Morgan's Return (12 page)

"At the zoo? I'm sure he wouldn't want to go. Perhaps I'll suggest he return to the ship to make sure everything is in order."

"You don't want to go with him?"

He shook his head. "I want to go with you." Before she could say anything else, he'd called Davaskar, who was happy to return to the space port.

Smiling, he took her arm and guided her toward the door. "I expect you know where this library is?"

***

Like much of Torreno, the library was built in the classical style: simple lines designed to merge with the background. Morgan and Ravindra walked along a meandering path through a garden where grass lapped the bases of groups of deciduous trees. A scattering of golden leaves littered the lawns, the first of the season. Bushes, some still sporting fading flowers, hugged the walls of the building.

"I'm assuming there's more here than what you can find on the information systems?" Ravindra said, his boots crunching on fine gravel.

"I'm hoping they'll let us look at originals—books, yes but mainly pictures."

A flash of russet scrambled up a nearby tree. Morgan played the image back. One of those cute little skerrels, rodents that lived in the trees.

"Still looking for Rosmenyo? There's no point, is there?"

She shook her head. "Not him, no. More the 'menace from the stars' thing. Maybe there's a distant connection back to whoever created the Manesai. It's thin, but frankly, it's all we've got."

An arch of shallow steps led to transparent doors which parted at their approach.

"This place is almost like a cathedral," Ravindra said, turning his head to take in the decorated ceilings ten floors above, and the holographic figures set along the walls of the entrance hall.

"To my knowledge, there are no religious buildings in Torreno city. That way, none of the delegates can get upset that somebody's beliefs are more important than anybody else's."

"Makes sense."

Morgan stopped at the information booth to scan the collection. The Conflagration section was housed in a gallery toward the back of the building, on the top floor.

"Looks like the Conflagration isn't flavor of the month," she said, as they walked across a smooth stone floor to escalators that spiraled up into the shadows high above.

"Because of the location?" Ravindra asked.

"Yes. As far away as it's possible to be in this building."

The Conflagration Hall was appropriately decorated with murals illustrating the devastation resulting from the conflict.

Ravindra gravitated over to the depictions of the war machines, flying disks bristling with weapons. "This is much more practical," he remarked.

"Uh-huh. Artists used the descriptions in the books to try to come up with an idea of what the things would really have looked like, from the ridiculous descriptions in the scriptures." Morgan lifted her hands, wiggling her fingers. "The wheels of death."

Ravindra chuckled, and she left him to peruse the illustrations, turning her attention to the row of covered cases holding examples of books, notes, artifacts from the period, much as they had seen in the museum on Iniciara. A few cases held books, opened at a page, but these weren't the originals, anyway. Fuck it, she needed to talk to a person. Morgan gazed around her. Somebody? Anybody? Was there no-one in this mausoleum?

"You look lost. Can I help you?"

Morgan started. A woman wearing dark blue pants and a pale grey shirt stood beside her.

"I'm Netsa Simmons, curator of this collection."

Morgan beamed. Maybe there was something to this prayer business. She thrust out a hand. "Marion Sefton. I'm so pleased to meet you."

Ravindra ranged up beside her, and stopped a hand's breadth away. "And this is Ashkar Ravindra."

Simmons's hand was cool and dry, the handshake cursory. Once she'd shaken hands with Morgan, the curator put a hand out to Ravindra. With only the slightest hesitation, he followed Morgan's example. Morgan hoped he'd been gentle.

"We don't get too many visitors up here anymore," Simmons said, glancing between them.

"I've studied the collection available online," Morgan explained. "I'm looking for more information about Professor Rosmenyo, particularly his influences? I hoped that perhaps I could see any original artifacts?"

"Rosmenyo." Simmons frowned. "Ah, yes. He and his work were destroyed at what we now call Iniciara. That's the one?"

"Yes."

Simmons rubbed a finger over her lips. "Let me see." Her eyes glazed for a moment, as she accessed her implant. "We do have some material. A number of images. The originals are kept in a vault. They're fragile, you see. What could you hope to see beyond the excellent reproductions? They've been enhanced to remove the scratches and smudges, and missing bits have been filled in."

"Sometimes, as I'm sure you realize, enhancement obliterates details," Morgan said.

Simmons looked down her nose, as if examining a specimen. "Rest assured we do take that sort of thing into consideration, when we make our changes. However, if you'd like to tell me what you would wish to see." She gestured along the row of cases.

"Is everything available to the public?" Morgan asked.

"Everything except a few items considered to be too badly damaged to be of use."

Morgan exchanged a look with Ravindra. This might offer something. "Could we see those? Please?"

Frowning, Simmons screwed up the corner of her mouth. Not an attractive look.

"We would be most respectful, and exceedingly grateful." Ravindra spoke quietly. "We visited the Conflagration museum on Iniciara, and the cathedral there. This was our next hope. It's important to us."

Simmons stared at him. "Why? So few care about the Conflagration anymore."

Ravindra moved up beside the librarian. "I come from a planet outside your Coalition. We've lost much of our history, and we're trying to piece together where we came from, and why."

Morgan didn't look at him, but Simmons's face revealed the effect he was having. Pink dots appeared on her cheeks, and her hand strayed to the hair that curled onto her shoulders. Oh, he could turn on the charm when he wanted to. You'd think he'd just asked her to come to his room. The woman almost melted on the spot.

"Well… all right. But I'll need to be with you the whole time."

I'll bet you will
. Morgan looked away.

Ravindra inclined his head in that regal manner he had. "Of course. We appreciate your assistance."

