"This section is fascinating," Keshav answered, keeping his voice low and waving at the shelves around him. "I was about to come and ask you about it."
"Ah, yes, I bet it is. It's the collection of Genn works the royal family has gathered through the centuries. They couldn't be bothered to keep it at the palace's library, since nobody can read them, so they donated all the books to us."
"The... Genn works?" Keshav asked, puzzled. "What does that mean?"
"It means that those ethereal beings portrayed are not human like you and me." The old man nodded, thoughtful. His eyes weren't so good anymore, but he had obviously studied the books before. "The Genn are one of the Magical Races. Those mythical beings we rarely meet, but the Genn are somehow tied to our royal family. Ever wondered why our king is blond and blue-eyed?"
Keshav had seen King Prem at public gatherings. A handsome man with sky-blue eyes and fair skin who hid his hair under a bejeweled turban. But he did look different from the rest of the Gajendran people as much as his brother, Prince Dilip.
"Oh." He nodded, pondering. "So the Gajendran royal family has Genn blood?"
"Yes." The librarian caressed the thin pages of the book. "Who knows when these magical people mated with them. I think these books are as old as the university, maybe older."
The old man slowly sat next to him and turned a few pages.
"See the dragon here? They might know something about them." He pointed at another page and another miniature. "And here? Water people. See the underwater town?" He turned back to a previous chapter with great care. "And winged people." He pointed again.
By then Keshav's jaw had dropped. He had noticed the creatures, but didn't think they were important, or even real. He thought they were legends or metaphors or who knew what, like the ones he'd seen in other manuscripts.
"I think this book tells the story of the Magical Races." The librarian sighed. "It's all assumptions on my part, of course. Blessed Vedas knows, but I'm just a librarian."
"And really nobody can read them?" Khesav asked, recovering from his surprise.
"You might find someone who speaks the Old Tongue," the librarian answered. "As for reading it... I don't know."
"Who?" Keshav pressed, excited.
"Aagney the Storyteller. You can find him usually at The Sour Stallion Tavern..."
***
Keshav stepped into The Sour Stallion Tavern and stopped near the entrance to look around. It looked decently clean and of overall good quality for a medium-sized establishment. He wasn't interested in a room, or the food, but the place was so crowded it must be popular. Almost all patrons were sober and almost none armed – it was a loud and cheerful crowd of artisans and merchants with only a few shady characters among them.
The most notable patron seemed to be an elegantly dressed mercenary wearing expensive jewelry and a sword. He looked like a young prince and seemed very keen to buy drinks for everyone. A couple of his men sat at a nearby table, the only ones openly armed in sight.
The princely mercenary had light brown hair and amber eyes, which were uncommon in the southern kingdoms, but not so much in Gajendra and Amrendra, that bordered the northern kingdoms. Still, his looks reminded Keshav of the talk about the royal family and he thought he heard someone call him "Highness" – to which the young man retorted, "Please, call me Rohan."
There were dancing girls in a corner and the bartender was also female. Keshav hadn't seen many in the southern kingdoms. Either she was the owner's daughter or the owner's wife, probably. She stared curiously at him and greeted him when he neared the counter.
"What can I get you, handsome?" she asked.
Keshav looked over his shoulder, but she was really talking to him. Weird.
She smiled. "Not used to compliments?"
"Ah, no, not really," he answered after clearing his throat. "Scholars don't get much traction with women."
"When you're tired of your monastic life, you can always come to me," she replied with a wink. "So, what can I get you? Wine, beer?"
"I don't drink much alcohol," he answered. "I'm actually looking for someone."
"And who would that be?"
"Aagney the Storyteller. I've been told he comes here often."
"He does, during the day to entertain our patrons. At this time it's the girls' time." She waved towards the dancing girls. "Why don't you stay for the show? Drinks on me."
"Ah, no, thank you. I shall come back in the morning," he said, a little disappointed. "When would be the best time to meet Aagney?"
"Midday... there's always someone buying him lunch after he finishes his stories..." She shrugged and moved to his left to welcome another patron with a bright smile.
