Libyrinth

by Pearl North

Haly hadn’t thought she could be more frightened, but now she knew she’d been wrong. If they thought she and Clauda had learned anything of use, they’d kill them, but it was too late now. Helplessly, she nodded her head. “Yes.”

  “When I was a child, she tormented me,” said The Book of the Night.

  “She wasn’t reading, Ithaster,” said Soth.

  Ithaster jerked his head to glance at him and then looked back at Haly, glaring. “What? You mean she’s lying?” He grabbed her by the neck of her robe and jerked her forward, raising his mind lancet in his other hand.

  “No!” Haly cried out, squeezing her eyes shut.

  Behind her she heard Soth say, “I saw the book in her lap when we descended. It was shut.”

  “I saw it, too,” said Vinnais.

  The grip on her robe loosened. Haly opened one eye and saw that the mind lancet had been lowered. Ithaster eyed her closely. “But you said you were reading it, when you know that means we have to kill you both.”

  Haly’s mouth opened and shut.

  Ithaster cocked his head to one side. “Why would you do that?” He leaned forward slowly, his beaked mask poking her in the cheek. “Unless it was to cover up something even worse. . . .”

  “Witchcraft,” murmured Vinnais.

  Ithaster nodded his head in agreement. He glanced at the book in his hands. “Now I must torment her,” it said as he set it down on top of the console.

  “Michander will be very impressed with us,” said Ithaster, returning his attention to Haly, “when we present him with both The Book of the Night and a confessed witch.” Tucking his lancet under his arm, he seized Haly’s wrists and dragged her to the bookshelves, about a quarter of the way around the vault from where Clauda hung in her bonds, her eyes closed, her pale skin shining with sweat.

  Haly tried to wrench her hands free from Ithaster’s grip, but he thrust them up over her head and kneed her in the stomach. If she hadn’t thrown up already, she would have now. Instead she hung in his grip, gasping, as Vinnais left Clauda’s side and came to assist Ithaster. Vinnais untied the cord at his waist and wrapped it around Haly’s pinned wrists, binding her firmly to the strut.

  Ithaster stepped back and regarded her with satisfaction. Beside him Vinnais was expressionless. Haly felt her heart beating very hard. In her mouth, her injured tongue pulsed in unison, like a fat, wet frog. With a desperate effort of will, she kept from gagging again as the metallic tang of blood overcame the bitter taste of bile. She took a deep breath and tried, somehow, to steel herself for what was to come.

  “But I find the task brings me no joy,” said The Book of the Night.

  Ithaster lifted it from the console and ran his hand over the ancient green cover. “It bears the mark of Iscarion. There is no doubt, then,” said Ithaster.

  He looked back at Haly again. For a moment there was a look of uncertainty in his eyes, and then it was replaced by skepticism. “You had already read it, and were reciting it from memory.”

  “Yes!” agreed Haly eagerly.

  Too eagerly, she realized as Ithaster grinned and brought his face close to hers. “You lie!”

  Speechless, she shook her head.

  Ithaster’s breath was stale in her face. “Yes you do. You are a witch, and I will have your confession. But it must be done properly, as Censor Siblea has taught me. Soth, fetch my kit.”

  Soth went up the stairs and returned a few minutes later with a carved wooden box with a handle on the top and a latch on one side. He handed it to Ithaster, who set it down on the console beside The Book of the Night and opened it. He took out a short, curved dagger with a black blade, and a small earthen jar capped with a wax plug. “Now,” he said, holding the knife to her cheek, “how did you know the words of the book without reading them?”

  Haly didn’t answer.

  “That will never do,” he said. “Vinnais.” As Clauda shrieked under the blow of the mind lancet, Ithaster slashed Haly across the cheek with the knife. Its blade left a trail of fire, and her hands convulsed against their bonds to reach it.

  “Oh, it’s bad enough,” Ithaster assured her. “It’ll scar. But it’ll be the least of your woes if you do not tell us everything now.”

  She had kept her ability a secret for so long. For so long she had feared discovery and punishment, and now, here they were, staring at her through the eyes of her inquisitor. But it would only be worse if she did not confess. Worse not just for her, but for Clauda, too. She glanced at her friend and the terror and pain on her sweat-streaked face made up Haly’s mind for her. Just the same, the forbidden words came slowly, catching in her throat like jagged bones. “I . . . I can hear—”

  “Haly, don’t—” croaked Clauda, her words cut short by another burst from the mind lancet. She went limp and silent.

