“‘Tell your tribe the story as I’ve seen it. Convince them to donate as much meats as this every day. You can bring it to this spot. I’ll take it to the Woodspirit to try to please her.’
“‘Thank you,’ he said, ‘for dealing with such a volatile spirit on our behalf.’
“‘Just make sure that you skip no days. Any missed days could invoke her wrath to the fullest.’
“Our hunter returned to his tribe that night with a bounty of meat. ‘And I promise to have meat like this every day, for the rest of my wake.’”
Cleo returned to the snowy landscape before her. The speed of the falling snow had declined, though the flakes were thicker than before. “And that man,” Cleo continued. “Not only did he become the first storyteller, but he became the first person to live off of the labor of others.” Cleo returned to her place before Gnochi’s corpse. A lit torch was brought forward. She watched as the fire spread amongst the kindling, only teasing Gnochi’s body with light licks. The heat on her face felt thick and it dried the tears on her cheeks, ensuring that no more would fall.
Within a few minutes, Gnochi’s body was only a shadow in the flames.
◆◆◆
Roy nuzzled his head with Debs’. He was rubbing her with a soft brush when Kiren approached, coughing to announce her presence.
“Can I talk to you?” she asked.
“Sure. As long as you don’t mind Debs overhearing.” Roy chuckled.
“It’s about Blue Haven.”
“Hey, I get it. Harv and I, we’ll find our own—”
“It’s your mother.”
“What?”
“You knew her. Or of her, at least. I panicked. Didn’t have a name ready to tell you, so I said the first name that came to my mind. That is her name, right? Nora?”
“Yes,” Roy answered, emotion gone from his voice.
“The reason I came out to find you. The others. They figured out that I sent you away. Not long after, this woman showed up at our inn looking for you. Guess who was tasked with retrieving you?”
“But Cleo said that when she found you, it was in some cave east of us. Said you seemed suicidal.”
“I thought about it. I was sick. And Cleo and Aarez helped me recover. Anyway, this wasn’t about me. Your mother, Nora. She wants to see you. She said she’s sorry for what happened to you. That you were stolen as an infant and she always presumed you dead until recently.”
“My mum? She didn’t know?” Roy’s lips moved in an imperceptible quiver.
“You kept tabs on her?”
“I always thought she didn’t care. She didn’t know?”
“She seemed genuine, Roy.”
“I have to go to her. But, I need to talk to Harv and Cleo first.”
◆◆◆
Harvey watched as Roy led Debs off at a slow pace. He turned to find Kiren watching him. “You’ve either saved him, or doomed him,” Harvey said, though he offered no further explanation of his cryptic message.
“Harvey, I was wrong,” Kiren said. “About you and Roy. I now know that what you both did was right. It was your only option. And I know that while it pained you to join the army, you did it for him. I’m going back to Blue Haven. I want to bring you home.” She looked at him, his eyes still on Roy’s silhouette.
“I’m not going back,” he finally said.
“What? Why?”
“I am needed elsewhere. I can’t be content sitting at home, stirring the same trouble.”
“It’s Cleo, isn’t it?”
Harvey offered no reply.
“I guess I should catch up with Roy then.” She hugged him from behind, but he made no move to hug her back. She brushed her lips on his cheek. “Keep us updated on where you are and what you are up to.”
“I will, Kiy.” Harvey said, finally looking into her eyes. “Take care of Roy.”
She smiled at Harvey, then turned and hopped onto Slipper’s saddle. With a gentle nudge, she was galloping off to catch up with Roy.
◆◆◆
Shortly after moonrise, Cleo found herself walking to Oslow’s makeshift tannery. She saw him sitting beside the fire. His cut beard still shocked her, despite having seen him several times since the funeral.
“Hey, Oo,” Cleo said.
He offered her his hand and guided her as she sat beside him. “Hello, Sapphire. How are you holding up? How is Gnochi’s baby?”
“Better,” she said. “We are both better.”
“What can I do for you?”
