Chapter Twenty-Seven
In an oubliette of his own, Druadaen sat surrounded by tomes, vellum scrolls, and parchments made of skin—the origins of which he was glad not to know. It was the noisiest of the private rooms, inasmuch as the cable spools of the funicular were on the other side of the wall. But since their regular operation precluded any hope of sustained silence, there was no reason to keep the door closed, which had the happy effect of keeping the air slightly more fresh.
Which is why, as he was poring over the ancient texts to ensure that the apprentice scholar had copied them accurately, he was able to hear two voices conversing as they approached the door to the funicular.
“So, as I understand it,” said a vaguely familiar male voice, “this newest trip to Saqqaru—and points beyond—was your idea, not grandfather’s?”
Shaananca replied, “And what of it, Alcuin? One of the most important duties of any Pretor of the Council for External Affairs is to be among the most trusted and involved advisors of the Propretor Princeps. Another role is to see to the handling of matters that are either delicate or must remain detached from normal bureaucratic channels. In the case of your journey, both apply.”
“Yes, I have heard the logic, and I have agreed with it. But another such journey is…well, it’s ridiculous. All to fulfill the expectation that any Pretor who might eventually become the Propretor Princeps should routinely see the world and so, be seen by it in return. I feel like one of those innumerable princelings who are sent on one of those equally innumerable grand tours required by parental autocrats. Except in my case, one tour was not enough. This is…what, the fifth?”
“Fourth, as you know very well. And this time, it affords you a perfect opportunity to surreptitiously gather information on a matter of interest to both your grandfather and me.”
“Indeed? And what is this ‘matter of interest’?”
“It is partly of your making. As I understand it, you and your grandfather have further questions about Druadaen’s recent journeys and findings. It so happens that an esteemed Saqqaruan colleague who has been conducting related investigations will be taking ship with you to his homeland.”
“And in what way are his searches related to your ‘matter of interest’?”
“That is best discussed with him during the free time—and isolation—that a shared sea voyage affords.” Her tone became gently mischievous. “And while you are traveling with Aji, you might ask him to share a few stories of your father. He will be glad to do so. Both for your amusement and his own.”
“Aji Kayo? I’m surprised to learn that he’s still alive, let alone still traveling.”
“And yet, he is. If he has not already mentioned it, he was a good friend of your late father. I think you will find that he not only possesses useful practical insights, but personal ones as well.”
Alcuin’s response was slow, somber. “I appreciate your counsel, Senior Archivist.” The heavy door to the funicular platform creaked open. “Now, about this young fellow, Druadaen: some of the Pretors have been inquiring into—” His voice was cut off by the closing of the door to the funicular platform.
Druadaen realized his mouth was open. He shut it so suddenly it made a sound like a bottle being uncorked. The last time I saw Alcuin here, it was because of what I did when the S’Dyxoi attacked. Now it’s about research I’m doing on my own time and at my own expense. How is any of that important to him? Why does he—?
The funicular started groaning. The door to the platform opened, then closed. He could not hear if Shaananca walked away. Indeed, he didn’t hear any footfalls at all. But then again, if Shaananca did not want to be seen or heard, she wouldn’t be.
Not wanting to appear so quickly that Shaananca would realize he’d overheard her conversation with Alcuin, he counted to twenty before he emerged.
The Archive’s reading room was empty.
Or maybe not. He was about to head toward Shaananca’s office when he saw a small, waving hand back near the oubliette in the far corner of the reading room. It was Aji Kayo and now, as last time, his wave was a gesture of invitation. Glad at the promise of a brief reunion, Druadaen changed course toward the fellow, who ushered him into his oubliette with a bow.
Without pausing for pleasantries or even a “hello,” the scholar scuttled toward a stack of books. “I have something for you,” he explained over his shoulder. He returned with three tomes, all thick and relatively new-looking. He placed them in Druadaen’s startled hands and smiled up at him. “Dragons. Direkynde. Deepkin. In your language, all the most infamous creatures begin with ‘D’…Druadaen.” On that final word, his smile became not just mischievous but rueful.
Druadaen raised an eyebrow but succumbed to the magnetic pull of the books. He frowned as he flipped carefully through the first pages of the one on top of the stack he was cradling in his other arm. “This is the reference you had asked me to find for you, years ago.”
The Saqqari’s smile became puckish. “Your memory remains adequate, I see.”
“I am sorry to confess, though, that I am still unfamiliar with the book. And I have never even heard of these other references,” Druadaen murmured.
“Neither fact surprises me,” the scholar sniffed. “I suspect the bottom two books exist someplace within this archive. And no,” he continued, seeing Druadaen’s doubtful look, “not even with the documents in the Reserved Collection beneath us.”
