by C. A. Pack
★
Nero 51 stared at the crowd gathered around him in the Terrorian library. He raised all his tentacles and addressed them. “My fellow countrymen, I have given what I am about to propose to you much thought, and I know deep inside it is the right thing to do. The past few days have been dark and disheartening, but we must continue forward if we are to find the light. Tomorrow, we will commence phase two of our plan to take what should rightfully be ours—total mastery of all Libraries of Illumination within the Illumini system. While it may sound like a rehashing of our old plan, it is not. Our first step is to insure we invade Juvenilia first—a realm comprised entirely of children. Obviously, humanoid children do not have the intelligence or strength to rule themselves and should be easily overtaken. I wish to call our plan Operation Lethro 814 in memory of the general.”
The sentiments of those surrounding Nero 51 began as a murmur, but soon built to a roar. Not a roar of dissension, but of complete accord. His kinsmen approved of his honoring General Lethro 814. Little did they know that Nero 51 visited the general just before his demise, promised him he would be exonerated, and then passed him a glass of poisoned merk.
★
Johanna and Jackson emerged from a taxi near Old Town Square in Prague. “Look at this place,” Jackson said. “It’s almost like we got here in a time machine. I mean it looks old. Really, really, old.”
“No time for sightseeing,” Johanna said. “We have to find a way into the basement of Town Hall.”
“Is that the place with the clock?”
“From what I read, it’s actually the entire row of buildings, but the clock tower is a good place to start.”
“Look at all these people just standing here staring at the building. Kinda weird, huh?” A bell began tolling the hour. “Look. It’s moving. That skeleton is ringing in the hour. That’s hilarious!”
“It’s the astronomical clock and it does this every hour.” She pulled him away. “You can see it some other time. We’ve got work to do.”
“You’re no fun.”
“This is important.”
“I know. I’m just teasing you. You’ve got to learn to lighten up.”
“I’m going to push on some of these doors. Just remember what I told you to do. If you see anyone coming, point out something to me in the guidebook.”
“That’s too obvious. I think I should do this instead.” He spun her around and kissed her. A while later, he came up for air. “Pretty spontaneous, huh? And it gives us an excuse to ignore anyone who questions what we’re doing. We could always say we’re looking for a place that’s a bit more private.”
“Right.” Johanna searched the outside of Town Hall looking for an entry to the lower level.
Jackson kept watch and intervened whenever necessary to make it look like they weren’t looking for anything at all. He tugged her arm. “Why don’t we just blend in with the tour that’s going through that other door?”
“Good thinking.” She grabbed his hand and they joined the group as they descended an old stone staircase. It led to a vaulted chamber.
“So this is where they’re meeting?” he whispered.
“Not with all these people here. They’re a secret society, remember? We’ll have to look around, but I think we should take the tour first and see what there is to see.”
They found the tunnels and rooms linked to other tunnels and rooms, but many areas were off-limits to the public. When the tour started to wind down, they lingered, pretending to look at a point of interest. The sounds of the tour grew faint.
“Let’s go down there,” Johanna said, pointing to a lit chamber blocked off by a metal railing. She slipped under the railing while Jackson climbed over it, and they ducked inside a barrel-shaped room of stacked stone. Protruding from the wall, rusty manacles and chains dangled from primitive eyelets.
“It’s kinda creepy down here,” Jackson said. “I guess if you’re a wizard with nefarious intent, it’s perfect. But if you’re just a regular person, it’s spooky.”
“You’re scared?”
“No. I’m just making a point.”
An ancient armoire stood in a corner of the room. “This is interesting,” Johanna said. “It reminds me of something we might find in the library cellar.”
“Yeah, like that Narnia book.”
“The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe.”
“Right.”
“By C. S. Lewis.” She pulled the door open.
Jackson looked over her shoulder. “It’s not very deep, unless it has a false back and it’s hiding something.”
“Like a portal to Terroria?”
“Yeah. But I guess you don’t want to go there.”
