The talisman Simon wore had once been hers, so she knew it well. It was from the far north, a land of ice and snow, so she searched the swirling sensations for something similar. Then she smelled it exactly as she remembered the day Mamoru had given it to her. She tasted a chill from a note of frost embellishing one of the many fibrous lines she could see around her.
Adele grasped that line. The ley shivered like a taut silken string in her hand. It stretched eastward toward the wing where Simon had his quarters.
Perhaps he wasn't going to be that hard to find after all.
Adele realized Captain Shirazi had returned and stood next to her with a look of confusion on his face so she regarded him cheerfully. “I'm off to collect my brother.”
“Where is His Highness?”
“Let's find out,” she replied with an almost girlish glee as they departed through the garden gate.
Adele hurried along the tiled corridors of the palace. She stopped outside the archway leading to Simon's second-floor quarters. Shirazi started to continue, but realized the empress had paused. She took a deep breath and stroked the crystal with her thumb. Again the unique taste of Simon's talisman caressed her tongue and drifted up into her nose, leading her away from such an obvious location.
“This way.” Adele laughed with excitement, veering sharply to the left. Another few minutes and Adele rushed into a lesser-used area of the palace and threw open two curtained French windows. A broad terrace spread out before her. She saw men's backs, all of them craning their necks to see something. She heard the sound of wood cracking off wood. She heard the deep chuckling grunts of a man, and the lighter exclamations of a boy. She started to plunge into the crowd of men in uniforms, but Captain Shirazi placed an arm in front of her, and stepped forward.
“Make way for the empress!” he bellowed loudly enough to shatter the glass in the French windows.
Men, both Equatorian and Katangan, turned in shock. The ranks of soldiers slipped aside one by one until finally Adele beheld an unbelievable sight.
Standing on the stone balustrade of the terrace were King Msiri of Katanga and Prince Simon of Bengal. Both of them wore simple duck trousers and no shirts. They faced one another and each held a six-foot-long staff of dark wood. They moved and retreated, slamming the quarterstaffs against one another. High. Low. Low. Back. Parry. Twist. Thrust.
Msiri spun his staff high over his head with a deep laugh, slipping his hands to one end, and sent the length of wood swinging at Simon's knees. Adele nearly shouted in alarm as Simon leapt into the air and drew up his legs so Msiri's staff passed beneath harmlessly. The boy managed to slap his feet back down onto the stone rail, but he teetered off-balance. Msiri laughed and poked Simon's chest with his quarterstaff, and the prince began to topple off the side of the balcony, easily thirty feet above the ground.
Adele cried out.
Msiri turned at her in surprise, and then suddenly realized he was supposed to grab Simon before the boy fell to his likely death. The king's hand snaked out and took Simon's upper arm, pulling him back onto the balustrade.
Simon was wide-eyed, but smiled at Msiri. And the boy laughed. Then he looked at his sister with annoyance. “You threw me off-balance, Adele.”
She marched forward and took her brother's wrist, yanking him onto the firm tile balcony. “What are you doing? You could kill yourself!”
“No, no. He's safe enough.” Msiri leaned on his quarterstaff leisurely, with ankles crossed.
She glared up at the king. “Is there some reason you are sparring miles above the earth on a thin railing that looks as if it could crumble under your weight?”
Msiri nodded toward Simon. “He suggested it.”
“Hardly miles.” Simon rolled his eyes. “The bushes are soft down there anyway.”
Adele took the quarterstaff from Simon's hand. “Since when am I the one in Alexandria with common sense?”
Msiri knelt, still perched on the rail, and gave a grand smile. “Your Majesty, I assure you, the young prince was quite safe. I would never allow harm to come to mighty Simon. And he's quite skilled at the quarterstaff.”
Simon took a proud breath, puffing out his chest. The talisman around his neck sparkled in the sun.
Adele ignored his unspoken boast and said with great seriousness, “Simon, we are due at a ceremony at the War Memorial in an hour. That, above all else, is not a duty to be shirked.”
