Fire World

by Chris D'Lacey

  “Myth? He’s not real? But if he never existed, how could I be descended from him?”

  “Oh, something existed,” Aunt Gwyneth said, trailing her fingers over the bars of her cage. “There are documents, drawings, etchings in stone. Most of it cached with the Aunts, of course. There are rumors that artifacts exist in the Dead Lands, particularly at a place called the Isle of Alavon, but none of it is conclusive and his origins are merely speculative at best. Some scholars have suggested he was not of this world. That he traveled across time and created Co:pern:ica to his own template: part man, part firebird, part fain. Others claim he was simply a man who found a way to look into the face of all creation and was driven insane by what he saw.”

  “And what did he see?”

  “Dragons,” said the Aunt, quite matter-of-factly.

  Eliza felt her heart stop beating for a moment.

  “You have something to say about this?”

  “I saw dragons. I think I saw him, too — or the spirit of him. A flying man with sunken eyes. He, they, were there — in the Dead Lands.”

  “They were not.”

  “But … they led me to the cave.”

  “They did not,” Aunt Gwyneth insisted. “Your need for survival led you to shelter. What you saw were projections, images pooled from the collective consciousness of the Co:pern:ican race. There’s a word for it, Eliza. It’s called ‘superstition.’ It is natural for any living beings to question the origins of their existence. Over thousands of spins, our fain has been seeded by the romantic notion that Agawin commanded a legion of dragons and used their power to create this world. The only reason the Aunts have not erased this myth is that it acts as a kind of comfort to us. Everyone wants to believe in something that will make their mundane lives more bearable and their inevitable death less … final. The truth is, we do not know how we came to be. There is no proof of anything, although …”

  “What?” asked Eliza. She leaned forward, making her chair lift.

  Aunt Gwyneth tapped her fingertips together. “The general consensus of Aunt opinion is that Agawin was merely a renegade ec:centric — the first, of course — able to imagineer well beyond the capabilities of other Co:pern:icans. The Grand Design was introduced because of him, to prevent any sweeping acts of adverse creativity. In that sense, you and your remarkable son are perfect examples of his line. But if there is any substance at all to the more fanciful stories, we believe this building holds the key. It is a remarkable source of fain.”

  “Which you tried to steal.”

  “Conjecture,” snapped the Aunt. “I was searching for answers, nothing more. It was important to keep the project secret to maintain my credibility as an Aunt, particularly in front of counselors like Strømberg. But I did it for one reason only — to monitor and protect your son … my grandson.”

  Eliza relaxed her body shape a little, but hardened her green-eyed gaze. “What did you mean when you said you knew what David was?”

  “You’ve seen the time rifts around him,” Aunt Gwyneth replied. “He is the focus of an invasive force called the Ix. I managed to … intercept an Ix Cluster and keep it at bay for a while. As you can see from my physical appearance, I have paid a wretched price for my heroism. Something which should not be disregarded when Strømberg arrives to gloat over me. The Ix are pure fain, but a negative strain.”

  Eliza gulped as she took this in. Negative fain was something never talked about. To imagineer catastrophe or hatred or terror was unthinkable in Co:pern:ican society. She stood up and went to the window. So peaceful. So beautiful. The flowers. The sky. The odd droplet of rain, falling. Why did that always lift her heart so: the presence of rain? “What do these beings want with David?”

  “They believe he is some kind of time agent, which adds substance to the idea that Agawin was borne from another world. It would all be rather exciting if it wasn’t for the fact that the Ix intend to destroy David. Without me, that’s a distinct possibility.”

  Eliza whipped around to face the cage again, this time with anger bubbling through her veins. “How can you be so hypocritical? You wanted him de:constructed.”

  Aunt Gwyneth laughed this off. “I could have re:moved him many times over, especially when he was in stasis in this very room. One day you’ll understand that everything I’ve done was meant to test him or guide him or strengthen him. He needs me, Eliza. If you want to help the boy, let me go.”

  “No,” she said, after giving it some thought. “For all your pretty words, I still don’t trust you.”

