Compendium (12 page)

“Really?” Mia picked up Compendium from the table and opened it to the SainClairs. “So his first name is Thaddeus?” she asked.

Even as Compendium hid itself as an ancient volume, its family lineages were accurate up to the current generation.
Poor design, that is. Not much of a disguise.

“Yes, I believe that’s correct. How did you know that?”

She showed him the page and pointed to Thaddeus and Jayne SainClair.

“How is that possible?” he said. “Has someone been updating this? I’ll have the head of anyone who’s been sneaking into the Archives to deface the texts.”

She forced herself not to smile. It was hard to imagine Brother Cornelius having anyone’s head for anything.

“There’s even more to this book,” she said, and told him about activating Compendium.

If Brother Cornelius thought she was unhinged, he didn’t betray it in his manner. He pondered Mia’s words carefully and scratched his perpetually itchy chin whiskers.

“So you’re saying the book altered itself? The ink moved around on the page, and the text changed? And you spent a large amount of time communicating with it, but then in the morning, when Brother SainClair picked it up, it had returned to its previous state?”

“Yes. And I know it sounds positively mad.”

“It’s certainly unusual, but life is full of strange happenings.”

“You mean you believe me?” Mia asked incredulously. She wasn’t even sure she believed it herself at this point. As she looked back, it just didn’t seem possible.

“Of course,” he said. He raised his shaggy silver eyebrows in her direction. “The Order’s primary mission is to protect certain ancient artifacts. This may very well be one of those artifacts.”

“What exactly do you mean by ‘artifacts’?” she asked, curious.

“Well, that’s indeed a long story.” He rubbed a finger against his temple then scratched his whiskers again.

I should research whisker anti-itch balm
, Mia thought.

“Are you familiar with the details of the Great Fall?” he asked.

Mia shrugged. She had heard bits and pieces here and there. The folk in Hackberry weren’t much for ancient history. Nothing that couldn’t be eaten or traded for provisions or used to warm a body’s feet on a frigid evening—not that there were too many of those in the hammocks—was valued.

“I heard there was a before and an after. At home we don’t give much consideration to what came before, as it hardly seems to matter at this point, with us being so far removed from it. Taryn would disagree,” she added, thinking back on Taryn’s admission that history was her favorite subject.

“As would I,” said Brother Cornelius. “We have much to learn from our forebears, and there’s much that we could do if we could recover even a fraction of what they knew.”

“Was it really so great back then?” Mia asked. “I mean, how do we even know?”

“Books of course…those that weren’t destroyed in the chaos or lost to the Core. In some ways, it was very similar, but in many others, it was very different. Our ancestors lived off the land the way we do, but they possessed an advanced grasp of biochemistry and biomechanics, and they were able to use it to stunning effect in ways we may never understand.” His voice held a sad, wistful note.

Mia supposed she would be sad too if she had some knowledge of what was lost.

“Our forebears were also part of the Central Counsel, which is described in some ancient texts as a counsel of peers comprised of delegates from all over Lumin. We ruled Lumin in peace as one body. After the Great Fall, the Central Counsel was…well, no one is really sure what happened to the counsel,” he said, his face marked with concern. “Now no city-state benefits from trade with the others, and there’s very little communication among us. Willowslip is essentially on its own.”

“What caused the Great Fall?” Mia asked.

“Ah, now that’s the real question, is it not?” Brother Cornelius rubbed his chin, but his eyes narrowed. “Alas, whatever was responsible for the Great Fall impacted the record keeping of our forebears. We have some texts from before the Great Fall and many that start perhaps fifty cycles afterward that discuss the political changes that occurred, but we don’t have much that describes the loss of technology, what happened to the Counsel, or other questions that remain largely unanswered. The texts we can find that describe those times are generally personal memoirs rather than official historical records and, as such, contain little in the way of definitive answers. It’s been a perplexing study for many of the scholars of the Order for some time.” His eyes slid down, and he examined a bony finger with interest.

He’s not telling me something
, she thought.

“So how does all this relate to the artifacts?” Mia asked.

“Well, artifacts are the remnants of society before the Great Fall. They were likely common-day objects in antiquity, but now they’re marvels of technical magic and mysteries to be solved and protected. There are clerics who would hide them away from the outside world under the guise of safety, others who would study them and learn their secrets, and yet others outside the Order, like the Druids, who would try to possess them. And still further I suspect there are those who would use them for mischief and trouble.”

