by Aaron Pogue
The entrance was a tunnel, the same size and shape as the scrollwork gate, but roughly hacked from living stone. It went five paces deep then opened up to left and right. The ceiling soared away above, too, so Corin felt himself on the edge of one huge, open chamber. The feeble light didn’t show him much, but the vastness of the place was a taste in the air, an echo in the ear.
The floor was not a cave’s rough floor, but cobbled stone. The rock wall was irregular and jagged like a natural cavern’s, but it did not seem a real part of this place. It was the boundary. But within the cavern, there seemed an unreal space, like something out of dream. Like the heat-haze hallucination Corin had seen before.
He stepped forward onto the cobblestones and a new shape loomed out of the darkness. A tall, square block ahead on his right. Another step made it clearer, even in the gloom: a three-story building, looking for all the world like a fancy shop off Prince’s Way in Ithale’s capital. He saw the shadow of another beyond it, and just perhaps another across the wide street.
He stopped in the deep and echoing silence, straining his ear, but the only sound of life in this whole place was the nervous rustle of his bravest followers shuffling in behind him. They hung back, but Charlie Claire came up behind Corin. He carried a torch that flickered against the darkness, and still it took him a moment to recognize what he was seeing. At last the sailor gasped.
“By all the gods!”
A frightened whisper fluttered among the rest of the crew. Corin turned his back on the row of storefronts dancing in the torchlight.
Charlie’s eyes strained wide. “What is this place?”
“We’ve found the dead god’s tomb.”
Charlie shook his head. “This is no tomb. This is a city! Those are shops. That’s the sign of a money changer, but it never swung in a summer breeze. Not here. Who made this place?”
“A race long dead,” Corin said, loud enough for all to hear. “I have been studying Jezeeli, and no civilized tongue has spoken its name for more than a thousand years. We are safe.”
“You never said it was a city!” Charlie cried.
I never believed it was, Corin thought, but he kept that to himself. He let his eyes dance with mischief. “I asked much of you. Blake was not wrong on that count. We have all toiled toward this day, and this last secret I saved as your reward.”
He stepped aside so they could see right up the wide boulevard. “A whole forgotten city, yours to plunder! This is fitting work for a pirate, no?”
A dozen voices answered, “Aye!”
Corin grinned back at them. “Fetch Blake in here. Let him see what he will miss!” It took only a moment, and every man among the crew came back with him, until they crowded the little plaza at the foot of the road.
The first mate’s gaze was hard as steel, flashing fury not yet touched with despair. Corin only grinned more deeply. Despair would come.
“My men,” he cried, “this place is yours! Despoil it of its riches!”
They cheered at that. They surged forward, leaving only Corin and Blake as they charged up the way, pouring through open doors and into all the shops. The farther they carried their torches, the farther the place seemed to stretch. It felt endless.
“Gods’ blood,” Corin breathed. “Even I had not imagined a place such as this.”
“You do not deserve this reward,” Blake growled.
“Oh, it is mine by right. You whined at what I asked of you, but I’ve spent more effort than the crew combined to find this place.”
Blake sneered. “It will still be in vain.”
“Your mutiny is dead. Be glad you’re not and hold your tongue.”
The first mate smiled, showing far too many teeth for a man in bonds. “I’m not alone. My father’s men will find me here, and they will take what you have found.”
“Your father’s—” Corin began, but he stopped himself short. “You always struck me as a nobleman’s son, playing at being a pirate.”
“An infiltrator,” Blake said. “A planted spy, for the glory of the Vestossi name.”
“Of course you’re a Vestossi,” Corin said. “There’s nowhere in the world I can escape Ephitel’s wretched protégés. But why would I leave you alive to tell them?”
“Because you’re weak. You are a scoundrel when you should be a gentleman, and you are soft when you should be hard.”
“I am a pirate,” Corin interrupted, growing bored.
“You are like no pirate I have known.”
“No.” Corin grinned as his men began emerging from the shops, their arms laden with spoils. “No, I am far, far richer. I’ll take one day’s head start, then let your father try to find me.”