  “I can hear the books,” said Haly, refocusing on Ithaster. “They speak to me. That’s why the book was closed. I was speaking what the book told me.”

  The Eradicant stepped back warily. “You are a witch. By what sorcery do you cause dead words to speak? What evil deeds do you bend them to? Plague? Fire? Famine? Flood? Well?” He poked her burning cheek with the knife.

  “I—no, I’m not a witch, there was no spell. I was just reading, I mean listening, telling. That’s all.”

  “You are a witch.” He emphasized his words by prodding Haly’s swollen cheek with the knife. “How else do you hear a book without opening it?”

  “I don’t know. I always have.”

  “That’s no excuse.” Ithaster grasped her head with one hand and held her still as his knife bit into her flesh, a throbbing pain that grew as the Eradicant slowly carved a curve around her temple.

  “Please don’t. I didn’t mean to do anything. I’m sorry, I really am,” Haly whimpered.

  “Not good enough,” the Eradicant murmured lightly. With an air of distraction he extended the new cut downward until it met with the slash on her cheek. He sat back and surveyed his work. “Now. You are a witch, that is not in dispute. But for the salvation of your soul you must admit your crimes.” He produced a small jar, and uncapped it. “Lye. It will cauterize the wound, which will prevent infection. It is most unpleasant, but it is for your own good. You’ll see.”

  The first touch of the powder was like a searing brand burning through her flesh, through her bones, wiping away thought and wrenching a babbling scream from her lips. As she squeezed her eyes shut against the acrid fumes, all hope of somehow withstanding the Eradicants fled. As soon as she could speak she said, “No more, no more, whatever you want, I’ll do it, I’ll say it. I did it. I’m a witch. I’ll do whatever you want.”

  Ithaster grinned at her. “Indeed you will,” he said, and lifted the knife to her face once more.

  A wordless sob tore from Haly’s lips as she desperately tried to back away. But there was nowhere to go. From above ground came the sound of an explosion, and the vault shook. Ithaster stumbled and dropped his knife. Dust sifted down between the cracks in the ceiling tiles, a few of which fell to the floor with a clatter.

  “Yammon’s tonsils,” cried Vinnais, “what was that?”

  “It came from outside,” said Soth, picking himself up off the floor. The three Eradicants exchanged glances. “Our wagon! The ammunition!” yelled Ithaster, and they ran up the stairs.

  Haly looked to Clauda, who had awakened. Her friend returned her gaze steadily and worked her hands, trying to twist them free of the ropes. Haly tested her own hands as well, but there was no give in her bonds. Neither of them needed to speak. They both knew this was the only chance they’d have.

  Frustration and panic bubbled inside Haly and she jerked her hands uselessly, uttering a steady stream of profanity.

  “Be still, be still, she must be still,” muttered a voice at her ear. Nod. Desperate hope rose inside Haly, and she forced herself to be still as she felt tiny fingers plucking at the ropes that bound her hands. Looking over to Clauda, her jaw dropped at the sight of Nod untying her b
onds as well. Another Nod. There were two Nods. Sudden, stinging circulation returned to her hands as her Nod at last loosened the final knot and she was free. Clauda, too, stumbled forward, rubbing her wrists and shaking all over. Haly went to steady her. “Are you all right?”

  Clauda gave her a look full of pain and rage. “I’m alive. Come on, let’s get out of here.”

  Haly grabbed The Book of the Night from the console and held it against her chest with her right hand, while she snaked her left arm under Clauda’s shoulders and helped her friend up the stairs. One of the Nods scrambled ahead of them. She thought she caught a glimpse of the other one disappearing behind the shelves. “There are more dimensions then the ones we know,” said the book.