“I’d like to talk about Aarez. He mentioned from time to time that a man named Javawooga could train him. That’s you. It makes sense now, knowing that you also trained Gnochi.”
For several minutes, neither said anything. Then Oslow turned his head and said to her, “I want to offer the same service to you that I offered to Gnochi, and the same one that I would have offered to Aarez.”
“Even though I’m not an entertainer?”
“It wasn’t their profession that led me to train them. Sapphire, I am what Skuddy would refer to as an echo-trainer.”
“Wait, Gnochi wasn’t an echoer though. We met a woman who could sense my echo. She said nothing of Gnochi having one.”
“Then I’ve done my job right.”
“What?”
“Cleo, you have a choice before you. I can train you to better control your echo.” Oslow paused, seemingly judging his words. “Or, I can take it away.”
“Take it away?”
“Permanently.”
“So, if Gnochi was an echoer, why did he give it up?”
“I don’t know his reasoning. Some do so for theirs and their family’s safety. Even though the echo is gone, though, any of your future children will inherit an echo. I suppose this is why Gnochi abstained from raising his own family.” As if on cue, Gnochi’s son, bundled in the poncho, squirmed against Cleo’s chest, though the infant made no cry.
“So, that means that you are an echoer,” She said to the baby. “And you, Oo. You’re also an echoer?”
“Alas, I am,” he admitted.
“What do you think Gnochi would want me to do? With mine. With his,” she said, gesturing to the baby.
“We both know that he’d want you to make your own decisions, especially concerning something of such import,” Oslow said.
“He would say something corny, like with a great echo comes a need for an even finer tuned ear. And he would ask me to question my fate. Why I was put on this Earth with an echo. Is it my right to change something I had no say in choosing?”
“Yep, that sounds like Gnochi.” Oslow’s smile looked genuine, though it dipped as though from an immense weight of grief. “If you need time to—”
“Take it away.”
“Excuse me?”
“I don’t want my echo. I can’t keep second guessing my every action to see if it was swayed by this thing I cannot control.”
“With training, you might learn to use it on will,” he said.
“No. It’d become an issue. People would hear of it and they’d wonder how much of our interactions were lies. Plus, if I’m to stay here, I’d rather have a more even footing with the people. But I won’t decide for him. We don’t even know how his echo will manifest. He can make that decision in his own time.”
“All right, Cleo. Give me your hands.”
◆◆◆
The morning sun peeking through a light cloud cover brought a smile to Cleo’s face. There had not been much to smile on during the first months following Gnochi’s funeral. But on this morning, she relished how the sun painted the sails of Gideon’s fleet as it shrunk into the eastern horizon.
The tundra had cracked open four days earlier, much to the elation of everyone still camped around, as the breaking of the tundra signified the beginning of the end of the winteryear.
Footsteps crunching on still hard snow came from behind her. Cleo turned, smiling brighter as she saw Harvey and Skuddy approach.
“Good ridd
ance,” Skuddy uttered upon seeing the ships in the distance.
“Word finally came this morning,” Harvey said. “Roy was reunited with his mom. It sounds like they’re on good terms.”
Cleo nodded, though her mind was occupied.
“I told him where we are going. Where he can find us.”
“Where are we going?” Cleo asked.
“It’s time to get away.”
“I’ll never be able to get away from Gnochi,” Cleo said. “I can’t even consider naming him without getting choked up.” She peeked in at the baby swaddled against her chest.
“I wasn’t going to say away from Gnochi,” Harvey said. “I meant Gideon. As long as you’re here, you’re under his thumb.”
“Cleo,” Skuddy added before she could respond. “With Gnochi’s passing, comes the clerical updates. We’ve waited as long as possible, but things need to be done.”
“Like what?”
“Gnochi’s will.” Skuddy unfolded a letter from a pocket and read from it. “Barring his sister and niece be found, and we now know that they were deceased the entire time, everything Gnochi owned is now willed to you.”
