by Amy Keeley
She could see in his face, not the questing for judgment that his brother in spirit had had, but an honest question, and understanding if she refused to answer it. “Why do you wish to know?”
He looked at the clock face once more. “Though I love this room, one day, I will be considered old enough for greater responsibilities. I shall be one of the travelers who goes from town to town, or, if needed, shall spend my days helping others find their truth in the books this library contains.” His eyes clouded for a moment, as if his thoughts were about to carry him away. “Disciples do not marry. It is considered a necessary evil for those whose self-control is not as great. Yet, I will be considered an authority on a subject I’ve never experienced simply because I’ve read some books.” His smile told Krysilla he saw the joke for what it was. “I do not wish,” he said, becoming a little more somber, “to cause others greater pain because I do not understand theirs. And I’m not sure when I’ll find another as willing to speak as you. As easy to speak with,” he corrected himself, blushing slightly.
“And yet, if you haven’t experienced it, who’s to say you might understand?” She studied the hands of the enormous clock face, their shadowed position as immutable as the laws the Disciples understood so well. “I think it can all be summed up in this: if you ever counsel a man who is in love with a woman he can’t have, never tell him to marry another in an attempt to forget the one his heart desires. That’s all.”
Hyaji nodded, as if he understood, when she could see in his eyes he didn’t. He was still too young. “Would you like to see something amazing?” he suddenly asked.
“What do you mean?”
But he had already crossed the room to a small ladder, built into the wall. Climbing up, he said, “We can’t be up here when the bells chime. And don’t tell any of the other Disciples, please. No one, not even me, is allowed up here anymore. But if you stay away from the edges, I think you’d enjoy this. I think this view would be perfect for you.”
Following him, she climbed the small ladder through a narrow tunnel built into the structure made of rough wood. As she crawled out, the wind whipped through her hair, and she realized she was among the enormous bells at the very top of the tower. A grating surrounded her on three sides. One was completely open. “They’re fixing this part,” Hyaji said, sitting on the floor of the platform. “That’s why no one is allowed here.”
“Why me?”
He blushed slightly. “I thought...I come here when I want perspective. Look over through the opening, and you’ll see what I mean.”
With a glance at Hyaji to make sure it was all right, Krysilla crawled closer to the opening. Her breath caught.
In front of her sprawled, not just the town of Hurush, but the fields beyond. Far off, she could see the great mountains of the north, inhabited once, it was said, by minstrels who thought of no one but themselves, unwilling to let their heavenly music fall on unappreciative ears. But from this distance, all she could see was their green slopes and the faint bit of ice that remained at their tops. Turning her head to the side, she caught the side where the mountains disappeared into the Plains of Belgeriand, where the Ornic were said to have stripped the land during their battles. Trees did not grow there, it was said, and men did not live there.
Her gaze tilted upward, until she was looking at the sky above the mountains, but closer to the city. It was said the rift appeared there, once a year. “Hyaji,” she said, gazing at the sky, “what can you tell me about the rift?”
“We’re not to speak of it,” he said. “When I was first taught here at the library, we were told that it was a result of Ornic sins and arrogance. We were told that we should watch for it every year and watch how the nobles, by cooperating with each other, were able to hold it back. They don’t teach that anymore. They don’t teach anything about the Ornic. Even the name has begun to disappear.” She could tell from his tone that Hyaji did not agree with this practice.
Nodding, she continued to stare. “When I was little, my father didn’t want me to see it.”
“It’s nothing frightening. Except,” he said, moving closer to her, “before I was born, the nobles didn’t assemble fast enough. Some were too busy with their own affairs and the King was left with less than a quorum to hold the rift back. I was told by my father that the rift almost broke open as it did in the days when the Ornic had first created it. Our King was young at the time, compared to other kings, and new to running a kingdom. It is said that he never forgot, and those nobles who did not show disappeared mysteriously, or were accused of Ornic tendencies. We have never had less than a full quorum since.”
