Hour of Mischief

by Aimee Hyndman

  “Figuring out the secret yet?” Itazura asked.

  “I think so,” I said. “The older the books get, the closer we are to the center. It’s harder for most people to find the center, so they don’t touch the older books. The dust keeps on building.”

  “Exactly,” Itazura said. “The wisdom twins believe in the knowledge of all ages. Many people enter this library and only search for the newer content. Most of the rich care only for what is new so they never even attempt to look for older things.” Itazura shrugged. “The way Viden and Kaval see it, if a human can’t recognize the wisdom of the old and the new, then they probably aren’t worth talking to anyway.”

  “That and they have to figure out the way in,” I said. “How long did it take you to find your way to the center?”

  “Not long,” Itazura said. “The mischievous may not be strictly book smart like those who favor knowledge but they are crafty. Logic and practical knowledge count as much as what you can read in a book.”

  “Good,” I said. “That’s what I’m counting on.”

  At this point, the contents of the shelves varied much more in shape and size. There were hardly any regular books now. Instead, scrolls, stone tablets, and carvings stocked the shelves. Art pieces from ancient times, dusty journals, laws of the old worlds. Everything was there. Even a picture of a giant, dog-like creature ripping out the throat of a man.

  “A rare document from Cambiare,” Itazura explained. “Most likely painted by a survivor. It’s quite a priceless piece of knowledge now.”

  But by far the most impressive of the old carvings was a huge limestone slab engraved with the symbols of the gods. They were each simple in design, all made up of a series of spiraling shapes. Fortuna, and most of Memoria, had a thing for art involving spirals. It represented the eternity of the clock. These types of shapes made up the symbols of each and every god.

  At the top lay the clockmaker’s key, just like the one around my neck. The symbols of the Mother and the Father were carved just below it. If you split the Clockmaker’s key in half, you got the symbols for Mother and Father.

  Below them, however, were symbols I did not recognize. Four of them, all made out of spirals like the other symbols, but with a box drawn around them, cutting them off from the rest of the mural.

  “The symbols of the elder gods,” Itazura said when he noticed me staring at them. “The four spirals with ends trailing off represent the searing hot sun. That’s summer. The swirling cloud is the sign of spring. Like a storm cloud.” He pointed to each of the symbols. “Winter is the stack of spirals that get smaller as they go down. It’s supposed to be an icicle I believe.”

  “And Autumn’s symbol?” I asked, observing a series of four spirals swirling in every direction. “They don’t seem to depict much of anything.”

  “It’s the sign of chaotic winds,” Itazura said. “The wildest of the signs, because Autumn was the wildest of the Elder Gods.” He pointed out the box. “That represents their containment. And you see the symbols of the Clockwork gods below. And see down there?” He pointed to a huge group of smaller symbols at the bottom. “Minor god symbols. Bet you don’t know any of those.”

  “Probably not.” I said. Something else on the slab caught my eye. Another carving of a key, just above the signs of the clockwork gods. It looked just like the Clockmaker’s Key, except a tiny ruby dotted its center. “What’s this?” I asked.

  “That . . . oh, just the key,” Itazura said.

  “Then why does it have a ruby?” I asked, looking up at him.

  He rubbed a hand behind his head and shrugged. “Don’t know. Decoration probably. Maybe we should keep going, little human. Can’t stand around reading all day.”

  “Right,” I said, following after him. I got a funny feeling he was hiding something, but now wasn’t the best time to bring it up.

  A few turns later, we reached the vast center. The heart of the white library was cylindrical in shape, bordered on all sides by shelves of books, new and old, stretching several meters to the very top of the building where a skylight let in rays of radiant, natural light. In here, the white walls of the library seemed to absolutely glow under the kiss of the sun’s rays. In the center of the makeshift spotlight sat a series of small tables, layered with a thin sheet of papers, scrolls, and other tools of knowledge. The area wasn’t very tidy, but I guessed those who favored knowledge didn’t care much about being neat while reading. I could only read a little myself, but if I had gone to school, this place would be heaven.

  “I’m going to disappear,” Itazura murmured, staying in the shadows of the hall we had just passed through. “In order to find Viden and Kaval, you’re going to have to get through one of their pupils. Really smart people, they are. You’ll have to impress them to gain an audience.”

  “Finding my way to the center isn’t enough?” I asked, glancing back at him over my shoulder.

  Itazura shook his head. “I said you didn’t know what you were getting yourself into.” He winked. “Good luck.”

  Then he disappeared down the hall and I found myself alone in the belly of the great White Library.

  I took a few, nervous steps into the center. My arm gleamed beneath the sun’s rays and I could see every speck of dust drifting through the air. I slipped my fingers through the air, pushing aside the floating particles of dust. The tiny bits spiraled about my finger, making little patterns in the air. I smiled and looked around.

  “Hello?”

  Even when soft, my voice still echoed about the room. I waited for an answer but none came.

  I sighed, “Not much learning going on today I guess.” I stuck my hands in my pockets. “This is going to require patience isn’t it?”

  The echo of my own voice answered me and I shook my head, “Why am I talking to myself?”

