by John March
“I'm really sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going.”
“No harm was done,” Fla said, as he struggled to his feet, leaning against the bars of the cage for support.
She took his ruined hand through his robes, to help him up. He could see now there was wetness on her cheeks — something had upset her.
She smiled at him uncertainly. “If you're sure?”
Fla nodded mutely, and she turned away. He stood there, transfixed, watching her as she walked to the end of the room. Dimly he perceived the people with her as they passed him. Two were tall and wearing caster's cloaks, another was a web-footed anvolene of a kind he didn't recognise, flapping along behind them, and Sual, the keeper, who edged away from him in the other direction with an expression of abject terror on his face.
He cast around in his mind for what might have made her so miserable. Fla whirled round and stared at Sual. He was sure she had been shouting at him. The man uttered a panicky bleat and fled.
As he hobbled after Sual, he ransacked his memory for her words, before they'd collided. He recalled her voice had been raised, upset, angry, but about what?
Fla slowed, and looked around. In a nearby cage were the ortega he'd come here to collect, large soft eyes staring at him from between unkempt tufts of orange fur. Her last words before she'd knocked him down had been about the caged animals. He stopped next to their cage to watch the creatures’ slow movements and imagined them as she would see them. A distant long-buried half-memory from his childhood kindled in his mind, a feeling of freedom before his body had become its own prison — the gentle and kindly touch of another long gone hand brushing against his hair.
Nothing more of the memory returned, but he looked at the animals and understood. The grace that allowed her to see him as a person, and which would free him if it could, also looked beyond the bars to the creatures trapped in misery like him, and would free them too.
For the first time in as long as he could remember, Fla smiled. She'd liberated something in him. He'd free all the animals for her.
The Great Library
THEY FOUND THE LIBRARY at the heart of Vergence. Master Spetimane had once described Vergence Library as the greatest that had ever existed and, standing on the outside, Ebryn could see why.
The centre of the city was dominated by a steep hill, which appeared from a distance to be topped with a tall colonnaded structure. Encircling the entire base of the hill was a single vast building built from the same white stone used to construct the more enduring parts of the menagerie. It mounted in concentric rings around the hill to completely cover the lower half. A strip of parkland, over a hundred yards deep, surrounded the entire complex
When Master Spetimane described the library, Ebryn had expected a building perhaps as large as Conant Manor. Nothing he could have imagined had prepared him for the reality.
They stood in silence for a moment as they all absorbed the view. The driver of their symor had left them next to a broad sandy path leading to the entrance. Elouphe had returned to his rooms after the visit, but Ebryn was still accompanied by Sash and Addae.
“Is that it? That must be it,” Sash said.
Even Addae seemed to be impressed. “It is said it was the greatest library of Volane. Let us see.”
Without waiting for a reply, Addae set off down the path towards the entrance, walking so fast they needed to jog to keep up with him.
Under the entrance arch there were three double doors, each more than twice the height of a man and at least three times as wide. Flanking the doors were large sculptures of catlike creatures sitting on their haunches. They were carved in a similar style to the wall gargoyles at the menagerie, and from the same kind of stone, but with a more conservative hand. By a dim light, Ebryn thought, they might almost look real.
Inside, they found it pleasantly cool. Two men in white robes sat on chairs behind a counter towards the back of the entrance hall, both engaged in writing down extensive notes on large rolls of paper. The nearest glanced up as they approached, then returned to his scribbling.
Sash put a hand on the counter. “Can you help? I’m looking for information about my miniature dragon. Do you know where I should look?”
“You want the inner library. Turn right, then left, then left again, and right,” the man said, glancing up. “No unrestrained animals inside.”
“He’s on a leash,” Sash said.
The white robe returned his attention to his writing. “He’s your responsibility then. Mind you don’t touch the exhibits, unless you want to leave with fewer fingers, or wings, than when you arrived.”