“When did he write this?” Cleo glanced over the note, savoring the handwriting she had never seen.
“The night he was to assassinate Providence.” Skuddy paused, allowing Cleo to skim through it. “He leaves you his family’s land, totaling some three hundred acres. It’s actually just north of the river. Starts at the hills and extends through the woods. Additionally, he has the deed to the eastern bridge spanning the Lymar.”
Cleo laughed aloud. “Of course he does.”
Skuddy looked puzzled.
“She claimed before to be the daughter of the man who owned the bridge in order to fool a Lyrinthian scout,” Harvey explained.
“Unfortunately, as I have come to find out, his main cottage was destroyed in a fire over a year ago. The same fire that was responsible for killing Zelda and Pippa. He had yet to rebuild it. Though know that you will have the financial support of Nimbus, should you decide to. But, the main thing that needs to be addressed is the library. Gnochi’s family has stewarded this it since the first age, thousands of years back.”
“It should be passed down to his son,” Cleo said.
“And it will, though only if you deem it necessary once he is of age. In the meanwhile, Cleo, you are its designated caretaker.”
“I’ll have full access?”
“You already have full access. The pendant.”
Cleo pulled it from her poncho. The coat of arms felt warm in her hands.
“That is the key to the library. Gnochi had it made a decade ago after rumors started spreading from across the ocean that libraries were burning.”
Cleo took a deep breath. The air smelled of pollen and hinted at a spring warmth. She eyed the infant who thus far, had grown healthily, despite his premature birth. His eyes now rivaled Gnochi’s for the intensity of their earthen brown.
Looking to the sea, she could no longer spot the masts of her father’s fleet. In the sky, she spied the last retreat of a spattering of stars. They were the first she had seen since before the winteryear. She smiled.
“Let’s go to the library.”
Epilogue
“This is it?” Cleo asked when she and Harvey stopped before the quaint cabin in the woods. It sat centrally in Gnochi’s land, though it looked decrepit and in disrepair.
After escaping from Gnochi’s reins, Fester had made his way back to the camps and was rounded up. The gelding seemed to recognize the building. He eyed it warily.
“I guess I was expecting more,” Cleo said. “The door isn’t even locked.” The pair found the panels which Skuddy had instructed them to clean off as best they could, though it appeared as though they had already been dug out as only a dusting of snow still coated their glassy surface.
Inside the cabin, Cleo’s frustration grew. “It’s empty,” she yelled.
“Wait.” Harvey spotted the floor hatch. He pulled it up and ducked under. “Cleo, come down here.” She descended, the baby tied to her chest by a tight loop of the poncho.
They saw the scattered ramblings of the scavenger who had tried to open the door. Harvey eyed its narrow keyhole. He blew into it, clearing the dust. “This is it.”
Cleo moved before the door, then inserted her pendant, Gnochi’s coat of arms, inside. She felt the key hit the back of the lock, then twisted it, hearing the satisfying click of a bolt withdrawing.
Pulling the door open revealed a series of folded letters that had been jammed under. Harvey picked one up and read it by the scarce light falling from the cabin. Cleo ventured into the dark chamber. The thick smell of dust tickled her nose. She sneezed twice, upsetting the infant. “It’s from Gnochi,” Harvey announced.
“Read it aloud,” Cleo answered. She felt around the dark chamber. It was split in uniform increments by tall lumbering pieces of worn furniture, though Cleo could make nothing of them out except that they were made of wood. She walked back toward the door to listen to Harvey.
“Hello, Cleo. I can’t say under which circumstances you will be reading this.”
Cleo frowned, wishing that Gnochi would tell them how to get light inside.
“I suppose, to begin,” Harvey continued reading, “I should show you how to turn the lights on.”
Cleo smiled.
“Make sure the sensors outside are clean. If you have any issues with them, see Skuddy. Inside, on the left-hand wall is a switch, about as high as your shoulder. Flip it,” Harvey read.
Cleo heard his footsteps. A click sounded, then pale light erupted through the chamber, momentarily blinding her.