  “Well, if nothing else, look at the book!” the Aunt fizzed. “All the time we spend dithering together extends the possibility of another time rift opening. We could at least find out what made him so anxious.” She pointed at the bookshelf again.

  “Oh, very well.” Eliza marched to the shelves and drew the book down. It was a dictionary. (One of Mr. Henry’s favorites.) It was heavy and she needed to support it carefully as she searched for the letters her dragon had revealed. There was only one entry that began with the sequence G-A-D-Z. It chilled her to see it, though she couldn’t say why. A word she was unfamiliar with, but that seemed to shine a light in the back of her mind: Gadzooks.

  “Gadzooks?” said Aunt Gwyneth when she heard it read. It seemed to set a nerve alive in her mind, too. “What is its meaning?”

  Eliza put a finger on the page. “It’s an archaic expression, a contraction of the phrase ‘claws of Godith.’” She turned a few more pages. “That’s very strange. Godith is a mythical dragon that was supposed to have created the universe with her breath. Do you know anything about that?”

  “No,” said the Aunt. She narrowed her gaze and studied Eliza carefully. “Listen to me, girl. This is important. Hidden in a room upstairs is a claw. I cannot say for certain it came from a dragon, but if you insist in believing in these creatures, it would be most unwise to say that it didn’t. We must recover it at once and take it to David. In the wrong hands, such a thing would be deadly.”

  Eliza put the dictionary back — and sighed.

  Aunt Gwyneth slammed her fists against the bars. “This is not a ruse, you stupid girl. You have the evidence there in front of you. Your sculpture was clearly issuing a warning. You must have felt it when you commingled with David? You heard what Rosa said. They don’t know what awaits them on the upper floors. Your son’s life and the future of Co:pern:ica might be at stake. Are you going to act or not?”

  “All right,” Eliza said, spreading her hands. “Tell me how you know about this claw in the first place. If you can convince me, I might let you go.”

  For once, Aunt Gwyneth pumped for the truth. “When I first encountered the Ix, they had taken the form of a black firebird.”

  “Go on,” Eliza said, remembering Penny’s claims in the gardenaria.

  Aunt Gwyneth’s mind began to calculate — fast. “It was tracking David’s movements, I suspect. I followed it here and did battle with it. It had the claw then, but hid it when it forced me to turn into a katt.”

  “And you know where it is?”

  “I’m not familiar with this building, but any descendant of Agawin ought to be able to extend her fain and tune in to its whereabouts.”

  Eliza tapped her toe. She counted to three, then marched across the room and yanked up the cage (throwing Aunt Gwyneth onto her bottom). “All right, I’ll do it. But you’re coming with me. I’ll carry you, Mother, but I won’t let you out.”

  Aunt Gwyneth stood up and dusted herself down. She made a promise to herself that when she got out of this embarrassing cage she would make the girl pay for that bout of heavy-handed brutality. For the moment, however, things were well enough. The Aunt Su:perior raised a smile. Despite the annoying swing of the cage, she put her hands behind her back and fiddled with the hairpin she’d taken from her bun a few minits earlier. It had been a long time since she’d picked a lock. But even in her fainless state, such a task was not beyond her capabilities. All that mattered now was
to have the dragon’s claw. The natural order would then be restored. And she, Gwyneth, would at last become the most powerful woman on all Co:pern:ica.

  7.

  Gadzooks. David carried the name with him all through the lower floors of the librarium. And each time it formed its shape on his lips, an image of a dragon floated into his mind. Another like the one his mother had made, a cousin of the sculpture in Penny’s hands. But unlike the book-reading dragon, Gadzooks carried a pen (or possibly a pencil), and a notepad, presumably to write things down. David thought of Mr. Henry then, and how the curator had always held the view that if books were windows onto the world, writing was the latch that opened them — in short, the centerpoint of all creativity. Words made the universe turn, he said. Somewhere within that revolving world, as distant but as vibrant as a shining star, David knew he shared a place with the dragon Gadzooks. He simply did not know in what sense yet, though it felt as natural as the air in his lungs and as permanent as the creases in the center of his palm. He looked at the dragon in Penny’s hands, solid now, inert, holding its book to the fore like a sail. To the untrained eye it was a model, nothing more. And, like everything else on Co:pern:ica, from the lowliest button to the puffiest cloud, it had a certain level of auma — to the casual observer, a fairly low reading. But there was something strange about this creation, which Eliza herself might not even be aware of. There was a spark inside the sculpture, right at its middle. A glint of white fire. A fire within. How could a creature created from earth, with the properties of earth (its solidity, basically, was just a disguise), hide such powerful auma inside it? How could something made of clay be alive?