“We’ll be careful,” Sash said, rolling her eyes at Ebryn and Addae.
Ebryn felt relieved to see she'd cheered up since arriving. They took the first doorway on the right and found themselves in a huge hall. Two rows of thick white pillars supported a high ceiling of the same smooth pearlescent stone.
The pillars extended as far as the eye could see, curving gradually to the left as the building conformed to the contour of the hill. A subtle sourceless light illuminated the interior, lending the surfaces a pale blue sheen.
Ebryn had expected a room full of books, but they were confronted with dozens of rows of display cases, cabinets and stands which stretched out along the length of the hall in neat lines. Some of the displays held old-looking pieces of parchment pinned to boards. Others contained tools, clothing, vases, pictures and statuettes. Most of the sets had small plaques set beneath them, inscribed in old Volanian.
They walked between the rows, their footsteps echoing crisply from the walls, examining each collection as they passed. There didn’t seem to be any obvious order to them, and the descriptions on the plaques were sparse. Ebryn stopped in front one which said Eating Utensils From Southern Metorea’. He found it oddly disturbing that so much obvious care had been taken to collect and display such mundane items.
“Why are all these here?”
“They are all that remain from Volane after it was lost,” Addae said.
Ebryn felt as if something cold had run down his spine and settled in his gut. He felt abruptly like he was walking through a crypt, surrounded on all sides by the shades of the dead. “How do you know?”
Addae had stooped to look at a collection of colourful butterflies, pinned to a large board in a low glass covered display cabinet. “It is known, I was told.”
Sash glanced at Ebryn. Perhaps she heard something odd in Addae's voice, or saw his feelings reflected in his face, because she grabbed his arm and tugged at it.
“Come on, we need to find out about food for Leth. This place is huge — who knows how long it’s going to take to find out.”
A broad stairway took them up to the next section where Ebryn found the books he’d been expecting. Row upon row of bookcases, each taller than Addae, and crammed with heavy bound volumes. Lining the walls were holders for loosely bound sheaves of paper and bundles of scrolls.
The chamber was lit with the same kind of lighting used in the great hall below, but here, with all the books around them, it felt somehow friendlier. Dozens of small labels along the front of each shelf listed the books above them. One he passed read Telean Poems and another Hobulin’s Letters To Tannermare. Ebryn thought whoever Hobulin was, he must have been a prolific letter writer, as he’d accounted for eight fat tomes.
A nearby cough brought him out of his reverie. Without thinking, Ebryn spoke the words for far-sensing, feeling the familiar momentary sensation of dislocation as his senses extended outwards like an immensely fine second skin, unrolling as a ripple through the fabric of the building. It swept over first one, then a pair of living beings hidden behind nearby shelves. He could feel the first was four-limbed but squat, the others Volene.
Only since arriving in Vergence had some of the subtleties of Master Yale’s teaching become apparent. As if drawing from a concealed sensory range somewhere between colours and flavours, he’d found he could use his enhanced awareness to
distinguish subtle distinctions between races and peoples.
The building and objects around them receded into the background, casting indistinct flavour-colour shadows into his awareness, but all around him were hundreds of impenetrably hard points — like standing in the midst of a constellation of tiny flint-sharp stars.
Nearer at hand, he could feel Sash and Addae, and Leth. A peculiar thread wound its way through Leth’s core, but as he focused on it something penetrated the boundary of his perception, distracting him. Like the briefest breath of air disturbing a spider’s web, it reached out to touch him with exquisite delicacy, and was gone.
“Ebryn, is something wrong?” Sash said.
“No, there’s nothing wrong,” Ebryn said. “There are some of ours further in — higher up. Somebody far-sensed us.”
Addae muttered something in his own language, and Ebryn felt a boiling sensory maelstrom form around them. It rolled outwards like a vast wave, crashing through the fine texture of Ebryn's own sensory web, rebounding from the hundreds of tiny chips of sevyric iron surrounding them to form painfully violent eddies and cross-currents that made Ebryn wince.