  Night had fallen, making the open hatch above them a black portal filled with stars. As they peered over the edge of the hatch the air was cool against Haly’s face, welcome despite the sting of her wound. The Eradicants’ wagon was on fire. She saw their frenzied forms, silhouetted against orange flames as they ran to and fro, trying to put out the blaze. Above the crackle of the fire and the cries of the Eradicants, Haly heard a growing rumble. She felt it through her hands, which gripped the rim of the hatch, and then out of the darkness came Selene, riding at the head of eight galloping horses, her hair streaming out behind her. She must have stolen the Eradicants’ horses, Haly thought fleetingly as she watched the panicked herd thundering toward them. As the Eradicants broke away from their efforts to quell the fire and ran for their rifles, she rode them down. Haly saw Vinnais fall with a strangled cry beneath the hoofs of one wild-eyed beast. Ithaster managed to reach his gun, and took a shot at her but missed.

  Clauda jumped up and waved her arms. “We’re over here!” she cried, and then ducked down as a bullet whizzed past. Haly peeked over the edge of the hatch and saw Selene, her black robes painted orange by the light of the fire, wheeling on her horse. Ithaster and Soth, both now armed, stood between her and the vault. Selene reached inside her cloak, drew out the glowing Egg from the Devouring Silence, and held it aloft. As Ithaster raised his rifle again, she heaved the Egg into the burning cart.

  “No!” cried Haly, Soth, and Ithaster in unison as the Egg arced across the night sky like a falling sun, and fell into the fire. And then Selene was charging toward the vault, scattering the two Eradicants in her wake. Haly caught a glimpse of Soth attempting to retrieve the Egg from the burning wreckage of the cart, and then Selene was there before her, towering upon her mount. She held the reins of their two horses in her hands. The other beasts had scattered in panic.

  “Come on,” she shouted. “Mount up. When the Egg explodes . . .” She didn’t finish. She didn’t need to. Haly looked about for some sign of the Nods but found nothing. There was no time. She hauled Clauda up and they both scrambled onto their horses and galloped after her.

  Haly concentrated every fiber of her being on getting as far away as possible from the fire and its time bomb. When it came, the detonation made the explosion of the ammunition seem like a sneeze. It was a sound and a quake like the earth splitting in half. It nearly unhorsed Haly. Her horse uttered a bellow of terror and redoubled its speed. All three of them tore into the darkness, galloping under the pitiless stars.

  A wild joy filled Haly at the cold night air whipping through her sweat-damp hair and stinging against her face. They were getting away. They were actually getting away.

  There was a distant crack, and then a sudden jolt and a scream from Haly’s mount broke her rejoicing. Groaning, her horse stumbled and fell to its knees, breathing heavily. Selene, who had been riding just behind her, wheeled her horse around and came back. “Get on!” she shouted.

  “No,” said Haly, realizing all at once that the best chance for Clauda and Selene to escape was for her to give herself up. “I’ll slow you down and we’ll both be caught, plus they’ll have the book. Here.” She shoved The Book of the Night at Selene. “Take it.”

  Selene hesitated. Beyond her, Haly saw Clauda getting smaller and smaller. She knew what she was running from. Nothing, not even their friendship, would stop her. Good. Another rifle shot pierced the night, but went wide.

  Haly pushed the book at Selene again. “Take it!” she shouted.

  “But it’s useless,” Selene protested.

  There was no time to explain to Selene that she could hear the book, and it wouldn’t do any good in any case. “You’re the best scholar in the Libyrinth. You’ll find a way to translate it. Besides, the Eradicants don’t know we can’t read it. We can’t let them destroy it. Take it and ride to Ilysies.”

  Selene took the book from her, but otherwise she didn’t move. Her lips worked, but no sound came out. “Fire heralds the end, but leaves cold in its wake; cold and silence,” said The Book of the Night.

  “Go!” roared Haly, and she yanked down hard on the horse’s tail. The beast snorted its indignation and sprang into a ground-eating gallop. Haly watched Selene’s face recede, a dwindling moon in the night, and then she turned to face the Eradicants.

  The Last Wind of the World

  Clauda fell through thundering blackness lit with flashes of fire and lightning into a thicket of glass brambles. Tiny slivers of bright pain stabbed at her every time she moved. She lay still at last and, staring up, saw a great black bird wheeling across the red sky, a bolt of blue lightning clutched in its talons. The bird banked, and with a horrible scream, dove for her.

