Greysons of Grimoire

by Tpaul Homdrom

  “But I thought you wanted to go to the House of Truth,” Delilah said.

  “Yes, well…” Gwen paused, a strange look in her eyes. “While it is a place that reveals the truth, the truth about anything and everything… it is also a place that demands the complete truth from those who enter. For many, that’s far too great a price. To feel so vulnerable, so exposed… many would rather seek out answers the longer, more difficult way than risk that.”

  “I can imagine,” Chelsea said softly.

  “Come on, you,” Lorelei said, kneeling down and picking up Isabelle, sitting the girl on her shoulders. “Let me know if you see anything important, okay?”

  Isabelle grinned, her eyes wide and sparkling with delight. “I sure will!” she said, nodding emphatically. In one hand she fiddled with Lorelei’s long braid.

  The crowds on Millennium Crossing were surprisingly easy to navigate, despite the vast amount of people. As wide as a six-lane highway, the Crossing was designed with a dozen lanes for people to travel along. Not a single lane was stalled, moving along at a brisk pace that ushered the girls closer and closer to the mountainous tower that filled the space ahead of them.

  “I just can’t get over how peaceful it is here,” Delilah said, smiling. “Even in a huge crowd, it isn’t all that loud.”

  “Certainly a nice change of pace from most cities,” Chelsea said. “Even Grimoire gets pretty hectic sometimes.”

  “We’re almost there!” Isabelle announced, pointing ahead of them. The main doorway of Millennium Vista was like a massive castle gate. Two stories tall and just as wide as Millennium Crossing, the gate was close enough for Delilah to start to see inside to the entrance hall. The pearlescent, glimmering motif of Millennium Vista continued indoors. As the girls entered, Delilah felt rather like an ant entering the cavern of some massive beast of impossible proportions.

  The entrance hall was like its own town. The six lanes — three entering, three exiting — of Millennium Crossing broke away, allowing more free movement in an open circular space filled with shops that were clearly of a permanent nature. Unlike the occasional outdoor stalls and shops throughout Starlight Spires, which were often made of wood and canvas and easy to tear down and move elsewhere if the shopkeeper desired, the open-air shops of Millennium Vista’s atrium were built of stone and had professional-looking engraved placards bolted onto their main posts.

  “This is just the prelude,” Gwen said, smiling at the girls as they marveled at the sights. “Millennium Vista’s atrium is its own perpetual marketplace, open all day, every day. It serves as a taste, a teaser, of what the capital spire of the city has in store. Each shop here has a much larger, more official room of its own in the upper floors. If you do buy anything, or even just browse, you’ll be given a card that points the way to the shop’s primary establishment.”

  “Smart business,” Lorelei said, nodding. The motion bounced Isabelle slightly, who was resting her arms on top of Lorelei’s head.

  Delilah was struggling. She was small, and envied Isabelle’s place atop Lorelei’s shoulders. With the constant crowds, she could barely see ten feet ahead of her, and without organized lanes, she was at the mercy of her companions and where they chose to go. As they walked, she bumped into someone, or they bumped into her — she wasn’t sure which. As she looked up to apologize, the man she’d knocked into stared down at her, and words stuck in her throat.

  The man’s eyes were so striking. His left eye wasn’t so strange, just simple brown, but his right… it was blue. And within it, rather than a pupil, was a wide spiral of silver.

  “I’m so sorry,” the man said, his voice carrying a breathy, mellifluous tone that made Delilah think of aristocracy. “Did I harm you?”

  “Oh… no,” Delilah said, finding her voice. “I’m okay.”

  “What a relief,” the man said, smiling. It was a strange smile, giving Delilah both an impression of relaxed laziness and unflappable self-assurance. “I’d hate for harm to come to you here. Well then —” he bowed elegantly, “good day to you.”

  “And you,” Delilah said, but the man was already off, vanishing into the crowd. She blinked twice, stunned by the strange encounter, but then suddenly looked ahead in the direction she’d been going.

  Thank goodness!

  She hadn’t lost sight of the others, and quickly caught up to them. “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “Originally, we would have headed to the lower floors,” Gwen said, leading them past several different hat shops: Get Ahead, Tip of the Hat, Got You Covered… they all had rather silly names like that, and Delilah kept trying to read the placards as she walked past. “That’s where the doors are, each one traveling to a different Location in the Enchanted Dominion — and of course, each of those Locations is constantly changing. But if we’re heading to the music library first, we’ll need to head up. Chelsea, do you see the lift over there?”

  Gwen asked Chelsea because she was at the front of the group, and she popped up on tiptoe to look where Gwen pointed. Her owl cooed excitedly. “Yeah, we see it,” Chelsea said. “Anthology-something-or-other?”

  “Right,” Gwen said. “That’s where we’re going.”

  Chelsea led the way, and soon the girls had navigated through the crowd and ended up at the lift. The sign over its door grating read “Anthologies, Archives, and Anecdotes.” Holding the door open was a young man in a tuxedo, with a brass badge on his left breast pocket that said “Lift Attendant ~ Bradley.”

