Compendium

by Alia Luria

  “If you’re accusing me of flatulence, I’ll not have it,” another voice replied.

  For the first time ever, Mia heard SainClair laugh with genuine mirth. “No, Brother, I need not accuse. That’s just your natural state.” The unknown brother chuckled back, and the footsteps receded out of Mia’s hearing. Cedar’s arm came around Mia’s shoulder then, hugging her to his body. They huddled like that, not speaking, not moving, and barely breathing as the moments ticked by. But the tension wouldn’t leave her. She did everything in her power to calm her breathing, but it kept coming shallow and ragged. After a while, Cedar gathered her closer in his long limbs, almost tenderly, although she suspected he was just trying to keep her calm so as to not blow their cover.

  They had no timepiece, but time slowly ground to a halt as they waited. All Mia knew was that the extreme agitation she felt eventually subsided as the warmth of Cedar’s body sank into hers and exhaustion set in, deeper and more powerfully than she’d ever known. She must have fallen asleep like that, because the next thing she knew, he was shaking her gently as the sounds of footsteps approached from the opposite direction. They were slow and deliberate steps. Feeling disoriented, Mia wriggled slightly, but Cedar held her firmly as the steps drew nearer. His frame was slim and hard and his grip like iron. There was no speaking coming from the corridor, but a yawn that was practically a roar for its volume and length echoed along the shaft as the steps diminished into the distance. They waited for a good long while after the sounds of the footsteps departed before trying to wriggle free from the cramped auxiliary corridor.

  Returning to the cold, dank hallway with its mossy walls reinvigorated Mia’s nerves, and she and Cedar repeated the entire procedure to retrieve Compendium from its alcove. A part of her feared SainClair had discovered it on his way into the Catacombs and had confiscated it, and she didn’t take a full, deep breath until it was safely back in her sash. Hand in hand, Cedar and Mia walked back down the hallway and up the inclined corridor that led out of the restricted level. Once they were back in the relatively dim light of the standard corridors, they continued on, carefully and quietly, Mia’s body relaxing and her light steps hastening as they approached the corridor that led to the barracks. At the entrance, Mia pulled at Cedar’s robes and stopped him. He turned to look at her quizzically, and she pulled him into her arms and hugged him fiercely.

  “Thank you,” she whispered into the ear brought close to her face by the hug, and kissed his brown cheek. He pulled away, flushed, and mumbled, “’Tis all right.”

  Mia had no idea whether all that effort had yielded any results whatsoever. She was excited to find out but also exhausted beyond capacity to think any longer. “Stop recording,” she whispered to Compendium, and within moments she was out cold, asleep on her bunk, still wearing her robes.

  23 An Idea

  Lumin Cycle 10152

  It wasn’t until the next evening that Mia, Taryn, and Cedar were able to meet to review what Compendium had learned about the security system of the Catacombs. For Mia, the entire day had passed in a haze of anxiety and excitement—mostly anxiety. What if it was all for naught? What if Compendium didn’t learn anything, or what if I hooked it up wrong? Worse yet, what if I damaged Compendium when I hooked it up wrong? The insecurities rolled through Mia in waves. But the day’s work was finally finished, and the three friends were gathered around the reading table of the ancient texts room in the Archives. The amber light took on a sinister glow to Mia. She needed to calm down.

  “I don’t know if I can do this,” she said, feeling ill.

  “What do you mean?” Cedar snapped. Despite his silent affection last night, he had woken this morning with apparent renewed determination to remain terse in her presence.

  “I’m too nervous.”

  “Well, get over it,” Taryn chimed in. “You’re the only one who can access the record.”

  Mia suspected this attitude was manifesting because Taryn considered herself deprived for missing out on yesterday’s adventure. Perhaps Mia had misjudged her during the Gathering; Taryn’s sense of adventure and hers were very different indeed. Mia wouldn’t be jealous of a near miss with Brother SainClair if their situations were reversed.