“Which are you?” she asked.

Brother Cornelius gave her question some thought before responding. “I suppose I’m the type who would use them as they were intended to be used by their makers, to better society.”

Mia said gave him a big smile. “I think that’s a sound position.”

“If,” Cornelius said, pushing Compendium back toward Mia, “this book is one of the rare artifacts left from before the Great Fall, it clearly has chosen to reveal itself to you. What reason it might have for that, I cannot say, but perhaps you’ll be able to find out.”

“So you’ll let me hang on to it?” she asked. She was relieved but tried not be too obvious about it.

“I don’t see why not,” the old cleric continued. “It’s of no use to anyone except you. Just take good care of it. And for all our sakes, best keep a wide berth from Brother SainClair in the future. Be more careful where you snoop next time, child!”

16
The Seed

Lumin Cycle 10152

That
evening
Mia Jayne dragged herself down the dining room to scrounge up some dinner. In penance for her tardiness, she had worked through the afternoon and into the early evening. Her neck was still sore and bruised and her body achy from Brother SainClair’s rough handling and the discomfort of the brig cell. If asked before yesterday if she’d ever look forward to climbing into her stone cubby atop her lumpy mattress under her rough-spun blankets, she would’ve told such person that he or she needed their head examined by a healer or possibly an exorcist. However, with Compendium and a fresh cake from Brother Cornelius tucked into her sash, she was anticipating the gray barracks and her hard pallet like never before.

Upon feeling her stomach gurgle inside her robes, she patted it and said to herself, “There, there, I suspect tonight will be a nice roast with root vegetables and some rice. I can just tell.” Despite everything that had happened, she was in excellent spirits.

“Oh, can you?” a voice said from behind her. “Have you taken up in the kitchen or become precognitive?”

She stopped dead and spun around to face her detractor. Cedar’s form was comically lanky as he made an emergency stop to keep from slamming into her. She poked him in the chest.

“My sources are none of your concern,” she said lightly, and turned to continue to the dining area.

He took long steps to catch up to her short but rapid footfalls. “I don’t suppose your recent absence was a reconnaissance mission to determine our dining-room menu.”

“Alas, no,” she said. “I had a tangle with the beast.” She looked over to Cedar with mock foreboding.

“The beast?” he replied, arching a black eyebrow. The light in his eyes darkened as they slid down to her throat.

Mia was suddenly very conscious of the bruising. She supposed her levity was out of place, but she had too much worth focusing on at the moment to brood over SainClair’s misplaced ire. She had a secret weapon now, a means to change her fortune, something she could rely on to see her through this experience.

“Might this beast be a surly cleric who stomps around in boots all the time while the rest of us wear slippers? And might he have some sort of bizarre vendetta against you?”

“Perhaps,” she said. “Perhaps he caught me having a look around the lower corridors and assumed I was a Druid spy. And perhaps he threw me into the brig until Dominus Nikola knocked some sense into him, figuratively of course. Although I would rather like to see Dominus Nikola clock a particular someone real good.”

Cedar laughed, his voice deep. It resonated down the corridor toward the dining hall. “I suspect you could get a good value in trade for orchestrating a viewing for that match.”

They entered the dining hall, the good spirit between them lingering and mixing with the hearty smell of the roast emanating from the hearth.

“Ha-ha!” she exclaimed. “I
am
precognitive!”

Really she had just noticed that every fourth day the kitchen served some sort of roasted meat, probably to keep those who might be less than thrilled with stew every night from lodging complaint.

Cedar rolled his eyes, and they proceeded to pile their bowls high with meat, vegetables, and rice. Mia smiled at the sight of a hunk of cake in her ladle of vegetables and recalled Brother Cornelius’s admonition against spilling Borus’s secrets.

They surveyed the dining room for an empty seat. Mia spotted Taryn across the hall, and she waved them over with her knife.

“You’re looking refreshed,” Taryn said as they approached.

“I’m feeling quite a bit better indeed.”

Mia and Cedar sat down across from Taryn; it was odd to actually be part of a group. Cedar was friendly with most of the acolytes, and Taryn welcomed his presence with easy jibes back and forth.

“Have you been cooking the books for us?” Cedar asked her, grinning his usual playful smile.

“I suppose we could cook up the three sacks of rice we received today in exchange for that basket of extra-long-lasting gourds Sister Moritania engineered, but I think Brother Cornelius would take issue with us cooking his books.”