“You always expect things to be more interesting than they are. It’s just the back wall of the cabinet. Look.” She pushed against it to prove her point and inhaled sharply when it pivoted.
“You were saying?”
“We have a problem.”
“That’s what you call being wrong?”
She made a face at him. “We don’t have flashlights.”
“You don’t have a flashlight.” He dug around in his backpack and pulled one out. “I came prepared.”
“I’m impressed.”
“Yeah. I stuck one in here one night after I forgot my house key and had to search in the dark for the one my mother usually hides in the bushes.”
“Did it take long to find?” she asked, following him into the tunnel behind the armoire.
“I didn’t find it. So I threw stones at Chris’s window to wake him up and get him to open the door, but the idiot opened the window and shouted, ‘What do you want?’ He woke my mother and Ava. Even Mrs. Caruthers light went on.”
“I’ll bet they loved that.”
“I was grounded for three weeks—a week for breaking curfew, a week for waking them, and a week for disturbing Mrs. Caruthers.”
They looked for signs that might help them find the meeting place of the Eahta Frean fram Drycræft. After what seemed liked hours, Jackson squatted down and leaned his back against the stone wall. “Can we go home now?”
Johanna sighed. She knew exactly how he felt. “Okay, but now we’ve got to find our way back.” They navigated the maze and after a while, the silent void that surrounded them gave up a human voice. The two curators looked at each other and Johanna lifted her finger to her lips.
“Where do you think it’s coming from?”
“Well it can’t be coming from where we’ve been,” she whispered, “so I say we keep going in the same direction.”
They crept along quietly, but stopped suddenly when they heard voices again.
“It sounds like it’s behind us, but we just came from that direction. How could we have missed them?”
“Switch off the flashlight.” She took his shoulders and twisted him around. “There’s another tunnel that branches off this room, and it looks lit.”
“The proverbial light at the end of the tunnel?” He laughed.
She jabbed him with her elbow. “Quiet.”
As they inched closer to the spill of light, a voice became clearer. “… which is why we must determine who is responsible.”
“I didn’t think anyone knew about the existence of the book, except us,” a stunning black woman stated.
“Neither did I,” said Cathasach, but there was a recent breach in Skokholm. We found two teenagers wandering around our kitchen, a male and a female, who seemed to know all about us without our knowing anything about them.
“How did they get there?”
“I have no idea.” He looked at another member of the group. “Beck?”
“I don’t know either. They said they met me on one of my flights, but I have no recollection of them. I escorted them off the island and followed them to the inn they claimed they were staying at. When I saw them leave a short time later, I asked the proprietor about them. She said they tried to convince her they had reservations there, but she had no su
ch record. They apparently hired a car to the airport from there. We have no idea what they may have discovered inside Myrddin’s workshop before we found them.”
“There’s no need to worry,” Cathasach added. “I sent the book away for safekeeping. It’s at a secure site.”
“What site?” asked one of the Eahta Frean fram Drycræft.
“One Myrddin designated it be sent to if the book were ever in peril.”
“Don’t you think you ought to share that information with us? What if something happens to you?” one of the eight asked.
Jackson nudged Johanna. “Who do you think said that?”
“I don’t recognize the voice. Maybe you want to pop in there and ask them to state their names before speaking.”
“Ha-ha.”
“There were no Americans on the list. The man who just spoke has no discernible accent, so it’s hard to tell which one he is, but it’s safe to say he’s not Veronika, Alianessa, Beck or Cathasach,” Johanna said.
“I agree with Robert,” a man with a South American accent said. “I think we all need to know where the book is.”
Jackson’s eyes lit up. “Robert Birk and Matteus Ferrari of Brazil. That solves that.”
“I do not agree,” a woman with a French accent stated.
Both teens whispered, “Alianessa Anjou,” at the same time.
“Alianessa is right,” a Russian-accented female agreed. “When the climate is uncertain, you don’t take off your raincoat. The location of the book should only be disbursed when there is a need-to-know.”
