Citadel of the Sky (Thrones of the Firstborn Book 1) (28 page)

W
hile Cathay
and Tiana met with the music master for a final rehearsal before the Antecession pre-ceremony, Kiar and Lisette explored the library. The librarian was a plump, middle-aged monk with oversized bushy eyebrows named Hammad. They’d made an appointment for his assistance that morning, but when they arrived, he was arguing with Twist.

“It’s not very kind of you to keep me out,” Twist said.

Hammad said, “You’re just like all the other scholars now, and I’m glad of it. You’ve been such a thorn in my foot, young man.”

Lisette cleared her throat, and Hammad spun. “Ah, the young ladies.”

Twist complained, “Kiar, he’s found a way to disrupt my skipping. And they’re supposed to be my allies.”

Hammad snorted. “He’s a book thief. Don’t learn his bad habits.”

Kiar stared at Twist in horror. “You
steal books?
”

“Of course not,” said Twist. “I bring them back. In any case, I didn’t come to face Hammad’s cruel betrayal. I wanted to speak with you.” And he crooked a finger at Kiar.

Kiar dropped her gaze. “Um, we were going to do research on the Blight.”

He said, “Yes. I won’t take up too much of your time.” He sounded sad, which was so alarming that she found herself following him into the stacks.

Once they were out of sight of the others, he said, “Are you enjoying it here?”

“It’s amazing. I mean… it’s… all the inscriptions! I never imagined—” She stopped before she could embarrass herself by babbling.

“Would you like to learn inscriptions yourself?”

Caught! She said, “Um, yes, eventually, I suppose. But—”

“But not next Tuesday, right?” He sighed. She lifted her gaze to his face, but he was looking at his hands. “I never had the knack, myself. Not immediate enough.” He stuck his hands in his pockets and looked up, his blue eyes shadowed. “I’m turning you loose, Kiar. Easier to tame a tiger than teach you.”

Distantly, she wondered why her chest suddenly hurt so much, why her vision was blurry. She said, “Oh.” Then, in a small voice, she added, “I tried to tell you.”

He shook a hand out of his pocket, brushed his thumb across her cheek. “You’re such a fool.” Then he stepped back. “I’d like you to look around here for someone you’d be happy learning from. We’ll make it happen, somehow. All right?”

Numbly, she nodded.

“All right, then. Go dig up what there is to dig up. I’ve got my own reading to do.” He flicked his fingers at her, and obediently she turned and walked back to Lisette and Hammad.

Lisette said, “Kiar, what’s wrong?” She came close, looking up at Kiar’s face and then embracing her.

But Kiar pushed her away. “Nothing. Everything’s finally the way I want it. Except that Blight. So let’s see what this library has to say.” She met Hammad’s gaze.

“Yes. The history section begins here and extends to there.” He pointed. “I’ve been doing my own research on the Blighter, but I don’t have the benefit of your, ah, hands-on experience.”

Kiar nodded absently and moved over to the bookshelf, while Lisette smiled encouragingly at Hammad. “What have you found?”

He went over to a long, low table built into one of the library walls. “There’re a few more books over here. Collections, mostly, documenting the dominant characteristics of the various Blights and their creators. The internal ones are a grim business. They usually start out smaller, very localized. A corrupted village, not a lost county.”

Kiar said, “The farmer’s plague,” not looking up from the book she’d buried her nose in.

Hammad nodded thoughtfully. “Plague has come from Blights before, though I can’t recall anyone discovering a Blight that way. Here, I’ve made a list of some of the more common early manifestations. Back in my childhood, these were the kinds of things the town militia would drill on. I’ve circled the ones that I’ve identified in the current Blight.”

Lisette glanced over the list. “Nightmares, geography changes, presence of an army, swells in fiend activity… nightmares?”

“No nightmares? The pilgrims from Vassay said the same thing. I suppose it’s just limited to the Niyhani, then.” Hammad sighed and stacked some papers.

Lisette inquired, “What are your nightmares about?”

Hammad lowered his head. “I’d rather not say, if it’s all the same. But they’re very… troubling.” He turned away and began to shuffle some papers around, keeping his expression hidden. Lisette ducked her head and began to compare the list he’d given her to her own notes on recent kingdom events.

