Library of Absolution

by Jennifer Derrick

  Alarick understood this kind of pain in some ways. The loss of Master Hale had nearly destroyed him, but he'd quickly buried those feelings and gotten on with the business of running the Keep. There was no other choice and no point in dwelling on pain. Pain only begets more pain, after all. Safer to ignore it and get on with life.

  And that was the part he did not understand. Why had Elissa dragged these memories out into the open where they could hurt her again and again? Why not bury the hurt, as he had? Why mourn something you couldn't alter? Life wound on, the stream of it pulling the griever further and further away from those who were lost. It was best to join the flow and let time take you away instead of trying to hang on.

  He didn't think his method of dealing with grief would help Elissa, however. Unprepared and ill equipped to help her, he quietly backed out of the library, leaving the plate of food on one of the desks and covering it with one of his handkerchiefs.

  Elissa arrived in his office the next morning. He looked up from his work, stunned. She'd never ventured to his private quarters before. He set his quill down and stood. He waved her to the guest chair, but she shook her head.

  "I just wanted to come by and thank you for the food," she said.

  Alarick was intensely uncomfortable. He'd thought later that leaving the food was a mistake. She would guess he'd witnessed her grief and it might make her uneasy. But he hadn't wanted to risk returning to the library to take it back, either. So he'd left it and hoped she wouldn't be angry with him.

  He had gone by her room much later in the night and was comforted by the light snoring coming from beyond the door. At least she'd made it to bed. Rest was likely the best salve for her beaten soul.

  "That was kind of you," she said, handing him his handkerchief, which was freshly washed and pressed. "I assume you saw me at my worst last night."

  He nodded. "Yes," he said, but it came out as a croak. He cleared his throat. "Yes. I thought it best to leave you alone. I was certain my company wouldn't have been beneficial or welcome."

  "You may be right," she shrugged as he came around the desk. "I don't know what possessed me to think of my family last night. I've done a good job of keeping busy and avoiding the memories. But last night… Well, I think perhaps I overtaxed myself."

  "You have been working hard," he said.

  "Yes. Well. Sometimes it hits me they aren't at home, that I have no home to which I can return. It's difficult sometimes to make sense of that."

  "This is your home," Alarick said.

  "Thank you. Maybe someday it will feel like a home. For now, I can only mourn the home I had. Which brings me to why I sought you out today. Aside from thanking you."

  Alarick looked down at her. "Go on," he urged when she said nothing further.

  "I was hoping perhaps you could take me back to Keldon and to another village called Ashgate."

  "Why would you want to go back?" he asked. "There's nothing to be gained from revisiting the past. Remember what was good. Don't sully those memories with destruction and death," Alarick said.

  After what he'd seen last night, he would have given anything to erase her memories of the past. As he could not do that, he could at least keep her from compounding the damage with visions of the decomposing bodies that would surely still be in the streets.

  "I don't really want to, but there may be more books that I can salvage," she said. "It's worth the risk to my psyche to try to find them."

  "Ah. It's always about the books, isn't it?"

  "Well, not always, but usually," she said with a tiny smile. "I had a friend in Keldon who kept books, as well. She didn't have a library like I did so it's possible, and likely, the Ministry found them. But I feel like I should check. I was too panicked the day I left with you to think of it."

  "And what's in Ashgate?" Alarick asked.

  "There was a man there who I used to spend time with. He was a potions master, like my father. That's how we met, actually. My father introduced us. Anyway, I know he had many valuable recipe books and notes on his own experiments. I'd like to see if any of it is salvageable."

  "So, this man was your love interest?" Alarick asked, disturbed at the fact that her answer was strangely important to him.

  "Not that it's any of your business, but yes. For a time, he was important to me."

  "And what happened? I assume the Ministry killed him," Alarick said, pleased to note that his voice betrayed no emotion about the subject.

  "Yes, but that was after we'd stopped spending time together. He valued his potions and practice more than me. And, to be honest, he was too old for me," she said.

  "How old was he?" Alarick asked, having trouble picturing this young, vibrant woman with a decrepit old man.

  "Thirty-four," she said.

  Alarick choked. "Well, it's nice to know that I'm old," he said. "I'm thirty-four. You must view me as a grandfather," he said through bitter laughter.

  Not that he'd given it much thought because romance certainly had no place in his life, but Alarick had to admit he'd wondered if someone as young as she could see anything in one so much older. Knowing now that the answer was no, he felt a strange sense of relief and disappointment combined.

  "Well, I was a bit younger than I am now," she said with a smile. "I was only twenty at the time. Now I'm twenty-five, so you don't seem nearly so old."

  "That's nice. I'd hate to think you were living in fear that I might drop dead in your scriptorium one day," Alarick said, his voice a disinterested drawl.

  "Of the many things I worry about, that isn't one of them. You seem pretty healthy. So, will you take me?" she asked, bringing the conversation back to her original point. "Or can some of the other men go with me?"

  "No," he said flatly.

  "But—" she said.

