Airlean Tales S2E21: Miasma (2)

Sethis had forbidden Karis from following Halcyon.

“I understand he is a Hunter and not accustomed to serving a liege,” he’d said, “but Lord Yuden should, at the very least, not have acted without my counsel. Now he is in the thick of unknown, hostile territory, in a move that could be construed as a declaration of war from Airlea.”

Karis grimaced. “Surely it’s—I mean, the Warmonger captain was the one who forced his hand.”

“Be that as it may, politics are sadly about the appearance more than the intention. And it appears that we have taken a side we ought not have.” Sethis was calm as he fastened his cloak, but his features were grim. “The meager comfort I have is that Lord Yuden is keen and adaptable. I’ve no doubt he shall return unharmed.”

The panic that lanced through Karis was new and indescribable. “Sethis, please. He was expecting my support.”

“Were I to send you after him, you might aggravate the situation further.” Sethis looked at her. “You are not as familiar with the workings of Atlantis as he.”

“And if he dies?” she snapped, her voice fraying. “If my presence could have made the difference—”

“The Harvesters are people who can be reasoned with, not the bestial corruptions we fight in the Storm,” Sethis declined. “We have already seen how Atlantis values procedure and honor. They will detain him before anything else. From there, it falls to me to negotiate.”

His even tone managed to do the impossible, and calmed her. He had a point. The Airlean aristocracy was similar; they would never kill before at least making a facsimile of parley.

“Where does that leave us?” she gritted out. “Sitting on our hands, making eyes at the wall until our next fabulous touring destination?”

Sethis shook his head. “Hardly. In fact, I have need of your skills.”

“Oh?”

“We go to the Library of Ancients and put an end to this madness. Only there can we find the root of all this bedamned secrecy, whether it’s a curse or something else.”

The Library. The fount of all western knowledge, both ancient and modern.

Karis smiled. Finally. A plan she could get behind.

The Library of Ancients stood like a gleaming jewel with its ivory marble walls and a lavish tapestry sprawled over its pediment. Instead of typical fluting, the columns were engraved with book spines, giving the appearance of towering circular shelves. Coral and ivy draped from the roof, artistically framing the building. A far cry from the cluttered shelves of the Airlean libraries, it more resembled a sacrosanct temple of knowledge.

Karis started up the wide flight of marble stairs, but she stopped when Sethis did not follow. He was staring apprehensively at the Library in silence.

“What’s wrong?” Karis asked.

His mouth faltered. “My father warned me to avoid the futuresight of the Keeper. That seeking one’s fate could only lead to ruin.”

Ice crawled up her back. The words of the young Keeper Soterios echoed in her mind like a brittle chime: You will lose somebody you dearly love.

“The Keeper commands true futuresight?” she asked breathlessly.

“That they do,” Sethis said. “Though from what I have heard, true prophecy requires a steep price—as does all Old Magick.” He strode resolutely up the steps. “Perhaps I must simply deny it, no matter the temptation.”

Karis seized the kernel of hope. She had paid nothing for Keeper Soterios’s vision; stars, he had practically vomited it onto her without warning! Perhaps it was all a ploy for intimidation. Something prompted by his petty, self-absorbed personality.

Alas, she knew a wishful thought when she saw it.

Inside, the Library stood as floors of massive rings, each packed with rows of shelves, books and scrolls arranged into perfect lines. A helix staircase plunged through the middle of the rings, down, down, and Karis could not see the bottom. A wayward and amusing thought occurred to her of some poor sop carting books down one hundred floors, but she dismissed it. Clearly this Library had magic teeming at the roots and was above such mundane worries.

She followed as Sethis approached a semicircular desk, which was not pristine like the rest of the building, but cluttered with papers, books, astrolabes and old telescopes and other measuring tools, a lyre and a full-size harp, even a half-eaten flatbread sandwich. Her hackles rose at the familiar sight of lilac hair.

But it didn’t belong to the boy, Soterios. It belonged to a girl.

Karis saw the similarities at once. The same soft, almost doll-like features; the same pooling robes; even the same twisted golden eye, albeit in the opposite socket. A gilded badge at her chest declared her name in Common letters: Sophrenia Ninotas.

