d think the guy would have looked around the place in the decades he’d lived there. I could have done nothing but explore for a lifetime if I hadn’t more pressing concerns.
A knock at the door interrupted his reply. The ladies who delivered food waited outside with two sturdy fellows of the goblin and satyr variety. I thought they might be the fishermen who’d directed us to the path up to Bookston. They carried heavy looking baskets in both hands.
“We brought your feast days’ food and drink,” one woman said.
“Ah, I’d forgotten,” Dula said. “Just leave it there at the door. May the blessings of the Three be upon you.”
The servants set down the baskets and left with a briskness that said they had more delivering to do.
I helped Dula bring in the heavy hampers. He set one on the table in the middle of the sitting room, “This one is our dinner, I believe.”
“Why have they brought so much?” Ivy asked.
“The lunar alignment begins tomorrow evening and with it the feast of Phoeban. Serving staff will have holidays for three days and three nights of celebration in Bookston. The library will be sealed for that time. Scholars who wish to celebrate must leave. Even the Scholars’ Gate will allow none to enter over the holiday. It’s lucky you didn’t arrive then! We shall
have to make our own meals for the next few days.” Dula hesitated before asking, “Do either of you know how to cook?”
The relief on his face was comical when we both said we did.
“Does this happen often?” I asked.
My question got a surprised look from Dula, and a shut-your-mouth-Jack look from Ivy. I didn’t know what I’d said, but she didn’t want me to inquire further.
***
Dinner was large chunks of roasted meat and assorted vegetables, and we were well into the food before something stole away my appetite. The same familiar sensation I’d felt when we’d first met Dula drew my attention to the red Masters’ Door on the back wall of the main living room. It felt as if whatever I’d sensed had passed by the door, paused on the other side, and then continued on its way. The sensation was weak and temporary, the enchantments in the door itself created some interference, and I couldn’t put my finger on what was so familiar about it.
I was about to mention it when Dula struck up new conversation.
“You haven’t explained your purpose here,” he said. Dula raised his hands to forestall any reply. “There is nothing unusual about that, and few scholars talk about their work. However, I suspect you seek answers that may not be found among the stacks?”
“That is true,” Ivy said.
“Then might I suggest the Hall of Oracles? While I myself have never had sufficient reason to plumb those depths, if you seek knowledge of a more arcane sort, they may have your answers. Of course—those answers will themselves be riddles.”
“Of course,” Ivy agreed. “Are the oracles in this hall true and authoritative?”
“None are more powerful or more ancient.” Dula grinned sheepishly. “I’ve only ever looked in from the doorway.
Dula gave us directions to the oracles, and Ivy and I determined to visit them the next morning. I wanted to find out exactly what an oracle was.
By the time we turned in, I’d forgotten about asking Ivy why she’d shushed me.
***
The Hall of Oracles was one of the smallest public rooms I’d seen in the library. It was also windowless and dimly lit by a single lamp hanging beside the door. At the centre stood three tall mirrors, in yellowed ivory frames, leaning back-to-back and facing outward with top edges touching. The mirrors formed a triangle on a round platform, floating in a pool of thick, black liquid that bubbled and belched forth a curtain of dark mist rising from the surface. An acrid smell met my nose at the doorway, causing me to sneeze.
“Are you sure you want to go in here?” I asked Ivy.
“True oracles are rare. The knowledge they impart can be invaluable—if one can work out its meaning.”
I wasn’t sure we needed more riddles, but we’d already crossed most of the library to visit the place. Ivy walked ahead of me and stopped in front of a mirror. When the mirror spoke, the creepy factor increased a hundredfold.
“Come closer, child. Let me see you.”
Ivy walked up to the smoke-filled mirror, but she stayed a good arm’s length back from the pool. I could only see the vague outline of a face and two dark holes where eyes should be.
“Who are you?” Ivy asked.
“An oracle and a fool. Ah… I thought so. You are the fruit of Aralain’s curse—a stunted flower that should never have bloomed.”
The disc the mirrors sat on spun until the next mirror faced Ivy. Each had a different voice, but I couldn’t guess their genders—if they had genders.
“And yet she has blossomed,” the mirror said. “A sweet bloom of many colours and many thorns.”
The disc spun again and continued spinning as the mirrors spoke in turn.
“A seed sown at the roots of the Tree.”
“Unripe for the plucking.”
“Short-lived…”
“Yet, still a honeyed fruit.”
“Can something so fragile survive the hammer’s fall?”
“The black hammer’s fall?”
“The Blackhammer’s fall?”
“What are you saying?” Ivy asked.
She sounded frightened—it was super creepy. I came over, took her by the arm, and began pulling her away.
