The Queen of Dreams (The Dashkova Memoirs Book 6)

by Thomas K. Carpenter

  "We can be out this door and take care of the two men outside before they even know it," he said. "Then we can take a Uthlaylaa hostage and force him to help us with the knowledge we seek."

  "No," I said immediately. "No killing. No violence if we can help it."

  I didn't elaborate for their education, but I knew why I had said it. Those were the old ways, the Russian way. How could I be a warrior for the Enlightenment If I used the methods of my enemy?

  But it was more than that. Seeing Catherine had reminded me of how much I was Russian, despite my European education. Veles had thought to trap me, to lure me to his side with Catherine. It would be a lie to deny the thoughts I harbored about being with her again.

  So I couldn't risk those methods anymore. I had to find another way. Otherwise, Veles might capture the prophecies and it wouldn't just be my world at his fingertips.

  "What then?" asked Santiago, lips sour. "There's only one way out of this apartment, and there's no way the Uthlaylaa will help us without coercion. There's only one way we're going to get the information you need, and if it's that important, then we'll do it my way."

  I didn't answer right away. He was right about many things: the danger, the difficulty, and especially the importance of the information. He was right about many things, but not about the most important thing.

  In a soft voice I might use with a child, I asked, "Santiago, what was that chocolate that Morwen gave you?"

  The muscles in his neck tightened up. His snowy hair partially hid the rage in his eyes.

  "Please. Tell me. I have a guess what she gave you, but I need to know for sure," I said.

  He turned his head as if looking away from a bright light. "I worry that the other potion, the one that suppresses my curse, is wearing off prematurely. I have thoughts that no sane man should have. So I asked Morwen for something I might take—should I fear the rage will overwhelm my good sense—that would make me immobile in a pinch."

  The admission of his murderous thoughts was a worry, but not the immediate concern. The chocolate was what I thought it was, and it might help us.

  "Santiago," I said in a bright voice, trying to lighten the mood, "are you familiar with the play Hamlet?"

  Chapter Fourteen

  The chocolate, it turned out, did not render me unconscious as I first thought it would. Rather, it immobilized my muscles and limbs, leaving me aware of the world but with no way to affect it.

  I'd only eaten a quarter of the chocolate, but the effect was immediate. Santiago barely got behind me in time to save me from slamming against the floor like a tipped board.

  The first few minutes I spent in complete terror. I'd slept on an arm before, and woken to find it unresponsive to my wishes. To have my whole body completely numb was akin to waking up dead. I worried that if this went on too long, my sanity would be damaged. But eventually, I was able to calm myself, focusing on the task rather than the state of my felled body.

  I was lying on the carpeted floor when Keeper Lathroso, summoned by the guard, appeared in the room. Despite the dark hour, she still wore her breeches and cream shirt, though they had the wrinkles and ink smudges of late-night work.

  "Scholarship and wisdom," said Santiago, his voice filled with concern. "Thank you for coming so quickly. We don't know what to do."

  Upon seeing my motionless body, Keeper Lathroso made a strangled gasp in the back of her throat.

  "Knowledge Seeker Katerina well?" she asked, tugging on the loose fur around her neck.

  "We...don't know, though we have some suspicions. At first, we thought it might be poison." Santiago nodded towards the tray of food. "But it seems unlikely, since that sort of inter-ward intrigue takes time to develop. No one could have known we were coming, especially not another Master."

  From my unique vantage, I spied Keeper Lathroso's grip tightening on her fur at the mention of poison. Santiago's explanation reduced the tension, but the consideration that it was a possibility told me much about the atmosphere within the library.

  Knowledge was a valuable commodity, and what I'd offered was like showing up to a noble's house with a cart full of gold. She glanced at the guards before returning her attention to Santiago. She wondered if they might be spies.

  "Others enjoy?" asked Lathroso, motioning towards the tray.

  "No," said Santiago. "And she sampled amongst the foods, so we're not even sure what it might have been."