Simmons nearly tripped over her feet turning around. "If you'll come this way." She spoke to Ravindra, not Morgan, glancing frequently over her shoulder, to ensure he was following her to the rear of the room, to an elevator.

Inside, she pressed a button.

"We keep all the originals in the vaults," she said, glancing up at Ravindra. "We can preserve them there."

"Understood. These original documents are so rare. It's good to see them in such excellent hands."

Morgan rolled her eyes at him but Simmons was oblivious.

The door of the lift opened into dimly-lit rows of seemingly solid blocks of shelving. Morgan found the controls with her mind. Pick a selection, and the relevant part of the collection would open. Simmons did just that, using her implant. Ravindra gave a soft grunt of surprise, when one of the shelves moved forward, opening up as it did so.

"You said the ones not on display?" Simmons gazed up at him.

"If you please."

A drawer slid open, revealing five pictures under a layer of transpec. Morgan took an image of each for later perusal, but her heart sank. They were fragments, some of people, but the faces too badly damaged to even begin to reconstruct features. Fuck it. There had to be something…

Hang on. She went back to the third picture. They weren't people, they were statues.

Simmons was prattling on about something but Morgan grabbed Ravindra's arm. "Ashkar."

He raised a hand, signaling Simmons to shut up, which she did, mid-sentence, her jaw hanging open.

Morgan spoke in Manesai. "The statues. From the Krystor temple."

***

R
avindra frowned down at the picture. He'd have to make a leap of faith to see what Morgan had seen. Four figures stood in a line, just as they had in the cavern beneath the mountain on Krystor. But it was virtually impossible to make out garments or what they held in their hands. In the cavern on Krystor, one had carried a spade, another a laboratory flask, a sack of goods spilled at the next figure's feet, and the fourth appeared to hold a weapon across its body. Simple representations of the Manesai classes; laborers, scientists, merchants and warriors.

"What did she say?" Simmons, her eyes sparkling with curiosity, tugged at Ravindra's sleeve.

"It looks a little like something we have seen before," Ravindra said. He switched to Manesai, gazing at Morgan. "You're sure?"

"It fits. I superimposed the image of the statues from my implant. Much smaller, not precisely the same, but near enough."

Good enough for him. He turned back to Simmons. "Can you tell us anything about the picture?"

Simmons shook her head, a moue of regret on her lips. "Often we don't know precisely where the items came from. The person who bequeathed these to the library thinks it was local—by that he meant his home world—but we can't be certain."

"Oh, come on. Where was the picture found?" Morgan frowned as she spoke.

Simmons bridled. "I just told you. We can't be sure."

Ravindra glared at Morgan. Sometimes she didn't know when to shut up. He turned on the charm, his gaze fixed on the librarian's face. "Miss Simmons, anything you can tell us, anyone you can direct us to… perhaps the person who found the picture?"

The librarian flushed again, the pink spots glowing on her cheeks. "The person who originally found the picture is long dead. It was in a private collection for many years. His descendant, Derryn Partridge, gave us a number of the items we hold here. He lives on another planet. Ushas. I could give you his contact details?"

"If you please," Ravindra said.

Simmons concentrated for a moment, then her lips parted. "Oh. You don't have an implant."

Ravindra shook his head.

"Send it to me," Morgan said.

The woman complied, but with bad grace.

Ravindra wished Morgan would try not to offend everyone in sight. "Can you tell us anything about this planet?" he asked. "In respect to the Conflagration?"

"Ushas?" Simmons pursed her lips. "It wasn't much affected by the Conflagration. Those planets which relied heavily on the machines, suffered the greatest destruction. Ushas seems to have been of a more agricultural bent."

"So no damage?"

The curator shook her head. "Not
no
damage. What we believe happened is that as the conflict spread, and more planets became war zones or uninhabitable, wealthier people fled to places like Ushas. There would undoubtedly have been turmoil and civil war, because the new people wanted a share of what the locals thought belonged to them."

Morgan looked down her nose. "You can't know that."

Simmons sniffed. "People's behavior has stayed constant over the millennia. You see the patterns still. Take Iniciara, where an overcrowded planet is fending off refugees from Solvaria. Besides, on Ushas, we've been able to piece together more of their history from older records."

"I thought the machines were all destroyed," Morgan said.

"Indeed. Most were, particularly those with artificial intelligence. Much of the media they used was destroyed, too. But in places like Ushas, some of the data, and the machines to read them, were preserved in libraries.

Morgan cleared her throat, and looked away. Ravindra swallowed his smile. Morgan didn't much like being told she was wrong. "This regression into religion that we saw on Iniciara, is that also common?" he said.

"Regression is not the right word. An attempt to find an explanation? Some solace? But yes, we've seen that often. Many times over the centuries the religion disappears, or shrinks to a shadow of itself. Other times, it's an important factor. On Ushas, the religion apparently arrived before the conflagration, and to some extent, it has survived."

Morgan looked at Ravindra and shrugged, a tiny upward movement of her shoulders. He'd learnt that meant she didn't feel the fact was relevant.

"Is there anything else I can tell you?" Simmons smiled up at him, the tip of her tongue sliding between her lips.

Smiling, he offered her a brief neck-bow. "I think we have enough to proceed. You've been incredibly helpful."

Simmons ushered them back to the lift, this time pressing the button for the ground floor. "I should warn you, Mister Partridge is ahh... His beliefs can be a little bit… "

"He's a bit of a nutter?" Morgan said.

Simmons cleared her throat. "Perhaps eccentric is a better word. When mainstream academics questioned his work, he resigned from his position at an Ushas university. Shall we just say, you shouldn't be in too much of a hurry to believe everything he tells you."