Wondering what other repositories he might be referring to, Druadaen asked, “Then where did these come from? And why are they all so new?”
“The answer to both questions is the same: I had my assistant translate and copy the editions that are in my Empress’s private references. They are less than six months old and quite valuable.”
Druadaen bowed. “I deeply regret that I am just this day ordered to my next assignment: to deliver a secure pouch to the Ord Ridire section officer in Shadowmere. I depart tonight.”
“Shadowmere? The far side of the world, or near unto. And yet, said to be its crossroads. But why does that trouble you, my young friend?”
Druadaen could feel how crooked his smile was. “I read quickly, First Scholar, but I will not be able to peruse even a fraction of these monographs before I sail.”
The Saqqari’s face contracted as if he had bitten a lemon thinking it to be an orange. “A-sai! You do not comprehend. These are yours. To take. Why do you look at me that way? Is my accent so thick that you do not understand what I say?”
Druadaen was trying not to stammer in surprise and wonder. “N-no, First Scholar. I just—well, I never…Sir, I am left speechless by the magnitude of this gift. And the trust entailed thereby.”
Aji waved an impatient hand. “You make fine speeches, but they are not required. Indeed, they put distance between us. We are colleagues. I tell you again: speak freely. For we have little time.”
Druadaen prepared to exit the room. “Are you needed elsewhere?”
“No, no” he said, almost irritably. “It is simply not…prudent for us to confer too much.” Even saying so seemed to annoy him. “At least not yet.” Druadaen wondered if their relationship had indeed become so collegial and casual that he could openly tell the old man that he had no idea what he meant by his cryptic remarks.
But he never got the chance. The scholar was handing a satchel to him. “Put the books in here. It is stronger than it looks. And that seam at the top will seal fully when placed against the matching seam on the bag, making it waterproof.”
“How does it—?”
“Not enough time. It will only recognize your fingers, mine, Senior Archivist Shaananca’s, and a few others over whose identities you need not trouble yourself. You can make use of these references, yes?”
Druadaen raised an eyebrow. “So much so that your question is ingenuous.”
Aji smiled broadly. “Now that is spoken like a colleague. Now, be attentive: I know something of the notes you have been submitting and the new researches you have been pursuing. And so I suspect you shall soon have need of this book on the direkynde and dragons. The other two works are more detailed but are also inconveniently disparate in their methods of analysis and their conclusions. But they contain most of the details concerning what is known of dragons, as well as even larger creatures that might…or might not…have been their forerunners.” A sly smile had returned to his face.
Druadaen studied his expression and thought for a moment. Then: “I see that word has reached you regarding what I saw in the Grotto of Stone Bones.”
Aji Kayo simply bowed slightly.
“You think the remains I saw there are those of a related species?”
The diminutive Saqqari shrugged. “Who can say? I suppose one would have to ask a dragon oneself.” The smallest grin creased his lips.
Druadaen couldn’t help smiling in return. “You know me all too well.”
“Odd, since we have spent so little time in each other’s company. But perhaps I see familiar traits in you and so extrapolate others.”
“And what familiar traits do you see?”
“Curiosity. Determination. And maybe a bit of stubbornness.”
“A bit?”
Now, it was Aji’s turn to smile broadly. “Well, perhaps somewhat more than a bit. Come; I see you wish to ask a question. You need not make a petition to do so. We may come from different peoples and generations, you and I, but that does not mean we are not kin in ways that transcend those distinctions.”
Druadaen bowed. Figurative kinship notwithstanding, the First Scholar of the Orchid Throne had just bestowed a great honor upon him: that of being, in any fashion, a peer. “I was wondering about the process whereby bones become fossils; how long would that take?”
“You refer to a natural process? Longer than the world has existed, judging from excavations of cities or skeletons. Those which the historical record shows have been buried for millennia have yet to demonstrate any measurable progress toward petrification.”
“Then how could these fossils have come to be?”
The scholar shrugged. “The work of the gods, what else?” But his concluding “what else?” sounded less like resigned acceptance than it did an invitation to ask an actual question: an investigation into some other possible source of the fossils.
Druadaen frowned. “So these vast collections of bones are—?”
“Are not natural at all. Either they are the remains of creatures with bones of rock—”
“Impossible.”
He nodded. “Or they were great beasts turned to ash and rock by the acts of gods. Or through mancery that they vested in us for that one purpose.”
“Do such spells even exist?”
Aji smiled. “There are none such in contemporary references, nor are they depicted or described in the most ancient annals known to humans. Or Iavarain, for that matter.”
“Then how—?”
The Saqqari’s interruption almost seemed precautionary. “The sacrists tell us that, in primitive times, these great beasts threatened the survival of the thinking races. And so the gods endued those races with powerful mantic powers to defeat these behemoths.”