The boy exhaled and put one hand on his head. “Oh. I forgot. I'm sorry, Adele. It won't take me long to get ready.”
Msiri intoned, “I deeply apologize, Your Majesty. It is my fault for detaining the boy. Having raised five beautiful and willful daughters, I admit that I enjoy the prince's company. It is as if I've suddenly acquired a son.”
Simon grinned.
Adele allowed her bluster to fade. Inclining her head, she pointed out to Msiri, “You are required at the ceremony as well, Majesty.”
“I will be there, of course. I am honored to memorialize our brave soldiers.”
“Excellent. Thank you.” Hefting the wooden staff several times, and studying it with interest, she glanced up at Msiri. Then she slapped the weapon into the king's hand and released it. “An interesting choice of weapon.”
Msiri laughed loudly. He laid both quarterstaffs behind his neck and rested his hands easily on the ends. “Curious, Your Majesty? You are reputedly skilled with many weapons. Is the quarterstaff one of them?”
Adele gave him a coquettish flutter of her eyelids. “A lady of proper upbringing does not discuss with which weapons she may kill a gentleman.”
Msiri and the soldiers all broke into great peals of laughter. The obviously smitten soldiers parted again as Adele took her waiting brother's curved arm and turned to leave. Shirazi followed, trying to hide a smile.
Msiri pointed his quarterstaff at Simon. “Young prince, I await our rematch.”
Simon glanced furtively at Adele. She raised an eyebrow and reached back, snatching one of the staffs from the Katangan king, which she tossed to her brother.
“Not until I can clear my schedule to attend,” Adele said. “And I will look favorably on a wager that says my brother will take you.”
Msiri nodded with a smile as Adele started off through the admiring troopers with her brother.
Simon's delight made him more animated than usual. He bumped her while walking and muttered, “How did you find me?”
“I'm a witch,” Adele replied pleasantly. “There is nowhere you can go where I can't find you, Simon. Such is your lot in life. You'd best get accustomed to it.”
“I don't think I can.”
She pulled her brother close as the imperial siblings departed the crowded balcony for more important duties.
“YOU HONOR US, Majesty.” The man bowed and kissed Adele's gloved hand. “We are at your disposal.”
“Thank you, Mr. Szigily,” the empress replied. “I have the honor to present the Greyfriar.”
“A great pleasure, sir.” Greyfriar shook the man's hand and Szigily winced.
Adele took Greyfriar's arm and started toward a massive building in the Equatorian style—clean classical façade with Doric columns and eastern domes. It shone with the fading sun in great flashes of colored tile and glass, as well as overlays of gold. “Let me show you the Library of Alexandria.”
She could tell Greyfriar's step faltered a bit, although no one else could have possibly noticed. He was staring with awe at the edifice before him as they climbed the stairs to the portico of the cradle of civilization.
Szigily began his practiced speech. “Alexandria was the home to the world's first great library, conceived by Alexander the Great and built by his Ptolemy successors to be a repository for man's classical and ancient knowledge. Alas, it was lost to time and savagery. Construction on this current library was begun in 1937 by Emperor Ismail. Progress was halted in the 1940s during the period of the Choir of Twelve, when religious fanatics dominated the city. However, order and
reason were restored in 1952 under Emperor Alexander the Second, and this magnificent building was completed in 1963.” The breeze rustled banners that hung from the porch roof two stories above. “We believe that this edifice, like the original library founded by Alexander, serves the purpose of a repository of human knowledge, preserving the greatness of the Earth's cultures in these days when much of our birthright is denied to us by the dark creatures of the north.”
The imposing bronze doors were twelve feet high, with panels depicting great scenes of civilization. At eye level was a bas-relief of a crowd of people driving a stake into the heart of an animalistic vampire. Greyfriar ran his hand over the scene as he passed into the coolness of the building.