  The bookshelves chose not to answer that question so instead I went to the tables in the center of the room, flipping open a random book. Upon trying to read the contents, my heart sank. I didn’t get this stuff. Some documents were written entirely in numbers, some in ancient languages, and some with so many big words they might as well have been in a foreign language. I could read, but only the basics. There were probably ten-year olds who could read better than I could. My mother couldn’t afford to send me to school and school for slum dwellers focused on learning practical tasks anyway. Sewing and manual labor and other such activities. They didn’t teach the skills you needed for stealing though, so what did I need it for? Sid taught me how to read. If he had been born to a middle-class family, he would have been an excellent student. And even without the education, he was a great teacher. He barely had to speak a lot when he taught me. He was just that good.

  “This is going to be bad,” I muttered, all of my previous confidence suddenly fading away. “I don’t know any of this stuff.” I sighed and ducked my head.

  “Is someone there?” a voice called.

  My head shot up and jumped away from the papers, spinning around to see a young man entering the center. He was clean and well dressed, not nearly as eccentric as most rich residents, but still clearly an upper class citizen. His skin was a rich brown color and he had his hair cropped nicely and slicked back out of his eyes. A watch chain hung from a loop on his fancy jacket, most definitely made of gold. He had three old books and a scroll tucked securely under his arm and despite the cloud of dust they emitted whenever he moved, he somehow didn’t look dirty. Unlike me.

  “Hmm.” The young man looked me up and down, seeming surprised. “You found your way to the center?”

  I didn’t like the tone his voice took on when he spoke to me. As if he had decided I was no good. Sure, my clothes weren’t particularly nice and my hair wasn’t as silky and shiny as his, but I hadn’t even spoken to him yet and he had made his judgments.

  “It wasn’t hard,” I said evenly. “Follow the trail of cobwebs and you find your way here relatively easily.”

  “How long did it take you to f
igure it out?” the man asked.

  “Not long. How long did it take you?” I asked. I probably wasn’t starting this meeting off on the right foot, what with my voice already taking on a snarky tone, but I didn’t care. I just wasn’t cut out for respect, especially when it came to stuck-up boys only a few years older than me.

  “Also not very long,” the man said. Then he strode past me and went straight to the tables to set down his books. “Well, anyone who finds their way has a right to the materials. Feel free to look around.” Then he turned to his work.

  I stared at him, trying to figure out what I should say. A solid minute of silence passed before he noticed I still stood in front of him, and he looked up at me, slightly irritated.

  “I’m a bit busy now, if you don’t mind,” he said.

  “That’s fine. I’m not interested in talking to you,” I sneered. His tone immediately put the words back in my mouth. “I need to speak with Viden and Kaval.”

  The man raised an eyebrow and from that simple movement I could tell his reply would piss me off.

  “You want to see the Gods of Wisdom?”

  “Yes I do. Did you not hear me correctly?” I asked.

  “No, I did,” the man said. He looked me over again and I couldn’t help but clench my fists. “I’m sorry,” he said in a way that didn’t make him sound sorry at all. “Your type doesn’t usually come here to request an audience with Viden and Kaval.”

  “My type?” I said through gritted teeth. “And what type would that be?”

  “You’re clearly from the slums,” the man said. “Don’t think you can hide it. Actually, I’m surprised you got in here. People from your part of the city always give off a distinct scent. Not to mention your dirty appearance.” A smirk came over his lips. Somehow, that expression managed to be even more annoying than Itazura’s mischievous grins. Quite an accomplishment. “Did you even go to school?”

  “No,” I said.

  “Can you even read?”

  “Yes actually, I can,” I said.

  “So can many.” The man shrugged. “Honestly, girl.”

  My eye twitched.

  “Just because you find your way here does not mean you are worthy of the Gods of Wisdom. It merely means you are competent. Competence is a common thing in this world. The Gods of Wisdom seek those who seek, live, and breathe knowledge. Someone who can offer them something more.

  “You cannot offer them anymore than I can. I’m sure I know everything you do.” He looked back down at his papers, ignoring the boiling mad expression on my face. “Feel free to read, but I doubt Viden and Kaval wish to have an audience with a slum dweller.”

  I couldn’t speak. Rage had formed a lump in my throat, trapping my words inside. A fire burned in my cheeks and I was surprised it didn’t raise the temperature in the room.

  Somewhere along the line, I managed to regain my breath and my words came back to me. When I spoke, my voice came out satisfyingly calm, even though I wanted nothing more than to wrap my steel hand around the man’s throat.

  “Do you know how to navigate your way through a burning building?” I asked.

  The man looked up in surprise. “What?”

  “Oh, it’s just you said you knew everything I did,” I said, my voice dripping with false sweetness. “So you must know how to navigate your way through a burning building.”

  “I . . . don’t. . . .” The man frowned. “I fail to see why I would need to know that.”

  “Simple,” I said. “If you happened to be trapped inside the burning building, it might help you out.”

  “I live in a building made of steel.” The man told me.

  “On the outside, yes. But not everything is entirely steel,” I said. “I bet the floors are made of wood. Ebony bark perhaps? Oh and the stairs. But it doesn’t matter if you don’t live in a building made of wood. I’m sure you’ve been inside one before.” I shrugged. “But a lot of material can be set on fire. Steel too. Do you not know how to set metals on fire either?”