  Before they'd called the guards, I'd strategically taken a bite out of each item on the tray. The breads were akin to my world, while the fruits were sweet, but had expected flavors akin to apples or pears or plums. Only the food that Santiago called falos, harvested from fungus and dried into hard sticks, had been completely unexpected. They looked like jerky, but tasted like spiced pudding.

  Keeper Lathroso chewed on her words before speaking. "But not suspect food?"

  Santiago made a heavy sigh, as if he were about to impart a delicate truth.

  "You are, of course, familiar with the realm of Gallasid?" he asked, to a quickened in breath from Keeper Lathroso, followed by an abrupt nod. "In our recent travels there, Katerina spied a Yolgothi. Briefly, I might add. We thought nothing of it, as we were there to break her eye contact."

  The tugging of the fur returned, followed by a worried glance at me. The Keeper looked at me as if I was a bucket of vipers.

  "Even glance of Yolgothi most dangerous," said Keeper Lathroso. "Like worm in brain, hiding and making worm babies in shadows, until come out and take over."

  "Yes," said Santiago. "That is our concern, too. Though I could have imagined it, I thought I saw her eyes turn the color of the Yolgothi, that rotten yellow-brown, just for a moment. Then it was gone."

  Keeper Lathroso squatted on her heels and placed a furry finger against my forehead. She stared into my unblinking eyes for a long time before shaking her head and standing up.

  "No poison learning," said Keeper Lathroso. "Many possibilities. Yolgothi? Poison? Each danger. Will delay Master until answer. Walk with light foot. Understand?"

  Santiago wrinkled his face.

  Ben commented right after. "I think she means tread carefully."

  "Yes! Tread carefully. We must," she said. "Knowledge too important."

  Keeper Lathroso faced the guards, who had been waiting at the entrance. She seemed to be considering their possible involvement with a poisoning.

  In their language, she gave them instructions before speaking one last time to us.

  "Stay here. Sending litter to Knowledge Seeker Katerina. Take for fix. Wait. Not long," she said, then swept out of the room before either Ben or Santiago could comment.

  In the time between, I considered Keeper Lathroso's words. She had let it slip the importance of the knowledge. It was imperative to them that I be preserved, though not enough to risk the madness of the Yolgothi.

  But more importantly, the ruse would give us access to the lower levels. Santiago had explained that the medical areas were located near the area where the near-dead were prepped to join the Great Library. Once we were down there, we would have to improvise.

  About ten minutes later, two nurses—one male hrevanti and a near-human female, whose mottled face looked as if it'd been squashed flat with a board—appeared with an iron-wheeled litter that reminded me of an overlarge baby buggy without the covering. They wore loose gray clothing with blue armbands.

  With practiced competence, they maneuvered my body onto the rolling cart. The jostling left my head tilted. The hrevanti fixed my twisted neck. That feeling of helplessness overwhelmed me for a moment until I was able to force it back down.

  As the nurses pushed the wheeled cart out, Ben and Santiago moved to follow, but the guards stepped in their way.

  "We must stay with our companion," said Santiago.

  The guards said nothing. I couldn't see anything as the two nurses wheeled me down an arched hallway. I heard angry shouts.

  Ben? Santiago?

  Where were
they? They were supposed to be with me. My heart ricocheted around my chest. Panic rose up like floodwaters, threatening to drown my sanity.

  Ben! Santiago!

  They were being left behind. I was alone, immobile.

  I pushed away the fear as much as I could. They would find me. Surely, it was only a temporary mistake.

  After a series of hallways, the nurses brought me to a room that shook for a while. Then the door opened back up and they wheeled me into a new area.

  The crystal globes were different here, soft yellow light like morning sun. The waters calmed in my chest.

  I would be fine. The physicians were located close to the near-dead. At the edge of the Great Library.

  Ben...Santiago...

  It would have been better if I could have closed my eyes. It's not like I could have memorized the path based on the details of the stone ceilings.

  The nurses stopped the cart next to a stone slab, then lifted me onto it and placed my arms and legs into leather straps, cinching them tight.