  As she stepped in, Delilah marveled at the interior. The lift was large enough for the five girls as well as two dozen others that they joined inside, and the panel with all of the buttons for different floors was… staggering. There were several thousand small buttons along the control panel, and they weren’t even numbered in any order that Delilah could discern. 500 came after 12 and before 63A, while lonely little 1 was stuck in the middle of the mass of buttons. There were four buttons that were glowing, presumably because they’d been selected: 23F, 98, 2134, and 456O.

  “Which floor, ladies?” Bradley asked, sliding the door closed and lifting a hand to the control panel. Unlike so many others, the lift attendant actually gave Isabelle a charming smile.

  “The music library, please,” Gwen said.

  Bradley nodded, pressing the button for 317H. Why that was the floor for the music library, Delilah might never find out. The good thing was that Bradley knew. After he selected their floor, Bradley pulled a lever, and the lift began to rise. Despite looking like it had come out of the 1920s, the lift ascended silently and smoothly. Delilah wouldn’t have known they were going up if it weren’t for the slight pressure when they began, and occasionally passing by floors that they could see through the lift’s door grate.

  Gwen ushered the girls to the right side of the lift, making room just before they came to a stop at floor 23F. Two men ushered an elderly woman through the door, doting on her in a way that made Delilah think that she was their grandmother.

  Next was 98. Delilah got a good look at the entrance to the floor, since half of the crowd in the lift got off here. It appeared to be a book parlor, like the one the girls had stopped in on the way here, but several times larger, with multiple lofts and seating for dozens of people.

  And then they were on their way again, rising up and up and up, for far longer than their first two stops. No one new boarded, and then they were at 317H. Bradley pulled a lever to stop, slid the door open, and the girls exited.

  “You weren’t kidding about the size of these libraries, huh?” Chelsea asked, craning her neck upwards as she entered the music library.

  Delilah was staggered, so much so that she didn’t even make it all the way off the lift. Lorelei had to tug on her sleeve to get her the rest of the way out.

  “You said this wasn’t even the largest library in the universe?” Delilah asked, staring wide-eyed.

  “Right,” Gwen said, smiling. “Though there’s only one that’s bigger. Impressive, is
n’t it?”

  “You can say that again,” Delilah muttered, taking slow steps along the black, starry carpet and turning around in a circle, trying to take everything in and failing.

  The music library was at least ten stories tall, and sprawled out to such an extent that Delilah would not have been at all surprised if the floor space was measured in square miles rather than square feet. Book shelves were here, there, and everywhere, of varying sizes and shapes. Most weren’t tremendously large, and it was clear why — many were built out of retired grand pianos, neatly arranging books and musical scores along shelves within the asymmetrical shape. Many other bookshelves were also built out of retired instruments, showing casings of guitars, cellos, accordions, and more.

  “You’re saying this is nothing but music?” Delilah asked, gawking at the sights.

  “It’s not all musical scores and recordings,” Gwen said. “There are also books on music theory, music instruction, music history, cultural music, regional music, biographies of musicians and composers… every piece of music, and everything you’d ever want to know about music or those involved with music, can be found here.”

  “Everything?” Chelsea asked.

  “Or so they claim,” Gwen said, chuckling. “I’ve certainly never attempted to test that. It could take lifetimes to read everything here — and I’m talking about lifetimes of Enchanted, not short Human ones.”

  Isabelle hopped down from Lorelei’s shoulders and raced out into the center of the circular space they were in, spinning in a circle and staring up and around at everything. “Where do we start?” she asked. “Or… should I just play something?” There were dozens of pianos, guitars, drums, and woodwind and brass instruments all around them. A sign near the entrance made it clear that the instruments were available for anyone to play, and indeed, Delilah could hear quite a bit of music coming from many different directions. The library was so vast, she saw far fewer musicians than she heard.

  “I’d suggest splitting up,” Chelsea said, “but we don’t have any way to contact each other. And I’m pretty sure some of us would get lost in here easily.”

  “Do we start on this floor, or take the stairs?” Lorelei asked. Before them was a path to a larger open space on this floor, but four sets of carpeted stairs around them led up to different levels.

  “I guess we just start here,” Gwen said, smiling reassuringly. “Let’s look at the signs as we go, see if anything jumps out at us.”

  “Excuse me,” came a voice from Delilah’s right. She turned, seeing the speaker standing halfway down the stairs, his expression hopeful. He was tall, and looked about Caleb’s age. He wore a white shirt under a black waistcoat, and black pants and shoes. Folded up in his breast pocket was a pair of glasses with silver frames. He smiled nervously, running a hand through his blonde hair. “I… I think you’re who I’m looking for.”

  He wasn’t looking at Delilah. His eyes were locked on Isabelle.

  “What do you want with her?” Lorelei asked, stepping in front of Isabelle protectively.

  “I’m sorry,” the man said, holding his hands up. “I don’t mean to startle you. It’s just… well, I’m not very good with people. Please, let me, um…” The man shook his head, laughing nervously. He took a seat on the stairs. “I’ll just stay right here. I mean you no harm. I just… is her name Isabelle?”