Inside the vast foyer, the gathered library staff bowed and curtsied as one when the empress entered. Adele motioned for them to rise and slipped the scarf from her head. Her trailing maid, Zarina, relieved her of the scarf as well as her sapphire blue cloak, revealing her magnificent teal gown with fur trim. She noticed that no one was admiring her fashion sense; they were all staring at Greyfriar. Empresses were, apparently, not so rare and wonderful as heroic swordsmen from the bloody north.
Smiling, Adele said, “Mr. Szigily, if you don't mind, I should like to show Greyfriar the reading room myself.”
The librarian bowed with a hint of disappointment. “Of course, Majesty. You know the way.”
“I do. I feel as if this is my second home. My first home, really.” Even the smell of the building comforted Adele. She allowed the head librarian to kiss her hand again, and then she passed along the rank of his staff, nodding to them all, greeting a few by name.
Adele pressed Captain Shirazi's chest and nodded for him to stay where he was. The soldier glowered, but remained in place while she and Greyfriar walked together between stern bronze statues of Alexander the Great and Sultan Muhammad I, and down an intricately tiled passageway lined with paintings of notables in Equatorian history.
Greyfriar leaned down to sniff at her neck. “You've been practicing your geomancy today.”
Adele gasped in alarm. “Oh! Is it hurting you? Blast, I had hoped it had dissipated by now.”
Greyfriar shook his head, chuckling. “It's very faint, barely a discomfort. Nothing that will interfere with us this evening.”
The anticipation in his voice quieted Adele's fears.
Greyfriar looked up at the arching corridor lost in the shadows above the reach of the flickering lamps. “You have a building this large to house your library?”
“Yes. It is the largest library in the world. Scholars come from the world over to study here.” She touched his arm. “Including Scotland now.”
He laughed as they reached a rich mahogany door marked Rotunda.
Adele said, “It's similar to the Reading Room in your British Museum.”
“Ah.”
“Except…” She threw back the door and ushered him into the sun-splashed chamber, a vast circular room with countless rows of tables radiating from a high desk in the center. Dust sparkled in the beams of light streaming in from the sweeping glass dome overhead. On every spot where the eye rested were books. On every wall were books. Thousands. Hundreds of thousands of books.
Greyfriar stood mute. He could hardly look up; he seemed oppressed by the sheer volume, the great weight of books surrounding him. He reached out and seized a desk to steady himself.
“I had no idea,” he whispered. “I had no idea.”
“It is impressive.” Adele took his hand. “Humbling.”
“More than humbling. Humiliating.” He shook his head. “I just keep thinking of when I showed you my library in Edinburgh. Six books in a trunk. You must've thought I was so pathetic.”
“No.” Adele put an arm around his waist. “For you to have that library is more incredible and miraculous, even if this were ten times as large. We're humans. This is what we do. We preserve.”
He looked down at her in awe. “And you've read all these books?”
Adele laughed loudly, and it reverberated through the hall. “Of course not. No one has read all these books. I suspect there are many here no one has read except the person who wrote it.”
Greyfriar took the first book that came to hand. He opened it and stared. “Where is this?”
Adele joined him to see photographs of a busy city street full of carriages and wagons and people. “It looks like Bombay. In India.”
“Have you been there?”
“Yes. Many times.”
Greyfriar turned the page and studied a photo of a large palace with crowds of people surrounding it. “Where is this?”
“That is Khartoum. South of here.”
“Have you been there?”
“Yes.” Adele flipped to the book's cover—Gazetteer and Atlas of Equatoria. “You'll be hard-pressed to find a spot in this book I haven't been. I'm sure you could find something more interesting to look at.”
“What could be more interesting than places where you've been, but I've never seen?”
Adele smiled. “Wait here. I've an idea.” She wandered off, studying the shelf markers.
Greyfriar shouted from his spot. “What about Jerusalem? Have you been to Jerusalem?”
“Yes. I had my tenth birthday party there.”
“And Constantinople, have you been—”
“Yes!”
“Oh. So have I, actually.”
“Well, we have something in common, then. Perhaps we stayed in the same hotel.” Adele appeared with a small leather-bound book in her hand. “Probably not. Look what I found.”