  She swallowed the lump in her throat as she tried not to think of the tension in her shoulders and the ache forming behind her eyes.

  “Compendium,” she said finally, “did you make a record of all audio sounds captured yesterday during the times I specified?”

  Yes, Compendium typed. Would you like a transcript?

  “Yes,” Mia said. She let out the breath she’d been holding as the book’s ink melded back into its pages and transformed into a written transcript. Mia was shocked by how sensitive the audio capture was as she skimmed through the opening lines. The book had recorded rustling noises of clothing, hard swallowing sounds, their whispers. Of course it had been on her person at that time, not stuffed in a divot in the stone wall of the entrance to the Catacombs. She kept skimming through the text, past the rustle and the whir of the book as she’d taped the conduction points to it and past the soft sounds of their slippers retreating down the corridor. The next sets of lines were the ones they concerned themselves with. Compendium recounted approaching footfalls, probably SainClair’s heavy boots. Then the book recorded some random words. As the clerics approached, conversation formed in the transcript.

  Voice one: Nikola…thinks…the heir…compromised, typed Compendium, the dots indicating garbled language.

  Voice two: How can…certain?

  Voice one: He believes the letter…also thinks…evidence.

  What in the blazes are they talking about? Mia wondered.

  Voice two: And you don’t…

  Voice one: To masquerade as…so serious…can’t say…

  Voice two: If Nikola is so sure, why hasn’t he confronted her with it?

  Voice one: He’s apparently waiting to see what she’ll do.

  Voice two: Like a test?

  Compendium indicated that the footsteps had ceased. They were at the door, Mia thought.

  Voice one: I suppose, although in my opinion, it’s a silly way to go about it. These games only agitate the situation.

  Voice two: Well, Nikola would know best.

  Voice one: Aye, he would.

  Compendium described a heavy scraping noise. Then it indicated that the footsteps resumed.

  Voice one: Well, I for one don’t intend to wait around forever at Nikola’s whim.

  Voice two: You’d best consider…such a thing as this…situation could be volatile…

  The voices broke up again as the scraping noise resumed, indicating the door had closed behind them. Mia was confounded.

  “Compendium didn’t indicate any special code word or tone used to open the door. It just seemed to open at their presence,” she said, shaking her head.

  “Keep reading,” Cedar said. “Maybe there’s something else.”

  She continued to read the transcript. Not long after the doors closed, Compendium registered another scraping noise. The doors reopened.

  “This must be the watch coming off duty,” she said.

  Compendium indicated that two new voices were speaking in the transcript.

  Voice three: SainClair is in a perpetual bad mood these days.

  Voice four: Alas, I think he hasn’t been getting on well with Nikola. They don’t see eye to eye on certain matters.

  Voice three: I suppose, but Nikola always wins these battles.

  Voice four: True, true. Hey, do you want to swing by the kitchen on our way up? I’m famished.

  Voice three: Absolutely. I could use a…and some nice…

  The conversation broke up as the brothers continued their exit from the Catacombs. The rest of the transcript described the rustling noises of Mia and Cedar retrieving Compendium and making their way back to the barracks. She ended her reading there, dropping her head to the table and cradling it in her arm.

  “Blast it,
there wasn’t anything helpful in that!” she practically yelled. She pressed her eyes into her arm, trying to relieve the pressure building behind them.

  “Who do you suppose they were talking about in the corridor?” Taryn asked, curious.

  “Oh, who cares?” Mia’s exasperation was growing. “SainClair probably has a vendetta against half the Order.”

  She looked up to see Taryn and Cedar exchange pointed looks. “What? You can’t possibly think they were referring to me?”

  “Mia,” said Cedar, speaking carefully, “you’re the only one SainClair has a vendetta against. I know you think he bullies everyone, but the dour moods we’ve all grown accustomed to never have mounted into violence with anyone but you.”