"Thanks," Keshav muttered, leaving the tavern.
He felt relieved to have to come back during the day. He didn't like walking the streets of Godwalkar at night. He knew his way through the city by now, but there were never enough torches around. Not that he'd get mugged or anything, but he wasn't too comfortable in the dark.
He went back to his rented room and lay on his cot, thinking about the librarian and the bartender's words. Not much library time tomorrow. He had another kind of research to do.
***
Rohan wasn't really as drunk as he pretended to be. He noticed the newcomer who went to speak with Zoya at the counter. Tall and handsome, although he lacked the muscles of warriors. He also wore the brown frocks of a scholar, but that didn't mean he was boring. The oval face was very unusual, with those exotic black eyes as if he were of mixed blood.
Rohan had had a sword-teacher from the Islands Empire and was used to their looks – the slanted eyes, the straight black hair, the flat round faces – but the scholar looked from the southern kingdoms. He was probably someone attending Godwalkar's university, maybe even a teacher, although Rohan hadn't heard of a mixed blood teaching classes.
"Your Highness, would you like more wine?" Zoya's younger brother stopped by the table with a full jug, flashing an impish smile. The scrawny teen might grow up into a fine young man one day, but currently he wasn't to Rohan's taste.
"Absolutely," he said, offering his goblet. "Until my head falls on the table."
"Are you sad because Lord Abhilash is not here?" the teen asked, pouring wine to him and his table companions – commoners for the most part, since the guards accompanying him sat at another table.
"Sachit, mind your own business," he threatened. He didn't want to think about Abhilash. That was another reason to drink himself asleep at the Sour Stallion.
He sipped his wine and kept watching the scholar. He saw him blush under Zoya's stare and smiled. Typical of scholars being embarrassed by women.
"Your Highness, I think it's time we take you back to the palace." That was his bodyguard, a bulky man who had defeated him often when they exercised.
"I don't want to go back, Sanjay!" he complained as the man forced him to stand.
"Either you come with your legs, or I'll carry you."
Rohan glared, but Sanjay didn't react. Rohan knew better than to cross his bodyguard. Sighing, he headed for the tavern's door, followed by the two guards.
He didn't want to go back to his empty rooms. Not now that Abhilash was gone.
He stopped at the tavern's door and turned to face Sanjay. "On second thoughts, I think I'll stay..."
He had barely finished when the big man grabbed him and threw him over his shoulder. Rohan screamed "Let me down!" as Sanjay carried him outside.
But the bodyguard carried him in that undignified manner until they reached his father's palace, where he dropped him back on his feet in front of the main door. Rohan scowled, straightened his wrinkled clothes and entered the building.
"Damn you, Sanjay!" he muttered, unhappy. He didn't want to sleep alone.
"Should I carry you to your bedroom?" the bodyguard suggested.
"I can walk," he snapped in the empty entrance. "But I'd be grateful if you stayed in the room," he added grumpily.
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Sanjay just bowed in acceptance. He usually stood guard outside to grant Rohan privacy, but he was ready to do his duty inside if that was what was required. Probably someone else would take his place during the night to allow him some rest.
Rohan grunted and headed for bed, feeling defeated and not drunk enough for a good night's sleep.
CHAPTER TWO
Keshav went back to The Sour Stallion Tavern after a couple of hours spent at the library and a quick lunch with the chief librarian. Eating at the university canteen was much cheaper than the tavern and he hoped he wasn't too late to meet Aagney.
He headed for the counter in the half-empty main room. The bartender nodded a greeting and pointed to a table where four men sat. One was eating what looked like a whole boar while the others watched and chatted with him.
Keshav reached the counter and leaned towards the bartender. "That's Aagney?" he whispered, shocked.
"Yes, don't ask me where he puts it," she answered shaking her head.
For someone with such an appetite, the man was surprisingly thin. His hair was hidden under a red turban that matched his embroidered tunic. His clean-shaven and suntanned face looked middle-aged.
