City of Delusions (The Dying World Book 2)

by John Triptych

  Rion couldn’t help but grin when he strode through the gigantic obsidian gate that led into the library’s main hall. Isryk and Kardra had accompanied him into the building, while a pair of bodyguards waited for them outside. The entire place seemed to have been made with amber and marble, the golden rays of the sun filtering down from the crystal ceiling, casting pools of scintillating light onto the massive rows of shelves which contained an uncountable assortment of telling stones. Isryk had told him that the library was the greatest concentration of past knowledge in the entire world, and it was the one factor that proved Lethe’s superiority over all the other known cities.

  Despite being only a short walk from the noble’s quarter, Isryk nevertheless rubbed his sore shins before peering forward and pointing a bony finger at a group of old men that were huddled around a stone table at the other end of the hall. “Now, Efrin- you see those people over there? Those are the librarians that I was telling you about.”

  Rion nodded. “I have a question.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Why are they called librarians, are they not tellers as well?”

  Isryk pursed his parched lips. “Librarians are a specialized form of teller. Instead of knowing the stories by heart, they preserve mankind’s knowledge by carefully arranging all the telling stones so that they can be retrieved and examined without much effort.” He pointed at two men at the far end of the table who had chisels in their hands. “Those two men are scribes, they make copies of the telling stones so that the tales within the rocks can be given to others outside of the library. The spread of knowledge across the city is paramount.”

  Rion couldn’t help but be truly happy. Even though he was playing a dangerous game of lies and deceit, the prospect of actually being able to look at an endless amount of telling stones filled him with a thirst to know more, and he momentarily forgot his inner worries. “Why is it that very few people are in this place? Are the people of Lethe not interested in learning?”

  Isryk snorted. “Well first of all, the librarians require a small fortune to be donated to them before visitors are allowed to even set foot in here. Your mother happens to have much coin and we had to pay just to get past the guards. There is no charity in this place you know.”

  Rion nodded. He was inside, so he better make the best use of the time he had. “So we have the whole day to look around?”

  Isryk sighed. He had hoped to return for some needed rest in his house by the early afternoon, but the family had already paid a substantial amount to use the library for the day. “Yes, I believe your servant girl here has brought some food that you can eat at midday.”

  Rion beamed at Kardra, who had a worried look in her face. “I am still full from the dawn meal. I am off to have a look about, and I shall see you both later!’ With those words, the boy quickly turned around and dashed towards the scribes at the other end of the hall.

  Kardra had been anxious the whole morning, ever since the boy had disobeyed her and interrupted his mother. “Efrin, wait!”

  Isryk placed a reassuring hand on her trembling shoulder. “Have patience with the boy. He will come to no harm here, it would be prudent to just let him be.”

  Rion had left his attendants behind as he ran up to the edge of the long table. The librarians briefly glanced up at him before returning to their work of sorting through a pile of telling stones on the counter. They all wore white robes and some even had their hoods pulled up, preferring to obscure their faces in order to concentrate at the task of reading the glyphs that had been etched on the shiny, palm sized rocks they were holding. The boy was about to take a stone from the pile before a perturbed glance from a librarian made him stop. After his near gaffe, Rion figured that it was better to observe silently, so he carefully made his way around the table before peering over what the scribes were carving.

  Looking over their hunched shoulders, the boy was surprised to see that the scribes were not fully duplicating the copies that they were creating. The two men doing the etching were so engrossed in their work that they didn’t seem to notice Rion’s quiet scrutiny behind them. From what he could gather, it looked like they were completely altering one of Kaelr’s stories, turning him from a hero that rebelled against the Gorgons to a villain who was responsible for the world’s enslavement.

  One of the other librarians finally noticed Rion and he made a dismissive gesture, alerting the scribes, who subsequently stopped their work and turned to give infuriating glances at the boy. Rion gulped as he backed away and ran into an adjoining hall.

  A few hours passed, but Rion’s eagerness had not abated. The boy would dart in and out of the dozen or so halls, each massive room containing hundreds of thousands of telling stones, while trying to make some sense as to how the entire collection was organized. One of the younger librarians, who had noticed his insatiable curiosity, walked over to him to see if he could help. Rion sensed his coming, so he slumped his shoulders, pretending to be confused about something as he fiddled with a telling stone that he had just picked up.

  Librarian Vilec had only been working in this place for five cycles, and he had yet to become a curmudgeon like his older colleagues. He walked up to the tow-headed boy. “May I help you, child?”

  Rion looked up at him with restless eyes. “I am Efrin of House Kentis. I was looking for my family’s historical records. Do you know where I would find them?”

  “The family stories of the great houses are stored in the Hall of Ochre, located beneath this level,” Vilec said. “I am afraid that they are private records, and viewing them is not allowed.”

  Rion gave a look of dismay. “But I am a member of the house of Kentis, surely I am entitled to read about my own family, am I not?”

  Vilec smiled while shaking his head. “I am sorry, only the matriarchs of each house can have access to that hall. The information that is stored in that collection has all the names of their family members and slaves, so it is vital that those records be held in private.”