  The cold stone leeched the warmth from my body. Before long, I was shivering, but the nurses had gone, taking the cart with them.

  When Keeper Lathroso strolled in with a Uthlaylaa behind her, I sensed a turn of events. The Keeper's brown eyes betrayed deviant amusement.

  "Hide knowledge? Did not think not listen? Lathroso hear everything," she said.

  The Uthlaylaa stayed behind Lathroso, its arms hanging limp, less companion, more servant. But its presence left me with no doubt how this encounter was going to go.

  Lathroso stroked my arm, eyes wide. "Jinn-Se-San alone worth much. But guess other secrets worth more. After knowledge, I make Master, have own ward."

  I realized my mistake in offering the Jinn-Se-San as bait. Neva had told me that a whole ward was dedicated to understanding the Shard of Time. Greed drives people to do terrible things, a fact I was soon to find out.

  I willed my limbs to move, even for one toe to wiggle, but nothing came. Calling my sorcery did nothing either, as if I needed some muscle control to shape the magic. Or maybe the chocolate had subdued some subtle pathway required for its use.

  "First Princess Katerina, then others. No one miss loslosta," said the Keeper.

  She gave the Uthlaylaa a concise command, then stepped back to observe.

  The creature's lipless mouth opened wide, the grayish skin stretching and wrinkling as it peeled back. A faint reddish mist floated from its horrible mouth.

  Red mist!

  I recognized it from the prophecy. It'd been in Ben's mouth. But I knew that was only one interpretation of the future. The prophecy had grown dark, as if my circumstances had somehow made that future irrelevant.

  The prophecies could be changed by those with a strong enough will. Had I met my match in Keeper Lathroso? I did not think so.

  But my thoughts fled as the red mist surged out of the Uthlaylaa's mouth, moving through the air like a patient jellyfish, floating ever closer to my parted lips. I managed a faint gurgle, which elicited a chuckle from Keeper Lathroso.

  "Katerina fights. Katerina stirs. Soon nothing. Anwar e'e toche accept you as one," she said.

  Then I knew my doom completely. She wasn't planning on taking the information, but on placing me into the Library of the Dead, as one of its captive minds, to hold and share my information.

  "Eyes dance thoughts of understanding," said the Keeper, leaning over my motionless body. "Soon struggle no more. No fear."

  As the red mist drifted past my lips, I sensed a great cavern open in my mind, as if I'd been thrown into the sea and commanded to swallow it all. It kept opening wider, tearing down the walls in my mind, ripping through my paper-thin defenses.

  A million-throated chorus of voices rose in crescendo, welcoming me into the anwar e'e toche, and as the presence overwhelmed me, I realized that the name "Library of the Dead" was all wrong.

  It wasn't dead at all. It was very much alive.

  And it wanted my knowledge.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The crescendo of voices rose like a tidal wave, ever higher, reaching, skimming the sky, threatening to topple over and crush me beneath.

  They rose, beautiful, angelic, mysterious. In the tide shallows beneath the wave, I let the sound pluck at my soul.

  Contained within that limitless expanse was knowledge beyond knowledge, information, thoughts, history, experiences immortal.

  If I gave in, opened my being, I could become one with the Great Library. Add my meager knowledge to its stores and in return accept so much more.

  And why not?

  No longer would I have to worry about the impending war.

  No longer would I have to struggle with my place in the world.

  The Great Library would accept me without precondition, welcome me like a long-lost daughter, son, father, soldier, scholar, spy.

  The tip of the sky-skimming wave began to curl. It was so high, the movement was tiny, but I knew that once it fell, nothing would protect me.

  Except.

  A buzzing, vibrating ball of futures not-yet-happened pulsed its displeasure at the impending convergence.

  It didn't want to be assimilated into the Great Library.

  I didn't either, I realized.

  The sheer limitlessness had stunned me into a mute acceptance.

  But with the prophecies in my head whispering possible futures, showing me the potential obliteration of the multiverse, even more terrible than what Veles implied, I realized that I had to fight.