Charlie approached first, coming from the money changer’s shop on the closest corner. Corin saw no sparkle among the bundles in his arms, and he recognized confusion on the sailor’s face. Five paces brought him close enough for Corin to see what he carried.
“Books?” Corin asked.
Charlie nodded, still looking baffled. “The place was full of them. They’re in no language I have ever seen.”
Blake sneered. “Now you can read?”
The sailor answered quietly. “I know the shapes of letters, Blake, and these are not the letters of men.”
Corin plucked a book from the bundle in Charlie’s arms. It was bound in supple leather and stitched with fine silk thread. Rich, soft paper seemed untouched by time, and the symbols on the pages were indeed quite alien. They bore some similarity in look to the scrollwork on the stone-carved gates.
“This is your treasure?” Blake asked. “Books?”
“There is value in old books,” Corin said, distracted. “But look at their condition.”
“And these as well?” Blake asked, nodding past Charlie to the other returning looters. Sleepy Jim was next, from the shop across the street, and he carried books, too. Corin frowned. Clever Karr had books, too, and David Taker. They dumped them at Corin’s feet, expressions demanding explanations, and every man among the crew, no matter where he’d gone, brought back books.
“Perhaps this was the bookbinders’ lane,” Corin tried, but the expressions on their faces denied it as clearly as the money changer’s sign. Corin wet his lips. “We should search farther in—”
“We tried the other avenues,” Dave Taker said. “I looked through four dozen different doors, and everywhere was only books.”
“There must have been a strongbox somewhere, a shelf of silver—”
“Books,” David said. “Just books in every room. Go see yourself. This place…this place is wrong.”
“We never should have come here,” Blake said softly. To Corin’s horror, even Jim nodded along.
“There is good money in old books,” Corin repeated. “Don’t let the traitor fool you. This book alone—” he waved the one he held “—might fetch a hundred pistoles in silver at the universities.” He waved to the pile spilled at his feet. “Just here, we have a fortune! If there are more—”
“You haven’t seen the rooms,” Dave answered. Too much white showed in his eyes. His voice cracked. “The slave did warn us, Captain! You heard what she said. We never should have come.”
Corin stormed up to him. He managed by sheer rage to loom over the taller man. “Would you join Blake in bonds, you gutless dog?”
The man did not back down. “I would leave this place. That’s all I know. We never should have come.”
Too many of them nodded now. Acid boiled in Corin’s stomach—anger and fear in equal parts. He’d come too far to lose this now.
“You heartless cowards! I’ve seen you face the despot’s grays. I’ve seen you board a ship full of gladiators. I’ve seen you cut down enemies and lords. Would you quail now for fear of books?”
None of them would meet his eyes but Blake, who grinned with the thrill of victory. “You brought us to this desert hunting gold. Pirates in the desert!” He spat his disapproval. “A little solid sparkle can overcome reason, but lacki
ng that, these boys know right from wrong.”
“Still your tongue or I’ll still it for you,” Corin snapped.
Blake’s smile twitched. He jabbed his chin toward David Taker. “Cut me free.”
Corin caught Taker’s eyes before the man could move. “Show me. Show me these terrifying libraries.”
Taker nodded once, mute, then turned on his heel. Corin jerked his head toward the treacherous first mate and raised his voice to the other men. “Bring him along. Bring everyone along.” Corin looked at the book in his hand, the pile at his feet, and slowly shook his head. Then he stomped off after his guide.
He followed up the boulevard in the flickering gloom of their torches. As they passed the money changer’s shop, he glanced in. Books were everywhere, stacked in neat piles of varying heights. He caught only a glimpse of it, but he saw the same through the next open door, and the next. David Taker passed half a dozen shops before stopping at a door that hadn’t yet been opened. He stepped easily aside, ceding Corin the opportunity to try this one.