Some time later, Kiar closed her book, frustrated. “This is almost all the work of fiends. Sir, what about humans? What about members of the Blood who have turned Blighter?”

Hammad turned around again. “I have those volumes under the table. Lots has been written about Benjen, of course. A biography of Black Siten and a collection of anecdotes of the Venom Queen. And an anthology of folktales about earlier Blighters but, honestly, I don’t know how true they are. And none of them were subtle.”

“The Blood rarely is,” Kiar observed. She ran a finger down the spine of a book and pulled it out. “And Logos-workers?”

“Those books aren’t out in the general collection. It’s not the sort of thing considered safe for apprentices and students.”

“Is it? Maybe we should take a look at those. Since at least half of all Blighters have been wizards.” Kiar lifted her head from her book and gave the librarian a flat, assessing stare.

Hammad smiled. “We document what we can of the specific gifts there. That kind of information is dangerous for apprentices. Which, I note, would include you, Your Ladyship. But Twist believes you’re wiser than most apprentices.” Kiar clasped her hands tightly behind her back.

He beckoned the ladies to follow him. Unlocking the door, he said, “I suppose it could be a rogue talent. For example, Twist could definitely be causing more trouble than he does. And did, once upon a time.”

Kiar muttered, “I can imagine.” She could smell the books in the room beyond Hammad even before he picked up the lamp: glue and paper and the heady scent of ink.  There was a small reading table holding a sheaf of paper, an inkwell, and several new books, and partially-filled bookcases lined three walls.

“I’ll fetch books that might be interesting. Why don’t you sit down and go through them?” Hammad directed Kiar to the chair and began piling books on the table. She opened up the first one and started skimming.

When the onslaught of books had slowed down to a trickle, Lisette said, “This book’s got Tiana’s sword on the cover. What’s in it?”

“There’s nothing you need to see on that shelf, girl,” said Hammad. “Put that back!”

“It won’t open!”

Kiar looked up to see Lisette struggling with a heavy book bound in old, red leather and Hammad waving his hands as if he were uncertain he should actually interfere or not.

“Of course not,” he said. “Those are the Shrouded Books, what this room was actually built to protect. You think they’d open for any handmaid that managed to sneak in here?”

Lisette dodged around him and brought the book to Kiar. “See?” She pointed at a stylized sword over a circle on the cover.

Kiar was dubious. “How do you know that’s the fiendish sword?”

Lisette tilted her head towards the outside room. “One of the books out there mentioned it by name, alongside the same image. ‘Jinriki the Darkener.’ A note on banishing superior sky fiends. But there wasn’t anything else about it.”

Kiar considered this. “Huh. That’s more interesting than what I’ve found so far.” Lisette tilted the book into her lap, and she studied it. In the Logos view, there was a complex knot of Logos modifications bound around it, forming a magical lock. Something about the workings of the lock made her uneasy. “What’s inside?” she asked Hammad.

She realized he was sweating. He stared at the cover for a long moment. “I have no idea.”

Lisette was surprised. “You’ve never read it?” Kiar wondered how a librarian managed to never read his own books.

He said slowly, “I’ve never gotten ‘round to opening it. It never seemed… interesting.” He gave the volume a puzzled look.

Kiar realized she could see what he meant. There was something dreadfully dull about the plain red volume. Then Lisette said, “Is there a working on it to make it seem boring?”

She blinked and studied the knot around it closer, resisting the desire to yawn. Something was buried in the structure of the book itself, defining it as both something that did not open and something that was not interesting. And something else….

Kiar glanced up at the walls of the room, and beyond, at the Logos modifications marking every inch of the Citadel of the Sky. “It’s like the whole structure is pressing down on it,” she said wonderingly, and then looked at Hammad. He was still staring fixedly at the book. “I’m going to open it,” she said.

He tore his gaze away from the book. “Why?” he said, and then, “Don’t.” His face was pale and shiny.

Lisette looked between them and said, in a light, even voice, “I’d like to know more about what has its hooks in Tiana.”

Kiar nodded, as if agreeing, but what she found herself saying was, “Books are meant to be read.”

“Books are meant to preserve knowledge,” he protested. “So people don’t have to. Especially the books in here.” But he didn’t move.

Lisette said, “I always thought things were written down so they’d be useful someday.”