“Perhaps that’s why my father wouldn’t let me see it. He was afraid.”
“Very likely.” He stared at the sky for a moment, then said, “Would you think it wrong of me to wish I could have been there, to see the sky open up?”
Eyes wide, she turned to look at him. As if he’d said something scandalous, he ducked his head. “It’s a terrible thing, I know, but everyone has their temptation. For some it’s women. For others it’s pride. For me, it’s knowledge.” His face pleading as much as his words, he said, “It was a moment of weakness.”
“No, don’t apologize.” She remembered how Zhiv had boldly said that there were things about the Ornic days that were better than these they lived now. She didn’t quite agree (who could agree with those who wanted to destroy the world?) but she wouldn’t condemn anyone for thinking of a great event and wishing they could have been there. Especially a Disciple that would never touch magic. “It must have been quite a sight.”
His smile was that of a boy led off into fantastical dreams. “Yes. I’m sure it was.”
“Is that what you think of when you come here?”
Again, he hesitated. “Sometimes. Sometimes my thoughts are similar, but on different topics.” And then, as if the thought had not occurred until now, he said, “Hon Jixsin escorted you?”
“Yes. I’m his housekeeper.” She tried not to laugh, for he wouldn’t understand the joke, never having been in Daegan’s perfectly neat home.
“Oh.” And she could see the fire of a million thoughts in his eyes. “What is it like? Does he have many contraptions lying around? Are you allowed to touch them? Or must you clean around them?”
She told him what she knew from the table. She didn’t tell him about the secret room or the chest and its peculiar magical lock. She did mention the instrument room by accident, when describing what she would probably never clean. And then she had to explain the presence of the fiddler, “Parlay.”
Hyaji frowned. “And this minstrel has treated you well so far?”
Krysilla tried not to laugh at that. He has, she thought, shown me my husband did not love me, that nobles can be tempted beyond endurance and fall, and that the Dogs can be very interested in the house of a humble locksmith, one dedicated to the teachings of the Honorable Toth. She said, “He has been a gentleman in almost every way.”
“Still,” Hyaji said, “minstrels are not to be trusted. I was taught that, until the massacre on the mountains, they secretly practiced Ornic ways.”
She remembered Zhiv’s boots, inscribed with a spell, and she remembered how he used more kinds of magic than he was allowed. And she remembered the suspicions of the King. Doing her best to smile, she said, “He is a bit wild, but he has never shown any signs of betraying his King.”
Hyaji nodded. “It is very difficult to remember, especially now with the books gone, that Ornic ways were despicable. Destruction is their payment to those who practice those beliefs.”
Remembering the shelves, she said, “What happened to those books? The ones that used to be in the library?”
“Burned.” And she swore she could see tears forming in his eyes. It was difficult to tell. He looked out across the great expanse of the land, toward the mountains.
“So, no one will read them again.”
Hyaji said nothing. He sniffed, once, then looked at her with a smi
le that was a little too bright. “If you wish, you may ask to come up here among the bells when it isn’t time to ring the hour. I can keep watch to make sure no one catches you.”
This had been the best conversation she’d had since she had arrived in the city. Only her time with Zhiv came close to this. But this had no need for guarding, for keeping things secret. In this brief moment, she felt as if she could say anything to Hyaji, in spite of his youth, and he might understand. It was a dangerous thing to believe. And yet, for so many years, she had had no one who understood her, who could share in the secrets of her heart.
I still can’t, she knew. She could never tell him about the illegal magic she’d used. That was something only Zhiv understood.
Gazing one last time at the sky and the mountains and the plains, she shook her head. “Thank you,” then looked at the city below. People scurried from place to place like ants on an anthill. And for a moment, she felt trapped. She thought of Zhiv and how he seemed to love traveling as Parlay, playing for whatever crowd he could find. I wonder, she thought, if he came from the mountains, and if he’s related to the minstrels who knew Ornic ways. It would make sense. And then she wondered, if he was so used to that kind of freedom, did it chafe to be the King’s minstrel?