“Women,” the Brazilian exclaimed. “It’s a wonder your gender ever gets anywhere with all your caution. I find it hard to believe you were ever appointed to this council.”
“But we were appointed to this council,” Zendali Zendaga pointed out, “which means we’re just as qualified to be here as you are—probably to make sure you don’t run wild and do something rash.”
“Rather than sniping, I suggest we get back to the task at hand,” a man with a clipped British accent stated.
“Yes,” Cathasach agreed. “The current location of the book doesn’t matter as much as uncovering the person who’s trying to steal it. That person must be stopped at all costs.”
LOI
CHAPTER 40
“So what would you have us do?” Beck asked Cathasach.
“Mine your usual contacts, even those a little further afield. Listen to the meanings behind anything that’s said and note anything that sounds the slightest bit off kilter. Whoever is looking for the book has to have feelers out trying to discern its whereabouts. We need to listen for chatter along those lines.”
“Has it occurred to you that one of us may be the culprit, after all we have full knowledge of the book and what it contains? What if one of us is behind the scheme?” Zendali asked.
“The thought has occurred to me,” Cathasach said, “but I’m hoping the members of this group, whom I’ve grown to trust, would be above such betrayal.”
The Eahta Frean fram Drycræft eyed each other suspiciously, contemplating which one among them might be responsible for wanting to steal Myrddin’s memoir. But a sneeze from outside their chamber diverted their attention.
Beck and Mateus rushed out in pursuit of the sound, which came from an adjoining tunnel. They found Johanna staring at Jackson, who had closed his eyes as if to ward off attention. The wizards dragged the teens into the chamber where they had been meeting. “I believe we’ve found something that’s off kilter.”
★
That evening, as the last rays of the sun dimmed in the Dramatican sky, Dungen slipped into the voting room with one of his cohorts. They stopped when they saw Lenc standing on the far side of the room, holding a new decimator. Another unarmed militia volunteer stood nearby.
“In the voting room, no weapons are allowed,” Dungen bellowed.
“Assigned by Furst, I am. Until the voting is finished, I’ll stay. See him.”
“Nothing to do with this, Furst has.”
“Find Furst, I will,” the unarmed volunteer shouted and ran from the room.
Dungen stomped up to the remaining soldier. “Follow your friend, you had better.”
Before the new council leader could get too close, Lenc raised his weapon and trained it on Dungen. “For Furst we’ll wait, or shoot first, I will.”
Dungen’s entire body clenched into a hard knot, but he took no action. He knew what the new weapons were capable of and didn’t want to take any chances. But anyone could tell by looking at his tight curls he wasn’t very happy. This young upstart had ruined his plan to redistribute the rocks and claim last minute voters had turned the tide.
★
Beck eyed Johanna and Jackson warily. “Those are the same two trespassers we discovered in Myrddin’s workshop.”
“I think we’ve found our thieves,” Zendali Zendaga proclaimed. “And whoever designed this place conveniently left manacles chained to the wall, so we can detain them.”
“But only enough for one person,” Veronika Veselov noted.
“We don’t need to cuff both their hands.” Beck rattled one of the rusted manacles. “Just one hand and one foot each.” He worked one of the manacles open and slipped Jackson’s wrist inside. “Does anyone have a lock?”
Edmund Beasom walked over. “Secure the girl to the other manacle.” While Beck chained Johanna, Edmund took a small bottle out of his pocket and put a few drops of what looked like metallic paint on the two ends of Jackson’s manacle. He held them together. When he let go, the cuff around Jackson’s wrist looked like a solid piece of forged metal that could not be opened. Edmund did the same to Johanna’s manacle.
“What is that, Edmund?” Robert asked.
“It’s a metal alloy I created, which has an alchemic base. It doesn’t change lead into gold, but it does meld metal together as if it were melted and recast as a single piece. The only way they’ll be able to get out of these is if they chew their hands off.”
Johanna shuddered.