Once her eyes acclimated to the electric light, Cleo realized that the furniture she had felt before were tall bookcases, placed uniformly as far into the library as she could see. All around her were shelves and shelves cramped with books. The small collection of her father’s paled in comparison. She walked down several aisles, taking in the sight. Dust coated nearly every surface, but her nose adjusted to the musty air. Cleo sucked in huge mouthfuls, knowing that at some point in the past, Gnochi retreated to this library to live.
Harvey, who had paused his reading to gaze around him, returned his attention to the letter. “The switch on the right hand wall will turn on an air filtration system. If you find the air too dry, or dusty, flip that switch.” Moments later, a whoosh of noise sounded all throughout the library as large fans circulated. A warm jet of air wafted through the vents in the floor. Cleo felt sleepy.
“Welcome to the library,” Harvey read. “This is it. Every book within these walls helps to tell of a long-lost age.”
Cleo looked around her. She narrowed in on a book case labeled ‘classics.’ She found a thick book on the shelf and opened up to its first page. Call me Ishmael, Cleo mouthed. She set the book back and picked up another. On its cover, sat an eye faded in blue. It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen, she read. Cleo skimmed through the book, looking at its words.
“You’ll find the classics from the first age spanning most cultures, though many millions of books have simply ceased to exist,” Harvey read from the letter.
Cleo walked deeper into the library, eying every shelf.
“It may feel a little overwhelming, seeing all of these within such a large space. I can assure you that the more you read from these books, the smaller and smaller this library will seem. Even so, in the three decades I’d been visiting the library, two as its bibliothecarian, I’d only managed to read about a quarter of the books within before my eyes gave out on me. I had hoped to read every book within, but it looks like that won’t be happening.” Harvey paused.
Cleo had found a nook in one of the corners of the huge library that had a well-worn, soft chair. Within reach were an end table piled with books long since forgotten and an ottoman rutted with two trenches where feet long ago rested. Perched on the chair was a book opened mid-way, its spi
ne bent from an exorbitant amount of time opened. Cleo closed the book, studying its spine and cover. The Wizard of Oz. She set it onto the table, then spotted a binder labeled Family History.
Cleo thumbed through, looking at pictures. They began in black and white, then later became colored. The last picture, which was surrounded by handwritten notes, drew Cleo’s eye. It was of a baby, maybe a year older than the one currently swaddled against her chest. In the picture, the baby grinned widely, cream-colored puffs spilled from its full cheeks and open mouth. A small object was gripped in its tiny fingers. It looked nothing like Gnochi, but his notes indicated that this baby was the first of his ancestors to live in the second age. Cleo pulled the picture up to read the scrawl on the back. Half of the light lettering had faded beyond recognition. What remained was the phrase with Gnocchi.
Cleo pulled out a paper that Gnochi had at one time wedged into the spine of the binder. Gnochi’s note explained that while his grandfather Meri, who was responsible for naming Gnochi, was well versed with the library, he must not have frequented the library’s cookbooks. If he had, he would’ve realized that he misspelled his grandson’s name in an attempt to name him after a pasta, not a long-lost ancestor.
“Cleo, you should come here.” Harvey’s voice called out.
Cleo closed the family history binder, then snaked around shelves until she found Harvey before an open doorway. Within were the wooden frames for three beds. A small closet appeared to have once stored foodstuffs, though it now sat empty.
“You will find another door in the dormitory,” Harvey read. “Wait before opening it. Hear me out. Know that what is behind this door is more valuable to kings and Luddites alike than all of the books in the library combined.”
Cleo spotted the door, scrutinizing it as though expecting it to open on its own, or reveal why it held import. A small brass plaque was attached to the door and the small text inscribed on it read, ‘For whoever opens the door and becomes fully realized shall be the Harbinger of Change.’ Cleo felt her breath catch in her throat. She imagined she could see the wolf of her fever-dreams chasing her yipping.
The Harbinger of Change Page 29