Kneeling, she smiled. “Thank you, Hyaji. I have indeed gained a new perspective here. But I would not wish to cause you any more trouble.”
He nodded and they made their way back down through the tunnel into the clock room. She remembered the gold she had seen in the floor. “Were the Ornic books beautiful?”
“Oh, very lovely. It was a decadent age and they covered their books with all sorts of jewels and precious ores.”
Like gold. “It’s a shame they’re gone now.”
“Yes.” But he said no more. And she thought on how the books in his cell were covered by a cloth. “Goodwife?”
“Yes?”
“Does Hon Jixsin do much work for the King?”
“On occasion.”
“Do you think...would it be possible for you to ask him about the bell? It isn’t his magic, but perhaps he would know.”
Krysilla shook her head, confused.
Hyaji glanced at the door to the clock room, then moved in closer and spoke in a low voice, as if afraid he would be heard. “The Dogs come here more often now than before. I’ve heard that they are part of the King’s plan to purify the nation. It begins in one’s own house, I am told, and yet...” he truly looked afraid now. “They say the largest bell, the one that tolls the hour, will be taken down. As caretaker, I’ve asked why but no one answers me. It is the King’s order, they say.”
“And you’re afraid it will be burned like the books?”
He didn’t say anything at first, as if admitting his desire matched the royal need was some kind of treason. When he did speak, he appeared ashamed. “I doubt the King has need of the metal the bell would provide. And yet...it’s a terrible thing not to trust. You understand?”
And then she realized his real purpose in asking her about her marriage. As a Disciple, he was married in a way himself. And the one he’d trusted had caused doubt to appear in his mind.
But she was not like Zhiv. She had no agenda, no ulterior motive in finding this out. With a nod and a smile, she reassured him. “I’ll ask. I doubt he knows anything, but,” she remembered his connections, “it’s possible I can at least find out the reason for the bell’s dismantling. It’s probably just to clean it. Nothing more.”
“Of course,” he said. His smile was full of hope and calm once again.
And then she remembered Lord Teranasin’s words. “Would you mind doing something for me?”
“Anything.”
Really? she almost said. Even if it meant destroying your faith in your King? “If anything...unusual, should occur, especially in regards to orders from the King, will you send word?”
“Yes.” He said it so easily, and so honestly, that she felt bad for asking him. He’s so young, she thought, and tried to smile back at him.
Once they had left the clock room, they didn’t speak. It was as if, now that they were entering the real world, that time when they could say almost anything was a dream, only to be remembered. Until they got to his cell. He hesitated as they passed, and she could see him working out a decision in that brief pause. Then, he moved on. “Hon Jixsin will be at the entrance. I shall walk you there.”
“Thank you,” she said, “but I think I can find my way on my own. Your brother in spirit was very thorough in his tour and I’m not easily turned around.”
“Truly?”
“Never. Not even in the woods. I’ve always been able to find my way back to where I need to be.”
With a slight bow, he said, “Then I wish you well, goodwife. And may all go with your marriage as it should.”
“Thank you.” She felt like crying at his refusal to judge. “I hope to see you again soon.”
“As do I.” And then, as if he’d said too much, he smiled, a little sheepish, and went back to his cell.
She walked down the corridors, trying not to get lost in thought. There were still a couple of turns to go when she heard someone fall in behind her. Turning, she saw a man wearing the brilliant red vest of the Dogs.
She tried to act as if this happened all the time, being followed by a Dog. They’re here to purify themselves, she tried to tell herself, but that did little to calm her. The King had sent more of them here, and he was fixing the tower, and he was going to bring down the largest bell, and there were books disappearing and Lord Teranasin didn’t trust the King and the King didn’t trust Zhiv and it all came down to illegal magic worked under circumstances that she thought were innocent but, looking back, were not. And Zhiv hadn’t protected her from any of it.