  "Not because I'm unsympathetic to your cause," he said, cutting off her protests. "But because it isn't safe. The Ministry has been active not too far away these past couple of weeks. They do not know we're here, but if they were to catch one of us in the woods, or see a suspiciously large falcon taking off or landing, it would raise questions and lead to a search. While I trust the protections that guard this castle, I would not subject them to a test if I can avoid it."

  "But you go out," she said, stubbornly not persuaded against her plan.

  "Yes, because I have a duty. It is my job to offer refuge to those who want it," Alarick said. "I appreciate your unique abilities, but when you hold your job next to mine, there are risks worth taking and those that are not. It is not worth any risk to bring back a pile of books. Saving lives, however, is worth the risk."

  "Why? You don't care about the people you save. Why risk everything to bring more people to your little zoo of magical persons?"

  Alarick jerked back at her words, but quickly gathered himself and leaned nonchalantly against his desk, arms folded.

  "Excuse me?" he said in a low voice laced with danger. Elissa, however, wasn't cowed.

  "I said, 'You don't care about them.' I've watched you these past weeks and your behavior is appalling. These people are nothing to you. You provide them shelter and food, but that's all. You don't talk to anyone and you take no interest in their lives or troubles. I've read Master Hale's diaries. I know he wasn't like that. He actually cared about the people here, including you. But I can't figure out what a warm man like that saw in a cold bastard like you."

  "People are different," he said quietly, stung by the accuracy of her words. He'd often wondered what Master Hale saw in him, as well. Unfortunately, the great man had died before Alarick could find out.

  "True. But why on earth did you take this job when you clearly have nothing but contempt for the people under your roof? Was it some twisted desire for power? To rub everyone else's nose in the fact that you're the most powerful wizard left alive?"

  "It was none of that. Master Hale entrusted this place to my care," Alarick said.

  "And I certainly don't know why. Master Lucas would have been a
more compassionate leader."

  "Compassion is not required to do this job, Miss Stone," he said. "In fact, it makes it very difficult."

  She snorted, a very unladylike sound and far from her usual composure. "I know what happens when people leave here. Candace told me it happens fairly often that people find living here with you to be intolerable. They leave and try to make it on their own. You don't go after them. You don't care what happens to them. Once they're gone, they're gone. That's not the behavior of someone who cherishes the people under his care."

  "What would you have me do?" he asked, leaning forward so that he towered over her. "Chase after every fool who thinks he can outwit the Ministry? Risk exposing myself and the others to chase after a handful of people who clearly have no sense? Counsel people about the horrors they're already well aware of and beg them not to leave? I can only extend the offer of refuge. I cannot and will not force anyone to take it.

  "Did Candace tell you that I've allowed everyone to come back who wanted to? No? Well, I do. I don't hold grudges when people throw my hospitality in my face and take off for London or some other place where they think they can hide. When they return, I allow them in, no questions asked."

  "I guess that makes you a saint, then," she sighed. "All I'm saying is that it wouldn't kill you to act like you give a damn about people. You might find that they give a damn about you, too."

  He laughed, dark and low at that. "To what purpose? We're all going to be dead in a year or less, anyway. It won't matter who gave a damn about whom then."

  "Clearly nothing I say will change your mind," she said, shaking her head. "For whatever reason, you've decided the entire world is your enemy. I feel sorry for you, Master Brandon."

  "I don't need your pity, Miss Stone," Alarick said.

  "No. Apparently you don't need anything," she said. She cast him one more sorrowful glance and turned and left his office.

  He watched her go, stunned at how the conversation had deteriorated so quickly. Where had it gone so wrong? She'd come to thank him and ended up condemning him for everything he'd ever done. And she'd done a damn fine job of it, judging by the numbness he felt in his soul.

  He tried not to let it matter. If she thought he was such a terrible manager of the Keep, it didn't matter to him. He did what he had to do. Being a personable and happy host wasn't a job requirement. His job was to keep her safe, and he'd done that by denying her request.

  He walked back around the desk and sat down, ready to get back to work. He picked up his quill and set it down again, too distracted to work. Finally resigned to being unproductive, he opened the mailbox and retrieved the day's correspondence. There was another letter from Master Baines. He opened it and leaned back in his chair, ready for some distraction. It wasn't a newsy letter unfortunately, simply a statement of fact:

  * * *

  Alarick,

  I'm on my way to meet your Book Mesmer. I have some stops to make along the way, so I should be there within the week.

  Baines

  * * *

  This should be interesting, Alarick thought. Perhaps Miss Stone would find Marius to be a good companion. Their scholarly interests gave them much in common. Maybe she'd find enough distraction in his old friend to forget about book hunting. He wouldn't tell her that Marius was coming, however. He didn't want her to think he'd invited the man to study her like some experiment in a laboratory. That would just mark him even lower in her books. And he couldn't bear the thought of falling any lower in her estimation.

  Over the next week, Alarick avoided Elissa. He stopped going to the library and he ate his meals in his rooms rather than face her in the dining hall. He knew the other residents did not care for him, but he didn't want to expose himself to her censure, as well. He didn't stop listening to her stories at the window, however. At least he had one private way to maintain contact with her.