Corin’s hand closed on the dusty brass knob, but he hesitated. His whole crew waited in the street behind him, more than a hundred deadly men, and all of them afraid. Corin could feel Blake’s hateful gaze, his mocking grin. The pirate captain turned the knob. He pushed the door open to a slow, grinding creak, and torchlight danced into a long-abandoned room.
It showed him books. Not on shelves or tables, not neatly sorted for storage or sale, but stacked in tottering piles. Corin entered the room, moving as though in a dream, and his eyes roved over the stacks.
There were hundreds of books. Thousands. Not a stick of furniture, not a strongbox standing open, not so much as a discarded boot. Just books. They were all identical in shape and binding, and the air was rich with the scent of ancient paper. Corin turned in a slow circle. He saw an open doorway beyond the piles, and the room it revealed was full of books.
A dark stair climbed up to another floor, and even the steps held little piles of books. Corin backed slowly out the open door and into the boulevard. His eyes traveled up the building’s facade to the dirty windows of a second floor. Knowing what to look for, even through the gloom he could see the squared edges of more books piled high. His gaze went on up to a third floor. A fourth.
And there to the right was another building like this one. They stretched half a mile to the first intersection, and beyond that were more. Across the street were more. It was a sprawling city, hidden from the world of men, robbed of life and wealth but completely filled with books.
CHAPTER SIX
Brows drawn, Corin turned until he found David Taker still waiting by the door. “How far did you search?”
“Three blocks, north and west and south. I sent Hocks the other way, and he just came back to announce more of the same. Some places that look more like houses. One he swears was a smithy, but books where the forge should have been. Books for an anvil.”
“As…as I said—” Corin licked his lips and cleared his throat. He raised the book still in his hand. “This book alone is worth more than its weight in gold. And we have thousands here.” He glanced down the way and tried not to shudder. “Hundreds of thousands.”
David Taker took a long step closer. “Why, Corin? Why books? This is not what you expected. What is this place?”
“It is a tomb,” Blake cried out. “Every one of you can see it. It is a tomb, and these books are the sleeping dead. Didn’t the slave girl tell us that? The dead remember!”
“That’s nonsense,” Corin said. “It’s a safe, dry place. This is a cultural treasure. Think of it more as a temple—”
“And we should anger these gods?”
Fury flared in Corin’s breast, fed by fear, but he quelled an urge to snap at the first mate. Blake was playing to the men’s anxiety. Corin had lost control of the situation. He took a slow, deep breath and surveyed his crew.
“These are secrets,” he said at last. “This place is a treasure trove of secrets, and pirates thrive on secrets. This is a fortune—”
“It’s a grave!” Blake cried, and Charlie Claire groaned in wild fear.
“You have seen your share of graves,” Corin tried.
David Taker answered under his breath. “Never from inside.”
“You led us here,” Blake accused. “You led us here, you ignored the slave girl’s warning, and now we will leave this place empty-handed if the desert’s fires don’t consume us first.”
“You wretched dog!” Corin snarled, but Blake dismissed him with a shake of his head. Even with his wrists bound before him, the man could play a lord.
He ran an imperious gaze over Corin’s crew. “You heard what the slave girl said. Corin brought her because she knew this place. It holds the record of our sins, she said.”
A tremor of superstitious fear shook the pirates.
Blake nodded. “Our only sin is disturbing this sacred place. And that is on your captain’s head. Repent it now, with me, and let him be the one who burns.”
“No one is going to burn,” Corin said. “If you want to leave this place, we’ll leave. Grab an armload of books, everyone, and we’ll leave a kingdom’s worth of relics here to rot.”
“Sacrilege,” Blake cried, justified. “We are pirates, aye, but are we grave robbers? Here?” He shuddered theatrically and shook his head.
One glance showed Corin how much ground he’d lost. How? How had Blake won their hearts? He’d played to their fears. It would be easy enough for Corin to play along—to leave the books undisturbed and come back alone in the future. But he would have no future. Fear gripped the crew right now, but it would evaporate beneath the desert sun, and only gold would tame them then.