  She sat up and opened her eyes, the harsh echoes of her own scream ringing in her ears. Her hands, outstretched to fend off the terrible bird, brushed cool rock, and she realized she was in a cave. A vent hole above let in a little light, but not as much as the brilliance that blazed from the cave opening, making her eyes sting. Her hands shook and she lowered them to the woolly blanket that covered her lower body. She frowned and tried to quell the shaking, only succeeding when she trapped them between her draped legs. And then her legs started shaking.

  The cave abruptly darkened, and for a moment she thought she was losing consciousness. But it was only Selene, blocking off the light as she entered the cave mouth. She came to Clauda’s side, a shocking look of concern on her face.

  Clauda remembered the scream. “It was a dream,” she said, heat rising to her face. In her lap, her hands jerked back and forth like her grandma Sulie’s had done the year before she died. She pulled them up and held them against her chest.

  Selene stared intently into her eyes. She held up one finger and ran it back and forth across Clauda’s field of vision. “How do you feel?”

  Clauda watched Selene’s finger track back and forth in front of her eyes, realizing fully that she in fact felt horrible. The harsh light and the movement of her eyes made her queasy. Her tongue tasted like she’d spent the night licking the hearth in the Libyrinth kitchen. Her heart still hammered from her dream and she felt so tired, she could barely get enough breath. Then there was that trembling business in her arms and legs. And not only there. Deep inside her, too, in some mysterious place between her heart and her stomach was an unsteadiness, like she was somehow not put together as tightly as she’d once been. “I’m okay,” she said.

  Suddenly Selene’s finger was gone and the Libyrarian pressed her head against Clauda’s chest. Deeply shocked, Clauda braced herself for tears, but there were none.

  “Your heartbeat is rapid,” said Selene, sitting back again. She took each of Clauda’s hands in one of hers. “Try to grip my hands,” she said, frowning at Clauda’s spastic response. Selene released her hands and turned to reach for Clauda’s food basket. Clauda watched in frustration as Selene pawed through her carefully packed basket and at last drew out a flask of water. She uncorked it and held it to Clauda’s lips. “Drink,” she told her.

  Clauda swallowed the water. It helped a little with the bitter, ashen taste in her mouth.

  Selene gave her more water, putting a hand behind Clauda’s head to steady her as she drank. When the Libyrarian pulled the flask away, Clauda drew a trembling hand
across her dripping chin and glanced around the small cave, which was littered with saddlebags and bedding. “Where’s Haly?”

  Selene’s eyes widened, and then she looked down at her lap. “They shot her horse. She wouldn’t ride with me. . . .”

  A chill settled over Clauda as Selene related the details of Haly’s recapture in a flat, expressionless voice. She barely remembered anything about their flight; just an impression of wind and night, her own overwhelming urgency to flee as fast as her horse could carry her, and the feel of the animal’s coarse pelt as she clung to its neck and rode, rode, rode, never once looking back. “We have to go back for her,” she said, pushing off the blanket and struggling to her feet.

  Selene shook her head and said something about it being impossible, but Clauda didn’t pay any attention. Instead she concentrated all her effort in getting to her feet. It was hard to control the movements of her legs and her balance was off, but she managed to stagger to the cave mouth, her head spinning at the motion. She gripped the rock and looked out, gasping as she saw the vast Plain of Ayor spread out three hundred feet below them. “Seven Tales,” she whispered.

  They were already high up in the mountains. Obviously Selene had decided against going back for Haly. Had decided for both of them. Clauda turned to Selene, an accusation on her lips. The cave and its dizzying view wobbled and dimmed and she found herself on her hands and knees, scant feet from the rim of the rock ledge outside the cave mouth. Nothing but a narrow band of stone stood between her and empty air.

  The trail widened past the cave mouth, and there the horses stood tethered in a shallow curve in the mountainside. Before she could even try to crawl toward them, or back up into the cave again, strong arms hauled her back from the edge of the cliff. Selene lifted her and carried her into the cave again, dumping her unceremoniously onto the nest of blankets where she had awakened, then more gently positioning her so that her back rested against the cave wall. Selene rummaged through the food basket again and produced a dried-up chunk of cheese. “Here,” she said, carving off a small piece and holding it before Clauda’s lips. “Eat this.”