Second Chronicles of Illumination

by C. A. Pack

  Dungen turned so red you couldn’t tell his skin from his hair. “Vote tomorrow, we must,” he shouted, “and with you, bring your pledge.”

  LOI

  CHAPTER 38

  On Romantica, a full minute passed before Dame Erato followed Natalia Dalura into the bindery. Pru Tellerence wasted no time getting to Natalia’s closet where she exchanged the curator’s cloak for her own robe.

  EEEaaaarrrrrrrk.

  The stairs! Pru Tellerence fumbled as she buttoned her robe.

  “Is anyone in here?” Natalia sounded like she was in the living room.

  The overseer reached for the corner of the top shelf and grabbed her miter, slapping it firmly on her head.

  A moment later, she appeared in the meditation room of the College of Overseers in Lumi.

  ★

  ΩPru Tellerence, are you quite all right? Plato Indelicat couldn’t help noticing the untidiness of the female overseer. In her haste to get away, Pru Tellerence had missed a fastener on one side of her robe, causing it to bunch up and appear sloppy. Besides that, she had slapped the miter on her head so quickly, it failed to cover all her dark auburn hair. Instead, it had knocked some strands loose, which now stuck out from beneath the tall hat.

  ★I’m fine, Plato Indelicat. A touch of joint stiffness is making it difficult for me to manipulate my hands. I’ll be straightened out soon enough, if you’ll excuse me. She zipped out the door, and narrowly missed running into Ryden Simmdry.

  ★

  “I never thought an elevator ride could make me this happy,” Jackson said to Johanna as they exited the conveyance on sub-level six.

  “I’ll check flights to Prague. Maybe there’s one later tonight.” She looked for flights on her office computer while Jackson searched on an iPad. “I’m not having much luck here,” he said, placing the tablet on top of the desk. He rubbed his face. “Now what are we gonna do?”

  Johanna yawned. “I don’t know. I wonder if the first flight out in the morning will get us there on time?”

  Jackson closed his eyes while he listened to the click of her fingernails against the keyboard. “Let me know when you find something.”

  Johanna searched for several minutes. “It’s no use. It’s already early tomorrow in Prague. A morning flight won’t get us there in time.”

  Jackson snored lightly. Johanna tilted her head back and rested it against the back of her desk chair. She closed her eyes, but soon realized it would be much better to sleep in a comfortable bed. “Wake up.” She shook Jackson’s shoulder.

  “You found something?”

  “No. And since we’re not flying out tonight, you might as well sleep in a luxurious hotel room instead of here on a chair.”

  Jackson forced his eyes open. “I’m almost too tired to move, but now that you mentioned that plush bed that’s waiting for me inside, I guess I can find the strength.”

  He stood up, but wavered a bit. Johanna put her arm around his waist to steady him.

  “Want to sneak into my bed with me?” He kissed the top of her head. “We can say we spent the night together in Paris.”

  “Oh my God, that’s it!”

  His eyes opened wide. “You’re gonna sleep with me?”

  She returned to the computer and renewed her search. “There’s an early afternoon flight leaving Paris that will get us to Prague by 3:00 p.m. All we have to do is leave from your room tomorrow.”

  “And how are you planning to get out?”

  “The door…”

  “Leads you right back to the Library of Illumination.”

  Her thoughts raced. “You’re right. We need to be somewhere with multiple exits. If we can have a Parisian hotel room here, there’s no reason why we can’t open a book showing the lobby of a Prague hotel.”

  “What if the exits lead back here?”

  “Okay.” She paused. “What if we open a book to Charles de Gaulle Airport. We can fly to Prague from within the airport and not actually exit through the door we enter from. We just need to follow the other passengers onto the plane.”

  “That might work.”

  “Okay. We each need to get a good night’s sleep, and we’ll leave early tomorrow.”

  “Does this mean you’re not going to sleep with me?”

  “You are so astute. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  ★

  Back in her private chamber on Lumina, Pru Tellerence pulled herself together. Everything would be fine. Izabella was ensconced on Romantica. The Dramaticans had fought off the Terrorians and were taking precautions against them. And now that Ryden Simmdry knew her secret, she had nothing to fear from him. He can’t expel me without casting guilt upon himself, and the chance of that is extremely low, especially now that the Terrorians are sharpening their tentacles. She knew an upset in the balance of powers among overseers would be like opening the door to the Terrorians, who would attack at the first sign of weakness. Finally, she could put her personal life aside and get on with her duties.

  ★

  The next morning, Dramaticans began queuing up early. The line of voters wrapped completely around town hall and down the Steppingstone to Illumination past the library. The town coffers would either soon overflow, or Dungen’s tax would be roundly defeated. Dungen’s idea wasn’t without merit, but the way he proposed it—ramming it down citizens’ throats—left Furst hoping the new director would lose this round, and with it, his position as head of the library council.

  A similar tax proposal would undoubtedly follow, but by then, people would have had time to think about it and get used to it. Whoever created a follow-up plan might temper it, so it pointed out the benefits for everyone, while not placing an onerous burden on those who didn’t have much to give.