Twins. There was not one Keeper of the Library, but two.

“Hail, honored Keeper,” Sethis said. “Might we ask your aid in our search for information?”

Sophrenia looked up for a moment. Karis shuddered, swearing that she could feel that writhing golden eye clawing around in her brain. Then she returned to her book.

“I won’t give you what you seek,” she said calmly.

Sethis blinked. “Pardon—we haven’t asked yet.”

“On current and relevant ancient curses pertaining to Atlantis. Keepers do not freely divulge such information to outlanders.” She turned a page calmly. “However, your secondary request is easily fulfilled. Three floors down, northeast quarter, center three shelves.”

“That would be…”

“Advice for courtship and romantic endeavors, particularly involving unusual or difficult women.”

“Sethis!” Karis exclaimed as the crown prince’s face washed from vague irritation to mortification in the blink of an eye.

“It’s not—no, the reason is not what you think—”

“What else could it possibly be?”

“Alright—well—it’s just a curiosity in the back of my mind, since for the first time in my life, courtship is a possibility,” Sethis defended. “I shall hardly act on it.”

“Ha! I’ll see if you sing the same tune next month.”

“And what are you implying?”

“You’re a romantic, Sethis, plain and simple.” Karis looked at the Keeper. “We’d like to reserve a few of those books. My friend shall need all the help he can get.”

“That’s—not what we’re here for,” Sethis protested.

“Actually, we are here due to a betrothal agreement made in your childhood. One could argue this is precisely what we are here for.”

That was enough to quiet him and get him to follow, which was a relief. Truthfully, Karis’s whole outburst had been a ruse. Any useful information on the Old Magick that wove together Atlantis’s foundations would not be easily accessible to landwalkers.

Therefore, Karis needed an excuse to comb through as much of the Library as possible.

As Sophrenia led them down the spiral staircase that seemed to plunge into the bowels of the earth, Sethis sidled closer.

“Karis,” he murmured, and she knew then that he saw right through her.

“Yes?” she said innocently, aware of the nearby Keeper.

“I think I should be more mindful than this if I plan to court this girl.”

She heard You should be mindful if you plan to pry into the Library very clearly.

She shrugged in response. “It’s the only way to learn.” About the curse.

“It could be dangerous. All eyes will be watching us.” Watching you.

“You’re just taking the first step, Sethis. You’re not writing anything in stone.” I’m just looking around.

“That’s how it starts.”

“Love is a risk, Sethis. If you do not take it, your future could be at stake.” All our futures. Perhaps this curse will somehow kill us.

“And if I fail?” If they don’t like what you’re doing? If you’re caught?

She patted his arm docilely, like an older sister. “Well, you’ll be the only one hurt.” I will be the only one hurt. I’ll sacrifice myself to save the rest of the delegation.

“Absolutely not,” he said sharply, breaking the veneer of their conversation. “Karis—”

But he was interrupted by a sudden click of Sophrenia’s tongue, marking their arrival.

“We’re here.” Sophrenia gestured at looming shelves, some packed with colorful tomes, others with fat and textured scrolls. “The sections of Human Relationship Instruction. I hope your search is fruitful.” She promptly started back to the stairs, much more jaunty than the way down. Apparently, she held no love in assisting people, and could not wait to return to her books.

Sethis cast a look in Karis’s direction, one that most certainly meant We’ll speak of this later. But there was nothing to discuss. Promising to sacrifice herself for her country was nothing new; it was the oath she fulfilled every day as a Hunter, facing monsters far beyond her capabilities. In her opinion, dying only meant that she had not been skilled enough.

He was exaggerating, anyway. She wasn’t planning on stealing in like a thief. She was just taking a casual look around. Like a tourist.

As Sethis feigned interest in the books before him, Karis let her eyes lazily wander the Library. Not one thing was out of place in its massive arboretum of books—not the polished marble, not the intricate murals, nor any of the thousand archways leading to other wings. There was no indication of anything that could lead to a restricted section or a section on Old Magick.

“Intriguing,” said Sethis’s voice from behind her. “An entire section simply on making friends.” He glanced at her brightly. “Perhaps you could use a few of these tomes?”