Keshav headed for the table noticing Aagney sat alone on his bench, as if continuing his show while eating. He had a stash of sheets of parchment next to him, hence his companions all sat in front of him. Keshav noticed the papers when he went around the table to approach him. Maybe the storyteller had his own notes, but glancing at the upper sheet, Keshav noticed it was written in the same alphabet of the Genn manuscripts he had been checking.
His heart beating faster, he stopped next to the man. "Excuse me, are you Aagney the Storyteller?" he asked, just in case.
"I am he." The other man answered between bites. "And you are?"
"Keshav of Amrendra, a scholar currently studying at Godwalkar's library... may I sit with you?"
"Sure." The man shrugged and pointed at the bench on the other side of the table.
The other three men rose and said good-bye to him. They were busy men who had taken only lunch time off and had their businesses to go back to. One of them was paying Aagney's bill with the promise to hear more stories tomorrow.
Keshav sat on the vacated bench. He wasn't sure how to start his request.
Aagney finished his meal and licked his fingers, then downed a jug of water. At least he didn't drink wine. With a satisfied burp, Aagney pushed away the plates and stared at Keshav.
"Well?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. He had deep brown eyes that seemed to read souls.
"I was told that you speak and possibly read the Old Tongue," Keshav answered, fidgeting uncomfortably under the man's stare. "I was wondering if you could help me to decipher some manuscripts at the library."
"Would that be the Genn books?" The man smiled. He had all his teeth and they looked very white in the brown face. "I can tell you those stories by heart. The rise and fall of the Genn kingdoms in the north and how they hid underground since Humans were so stupid that they couldn't appreciate them. Of course Humans are too stupid to deal with anything different from them." Aagney snorted and looked away. "Sometimes I wonder why I bother... but then, I like you more than I like my own kind!"
He grinned at Keshav's startled expression, then leaned forward.
"So you're a scholar... can you keep a secret? I'll pass on secret knowledge to you if you promise you won't teach it anywhere."
"I'm a very bad teacher," Keshav replied, puzzled. "But I'm hungry for knowledge. I want to understand how this world works and what forces move it and..."
Aagney straightened and sighed. "What forces? Nature and the Immortals. Who are the Immortals? They are the creators, but Humans are mostly oblivious to them. You have your own gods and don't know shit of how the world works."
"Such contempt seems out of place in your mouth," Keshav said.
"Just because I look Human doesn't mean I'm Human, does it? I did mention that I don't get along with my own kind... I'm of Fire's people. Hence this very appropriate Human name for this form."
Aagney meant "Born from fire" or "Son of fire", and it was common for people who adored the Fire God. Keshav had noticed there were many deities throughout the southern kingdoms and they were not always the same. Surya and Chanda were almost everywhere, but Zindagi was mostly in Akkora while in Arquon they adored their king as a god.
"So you're not Human?" Keshav asked, skeptical.
"No, I'm Fajrulo, but I like to mingle with Humans." Aagney shrugged. "So, the Immortals created the Magical Races and chose one race for each. Fajrulo and Fire, Waiora and Water, Sila and Air, Genn and Ether... Earth took Humans, since they were the most harmless. That's fourteen hundred years ago, of course. Then, in the course of time, Humans evolved and became a pest for the Magical Races who decided to hide... at least for a while and especially in the north, where those barbarians destroyed the Genn kingdoms."
Keshav gaped. Amrendra was at the border of the Gallian Kingdom and he had heard a lot about the blond barbarians of the north. The Amrendran army had been guided by two Gallian mercenaries for a while and he could understand their dialect, even though he wasn't very fluent in it.
He knew there were other kingdoms up north, but he had no idea that they had sprung from the ashes of Genn kingdoms. Maybe that was when the Genn had come south and mated with the Gajendran royal family? He asked Aagney who shook his head.
"No idea," he answered. "I'm not into Genn politics. I know their stories, but I don't care about their history. It's boring. All Magical Races are quite boring, in my opinion. They never change. That's what's so fascinating about Humans. You're totally unpredictable!"