“I cannot find anything. There is much sevyric iron,” Addae said.
“Perhaps it’s there to protect the books from people like us,” Ebryn said. “Come on, I want to see.”
As they mounted another staircase into the entrance to the inner part of the library, Ebryn felt the presence of the sevyric iron. The quantity was overpowering, and easily enough to block the most powerful caster.
Before them were four rows of tables. Each table had eight large chairs to a side. The tables, polished to a rich red-brown, showed signs of long use and wear. The chairs were of a similar wood and intricately worked with padded leather upholstery. On either side, heavy shelves of very dark wood, jammed with hefty volumes, framed the area.
Light angling through long high windows fell in bands across the tables to their right. A solitary woman sat here with her head bent over a large book. Directly to their left sat two men facing each other across a table. Loosely stacked next to each was a small pile of books, and bundles of loose paper. Between them lay a games board with a collection of white stones, and a single black.
The man on the far side of the table had dark hair drawn back from his face to fall in a long greasy curtain across his shoulders. His face had a hollowed-out bloodless appearance with very pale waxy skin, thin lips, and dark sunken eyes. The second man was older and shorter, with thinning silvery hair. He had some of the features of the Chochin, but the complexion of a local.
All three looked up as they entered the room, but the woman quickly returned to her book. The older man had been about to make a move on the board in front of him, but he started violently when he saw them, upsetting the rest of the pieces, and scattering them across the table surface. “Look Sevoi, new students.”
“I can see Hoi,” Sevoi said.
Hoi struggled to his feet and knocked the board again, sending pieces further across the table, drawing a scowl from Sevoi.
“Tranquillity is not yet complete and we have new students in the library — such enthusiasm amongst the young,” Hoi said.
“Yes … how fortunate we are,” Sevoi said.
Sevoi blinked in a languid fashion and leant back in his chair with an exaggerated sigh, but Ebryn could see him watching from the corner of his eye. His gaze lingered briefly on Sash and Addae, but settled on Ebryn.
Hoi hobbled forward and stopped in front of Sash, leaning on the back of a chair for support. “Good day to you. You are new apprentices?”
Sash stepped forward and held out her hand. “Yes. I'm Sash, and my friends are Addae and Ebryn.”
Hoi hesitated, and then took Sash's hand. He held it for a moment before releasing it, and quickly withdrew his arm. As Hoi pulled his hand back Ebryn noticed a heavy bracelet of sevyric iron fastened tightly around his wrist like a manacle.
“Are you looking for something specific, or just finding your way around?” Hoi asked.
“Yes,” Sash said. “I mean we need to find out about food for my miniature dragon.”
“Hmm—” Hoi said, scratching the back of his head, “—I believe we have some works on Senesella—”
Sevoi snorted derisively. “There's a large section of references on ephemerals and other exotics. You’ll find what you want there.”
“Ah, yes,” Hoi said, his face colouring. “Silly of me to forget. I can show you the way, if you would like me to?”
“Yes, please,” Sash said.
Hoi hobbled to a gap between two bookcases and peered at a small engraved plaque on the side of the nearest. “Hmm, lets see then. Down here I think … or perhaps the next row.”
As they neared the back of the room they heard footsteps fast approaching.
“I didn't think he would be able to resist,” Hoi said, half to himself, as a man rounded the corner in front of them.
Hoi stopped and half turned towards them. “This is Ben-gan.”
Addae frowned. “This is a name I know.”
“Yes, I'm sure I've heard it too,” Ebryn said.
Ben-gan was broad though the shoulders, and as tall as Ebryn. He appeared to be of early middle age, with silver flecked dark hair, moustache and beard, wearing a simple short-sleeved tunic over loose trousers, and short boots. He reminded Ebryn a little of Sarl, with quick eyes which seemed to take in everything as he approached.