  He didn't know what she did with her time, and he tried not to care. Then one morning she showed up in his office again, clutching a small package. Shock turned to happiness and then to curiosity. He didn't get up this time, merely sat up straight and folded his hands on the desk.

  "Yes?" he said, as she hesitated on the threshold.

  "It occurs to me that I owe you an apology. I shouldn't have said those things to you," she said.

  "If you believe them to be true, you have every right to say them," he said. "I certainly don't hold your observations against you. You are correct. I am not as warm or empathetic as Master Hale was. There are reasons for that, but you do not know them. You can only judge me by my behavior, which is, as you say, appalling at times. I am what I am, Miss Stone."

  "Maybe, although I believe you don't give yourself enough credit. Still, I feel terrible that my uncensored comments have driven you away from the library and our drawing lessons, which seemed to bring you enjoyment. I just wanted to say that if you ever wish to share the reasons for your behavior with someone, I could offer a willing ear. But since I know I might as well ask for the moon," she paused and took a deep breath. "I wanted to apologize and offer you this peace offering, instead."

  She held the package out to him. Alarick stood and came around the desk. He took the package from her and turned it over in his hands, preparing to open it.

  Elissa rested a cool hand on his. "Open it after I'm gone. If you hate it, I'd rather not know. It's not Death, I promise," she said with a weak smile.

  To his utter astonishment, she rose up on tiptoe and kissed him softly on the cheek. "Thank you again for the food that night. It was sweet of you to think of me. I see you, Alarick Brandon, and not all of your behavior is appalling."

  She left him standing there stunned, the heat of her lips still warming his cheek.

  After her footsteps had faded down the corridor, he turned his attention to the package. She'd wrapped whatever it was in an exquisitely decorated parchment. He carefully peeled away the outer layer so as not to tear the paper and spread it out on the desk, gently smoothing it with his hands.

  She'd drawn his crest — he had no idea how she'd seen his signet ring for long enough to make it out — as well was the castle, the shape shifters in all their animal glory, and the waterfall. And she'd drawn him, standing on the castle's top balcony, watching the stars. How she knew he sometimes went up there just for that purpose was a mystery to him. And then he realized… She'd been paying attention to him. She had noticed things. She truly did see him. The thought was at once terrifying and comforting.

  She’d given him a small leather-bound book, similar to Master Hale's diaries. Inside, she'd carefully reproduced some of Master Hale's funnier stories about him in drawings. There he was, aged ten, getting a bollocking from his tutor for having tried to magically change a grade on a paper. She'd drawn him with a boot full of blood after the garden incident. There he was, aged fourteen, learning to transform into a falcon. Master Hale stood patiently by, choking back his laughter as Alarick changed into a chicken. And there were plenty more.

  By turns, he laughed and cried as he flipped the pages. On the last page, however, was where the real shock lay. She'd drawn a perfect likeness of him at age seventeen standing next to Master Hale in the gardens. Master Hale had his arm around Alarick and was shaking his hand.

  Alarick remembered that day, his graduation day. It was about three months before Master Hale had died. No one knew how sick Hale was then. He still looked and acted healthy. No one realized the great master had already seen his last winter and spring.

  Alarick received his wizard diploma that day, graduating with honors. His talent had been realized, and he was now one of the most powerful wizards in the land. Master Hale had been so proud.

  The picture was too much to take in. He looked away, tears streaming down his face as he remembered the joy of that day. He'd felt like he'd finally arrived, that he'd proven his parents wrong. He was not the weakling they believed him to be. And it was all thanks to Master Hale. The man had believed in him, mentored him,
and punished him when required to curb the worst of his behavior.

  Alarick always regretted not enjoying that day more. Worse, he regretted not taking the time to tell Master Hale what he had meant to him. Even a simple, 'Thank you' would have eased the regret he lived with every day.

  He flipped past the last page to discover Elissa had slipped a note into the back of the book. He unfolded it and read:

  Master Brandon,

  I don't know if this gift will bring you comfort or pain. Likely both, and for the latter, I apologize. But as I was going through Master Hale's diaries, it occurred to me that you likely have no visual reminders of your childhood. I'm fortunate in that I can draw events from the past if I wish to remember them, but you likely have no formal record.

  I took the liberty of translating some of Master Hale's more entertaining stories into art. I know what Master Hale looked like, as there are several portraits of him around the castle, but to draw you at younger ages I had to guess. If I'm horribly off, you can simply dispose of this book. I will not mind.

  However, I will say this in parting: Having read through Master Hale's recollections of your 'finer' moments, you are indeed far less scary than I believed you to be. We do indeed all do stupid things and you've done your share. I hope this collection reminds you that we all survive our foolishness and, sometimes, a little of it is necessary even as we grow older. And that those we love, and who love us, love us in spite of our folly.

  Elissa.

  * * *

  It was a few moments before the words, "In parting," tore through his fogged brain. Had she meant in parting as a closing for the letter, or was she leaving? She'd also said, "Open it after I'm gone," when she gave him the package. Surely, she'd simply meant for him to wait until she left the room. Hadn't she?