  How did Dungen become the new head of the library council? Furst wondered. Dungen irritated a lot of people, although many Dramaticans respected his father, Pondor, one of the five judges in the commonwealth court. Furst suspected Dungen abused his father’s position to get whatever he wanted. The new director’s caftan now flaunted heavier embroidery and more jewels than ever before, but Dungen, aside from being a self-proclaimed scholar, had no concept of the word work. He hadn’t earned the conspicuous signs of prominence he displayed on his garments. His only vocation appeared to be forcing his unpopular opinions on anyone within earshot. If he’s so educated, Furst asked himself, why doesn’t he hold tenure in the local university?

  The curator tried to focus on his work, but his thoughts kept returning to the vote taking place a few blocks away. A half-hour later, he packed up his pencils and left a soldier in charge of the library, before he made his way to the polls. He hated wasting precious time waiting in line, but knew unless he did, he wouldn’t have a say in the outcome of the tax. He couldn’t let Dungen win this first round, or the new director would become a tyrant. Furst only had one vote to cast, but fervently hoped everyone who felt the same way he did, voted.

  ★

  Pru Tellerence found it difficult to shield her thoughts, so she remained in her chambers meditating. It would not do to run into Ryden Simmdry before she had her thoughts under control. When she relaxed enough to compartmentalize her thinking and work out her emotions without broadcasting them, she considered her relationship with the master of the overseers. They had pledged their love to each other long ago and had been companions ever since. The only time they ever separated was when she had claimed to suffer from a nervous condition and had sequestered herself on Romantica. During that time, their baby was born and surrendered to the care of the witch, Josefina.

  She didn’t think a time would ever come when she’d confess the child’s existence to Ryden Simmdry, but deep inside, she’d always known the possibility existed. Now, her secret was shared. She wanted to know what the master might have revealed to the others. That meant opening her mind, but keeping it blank so she could hear their thoughts while moderating her own. She settled into a comfortable position and cleared her head. Her f
ellow overseers were discussing the retrieval of the time machine. They did not know where the Terrorians had hidden it. Yet. But once they did, they planned to act immediately to retrieve it.

  ★Yes. That would most likely reduce the threat.

  ℌPru Tellerence, it’s nice to have you back.

  ★Am I correct in believing the Terrorians have not extended their aggression past Dramatica?

  ⌘They have not. How are the Dramaticans faring?

  She tensed for a millisecond before answering. ★I’m returning to Dramatica immediately to offer further assistance. Furst is obviously upset over the loss of so many of their books. I would like to teleport clones of the works they lost from their first five levels. I believe it will help re-establish a sense of normalcy in the library and let them know we are here to support them.

  ℌYes, of course. They all agreed. ℌMake it so.

  ★Excellent. I will leave at once.

  ★

  Nero 51 paced inside the private quarters he had carved out for himself on sub-level 333. Surely there was some way to step up his invasion plan even though he previously announced they would suspend it until they reassessed their strategy. He believed his original plan to invade Juvenilia had been a good one. He mulled over it for a while. Yes. He would only need to accompany the troops to make sure they landed in the correct realm. It might be beneath him, but he needed someone he could rely on, and he only trusted himself. Once again, they would return to the day the Fantasian had started her sentence.

  He pulled out his old plans. He’d lost some good soldiers on Dramatica. He couldn’t fathom how those wretched, springy devils ever bested his soldiers, but that was past. Terroria would have a much better chance against the kiddlets on Juvenilia, and once he conquered their world and held them hostage, there would be no stopping his soldiers. A new idea seized him. They could also invade Romantica—a realm overrun with female creatures. Our troops could easily overcome a bunch of useless females from the flighty realm. Overwhelming women and children will give us the edge we need to cut a swath through the rest of the realms.

  He considered an incentive—something he could propose to attract more soldiers—some menial title with an impressive sound. Provisional Governor. That should do the trick. He would offer the title to the primary soldier who delivered a realm. And each of the troopers serving under him would be named Lord Mayor of one of the various communities within that realm. Conquered worlds would naturally need supervision anyway. Normally, he would just put a soldier in charge, but that did not sound alluring. Giving them the opportunity to become a governor or mayor appeared much more enticing. The soldiers’ duties would be the exact same as before, but now they would have fancy titles. Still, he would keep that to himself. Teasing their egos should bring in a healthy number of new recruits.

  He composed an outline of his revised invasion plan and new incentives. He made it sound lucrative, but feared some Terrorians might call his bluff. I have to increase the stakes. It wouldn’t be enough to appeal to their conceit, he had to appeal to their greed. He’d offer an additional gold ingot for governors’ salaries and an extra silver one for mayors’. On the surface, it would appear generous, but if he taxed each realm, more riches would flow in than out. Besides, any added expense would be small payment for the capture of two realms to use as stepping-stones to Terrorian dominance of the Illumini system.

  LOI

  CHAPTER 39

  Johanna mulled over several level zero travel books until she found one with a good photograph of the terminal she needed at Charles de Gaulle Airport. She looked for the same book with a higher physical property level and opened it while standing in the door to the Executive Boardroom. She noted the exit back to the library before stepping into the terminal.

  “Wow, you did it.” Jackson stood just behind her.