“Come on, Ivy. Dula said these things aren’t always reliable.”
The spinning disc stopped momentarily before starting up again.
“Ah! The Doom Bringer speaks.”
“Have you come to fulfil your promise?”
“Can you do what must be done?”
“You will surely end us…”
“…but will you end All?”
We needed fewer mysteries in our lives, not more.
“Let’s get out of here,” I said. The oracles were obviously deranged.
The air in the room grew colder, but I sensed no winathen enchantments at play.
“Three answers for all.”
“Three questions asked.”
“Three questions of you, creator unmasked.”
“You want to ask me questions?” I asked.
Their silence lasted long enough that I thought the weird show was over and resumed pulling Ivy towards the door. Then the spinning started up again.
“Can one tainted by annihilation defeat the Destroyer?”
“How far will you travel to build a bridge?”
“Will you burn that bridge behind, forsaking love for salvation, and let your hammer fall?”
What? I didn’t know what they were asking.
“I don’t know,” I said. It was the honest answer.
“Time will tell.”
“Our time grows short.”
“Keep your promise, Smith.”
“Come on Ivy. Let’s go.” I definitely hadn’t made them any promises.
The nearest mirror spoke in a voice that more closely approximated normal.
“Do you wish to ask questions, child?”
“Our time grows short.”
“Years have become days… and days hours.”
Ivy turned back to the mirrors, “You will answer my questions, but not Jack’s?”
“Three answers given.”
“Never more.”
“Ask while you may.”
Ivy squared her shoulders and a look of determination spread across her face.
“How may we get into the dungeons to speak with Vraith Stormshadow? What is Aralain’s curse? What was the promise you spoke of?”
The mirrors spun faster and faster until they became a blur. Mixed with the wailing, moaning, and the stinky mist it was an ominous display. For no reason I could put a finger on, I suddenly thought of Madame Gawina, the fortune teller who we’d met at Glastonbury Manor. Before I could give that added consideration, the spinning slowed and the mirrors spoke.
“Pass the gate when the three become one.”
“Rebirth—in barren soil.”
“An ending—the ending—our ENDING!”
The spinning stopped, and the faces sank into the murky depths of the mirrors. I felt sure they wouldn’t say anything else, and that we’d gotten as much as we would get.
“We are finished here,” Ivy said.
I followed her back outside into the hallway.
“That was weird and unhelpful,” I said. “Did you understand any of it?”
“The first answer was clear enough.”
“Really?”
“Yes, tonight at midnight, Mani, Hecate, and Sin will align. The three moons will become one. It only happens once every seven hundred years, and will last three nights. Celebrations and festivals will be held across much of the world. That will be the time we can enter the dungeons.”
“What about the other answers? Do you know what they mean?”
Ivy started off down the hallway, “I don’t wish to speak of it.”
So, if we could trust the freaky spinning mirrors, we needed to make our move that night at the witching hour. I wondered if the First World had an actual witching hour. A more important question occurred as we made our way back to Du
la’s rooms.
“How do we know we can trust them?” I asked. “And that they told us the truth?”
“They are bound oracles,” Ivy said. “They cannot lie. If they see, they must speak, and if they are blind to the answer, they must keep silent. All choice was taken at the time of their binding. The decision to tell a falsehood is a choice.”
“Why would they agree to be bound? What do they get out of it?”
Ivy stopped and looked up at me. She wore her cute/serious expression.
“It is unlikely they agreed to anything—or chose their binding. A rare few are born with the gift of foresight and others…”
Ivy frowned.
“And others?” I prompted.
“And others have it thrust upon them. Such enchantments need no consent from the one sacrificed.”
She started walking again as I considered her words. Nothing in the Hall of Oracles suggested it was a new edition to the library. My gut said those mirrors had spun for a very, very long time. As I moved to catch up, I remembered an unasked question.
“Was that why you told me to shut up last night, when we were talking to Dula—because of the alignment?”
“I never told you to shut up,” Ivy said.
“You said it with your eyes.”
“Everyone knows of the alignment of the Three and the feasts of Phoeban. It is common knowledge, even though many will never experience it in their lifetimes. Folk across this world have awaited tonight since childhood. We have had more pressing concerns, and I didn’t wish to explain your ignorance to our host.”
“That’s what I figured. I guess it’s a pretty big deal?”
Ivy nodded, “For one of our people, it’s common to experience at least one alignment, and for those born near to one… two. For other folk, who live shorter lives, it’s more special, widely considered a time of blessings, and sacred to any tied to the lunar cycles. Not to mention its significance for enchantments relying on the one or all of the moons. So yes, a pretty big deal—and not an event that any person from this world would be ignorant of. Dula is clever.”
“You don’t think we can trust him?”