  The boy thought about it for a minute. “If I was to gain permission from my mother to peruse that vault, would it be permitted?”

  Vilec bit his lip. “No, it would not. Each matriarch who wishes to look through the contents of the hall must be accompanied by the head librarian, for it is only he who has the keys to open the wrought iron lock on the door.”

  Rion sighed as he showed a dejected look. “Oh, very well. I am curious about another subject. Do you know where I could find stories that tell of the history of this city?”

  Vilec smiled. He gestured at an adjoining hall. “Now that I can help you with. Follow me, young master.”

  Mid-afternoon came and went. Many of the librarians had already finished their midday tasks and most were off to take a short nap before resuming their work for the rest of the remaining day. Almost every visitor to the library had also had their fill, and a large number of them had soon left to return back to the noble’s quarter. The halls had become so deserted that if a single telling stone had dropped to the floor, it would have been heard across the length of the entire building.

  Peering into an adjoining corridor, Rion slowly made his way to the stone steps leading to the underground level of the library. Looking down below, he could see a cavernous passageway lit by smoldering torches along its smooth walls. Steeling himself, Rion carefully moved down the stairs, hoping that he wouldn’t bump into anyone. The boy figured that if he stumbled upon one of the librarians, he would simply state that he was looking for the latrines. It would have been a very awkward excuse, but it was the only one he could think of. This was his one chance of finding if Miri’s name was listed in the slave records of the great houses, and he had to take the risk.

  The hallway continued to snake through the underground, and the ever growing sense of being discovered steadily grew in his mind. If he was caught down here, then his mother would surely attempt a deeper mind probe and his ruse would ultimately be discovered. Rion had contemplated that he w
ould have to murder anyone who would raise the alarm, and he shuddered at the thought of having to go through with it. The boy’s worries were partly abated when he came upon a large door with a chunk of earth-colored hematite being displayed above its top frame. It had to be the Hall of Ochre.

  Rion’s memories had been coming back, and he remembered being able to gather up his Vis and use a little of the mindforce that had always been part of him. As the day wore on, he had carefully built up his reserves and now he would need every drop of it. Taking a dimly-lit torch from a nearby wall sconce, Rion kept it close as he carefully examined the lock on the obsidian door. It was similar to the bolt in his personal chambers, for it had a complex mechanism that could only be opened with a key.

  Peering into the tiny hole, he really couldn’t see anything. Rion closed his eyes and his Vis soon manifested itself into an invisible cord just ahead of him. The boy scowled as he contorted the mindforce into a small strand that could fit into the keyhole. Pushing the end of the force thread through the lock, Rion’s tingling senses felt a set of three pins at the top of the hole. He knew that if he was to move the lock, then it would require an intense act of will to push all three pins into place. As he used the force string to push one of the tiny pins up the gap, the other two bolts would not budge.

  Sweat began to drip down his forehead as Rion continued his intense concentration. He could have easily smashed the lock open with an unfocused wave of mindforce, but that would have alerted the librarians that someone had broken into their vault. Trying to steal the key that could unlock the door would have taken more time since he had no idea as to who was carrying it. What he needed was to unlock the door, find what he was looking for, and then put the bolt back into place- a complicated task. But if he succeeded, then no one would be on guard as to what his plans were.

  The constant strain was beginning to give him a headache. Rion knew he was so close now and he needed just a little more effort. He could feel the weight of the small pins that needed to be aligned within the keyhole in order for the lock to open. One pin was already in place, but now he had to bend a tiny part of the invisible cord of force to get the other pins into position. It was a delicate undertaking, and one that he had never trained for, nor had any experience in. If he altered the entire force strand, then the pin that was already in place would come loose, and he would have to start all over again. He was breathing heavily now, the acute concentration exhausting both his Vis and his willpower.

  A sharp pain began to creep across the top of his head, but Rion ignored it. The boy focused his attention on the second pin, for it was just behind the first one that had already been pushed up into the gap. Slightly altering the force strand, he was able to finally get it in by expending a little more of his Vis. The third and final pin was the main problem, now he had to concentrate on three separate levels to keep the other two pins in place while slightly altering the final area. The pain in his head was so harsh that he was beginning to lose his focus, but he fought through it, his indomitable will suppressing the strained cranial nerves in his brain. The third pin was a severe problem, for its gap was much higher than the other two. At the last second, he curled the loose end of the force string and looped it back around to form a slightly thicker bridge and pushed it up. The third and final pin was thrust into place and there was an audible click as the door unlocked.

  Opening his eyes, Rion let out a deep breath as the pounding headache began to subside. He had been reading about the exploits of the Magi for the past few hours, and none of the stories had ever told of them being able to open a complex lock with their minds. He had just invented a new way of using the mindforce, but it was best he kept this secret all to himself, he figured. Rion pushed the unlocked door forward just a little bit and slipped inside.