“Is it a book?”
She stared at him. “No, it's a giraffe. Of course it's a book.” She handed it to him and he glanced at the title—Tramps About Europe and the British Isles. “It's a travel book published in 1867.”
Greyfriar was already deep in study, opening the brown pages carefully. He exhaled sharply in surprise. “It's London! Look, the British Museum!”
Adele shushed him habitually and slid close to his shoulder to look at the grainy photo of the rambling old pile she remembered from her British captivity. “Ah. Your home away from home.”
“Do you remember teaching me about Ramses there?”
“I do.” He had been so curious then about the artifacts strewn in disarray within the museum. Even though they had been enemies still at that time, she had felt compelled to answer his questions.
“Buckingham Palace.” He removed his shaded glasses to see better. “It looks exactly the same.”
“Well, the building anyway.” Adele could picture cruel Cesare behind one of the many black square windows, and she shuddered. She had seen horrific things inside that palace. “Go to the page I marked.”
Greyfriar noticed a slip of paper, and with the concentration of a surgeon, he worked the book open to that page and gave a cry of delight. “Edinburgh! Our castle!”
Adele laughed again at his excitement and squeezed his arm. She regarded the black-and-white picture of fog-shrouded Edinburgh Castle on its jagged stone pedestal looming majestically over the smokestacks of the old wood-and-brick city.
“Now,” she said, “that looks the same.”
“No.” He draped an arm over her shoulder and drew her close. “You aren't there.”
Adele leaned against his chest and began to caress one of the brass buttons on his tunic with her finger. “Show me more places you've been.”
He held her gaze a moment longer, and then began to turn pages eagerly. “Inverness. I lived there as a boy. My father taught me so many things in the forests and moors around it.”
Adele pressed closer to him, trying to ignore the fact that he was talking about hunting humans, and concentrating only on his lingering study of the photo that conjured memories of his beloved father.
Abruptly, he flipped pages and pointed at a map of France. “Brittany. I spent time there.”
“As Greyfriar?”
“Oh. Well, yes. But before Greyfriar too.” He quic
kly turned pages. “Ah, Paris. I lived here for many years three hundred years ago. You would have liked Paris.”
“But not now?” she chided.
“Doubtful. It's declined considerably.”
“Do you know the king there?”
“Yes.”
Something in his voice and attitude saddened Adele. “Is the Parisian king an enemy of yours?”
“No. A friend. Or he was.” His eyes were focused elsewhere in the past.
Adele touched his sleeve. “I'm sorry. You seem so solitary. I assumed you'd always been so. What's his name?”
“Lothaire.”
“Is he a good king? From your point of view.”
Greyfriar shook his head slowly. “I don't know. I haven't been to Paris since the Great Killing, and I haven't had any contact with him since he became king. I know Lothaire fought a long struggle with his cousins for the throne. Many of the smaller clans took advantage. So he's not nearly the king his father was.” He adjusted the scarf covering his face. “But who is?”
She gently took the book from him. “Let's not think about the past. Or the present. Or anything outside this library. This is our sanctuary. Such things shouldn't intrude here. We won't allow it.”
He nodded. “You're right. Show me something else.”
His hand in hers, she led him around the vast chamber. “Right now, we're in the history section.”
“So much.” Greyfriar gazed at the towering shelves filled to the brink with human history.
She didn't linger and moved onto another area. “And these are books on science and medicine.”
“Like Randolph's Treatise on Homo Nosferatii?”
“Yes, there's a copy here somewhere.” Adele's slender fingers slid along the leather folio spines. “Here it is.”
Greyfriar pulled the tome carefully from its place and said with wonder, “It is the exact book. And in much better condition than my copy in Edinburgh.”
“There were many copies printed. I believe I heard Sir Godfrey boasting the book's print run was around three thousand.”
The book dropped from Greyfriar's numb hands. It landed on the floor with a booming thud. “So many copies of just one book?”
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