“Ha ha,” Karis said.

But his comment piqued her interest in the literature on the shelves. Upon spying a Common tome titled On the Manifold Perplexities of Elegant Females, she audibly snorted. Then quickly skimmed the contents, curious despite herself.

Oh, Asters, what a joke! The book claimed that an elegant female such as herself could be wooed with sniveling and servitude and luxurious gifts. The utter opposite was true. Any woman with half a brain would enjoy a partner who was self-assured, an intellectual equal, with good humor albeit a little sarcastic or dry, not so bad with a glaive…wait. Well, either way, ones desiring servitude were in the search for a butler, not a partner.

“Sethis,” she announced, returning the tome, “these books are utter nonsense. I don’t think they will prove any use.”

“I’m not sure,” Sethis said thoughtfully, turning a page of his current read. “This particular one seems not entirely inaccurate.”

“You don’t say.”

“‘She dresses her smiles with sharp edges; her words are seeded with vines to entrap; yet at her root lies the fragile kindling of a fierce love, one that she is afraid to lose.’” Sethis grinned wryly. “Coincidentally, the author names this type of woman ‘The Spider.’”

Again with spiders! Would it never cease? “What is so arachnid about that?”

“The description is that they weave an entire web to do one simple thing, and sometimes get lost in it. For example, they may muddle themselves in circles when they fall in love.”

“Ridiculous,” said Karis, who had no other defense.

Sethis’s levity faded quickly. He snapped the book shut and slid it back into the shelf. “The web you currently weave concerns me, Karis.”

Ah. So he was back to her plans. “I’ll do nothing drastic, Sethis. I was just going to try for a conversation.”

She saw his eyes snake around, looking for hidden ears. “A conversation?”

“Perhaps barter would be more accurate.”

Even a cursory glance had offered Karis the harsh truth: she would never be able to find any information of use. The Library was a small city, her quarry like a single brick in its sprawling roads. Even if she could dig through the endless mess and find something noteworthy that happened to be in Common, it would take too long—weeks, months, years. Sethis needed this information yesterday.

I won’t give you what you seek, Keeper Sophrenia had said. Not can’t. Won’t.

Karis was quite effective at persuading people.

“One moment,” she said casually, slotting the tome in her hands back into its rightful place. “I see something missing. I must ask the Keeper about it.”

The trepidation on Sethis’s face deepened, but he nodded. “Just—don’t be hasty. Neither of us, I mean.” His tone lightened. “After all, we’ve the whole day to browse.”

Karis prepared to brave her way up those countless flights of steps, but she found Keeper Sophrenia sitting at the base of the stairs, curled up on the first step nose-deep in her book. Apparently, climbing all the way up was either too tiresome—or too much of a wait—to put off her avid reading.

Either way, it was surprisingly convenient. Karis cleared her throat demurely. “Lady Keeper.”

Sophrenia jolted slightly, head shooting upward. “Oh.” She blinked owlishly. “Already finished?”

Karis did not miss the slight irritated twitch of the girl’s brow. She only felt irritated in return. What could be so engrossing about that book to keep the girl from enacting her actual duties?

“I had a question, Lady Keeper,” Karis said, injecting more sweetness and civility in her tone than she felt.

“I thought so, or you would have interrupted me for no reason.”

Insolent brat. Karis took back any kindly thought she’d had; this girl was every bit as bad as her brother.

“You know what I’m looking for,” she said with more steel. “And you know what I will pay to get it. So let us beat around the bush no longer, hm? What is your price for the information on Atlantis’s Old Magick that we need?”

Sophrenia blinked again. “I don’t know what you’re willing to pay.”

“What?”

“You said I know what you’ll pay. I don’t.”

“Nonsense. You just—look again! You Saw what we were looking for.”

“That wasn’t scrying. It was obvious. A royal landwalker entered the Library of Ancients apart from his delegation, without a guide to show him around. So he wants to know about an Atlantean matter discreet enough for his hosting senator not to tell him. Even I can put two and two together.”