  “Well, even if that’s the case, and Dominus Nikola has some secret he’s keeping, it probably has to do with my father. If I can just get the Shillelagh and get out of here, I can visit Father and confirm whatever it is Dominus Nikola is hiding. Either way, their conversation isn’t nearly as important as how they got through the blasted door!”

  “Why don’t you ask Compendium what it collected from the grid of vines?” asked Cedar, his manner implacable.

  Of course. Mia rubbed her face.

  “Compendium,” she asked, “were you able to collect any information from the door or about the door via the hardwired connection?”

  Compendium’s text shifted away from the transcript, and it typed out a response. Yes, I was able to retrieve information from the door. Displaying now. The door is activated through a proximity voice sensor. Certain voices are logged for admittance, and when such voices approach, the door responds automatically to their presence. The door will not open for any voice not logged for admittance, and the process for entering a new voice pattern requires authorization by two currently logged voices.

  “So the only way we could add a new voice to the system would be to have two clerics authorize our voices?”

  That is correct, Compendium typed.

  “Compendium, does the door store records of voices that haven’t been authorized for admittance?”

  Yes, Compendium stated. These unauthorized voices are stored in access records. If the voice is accompanied by an authorized voice, no alarm sounds, but if the door detects only unauthorized voices, it will alert the interior of the Catacombs as well as the security office.

  “We have a security office?” Mia asked absentmindedly.

  Correct, Compendium replied in its usual helpful manner.

  “Well,” Mia said to Cedar and Taryn, “this doesn’t seem promising. How are we going to get into the Catacombs if any unrecognized voice sets off an alarm?”

  Cedar had been staring downward with a pensive expression during Mia’s exchange with Compendium. He looked up at her question and said, “Ask it if it can override the security.”

  “That seems unlikely,” Mia said. “The door is pretty sophisticated.”

  “If Compendium was able to retrieve information from the door, it may be able to send information to the door, including our voice patterns.”

  Mia gave him a skeptical look but turned to Compendium. “Did you hear that request, Compendium?” she asked.

  Yes, Compendium responded. I am capable of sending information to the door but only while I am hooked up to it. I would not be able to plant a voice code into its system that remained perpetually after I have disconnected, but I would be able to send the door a voice while I was connected.

  Mia frowned. “That’s pretty limiting.”

  “It’s perfect,” said Taryn, finally chiming in. “We don’t need our voices to be in there forever, and we wouldn’t want them to be anyway. If our voices were stored in there, the brothers might find out. If Compendium just sends a temporary voice authorization, then it would be gone once Compendium was disconnected, and no one would ever be the wiser.”

  “Compendium,” Mia asked, “would there be any log of us having entered through the door?”

  Not if you don’t want there to be, Compendium typed.

  “Confident little bugger, isn’t it?” Taryn said, smiling broadly.

  “Well, one thing’s for sure,” Mia said, her face drawn, “this will be a one-way trip into the Catacombs. If we don’t find the Shillelagh, we won’t be able to get out.”

  Once they had a basic plan in place, Mia became single-minded in her mission, planning every moment up until she and Taryn would have the Shillelagh in hand. It was an obsession; she relentlessly questioned Compendium about every detail between the door to the Catacombs and her departure. She grew mentally haggard as the days passed slowly in a haze of plotting and anxiety. She was short with Taryn and Cedar, dour with Brother Cornelius, and openly defiant before Brother SainClair. The strain of constant mental exertion and tension not only drained Mia but also made her reckless.

  She also dwelled on the snippet of conversation recorded in the corridor. Something didn’t set right with her. Cedar thought SainClair was talking about her. This seemed unlikely, but something about the conversation nagged her. If they were talking about Mia, what could Dominus Nikola have to confront her with? What was this evidence they had referred to and why were they waiting to see what she would do? If Dominus Nikola knew something about Mia that he wasn’t telling her, she wanted to know what it was before she disappeared from the Order, never to return. She told herself over and over that these thoughts were useless. It didn’t matter. They probably weren’t even talking about her, and if they were, how did it really change anything? Even so, she couldn’t discard the feelings; they kept eating at her. As much as Mia didn’t want to care about the lot of them, she did, and her curiosity did nothing to discourage her ruminations.