Ebryn had the unsettling impression that Ben-gan's gaze had lingered on him longer than the others, and over the last few days he'd become accustomed to being all but invisible next to Sash in public.
Ben-gan stopped in front of them, facing towards Addae, and touched the tips of his fingers to his lips, and then to his forehead. He grasped hands with Sash, and half-bowed to Ebryn.
“I am Ben-gan,” he said.
“I am Addae Bohma,” Addae said.
“I think you are here to discover what your dragon can eat?”
Sash looked surprised, but nodded. “Yes, how did you know?”
“He looks thinner than he should. Few students find their way here during the Tranquillity celebrations unless they are lost or need help.”
“You know about Senesellan dragons?” Sash asked.
“I've been to Senesella. It was a place which held much interest for me when I was young.”
Hoi looked from Ben-gan to Ebryn. “But he's—”
“Yes, thank-you, Hoi,” Ben-gan said, turning on his heel. “Follow me. We shall see what we can find.”
Ben-gan walked so briskly they almost had to run to stay with him.
“The section you need is about a third of the way to the back. We need to be swift as I have a duty to perform in a short while.”
Ebryn scanned the bookcases as they passed. Jammed onto the shelves, and sometimes stacked on top of rows in loose piles, were books in hundreds of different bindings, colours, and sizes. Text on the spines of some hinted at the contents, but on many the outer covers were blank. They were arranged haphazardly with sections on seemingly unrelated subjects placed next to each other.
The bookcases were crammed tightly, forcing them to follow a winding path through the narrow lanes in between, and within a dozen yards Ebryn had no idea which direction they were facing.
Further in, Ben-gan produced a small light globe from his pocket, and held it above his head. Ebryn had seen similar items touted in the market place from sellers claiming they would last as long as a lifetime, but his eyes were drawn to the bracelet of sevyric iron on Ben-gan's forearm.
Ebryn hurried to catch up. “I thought sevyric iron would stop things like that working?”
“At the heart of a creation such as this there is crumb of sevyric iron. Has no-one explained the working of sevyric iron to you?” Ben-gan asked.
“No, we just had the tests. I hadn't heard of it before I came here.”
“Ah yes, the tests,” Ben-gan said with a hint of a smile on his face. “I
think the tests must have been a surprise if you knew nothing of sevyric iron.”
“Yes.”
“You are here now, so you have passed the tests?”
“Yes,” Ebryn said. “I wasn't the only one surprised though, when I made the sevyric iron disappear.”
”And how did you accomplish that?” Ben-gan asked, looking at Ebryn with obvious interest.
“I don't know. I just folded them and they disappeared.”
Ben-gan held out his free arm so Ebryn could clearly see the bracelet. “So you would be able to remove these from me the same way?”
“Yes … but—”
“Do not concern yourself,” Ben-gan said, smiling. “I am not asking you to do that. I am content to keep them.”
“Why are you and Hoi, and the others, wearing those things?” Sash asked.
Ben-gan laughed. “Senesellan directness … these are a punishment. It was the custom in Volane to exile wrongdoers. Now the Margave prefer maiming or execution. For me they could do neither, so I suggested this. In Volane we called this clipping a singer's tongue.”
Ebryn could see Sash frowning, and hurriedly tried to prevent her next question. “Where—”
“What were you punished for?” she asked.
Ben-gan paused before answering. “There were a few who were tempted into binding ephemerals with living vessels.”
“What would you desire in doing this?” Addae asked.
“There are certain things which are achieved only in this way. There are ailments which such a binding alone can relieve — a fever of the brain, or poisoning of the blood.”
“That's unfair,” Sash said. “What's wrong with trying to help people?”
Ben-gan gave a wry shrug “What some of us did was, I think, a violation of the law. A lesson for others who allow the obsessions of the heart to rule their heads.”
Somewhere inside, Ebryn imagined Fidela frowning at him, but his curiosity won out. “Why couldn't they exile you?”