  “Will you tell me about our father?”

  “Umm?” David said.

  Penny rolled her eyes sideways. “I didn’t know we had a father. What’s he like? Why isn’t he at home — with us?”

  From the head of the party Rosa called out, “Get ready. We’re going in.”

  “Later,” David whispered, patting Penny’s arm.

  They had reached the corridor on Floor Forty-Two, approaching the door to the fiction department. This time there was no need for passwords or codes; they simply sailed through on Aurielle’s command. Azkiar was waiting on the other side, perched, half-asleep, on the swinging sign.

  “Wow, I like that one!” Penny said.

  But he clearly did not think the same of her. His ear tufts swiveled so far forward that the feathers above his eyes were nearly ejected like a row of arrows. Filling the space like a bloodred stain, he glided onto the librarium floor and began a heated exchange with Aurielle. Aleron, ever calm, fluttered to a shelf and blew a snort of air.

  “Rosa, what are they saying?” David asked.

  She pinched her lips together as if she’d been expecting something like this. “He wants to know what took her so long and what the kid is doing here.”

  “Tch! Why doesn’t anyone want me?” Penny tutted. She stuck out her tongue, which only made Azkiar glare at her — hard.

  “And there’s been a development upstairs.” Rosa cocked her head to listen. “I’m not sure I’ve got the translation right, they’re speaking very fast, but I think he just said that something’s got away and he can’t find it.” She leaned closer to David so Penny couldn’t hear. “What was that about the danger being over?”

  “All right, I’ll deal with it,” he said. “RRRH!” he went loudly.

  Aurielle and Azkiar immediately stopped arguing and turned in unison to look at him.

  “Impressive,” said Rosa, folding her arms. “You’ve learned enough of their words to be able to say, ‘Hey.’”

  “Tell them I want Aleron and the red one to guard Penny while she searches for a book. They’re to stay on this floor and take her back to Mom as soon as she’s done.”

  “Oh …,” Penny started.

  “No arguments, Penny. Something’s going on upstairs. It would be better if Rosa and I dealt with it alone. Here, come with me a moment. Let me show you where I found Alicia.” He guided her to the space where the book belonged and slid it back into place. “I’m sure any of these stories would be very entertaining. What about this one, The Twonks?” He pulled it down off a shelf her height. “Look, it’s got a silly picture of a man with food in his beard.”

  Penny gazed at it without much enthusiasm. “Maybe,” she said. It did look funny.

  “Well, it’s here, if you want it,” David said, leaving The Twonks on the shelf. “He’s done a lot, hasn’t he, Roland Darl? Take your time looking through them. Borrow any you like.”

  “David.” Rosa came up and tapped his shoulder. “Azkiar — the red bird — doesn’t want to stay. He wants to be upstairs when we see the ‘sheet’ or something. I can’t make out what he’s trying to tell me.”

  David sighed and flicked his gaze toward Aleron. “Can you get him to stick really close to Penny?”

  Rosa thought for a moment and tried a few words.

  The next thing Penny knew, she had a green firebird sitting on her head.

  “Not that close,” David said. All the same he turned to Penny and said, “That means he likes you. Have fun. He’ll look after you. I’ve got to go.”

  Too startled to argue, Penny merely waved good-bye.