  She had the idea that she should place Compendium somewhere in Dominus Nikola’s study. If she slipped Compendium onto a bookshelf or under a seat cushion, she could possibly learn what SainClair had been going on about. She fingered the book as she lay in her bunk and chewed on her lower lip, planning where she would stash it and when. Dominus Nikola took his meals in his study, but if she went in there while he was sleeping, she could silently make her way into the study portion of his chambers, and he would be none the wiser. She was deep in thought when something moved at the corner of her vision. It was Taryn’s forehead, and it slowly popped up over the wall that divided their bunks until her golden-brown eyes were peering at Mia. Her peachy skin and wheat-colored hair glowed in the dim lights of the gourds.

  “You have that look on your face,” she said, raising her head up so her chin was resting on the low wall.

  “What look is that?”

  “Like you’re plotting something.”

  “Aren’t I always plotting something?”

  “Perhaps,” Taryn said, squinting, as if mulling over every time she’d ever looked at Mia’s face to determine whether she was in fact always plotting something. “What are you plotting?” she asked. She raised herself up higher so her elbows were propped up on the wall.

  “Oh,” Mia said, unsure whether she should spill her thoughts out in the barracks, where other acolytes might overhear them, or even at all. A distance was growing between Mia and Taryn and Cedar, and Mia didn’t know why. Perhaps she had abused their willingness to do her favors, or perhaps they were having second thoughts about how much—if at all—they should be involved in Mia’s crazy schemes. She knew it was more than that, but she couldn’t pinpoint the source of the distraction or tension that had infiltrated their group.

  She decided to play it vague. “I was just thinking about that conversation in the corridor. I was wondering who SainClair was talking about.”

  “Cedar thinks it’s you.”

  “Yes. I’m not sure I agree with him, but I don’t have any better ideas, which is why I was thinking about it.”

  “I suppose we’ll never know,” Taryn said, lifting one narrow shoulder in a shrug.

  “Well, there might be a way to know.”

  “Ah,” Taryn said, an air of triumph in
her voice. “See? I knew you were plotting.”

  Mia sighed. “I suppose I was, but I was just curious is all.”

  “You know what they say about curiosity,” she said, as if she thought Mia already knew.

  “What?” Mia asked.

  “It’s bloody bad for your health.” She slammed a hand down on the wall and let out a small snort.

  Mia couldn’t help crack a smile. “Is that so? That’s what they say?”

  “’Tis.” Taryn nodded solemnly. “Now are you going to share that warming cake or what? My feet feel like they’re carved of marble.”

  Mia beckoned her over, and they sat on the lumpy pallet, face-to-face, each with her back against the opposite wall, the cake between them, their knees up, their feet sharing the warmth.

  “This is positively heavenly,” Taryn said. She lowered her voice, and they talked a little more freely. The evening was still young enough that the acolytes were milling about in groups, chatting softly, and the noise mostly obfuscated their own.

  “So, really, what was your plan?”

  Mia picked at a thread on the scratchy blanket covering her lap. “I thought I might try to sneak Compendium into Dominus Nikola’s study and see what I can learn.”

  “You what?” Her question was really more of an expletive, and the look on Taryn’s face told her that she had in fact heard and processed what Mia had said but didn’t believe it was even remotely a wise idea.

  “Well, it seems like it would be a relatively simple matter.”

  “Oh, it does, does it?” Taryn rolled her eyes. “You are daft, daft, daft.”

  Mia frowned. “That’s uncalled for.”

  “Is it? Do you think you’re untouchable? I mean, Compendium is great, and it tells us all sorts of things we’d never know, and it’s the entire reason we’re going to be able to make it away from this place, but it doesn’t afford you total protection from risk.”