  “I . . . you . . .” the man sputtered, looking around the room as if expecting to see a book entitled “How to Navigate your Way out of a Burning Building” or “How to Get Rid of the Slum Girl Who Won’t Go Away.”

  “Don’t bother looking around,” I said. “You can’t find this type of knowledge in a book. It’s knowledge that comes with solid experience. Luckily you have me to educate you.” I leaned over the table, staring him straight in the eye. “First off, you need to cover your mouth and eyes. Strong cloth will do. Nothing fancy like the silk or leather they like in this part of Fortuna.

  “Silk is too fragile and leather won’t let you breathe. You might need the rougher stuff for this job. Too bad you aren’t well stocked with that.”

  I looked him up and down in the same patronizing way in which he had observed me. “You cover your eyes, too, so you can see. If you’re on the lower level of the building, it’s sometimes easier to make your way through all the smoke and flames without getting too many burns. Of course, if your clothes are too flimsy you’ll be worse off.

  “That nice suit of yours wouldn’t do well. You’ll have to avoid all of those metal objects inside of your house, including doorknobs or you could burn your hands off. If you’re in a house filled with high tech gadgets, you could be in more trouble. Explosions, you know?

  “But anyway, you’d have to go through a window. Do you know how to jump through a window in a way that minimizes the damage done by the glass?”

  The man opened his mouth to reply but I’d already moved on.

  “Of course not. You’ve never been in that position, either. You’d be in for quite a surprise when you finally tried it. You’d scratch your clean skin up. It’d hurt pretty badly. But anyway, I was talking about the burning building.

  “The trouble comes if you have to go up and down stairs. Do you know where to step on a wooden stair in order to minimize the possibility of it breaking?” The man remained silent when I paused.

  “No? Well you have to step as close to the wall as possible. If you step in the center, it will likely give way. From there you have to navigate through the stronger parts of the second story or you might take a spill onto the lower floor.

  “Tell me, how do you tell a weak piece of wood floor from a strong piece of floor?” Again no answer, but this time I barely paused to let him think. My words poured out in angry floods.

  “The pieces that appear the least blackened. Step on a piece blackened by flames and it will crumble to ash under your feet. You’re more likely to survive if you weigh less but given all the three-course meals you’ve probably had all your life, I guess you’re at a disadvantage again.” I leaned closer to him, sneering. “So what were you saying about knowing so much more than me?”

  The man stood abruptly. Now he was the one looking murderous. “This is not knowledge.”

  “Then what is it?” I asked. “It’s not useless. Knowing those little facts is what kept me alive this long. Survival skills. Those are a part of wisdom. But you couldn’t know everything I know. Because you’ve never been in a position when your life is in danger.

  “You don’t know how to best ration a meager supply of food to survive for a month when you don’t have much money to get by because you’ve never had to. You don’t know the best routes to outrun a vigilant guard or their typical patterns when they fight. You don’t know pain either. You’ve never lost an arm, been seared by flame, had your midsection crushed, had your fingers nearly sliced off, so if you were in a life-threatening situation, the pain would put you out of commission and you would most likely die.

  “And you don’t know what it’s like to fail. I don’t know anyone has ever told you this, but sometimes failure can give you knowledge too.”

  “And what makes you think Viden and Kaval will be impressed by any of that?” the man said, leaning over me.

  Unfortunately, like most people in my life, he stood much taller than me.

  “I don
’t know, I hear they’re pretty smart,” I snapped. “Smarter than an arrogant, pompous bastard like you. Here’s another thing I’ve heard recently, Arrogance isn’t wisdom!”

  The man’s eyes narrowed and his fist clenched ready for a punch—which would have given him quite a surprise when he found his wrist entrapped in my much stronger steel hand—but before he could even raise his arm a voice called out from behind us.

  “Vayrelius. You may stop now.”

  The man froze and immediately whirled around, clasping his hands in front of him and bowing his head. “Lady Viden. Lord Kaval.”

  turned slowly, my eyes wide. I don’t know what I expected to see when I lay eyes upon the twin gods but I certainly anticipated someone . . . older. Wisdom always made me thing of those really old men and women with bad backs and wispy grey hair who sit hunched over books and scrolls all day. The two gods before me certainly had silvery-white hair. But both Viden and Kaval took the form of children. Only around ten-years old.

  “She speaks wise words, her tone is harsh,” Viden said. She was young, but her eyes still seemed to belong to an old woman who had seen everything to be seen in the world. Her brother echoed her expression. Yes, they appeared to be children, but I had no reason to doubt their godhood.

  “Indeed,” Kaval said. “Arrogance does not beget wisdom. Though wisdom too often begets arrogance. That is a false sort of wisdom however.”

  “I agree,” Vayrelius said to my surprise. And when he straightened, he smiled. “I’m sorry. I do hate appearing so pompous, but my lord and lady decided it would be the most effective way to test you.”

  I blinked. It was as if another person had swapped places with the arrogant jerk from moments before. He looked so much kinder now.