Her experience in the forest tried to surround her, no matter how she fought to remember where she really was. No spell had been cast to search out illegal magics. No one was under suspicion.
When she got to the entrance, she smiled broadly at Daegan, whose eye fixed on the Dog behind her. “Ready?” he asked.
She couldn’t tell if he were asking a simple question or asking if she were ready to run. “Yes.”
He nodded, and they left, the Dog still following them. They said nothing to each other. Krysilla had no chance to speak of what Hyaji had told her, and whatever Daegan had wanted to say, if anything, remained silent.
The Dog followed them until they were halfway home. Then, he left.
Still, she couldn’t relax, not until they were inside the Jixsin home and Daegan had locked the door, checking the locks twice before turning away. “Parlay will have to knock for once,” he muttered.
“Are you talking about me?” they heard Zhiv call out from the back.
Perhaps it was the fact that she felt safe once more. Perhaps it was the fact that talking to Hyaji, however briefly, had been too enjoyable, too free. Perhaps it was the fact that Daegan had shown as much concern over the locks as Zhiv might, or the chest in the secret room, or perhaps it was the warmth in Zhiv’s voice, carefree laughter threatening to break through if given the right trigger. Krysilla fell down to her knees and began to tremble.
Daegan hurried into the kitchen and she heard him getting water from the barrel. There was a scrape of chair against floor. “Goodwife?” Zhiv called out. “Might be the heat,” she heard Daegan mutter as both men came toward her.
“Daegan,” she said, knowing she probably shouldn’t be so open with two men who had their own plans, of which she wanted nothing, “why would the bell in the clock tower be important?”
Daegan shook his head. “It’s not.”
“Why do you ask, goodwife?” Zhiv said, kneeling down beside her. It might have been her imagination, but he seemed honestly concerned.
Quickly, she told them everything Hyaji had told her, about the books, and the clock tower and the bells. And then, she told them what Lord Teranasin had told her at the feet of the Blessed One.
&
nbsp; Daegan handed her the cup of water and she drank it, not looking at either of them. What’s done is done, she decided. If I’ve made a mistake in trusting them, I can’t take it back now.
Neither one of the men spoke. Daegan leaned against the stairwell, arms folded, deep in thought. Zhiv as well, though he had gone from kneeling to sitting, his folded arms resting on his knees, and his face buried in them so that only his eyes and the top of his head showed. After a silence that felt far too long to be comfortable, Daegan said, “A Dog followed us once we’d left.”
“That makes sense.” Lifting his head, Zhiv said, “And it was Lord Teranasin who told you this?”
She nodded.
“Thank you. This information will be very useful.”
Daegan looked at her in a way that said his thoughts of her at that moment weren’t nearly as kind as Zhiv’s, in spite of her information. Then, he sighed. “I think it’s time I examined the lock on the clock room. It’s been a number of years. It might be wise to make sure it doesn’t stick. Not to mention the stepladder I designed.”
“I want to go with,” Krysilla said.
Daegan snorted. “Why would I bring my housekeeper?”
“Hyaji said I could visit whenever I wished.”
“Do the others know that? If you show up with me, it might look like I’m giving you a trial. I have enough mothers and their single daughters keeping an eye on this house as it is. I don’t need to worry about them as well as the Dogs.”
“Daegan,” Zhiv said, still sitting, his focus on the wall behind his friend, “I think taking her would be wise.”
“In what way?”
“She’s become friends with a Disciple. That’s something neither of us have been able to accomplish.”
Furious at what he might do to an honest friendship, Krysilla said, “I’m not about to use him.”
“You already have. You asked him to keep a listen for more about the King and his plans, correct?”
Unable to deny it, she said, “You make it sound sordid.”
“That wasn’t my intention. Daegan?”