Hammad gave Lisette a blank, uncomprehending look, and then returned his attention to Kiar and the book. Kiar waited for him to command her to put the book away, but he simply stared at it, breathing shallowly. Finally, he said, “I had a dream that in the foundation of the Citadel there was a sin, and clouds obscured it from view. We were digging for a garden and the acolytes turned over a skeleton. Then eyes opened in the sky, but it wasn’t Niyhan’s blue sky. It was orange and grey and terrible. Under it, every shadow had scissors, and they cut paper dolls from the book of each acolyte’s soul.” His voice was low and trembling, his words dropping into the silence.

Lisette said bit her lip. “It’s just a book.” Again, Hammad looked at her like she spoke another language. Kiar understood. She lifted her hands away from the leather cover.

“Books are words, and words are the Logos, Lisette. It never hurts to be careful.” Lisette drew her brow together and Kiar added, “Why don’t we do some research on the book before opening it, if you’re sure you want to know what’s inside? It must be catalogued somewhere.” She made herself laugh. “We have enough problems as it is; we don’t need to invoke a fiend or something.”

Lisette snapped, “We already
have
a fiend, Kiar. But fine. If you don’t want to open it, I bet I know somebody who will.” She snatched the book out of Kiar’s lap and started for the door.

“What? Who?” Kiar asked, and then realized she meant Twist. “Oh, no, he wouldn’t. Would he? Lisette, wait! No! I’ll do it.” She stumbled hurriedly after the other girl. Lisette paused at the door and half-turned, keeping the book on her far side.

“What is wrong with you? You don’t want to do it but you’d rather do it than let him do it?”

Kiar reached for the book, feeling hot and stupid, and knowing she’d feel worse if Twist unlocked the book. “I don’t know. Here, give it to me. He’s busy and I’m here.”

Lisette sighed and passed the book over. “You’ll be careful. I know you’re always careful.”

Kiar mumbled, “Not careful enough,” and carried the book back to the worktable. Hammad was leaning against the wall, his arms wrapped around himself, still pale and distracted. As gently as she could, she said, “Sir, I’m going to unlock the book. You could leave, if you wanted.”

Hammad hesitated and then shook his head. “I want to know why.”

Lisette said, irritated, “Of course you do. Information nobody knows is useless, and books aren’t people.”

Kiar took a deep breath and began to unwind the Logos knot around the book. It was tricky; she had to restore the book back to its natural state without telling the book to be something else. It would be all too easy to restore the book too far and make all the pages blank, and there were little traps along the way to encourage just that. She avoided them, but she was constantly aware of the sensation that the book was connected to everything around it. That, she didn’t know how to solve. At last, the knot was untied and she knew she could open the book and read the contents.

It took a long time, and her throat was dry and scratchy. She coughed, resting her hands on the cover. Then she glanced up. Lisette had curled her legs under herself on the floor and Hammad had his eyes closed. Twist was standing in the doorframe, watching her somberly.

Kiar lowered her gaze again and opened the book, flipping through the first few pages. “It’s a religious text,” she said. “Very old.” The book was hand-written, just as most of the volumes in the Shrouded Room were. But it was illuminated as well, with flowing illustrations of fiends in the margins every so often, and the occasional colored drawing of a piece of religious paraphernalia. The language itself was archaic and strange. “Worshipping someone called Innis.”

“Look for the parts about the sword,” Lisette directed, rising to her knees to peer at the book. “Is it in another language?”

“No, it’s just very old.” She turned back and forth through the pages, searching for some kind of context.

Lisette poked at an illustration of a sword, stopping just shy of touching it. “What’s it say here?”

Kiar pushed Lisette’s hand away. “It says leave me alone and let me read the book.” She flipped slowly through the book, scanning whole pages. “This claims he’s the Eldest of the Firstborn.”

Lisette said, “Niyhan is the Eldest. Right?” She looked at Hammad for confirmation, but he had his eyes closed.

“That’s what we learned, yes,” Kiar answered, still skimming. “This is ancient, from the time when the Firstborn still walked the earth. They didn’t seem to like Niyhan very much. These are warnings against being led astray by his teachings. This guy, Innis, seemed to emphasize family and hard work over study. Praises the innocent and righteous. Describes the fiends as his messengers.”