  The Hall of Ochre was smaller than the other rooms upstairs, but every niche contained highly important records. Rion had figured out that the etchings the scribes had made left a minute bit of fine dust on the surface of the telling stones, and it was a clear indication as to how recent the information had been recorded. Since the file keeping was only updated every few moons or so, he stood a fair chance of finding Miri’s name on one of the stones- all he had to do was to go through the rocks that had been recently etched upon.

  Rion started rummaging through the alcoves. Each house had a separate recess, so he ignored any of the older stones he came upon, and focused solely on the ones that were recently written. The mark of each house was visible at the top of the cubbyholes, so he decided to go through the most powerful families first. House Aranida had the most number of new telling stones, and it took him quite a while to go through them all, but in the end he found nothing that indicated Miri’s presence in their household. House Kentis was next, and he kept the torch close by to get a good look. Rion found it peculiar that the name of Efrin had been recently chiseled in from a number of older records, this meant that the scribes were retroactively creating a history for him when there wasn’t any before. If any of the other houses demanded proof as to whether he really was born of Kenits, then these telling stones would give legal support for it.

  It was taking a long time, and Rion’s initial sense of triumph had been replaced by a tingling paranoia. He had gone through the records of six houses already, and not a single one of them held any clue as to what happened with Miri. In desperation, he began rummaging through the telling stones of the minor houses, hoping for a miracle. Just as he was about to give up, he noticed something glinting in a small niche at the far corner. Rion leaned over and thrust his hand into the hole. Grasping something solid, he pulled it out an examined it. The object was indeed a telling stone, but it was inlaid with gold.

  Looking at the shining surface of the small tablet, Rion immediately recalled another teller, a kindly old man by the name of Devos. Yes, this was his most prized telling stone. It talked about a prophecy that foretold of a child venturing into the last city. The other glyphs along its sides were indecipherable to him, but Rion knew that this was a special sort of stone. The boy slipped it underneath his tunic before continuing to rummage through the niche once more. There was one other telling stone in it, and he took it out and had a look. The etching looked recent and it told of a woman and a boy who had been found by the Watchers near the old entrance to the wastes.

  Rion gasped. It was a record of Miri and himself. The stone had stated that the Striga had tried to resist and was stripped of her Vis, before being sold to a slaver named Duamuket. The boy was taken and examined by a powerful, unnamed matriarch. Then the record ended.

  The boy carefully placed the stone back into its place. He needed to locate a slaver by the name of Duamuket, for he would know Miri’s whereabouts. His next task was to find a way to convince his mother to give him permission to visit the slaver markets, located near the industrial district of Lethe. The danger would be even greater, but he had to find Miri no matter the risk. All he had to do now was to think of an excuse.

  A distant voice was heard from the passageway outside. “Efrin, are you down here?”

  Rion quickly ran to the door and peered out. He could see someone’s shadow along the hazy, torchlit corridor, just around the bend. The boy put the torch he was carrying on the floor and stamped on it until its fire was out before pushing it to the side. Slipping out through the door, Rion used his mindforce to carefully pull the door back into position and it quickly locked into place, the bolt sliding back through the latch. The shadow turned when the audible click was heard and moved into the part of the passage where he was.

  It was Kardra. The young servant girl had a surprised look on her face. “Efrin, what are you doing down here?”

  Rion blinked a few times, feigning innocence. “Apologies. I was looking for the latrines, but I got lost down here.”

  Kardra blinked a few times, trying to hold back her tears. It had been a frustrating day for her, for the boy was her responsibility. “We must leave, Isryk is losing his patie
nce and your mother sent in another guard to tell us that we must return to the manse.”

  The boy nodded. “Very well, let us go.”

  Isryk was quite annoyed upon seeing Rion emerge from the lower levels. The old teller had been sitting around for hours, waiting for the boy to finish his excursion. He brusquely bid them all goodbye before heading back to his dwelling. Kardra was quiet during the walk back to the noble’s quarter, it was clear that Rion’s capers had been extremely worrying for her. The boy tried to cheer her up, but the slave’s distress merely heightened as they finally made it through the guarded front gates of the Kentis compound.

  As they clambered up the stone steps that led to the upper level, they were met by the matriarch herself at the landing. Cirine’s complexion was moist, for she had just finished a thorough lovemaking session with Corym. The first husband stood beside the matriarch, his rippling muscles bulging underneath his short sleeved tunic, looking smug and haughty, as if it was beneath him to even witness this. Uncle Acro, the matriarch’s brother, was also standing there, as he had been looking for one of the slave girls to take up to his chambers before bumping into the others on their way down.

  Kardra’s lips trembled as she knelt and put her head down. “Matriarch, I have returned Efrin back to the manse as you have ordered.”

  Cirine’s voice was terse. “Stand up, slave.”

  Kardra did, but she continued to keep her head bowed, too shameful and scared to look her master in the eye.

  “You were given implicit instructions to bring the boy back here by mid-afternoon, for we shall have a very special visitor by this eventide. It is now dusk,” the matriarch said. “What do you have to say for yourself?”