  For if I was absorbed into the Great Library, it would know how to manipulate the future until there was nothing but a Great Library that spanned all space and time, one big throbbing mind that did nothing but exist, satisfying its need to understand everything until there was nothing left to understand. Death.

  The foamy crest rushed down at me, the leading edge exploding into mist as it accelerated. The voices grew louder, more frenetic, coaxed into a frenzy at the expectation of assimilation.

  Without considering if or how it could be done, I wrapped the prophecy around my mind, body, soul. My being. Used its time-warping power to form a shield, defining myself not just as a person that contained the prophecy, but as the prophecy made real.

  It was the only way I would survive the assault. For the prophecy could not be destroyed.

  But I could.

  I burrowed deep inside it. Like a baby rabbit nestling against its mother to avoid the sharp-toothed predator.

  Like a mole digging deeper into the earth to get away from the flood.

  Like a diver fleeing the storm.

  Deeper.

  Deeper.

  Letting that seething ball of pathways, time-nodes, and temporal vibrations connect and intertwine with my soul.

  When the wave hit, I was curled into a ball like a steel hedgehog.

  Against the forge of my life, the million-throated voice pounded me. Hammered.

  The force shook the bones of my soul until they were jiggly loose, breaking apart. Separating me from the prophecy.

  Strike.

  Hammer.

  The wave of souls wedged between me and the prophecy, to drive me out so it could absorb us easily.

  But I couldn't let it.

  Not because of the Enlightenment.

  Not because of my friends, my son and daughter. Not even for Catherine.

  I fought back because I was not ready to die.

  So I squeezed myself tighter against the prophecies as the water kept pounding.

  It kept coming and coming. Against that forge I was hardened.

  So that before long, I couldn't tell the difference between the prophecy and me.

  When the crashing wave had spent its fury across my being and I was still alive, I lay in a peaceful state. The water tried to force its way in, change me somehow, but I was already changed.

  I floated in that abyss for what seemed like weeks.

  When at last I opened my eyes, shaken awake by a disembodied h
and, I was disoriented by what I saw.

  "Ben?"

  I heard the weak voice and knew it for my own.

  His voice sounded distant, like it was reaching me through a long, glass tube. The lines of his mouth and forehead were creased with worry. His gray eyes held gloomy storms. Ben shook me again. His lips moved, but the words were lost echoes.

  Santiago, his blades out, was standing guard at the doorway.

  Ben shook me a third time, then began unlatching the leather straps.

  Was I awake? Was I dreaming?

  Ben pulled me upright.

  Sounds, dull and throbbing, bounced around in my head.

  He pulled me towards the doorway that Santiago was guarding.

  No! Not that way!

  Ben pulled harder, but I couldn't let them take me that way. The Uthlaylaa were roused. The library awoken. Keepers stormed the hallways.

  Ben pulled again.

  Rather than speak, I shook my head.

  His mouth moved. Forehead bunched.

  The other way!

  Ben and Santiago spoke to each other, but I couldn't understand them. A dull whisking drum, like sand flowing through a giant hourglass, stole my hearing.

  We needed to go in the other direction. Why didn't they see that? The library was alive. Like an anthill rallying the defenses when enemy beetles arrived.

  Twisting my arm released Ben's warm fingers from my wrist. I marched across the room, stepping over the fallen form of the Uthlaylaa that had released the red mist into me. Its gray skin was untouched. No wounds. Yet I knew it for dead.

  I pushed through the door. To my eyes, the way forward was as obvious as a lighted path through a massive dark cavern.

  Follow.

  I lifted my arm and motioned for them to follow.

  The stone was colder here. We were deep within the city, but not yet deep in the library. We needed to go deeper.

  After a series of turns, I found a room with an iron fence as a door. I pushed it aside and stepped onto the hollow sounding floor. Ben and Santiago followed.

  With the iron fence closed behind us, I pulled on the brass lever on the wall that went in a circle, not the one that went up and down. The room lurched, and in seconds, we were moving.