  The journey picked up speed. Azkiar flew on ahead and was out of sight by the time they had reached Floor Fifty-Two. There was little time to stop and look around properly, but David was soaking up the rooms as they went. None was shaped quite the same as any other, and many had chairs and lounging areas, but the one thing they all had in common was books. Shelf after perfect shelf of books. All in order. All the spines level. Every row the exact same distance from the edge. This was repeated all the way up to Floor Eighty-One, where the pattern suddenly began to change. On some shelves, gaps began to appear. Only a few at first. But by the time another four floors had been climbed, the lines were radically broken. The books were now spread out in irregular groups, as if they had chosen to huddle together by common acquaintance or kin. At first David simply assumed that whoever had done the ordering here had left (or even died) before they could complete their task. Then he noticed something very unusual. The books had no titles or authors — or words. When he took one down and opened it, the pages were blank. And yet he could feel more auma in his hands than would be present in a whole roomful of books farther down the building. He shouted to Aurielle to slow down for a moment, so that he might investigate further. But the female bird was so close to her goal that she simply squawked and pushed on. David put the book back, in not quite the same place — and saw it move to its correct position. If ever he needed proof that the librarium was alive, there it was.

  He caught up with Rosa and Aurielle on Floor One Hundred and Eight. The firebird had perched on a tall wooden pedestal just to one side of a closed arched door. Above the door was a large old clock with a carved wooden face. Dragons decorated all the numerals. David turned and walked a few paces in reverse, so that he might look back the way they’d come. The shelves of books seemed to blur and stretch, way out of proportion to the distance they’d traveled. Yet the way through the arched door was simple enough. Aurielle tipped her beak toward a twisted cord of rope suspended from the ceiling. When Rosa pulled it, the clock hands began to spin and the sound of chiming spread through the building.

  The door swung open.

  The room was large and rectangular and long. It smelled of old feathers, which was hardly surprising as the floor was ankle-deep with them. Unusually, the windows were set very high and most had their shutters half-closed. This did not prevent sunlight angling through the slats and lending the room a dappled golden hue. From a circle of plaster at the center of the ceiling hung a large chandelier, in which an untidy nest had been built. Azkiar was sitting in it. Loose books were everywhere, of course, stacked in piles, or strewn untidily on dusty shelves, or lodged in a heap on a chair in the corner, or spread out on the table that ran the entire length of the room. David felt the urg
e to start checking them at once, but a call from Aurielle made him look up.

  She had landed on her “tower” and was urging the humans to come and see something pinned to the wall behind her. David left Rosa admiring a couple of candlesticks and waded through the feathers to investigate.

  He must have studied the tapestry for all of a minit before calling out to Rosa that she needed to join him. But Rosa was still occupied halfway down the room. She was holding two halves of an eggshell in her hands and had a strange, otherworldly look in her eyes.

  “I got it wrong,” she muttered as he returned to her side.

  “Got what wrong?”

  “My translation downstairs.”

  “Never mind,” he said. “You really need to come and look at —” The faint noise of humming suddenly drew his attention. It was coming from a large old book on the table. He turned it over. This one did have a title: The Book of Agawin. “Wh —? How did this get here?” he said.

  But Rosa wasn’t listening. “What I took to be ‘got away’ was right,” she muttered, “but only in a general sense. ‘Broken free’ would have been a better translation.” She fitted the halves of the shell together, then slowly opened it again. “This is what Azkiar couldn’t find. Something’s hatched.”

  8.

  Penny,” David whispered, fearing for her safety. In one stride he’d started to run for the door, much to the consternation of Aurielle. The bird flapped and squawked in such an agitated manner that her centuries-old book tower finally collapsed and she was forced to take to the air. The crash displaced a dust cloud as high as the shuttered windows. For a while the chandelier was lost from view, though Azkiar could still be heard coughing out words that Rosa probably wished she couldn’t translate. When Aurielle emerged, her dismay was barely camouflaged by the dirt patches clinging to her grubby feathers. Despite this, there was a positive outcome. The accident had made David hesitate and look back to see if Aurielle had been injured. While he was still batting feathers from his face, Rosa had come up with her own reason to dissuade him from leaving.