"I'd be delighted if you told me the story of the Genn kingdoms," Keshav said humbly. "I can't really afford to buy you another meal, but..."
"I'm full, thank you." Aagney turned towards the counter. "Zoya, can I have more water, please? I need to talk a lot again!"
"Sure thing, honey." The bartender smiled and winked at Keshav. She brought two jugs of water and put them on the table, taking away the dirty dishes and the empty jug.
Aagney emptied half the jug and slammed it back down, cleaning his mouth with his hand.
"So! Genn kingdoms! Ever heard of the Moren Empire?"
***
The silence of the house was deafening after the noisy room of the Sour Stallion. Keshav had stayed at the tavern way past dinner time and left only when the music and the dancing girls had made all talking impossible.
Aagney had told him fascinating stories about the Magical Races and the Moren Empire and northern history. He told them as if he'd been there, participating in those battles or watching over them like a god. He even said that his father passed himself off as Axis, God of War, and had led many armies to war.
Keshav's landlady came out of the bedroom with a candle.
"You're late, Keshav, what kept you at the library all day?" she chided.
"I was at a tavern, actually, listening to stories," he answered absentmindedly.
"Did you eat?" She was often more motherly than his own mother had been.
"Ah, no... I'll have a flatbread, if there's any, and go to bed," he answered, lighting the oil lamp near the door.
"Help yourself in the kitchen," she said with a nod. "We also have fresh fruits."
"Thanks, and good-night."
He went to the kitchen to grab a flatbread and a couple of peaches, then went to his room in the attic, where he put the oil lamp on the bed table. He ate and undressed at the same time, still thinking about Aagney's words. He needed to jot down everything.
Still munching, he took his journal and his quill, sitting on the bed to take notes. Biting a peach, the juice ran down his chin, so he decided he better eat the fruits before dropping any juice on the precious pages. He put down the leather-bound notebook and quickly finished eating, throwing the seeds out of the window.
He sat down again, closer to the lamp, and took the jou
rnal in his lap. The dancing shadows on the sliding roof overhead helped him remember the succession of events recounted by Aagney.
It seemed to have all started with Norina, a Human shaman, who had become immortal through a Dark Pond at twenty-five, some five centuries after the arrival of the Immortals and the creation of the Magical Races, whom at the time were wide-spread throughout the lands and mingling with fairly uncultivated Humans.
Then there was the birth of the first hero, Bran Silverhand, and a war against trolls and giants. Faeries and dwarves were also very common back then. And Fajrulo had Human forms and passed themselves off as gods to those first scattered Humans.
Apparently the Magical Races didn't breed as much as Humans. Three centuries later the first Human king founded Moriana. Bran Silverhand battled against Norina, the Queen of Darkness, and died. Then the Magical Races helped the foundation of the Moren Empire, that had lasted almost three centuries and covered the north except the south-eastern coast.
Powerful half-bloods had lived in the Moren Empire and finally one of them, the prince of Rayheart, had managed to get rid of the Queen of Darkness, although her son Manusia was still in charge in the underworld. Therefore demons were very real, but nobody in the southern kingdoms bothered summoning them because of different religious beliefs.
The Genn Kingdom of Rayheart had fallen approximately five centuries after Norina had gained the dark power. The Genn Kingdom of Sunlight had followed suit less than twenty-five years later. Almost two centuries into the Moren Empire, the third Genn kingdom, Ravenlock, had been abandoned to go live underground.
Aagney had been very clear about all three kingdoms: Rayheart was in the plains of the east, Appleyard in the forests of the west and Ravenlock in the mountains of the north. Now Keshav wished he had a map of the world to ground himself and understand where everything had happened.
He needed to talk more with Aagney about what was left of those lost kingdoms in the north, since apparently the Moren Empire had fallen too and the north was now divided into tribes and city-states of a warring kind. He needed to know if it was safe to travel to those lands and look for physical proof, or if he should just forget those stories and stick to the more peaceful southern kingdoms.
Quests Volume Two Page 13