  “That’s me,” Isabelle said, poking her head out from behind Lorelei. “How did you know?”

  “I…” the man paused, rubbing two fingers back and forth across his lips, like he was trying to physically bring words to his mouth. “Sorry. Not good with… anyway. I have a message for you.”

  “A message?” Isabelle asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

  The man smiled, nodding. “Yes,” he said. “It’s from your mother.”

  Chapter 39: Through the Pain

  — G —

  Caleb understood little of what happened for the next long, long while. His eyes burned, his head throbbed, and he threw up multiple times, leaving his throat raw and dry. His ears popped, distorting sound and collapsing Caleb’s sense of balance — he toppled onto his side and curled up into the fetal position to try and avoid the pain.

  He knew that Ingrid came and spoke to him, somehow gently forcing his eyes open and applying some kind of salve. It burned, and he screamed, but it eventually soothed him. Mister Midnight and Ingrid talked a lot, mostly to Caleb, but he didn’t understand much of what they said. Their voices seemed to come from a great distance away, like Caleb was drowning deep in the ocean while the pair called to him from the shore high above.

  He did gather a few words: “Poisoning.” “Over.” “My fault.”

  And then, Caleb fell into a deep sleep.

  He awoke a few times, briefly and in a haze. He was in a bed. One time, Ingrid was asleep in the chair beside him. The next, she was holding his hand, watching over him. Another time, Midnight sat there, reading a book. There were a few times when Midnight and Ingrid were talking, but Caleb never understood their words.

  Sometimes they were worried and frantic. Other times they were solemn and subdued.

  Every time Caleb slept, it was like he was drowning in darkness and dreamlessness. He’d drop into undisturbed sleep, then wake up for brief fits, sweating and struggling to breathe. His stomach roiled. A sharp, stabbing pain reverberated through his skull.

  He was burning, and then he was freezing. He was so tired of pain and discomfort that he eventually awoke only to lay there numbly, willing sleep to embrace him once more. Mercifully, after what seemed like an eternity, he once again sank into slumber.

  Slowly, he awoke once more. The room was dark, with just a dim blue lamp shedding light from a bedside table. Caleb couldn’t tell if it was day or night; the sky was always dark over Midnight Bridge.

  But he noticed two very peculiar things.

  One: he was starving.

  Two: he felt fine.

  Not just “I’m not in excruciating pain” fine. He felt one hundred percent normal.

  The pressure of time’s alteration was nowhere to be felt.

  He jolted upright, and immediately regretted it. His head swam as his blood flow struggled to catch up to his sudden movement, and he lay back down. Woozy from hunger, he slowly rolled over, kicking his feet over the side of the bed before carefully rising to a sitting position.

  He took several slow breaths, in and out, just as he had with Midnight shortly before he had…

  Oh. Right. his eyes had been bleeding.

  No wonder he’d been a wreck.

  Gingerly rubbing against his eyes, Caleb was relieved to feel no soreness, and to see no blood on his hands. Another breath in, then out.

  Grumble.

  There went Caleb’s stomach, begging for food. And it must have gone an incredibly long time without. Caleb felt woozy as he stood, recognizing the effects of low blood sugar and lack of nutrition. He’d once pushed himself much too hard during his internship, on a night after a full day of exams at school. He hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast, and his superior had to stop their patrol in order to get Caleb some food before he passed out.

  What Caleb felt now was ten times worse than that. He used the bedside table, and then a chair, and then the wall as supports to keep him steady as he walked ever so slowly to the bedroom door. He couldn’t stand up straight, wracked as he was with intense pangs of hunger from his stomach.

  Outside the bedroom were stairs leading down, and a rather pleasant smell wafted up from below.

  Why does it have to be stairs? At least there’s a railing. I can do this. It’ll be fine. Just go slow. Nothing to worry about. Just… slow.

  Grumble.

  Stomach, seriously, just calm down a second. I’m trying to help you, but I’m not exactly able to go fast right now. Show some patience.

  Caleb took each stair very slowly, planting both feet on one before continuing to the next. The metal stairs creaked slightly as he went, and
after just three steps, Caleb saw Ingrid at the bottom of the stairs, staring up at him in shock.

  “You shouldn’t be moving on your own!” she said, rushing up to him and taking his arm. “Call for help next time. I can’t believe you can even walk in your condition.”

  “What condition?” Caleb asked, his voice hoarse. “What’s wrong with me?”

  “Nothing compared to what was wrong with you,” Midnight said, arriving at the bottom of the stairs and watching with a mixture of relief and disapproval as Ingrid helped Caleb descend. He shook his head. “Honestly, Greyson. Come on, let’s get some food in you. You have good timing. We were just about to sit down for breakfast.”

  “Why’s the pressure gone?” Caleb asked, confrontational even in his weak, pained state. “You ended the training, didn’t you?”

  Midnight nodded, dropping unceremoniously into a chair at the dinner table. “And I should have ended it weeks earlier,” he said. “I noticed the signs. But you kept pushing through, so I thought you were adjusting. But you weren’t. You —”