  “I don’t know where to leave the book.”

  “Can’t you just leave it under a seat or something?”

  “Someone might take it.” She shut the book and the terminal disappeared.

  “What are you doing?”

  “More research.”

  “We don’t have a lot of time. Why can’t you just put the open book in your backpack? It’s not that big.”

  “What if the airport follows us everywhere we try to go?”

  “That would be a problem.”

  “Give me a few minutes. Did you tell your family you have to go away?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’m afraid Chris or Ava might try to follow us.”

  “That’s why we’re using the Executive board room. I can lock the door before we open the book. Go tell you mother you have to leave.”

  “Okay.”

  While he was gone, Johanna looked online for lockers at the airport. She couldn’t find any, but did discover a service that provided short-term storage. She ran upstairs to get a ratty little suitcase she’d once found in the basement of Peakie’s Foundling Home and had used for her meager possessions when she ran away. She grabbed some clothing from the donation box in the corner of her closet, enough to stuff around the open book once she packed it, to make sure it stayed open. Johanna carried the suitcase down to the boardroom.

  Mrs. Roth eyed it warily. “Jackson says you’re going away.”

  “We have to,” Johanna answered. “Someone’s trying to steal something important, and we need to find out who that person is.”

  “Is that dangerous?”

  “It could be, but we’re the only people who can do it.” She held up her left hand with her palm facing Mrs. Roth. “Library business.”

  The older woman hugged her son. “Promise me you’ll be careful.”

  “Don’t worry, Mom. I don’t want us to get into trouble any more than you do.”

  “I’ll make sure we don’t do anything rash.” Johanna hugged Jackson’s mom. “We’re locking the door behind us.”

  “Yeah, just to make sure Chris and Ava don’t get any bright ideas.”

  “They’re at school,” his mother replied. “If I don’t tell them where you’ve disappeared to, or from, we shouldn’t have a problem.”

  “Love you, Mom.” He kissed her forehead. “We gotta go.”

  Johanna set the lock and stepped into the boardroom with Jackson, pulling the door closed behind them. She opened the guidebook, and they suddenly found themselves inside the Paris airport. “I’ve got to pack this,” she said, opening the small suitcase and placing the open book inside. “I wish I had a lock for it.”

  “There must be a store in here that sells stuff like that for travelers.”

  “Okay. Could you go look for one, while I go get our tickets? Let’s meet back here when we’re done.”

  Twenty minutes later, they were together again. Jackson handed her the lock. “I guess we’re set.”

  “Not quite. You need to check in. I didn’t have your passport. They want to make sure you’re you.”

  “My passport,” Jackson said in alarm, patting his pockets.

  “No,” Johanna moaned.

  “Gotcha,” he said smiling, as he pulled it out of an inside pocket. He headed across the terminal to check in, while Johanna got directions to the luggage storage place.

  They checked the bag with the book before going to the gate. “I’m glad that’s done,” she said. “Now all we have to worry about are the Eahta Frean fram Drycræft.”

  “How are we gonna get into their meeting?”

  “It’s important we get there before they do, so we can scope out the place.”

  “It’s just a basement meeting room at the town hall. What’s to scope out?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “I just want to get there before them.”

  ★

  Dramaticans are normally a peaceful people, but the tax vote seemed to change even the mildest citizen’s personality. Numerous arguments and more than a few fist fights broke out during the day among people with differing opinio
ns. Furst witnessed several disputes for himself, and when word got back to him later in the day that infighting had escalated, he sent several of the troops protecting the library to Town Hall as public peacekeepers.

  The reassigned Dramaticans brought their original Terrorian weapons with them, and the firearms had a chilling effect on their neighbors. The decibel-level immediately changed from bar room brawl to worship hall, and the voters’ combativeness evaporated.

  Voting on Dramatica was not sophisticated. It involved each voter taking three rocks inside a small room and dropping two in the barrel marked with the proposal they supported and one in the barrel they rejected. This insured that the guard at the door couldn’t tell which position they supported. By mid-day, the barrel marked ‘No Tax’ overflowed with stones and a second barrel had to be set up.

  Outside, Dramaticans milled about waiting for news about the vote. They broke out in cheers when they heard ‘No Tax’ was winning, and booed Dungen when he said voting would continue until the sun set, so every Dramatican would have a chance to vote.

  “Something underhanded, he will try to do,” some Dramaticans muttered.

  “Send someone to follow him, we should. Keep an eye on him, we must,” another stated.

  But a friend of the new library board director criticized talk that Dungen might try to win by any means. “An upstanding citizen, he is. Talking crazy, you are.”

  One of the ax-the-tax voters looked for Furst in the library. “Trust them, I do not. Neither side. Something, can’t you do?”

  “With the voting, others would say I tampered. Best to see how it all plays out, it is. In our favor, the odds are. The barrels, watch. No one tampers with them, make sure.”

  “Right, you are.”

  “With you, I will go,” Furst said. “A soldier to keep watch, I will assign.”

  “With the tax, won’t the soldiers side? Trusted, can they be?”

  “Worry, do not. Just whom to select, I know. Assign Lenc, I will. Trust him, I do.”