Karis cursed in her head. Had she given the twins too much credit just because of their odd eyes? Perhaps they subsisted off rumor alone and had no actual power.

All of a sudden, she felt like a superstitious fool.

Surprisingly, Sophrenia closed her book with finality and faced Karis fully. She tapped her chin with a finger, but her face was blank as always.

“So what are you willing to pay, Lady Caelute?”

The words were innocuous, but they dug into Karis’s skin like burrs. She tried to shake off the feeling. “What are you asking for? Gildings? Information?”

“Old Magick is just like any other magic in this world.” Sophrenia’s morphed eye glowed dimly. “It may seem foreign and powerful, but it always comes with an equivalent price.”

“That does not answer my question,” Karis responded, refusing to be cowed. “What form of payment do you seek?”

Sophrenia stared for a moment longer. And longer. And even longer. Karis kept expecting her to say something, but each time it seemed like the right moment to impart a word, Sophrenia only continued to stare.

Then she suddenly changed. She opened her book and pressed her nose back in the pages, her voice returned to its bored, soft lilt.

“If you wish to know more, then come back some other evening. Find me or Soterios after closing. We’ll need some privacy.”

“We have some now.”

“Yes. But I’m on a cliffhanger.” She returned to her book. “We can talk later, Lady Caelute.”

Thoroughly annoyed, Karis stormed back to Sethis’s side. She met his questioning gaze with only a tight shake of the head. She could not tell whether he was crestfallen or relieved—only that his face slackened slightly as they wordlessly tidied up the section and departed.

It wasn’t until the Library was far behind that she realized she had never told either of the Keepers her name.

Karis and Sethis returned to the royal villa well past sundown, stars invisible in a sky polluted with the cold fire of opalite lanterns.

The mood was dim. The visit to the Library had been in vain; Sethis was no closer to learning about the Old Magick at Atlantis’s roots, and Karis expected to pay a steep cost for that knowledge. She had withheld that fact from Sethis, knowing that he would immediately jump to pay the cost himself. She didn’t want him to. He had already paid too much, and as crown prince of a struggling nation, would pay yet more. This was the least Karis could do for him.

As they approached the estate, Karis noticed the doors were ajar, the lights blasting from the windows into the expansive garden.

Her heart skipped; no sane—or successful—assassin would ever be so clumsy, and no commoner would have the audacity to storm the prince’s own quarters. Then would it not be Halcyon, returned from his expedition? Was he safe, or was he wounded?

She did not realize her pace had quickened until she heard Sethis’s soft laugh from just behind her. There was a teasing, brotherly smile on his face that made her scowl.

“Not a word,” she said.

“I said nothing.”

She pushed into the villa, pulse thudding in her ears. But there was no familiar shock of black hair to greet her.

A woman was lounging in a chaise as if she owned the place, a half-peeled orange in one hand, a chalice of some alcoholic beverage in the other. A ratty brown cloak covered any defining features or accouterments, but in her posture alone, Karis read the grace of a noble blended with the confidence of a soldier.

The concoction of rage and fear that swept through Karis was nearly debilitating. Halcyon was not here—then where was he? And this stranger had walked into the prince’s dwelling as if she owned the place. What, had the Garrison guards posted at the road simply let her through without question?

Karis immediately drew her sword with a clean rasp of metal, her manawell trembling in her chest as she gathered ice and flower mana to crackle around her, ready to loose. The strange woman had a Garrison sword resting against her chaise, but she made no move for it. She only sipped calmly at her chalice without batting an eye.

“Oh, Caelute,” she said. “Finally decided to do your job?”

Karis’s brow twitched. “You have five seconds to state your identity and explain your presence on the prince’s property.”

“Always in such a rush. Fine, fine.”

The woman pushed back her hood with a finger and shook out a head of sleek blue hair. The features fell easily into place for Karis, though she had not seen them in what felt like ages: the aristocratic nose, the sharp lake-green eyes, the proud and unforgiving mouth.

Suddenly it was clear why Sethis had not said a word and was only gaping at the newcomer in shock.

“You and Yuden,” said Captain Lilian Forsythe of the Airlean Royal Guard, “are just about the worst bodyguards I’ve ever seen.”

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