He knew all those things in the space of one angry grumble, and he answered with an unaccustomed show of emotion. He threw the book down on the dusty street. He stomped it underfoot. “Shall we leave empty-handed, then? That is what he recommends!”
“I recommend we refrain from robbing graves,” Blake answered, all cool calm.
“This is no grave!” Corin cried. “This is a town. You see with your own eyes. These are stock houses full of goods, all of it ours for the taking.”
“Dusty parchment and faded leather,” Blake sneered. “No more than I’d expect to find in a forgotten catacomb.”
Corin sniffed. “I’ll swear it is as good as gold. Sleepy Jim! You remember when we robbed the scholar’s ship?”
He nodded. “Aye, aye, we ransomed the boy for three hundred crowns.”
Corin spread his arms. “And then we ransomed him his books for three hundred more.”
That drew another murmur from the men. Enough of them recalled that little coup. Corin stooped to grab the book. He made a show of dusting off the print his boot had left, then folded back the cover and riffled through the pages with a silk-soft whisper that seemed to hang in the air.
Hope and greed alike shone in the pirates’ eyes. Corin smiled. “You hear that? An ancient artifact in such condition. You know enough to guess how much it’s worth.”
“It’s sacrilege,” the first mate screamed again, but he was frantic now.
Corin turned to him. “Sacrilege? What sacrilege? It is a book well made.” He riffled the pages again. Again they whispered to the cavern’s heart, speaking of opulence and opportunity.
Corin smiled straight at Blake. “Don’t you hear that? They want to be read. The true sacrilege is leaving them buried.”
Blake opened his mouth to object again, but Corin silenced him with the barest rustle of paper. Smooth and soft as a lover’s whisper, it spoke in every ear. Corin smiled his victory. He snapped the book shut with a clap like thunder. “Gentlemen!” he cried, ready to order them to the pillage.
But the whisper still hung in the air. The pages were still trapped, but a breathy voice spoke from nowhere. “Vennngeance.”
Corin’s blood went cold. Every face arrayed before him turned pale. They all had heard it, too. An echoed whisper, “Reven
ge.” And louder, “Revenge!” And now more whispers overlapping. “Revenge! Revenge! Revenge!”
Every eye was on the black-clad captain, but he had no words at all. He felt the book within his hands, small and ordinary, but all around him spectral whispers screamed throughout the tomb.
Blake recovered first. “Burn the books!” He bellowed the command with a nobleman’s arrogant authority, and the common souls of Corin’s crewmen obeyed him in their fear. Oil-soaked torches flew at every open door.
Corin screamed in rage. “No, you fools!”
A thousand whispers answered him. “You fools! You fools! You fools!”
He ignored the whispers now. He’d given years to find this place. He dove to catch the nearest torch as it flew, but it tumbled past his grasp, rolled on the stone floor inside the nearest shop, and fire flickered up the stack of books. His effort mattered little anyway. Another dozen torches found other open doors, and all around them books as dry as tinder caught the flame.
He ran toward an open door, then fell away as fire blossomed in the neat, tall piles. The next shop wasn’t burning yet, and he reached desperately for the books atop one stack. Someone behind him grabbed his shoulder, but Corin shook free.
“Run, Captain! We must flee!” Sleepy Jim caught at him again, and Corin allowed himself to be dragged from the building just as flames began to lick the outer wall.
Fire, red like blood, washed down the lane. Corin blinked against the acrid smoke and stared at all the storefronts now ablaze. All the books. All the treasures in this place on fire.
He held a fortune in his arms, but there were kingdoms to be had! And Blake had set it all on fire to win himself a boat. Blake! Where had the wretched man gone? Corin spun, straining his watering eyes against the smoke to find the first mate.
But Blake was just where Corin had known he had to be. He stood beyond the fire’s reach, twenty paces from the storefronts’ end, where Jim and all the rest had dumped their books. All the other men had fled the cavern, but Blake and big Dave Taker stood over the tiny hoard and stared at Corin and Sleepy Jim.