“What’s with you people? That’s plain evil,” Jackson complained. “Myrddin never said anything about you being the bad guys…” He looked at Johanna. “Did he?”
“He suspects one of them may be responsible.”
“Oh.” He looked at the Eahta Fream fram Drycræft. “Strike my last sentence.”
“You’re either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid,” Beck said to Jackson.
Johanna spoke with confidence she didn’t feel. “Even if one of you is trying to steal Myrddin’s memoir, I want to believe the other seven of you are fundamentally good. And I can’t believe you would leave us here to rot, because that would be tantamount to murder. We’re not here to steal the memoir.”
“We already have it,” Jackson said smugly.
Johanna would have kicked him, if she could have done it without anyone seeing her. “We’re here at Myrddin’s request—to identify the culprit and bring him to justice.”
“You’re bluffing,” Robert said.
“Cathasach,” Johanna opened her left hand so he could see her palm. “I’m from the Library of Illumination.”
Cathasach’s eyes widened. He approached the pair and studied Johanna’s palm. Fantasia glistened in the Illumini system. “How do I know you’re not being coerced by this young man?” He nodded towards Jackson.
“Because I’m a curator, too.” Jackson opened his hand to expose his palm.
One of the men disagreed. “They’re lying.”
Jackson leaned toward Johanna and whispered, “Wouldn’t this be a good time to show them the ring?”
Cathasach followed Jackson’s gaze and twisted the ring on Johanna’s hand, revealing the sigil. He turned to Edmund. “Unlock their manacles.”
“I can’t do that. We’ll have to send for a saw.”
Cathasach stepped back. “You engineered a bit of alchemy you can’t reverse?”
“I didn’t intend to use it tonight. I only wanted to brin
g it up at the meeting and discuss its potential with the other members. I think it’s a significant metallurgic breakthrough, and I wondered how we might best be able to use it.”
Beck moved toward the door. “I’ll find a saw somewhere.”
Robert shook his head before turning back to Cathasach. “How do you know they’re even who they say they are?”
Cathasach twisted the ring back to hide the sigil. “The mark on their palms,” he replied. “I’ve only seen it once before, years ago, on a man who curated the Library of Illumination.”
“You met Mal?” Jackson asked.
“Mal?”
“Malcolm Trees,” Johanna clarified, “my predecessor.”
“Yes, Trees, that was his name.” He paused. “You called him your predecessor. Am I to believe he’s passed on?”
Johanna smiled. “He passed on into retirement, or maybe now it’s semi-retirement.”
“He’s alive and well,” Jackson added.
“I’m really sorry about this,” Edmund said, pointing to the manacles.
“Sorry?” Jackson questioned. “Just a minute ago you seemed happy that we’d have to chew our hands off to get away.”
“That was before I knew who you are. I do a lot of specialized work, and I’m actually an approved member of the Library of Illumination. I have nothing but the utmost respect for it and its curators.”
“What so special about that library?” Veronika asked.
Johanna tensed. The last thing she wanted was a general announcement about the special properties of the library.
★
Dramaticans erupted into cheers and whistles when Furst and a reluctant Dungen proclaimed the tax vote had been defeated. Furst, knowing a new tax would soon be proposed, announced a series of meetings at the library to discuss ways to fairly cover the expenses of war. He invited his countrymen to submit ideas that would be read aloud at the meeting and debated by everyone in attendance. The citizens of Dramatica accepted this. They wanted a say in what would be done, and Furst’s plan appeased them.
Still, they considered quashing Dungen’s tax a victory. Before long, bonfires burned in the town square, and food and drink were brought in and shared with neighbors. There had been very few open celebrations on Dramatica before the Terrorian invasion. Life in the realm had always been predictable and low key. Now, the threat of war awakened a sense of nationalism and unity within the citizens, and small victories gave them a cause to celebrate. The devastating loss of life, liberty, and literature at the hands of the Terrorians inadvertently turned their library into a grail they needed to protect.