“And then withdrew those powers when they were no longer needed?” Druadaen squinted at Aji’s almost impish nod. “How very convenient.”
“Is it not? Now, I must return to my own researches, but I will ask one favor of you.”
“Sir, I am at your service.”
He reached out and patted the much larger man’s bicep. “Come visit me, should you ever journey to Saqqaru. I have something of interest to show you.” As Druadaen opened his mouth to ask “What?” the old fellow waved him toward the door. “If I tell you now, it will spoil the mystery. And that will reduce the chance that you will devote the time and effort necessary to visit me in my homeland. So let your unfulfilled curiosity bring you to my doorstep. Until we speak again, my young friend!” He smiled and gently closed the door in Druadaen’s face.
“I hear you have been given orders.”
Druadaen almost started, but he was in the same complex as Shaananca, so he knew to expect her unexpected approaches. “Yes,” he said turning. “As usual, you are extremely well informed.”
She smiled at his smile. “I am a librarian, after all.”
He chortled. “And nothing more?”
Her smile became sly. “I don’t recall ever saying that.”
Before she could step back, he stepped forward and put his arms around her. She stiffened, but then, after a long moment, relaxed into his fond hug. “Thank you,” he said.
“For what?” she asked, holding him back where she could see his face.
“For being there to help me. In the ways I know about, and the others—the many others—that I cannot even begin to guess at.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said through a trembling smile.
He shook his head. “Which is, of course, exactly what you must say.”
She only looked at him.
He could not remember a time when she did not have a ready rejoinder, and he suddenly felt anxious—for her. “And whether you had any control over it, I thank you for convincing me to have an open mind. First about being a Courier, then an Outrider.”
“It is a very different life from the one you would have led in the Legion.” Her tone suggested both acknowledgement and apology.
“It is. And I suspect I would have discovered that life to be rather disappointing, by now.” He remembered the desperate desires that had consumed him, day in and day out, in the reading room.
Shaananca’s eyes searched his. “As I hear it, you depart tonight. A Courier ship that will only port once, at Araxor, before crossing the western ocean to Shadowmere.”
Druadaen smiled. “As I said before, you are extremely well informed…for a ‘librarian.’” Which reminded him of a task he had to perform before sailing. “I have prepared a packet of notes in my oubliette. It is marked with your name.”
She frowned. “And what is the purpose of it?”
“Why, to enter into the collections here. Even if I should fail to return, then at least what I have learned will survive me. It contains information—pertinent information—that is not present in the other sources here.” He frowned to see Shaananca frown. “It is well-organized, and I have prepared indexing notes. It will not be troublesome to integrate with the other accounts.”
“I do not doubt it,” she allowed through a deep sigh, “but I cannot keep that packet here.”
Druadaen had not felt so confused in a long time. “But—”
“It is not wise for me to keep it here,” she amended with emphasis. Her tone was steady and firm, but her eyes were…fearful?
Druadaen frowned. “Would my notes endanger you in some way?”
“No. But for now, it is best to keep your observations private, I think.”
Druadaen was only more confused, considered her careful tone and words, and then wondered aloud, “Do my notes endanger me? How?”
She shrugged; the gesture looked casual, but Druadaen had learned to spot the telltale signs of when Shaananca feigned ease she did not feel. “I am assuredly being overly cautious. And I would not use the word ‘endanger.’ Let us say instead that those notes could possibly complicate both our futures. If shared at this time.”
Druadaen studied her before voicing his realization: “You intended that I should overhear your conversation with Alcuin IV. Your reluctance is connected to him, or the matters he must soon address.”
Her answering smile was both sad and proud. “Yes. But you have nothing to fear from Alcuin.”
“Then who?”
Shaananca closed her eyes. “Suffice it to say that your work here has been noted and observed. Several senior members of the Propretoriate have become acquainted with your travels and discoveries, albeit only in the most general of terms. They are intrigued but are cautious.”
“Of what?”
“That is for them to know and them to share. But I suspect that what you have brought back from your journey into the Under has ramifications that they neither foresaw, nor had contingencies to handle.”
“What kind of—?”
“Druadaen.”
He smothered his question in mid-asking.
“This is not an auspicious moment for your findings to come to light. Please accept that.”
Druadaen frowned, then realized why his assignment had been delayed. “They’re sending me as far away as they can. That’s why they’re sending me to Shadowmere, to Far Amitryea. Because I’ll be too distant and too busy adapting to unfamiliar languages and customs and peoples to make any more trouble.”
She looked at him for a long moment and he knew, as clearly as if she’d said so, that he was correct. She sighed and nodded. “I will join you at the ship. I have some matters to attend to before I may leave.” She offered a crestfallen smile. “The funicular has returned to the platform. I will have it held for you.”