Mia couldn’t decide whether Taryn’s response was dry wit or genuine naïveté. She had such an innocent, unassuming way about her that made her hard to read.

Cedar nodded. “I suppose rice would taste better than dusty old books anyway.”

“Now, now,” Mia chimed in, “I take issue with use of the word
dusty
. I’ve been working very hard to de-spore every single one of those tomes in the Archives. I won’t have my reputation as a librarian tarnished by your defamatory words.”

Taryn giggled. “Actually you’ve been doing quite a thorough job. The books I checked out yesterday were all in tip-top condition.”

“Thank you, Taryn. I feel I truly have a calling as a book cleaner.”

Taryn giggled again.

“Oh, please,” Cedar said with a grin, “we all know you’re just using Brother Cornelius because he’s easygoing.”

“How dare you imply that I’m anything other than devoted to the good Brother Cornelius!” Mia made an exaggerated display of mock insult.

Truth be told, she was rather devoted to him, but it was nice to entertain and be entertained. When the hilarity died down, she weighed her next question.

“What do you know about the artifacts from before the Great Fall?” she asked.

Cedar shrugged. “There are always rumors about which artifacts might be out there. I heard one once about special paper that you write on, and it sucks in your words and stores them for later, almost like a journal. It’s only a single page thick but can store much more than a page of writing. I heard another story about a gourd that can boil water without a hearth to make it potable when you travel.”

These sounded interesting but nothing as complex as Compendium.

Taryn sighed, and a dreamy expression crossed her face. “In my historical research, I’ve run across references to an object called the Shillelagh. It’s some sort of stick, and you supposedly can use it to travel anywhere in Lumin just by tapping it against a surface and telling it where you want to go. Then a hole will open up and take you there.”

Cedar raised an eyebrow. “That sounds like rubbish.”

Taryn’s face grew even more animated. “Oh, I assure you it isn’t. Numerous references are made to it in the ancient texts. It’s even depicted in some of the drawings I’ve seen. The real question is what happened to it after the Great Fall.”

“I’ve never heard of such thing,” Cedar said, waving his hand dismissively.

“Still,” said Taryn, not dissuaded, “can you imagine how amazing it would be to travel instantaneously anywhere in the realm? You could go home for the day or visit the top of the highest mountain or see the snowy peaks of the Northlands.” She rested her chin in her palm, and her eyes lolled upward, as if her whole body were following them up and out of the Compound and far away. “If I had the Shillelagh, I’d use it to visit the whole realm, one town at a time. I would see it all. It would be glorious.”

“Do you think something like that really exists?” Cedar said, his voice still holding doubts. “I mean, if the Order had an object with power like that right under its nose, I’d think they’d be making use of it.”

“How do you know it isn’t here? They could be making use of it as we speak,” Taryn shot back. “It’s not as if we’re privy to every move the senior clerics make. We’re among the Order’s lowest ranks and certainly wouldn’t be trusted to even know about the Shillelagh’s existence, let alone whether it’s being employed on secret missions.”

“Secret missions?” Cedar asked. “Now you’re really starting to sound a little bit mad. This is an organization dedicated to study and reflection, not crazy secret missions using ancient technology.”

“I don’t think Taryn is completely mad,” Mia added, trying to be helpful.

“Well, thank you,” Taryn said, gesturing her knife at her in salute. “I think…wait,
not completely
mad?”

“Well,” Mia continued, “I’ve heard many stories about the Order from my father, and if he’s to be believed—and I think he is—the Order isn’t entirely about study and reflection.”

Cedar’s face darkened slightly. “What do you mean?”

“For instance, Father said that during the last war, the Order refused to get involved even as Willowslip pleaded for help. Certain clerics went against the Order to assist the people and were ejected from its ranks. Many clerics and nonclerics alike died. By the time the Order got involved, the city’s losses were great. Father said the Order waited so long that it sacrificed its chance to remain relevant.”

Both Cedar and Taryn looked somewhat scandalized by Mia’s words.

“Well, even if that’s true, what does that have to do with anything? It sounds like perhaps warmongering wasn’t the Order’s place.” Taryn squinted, as if she were mulling over her own words.

Mia lowered her eyes. “I might agree, if Father hadn’t also told me of rumblings from the Order of a weapon that could change the tides of the war.”

“Well, that’s just pure speculation,” said Cedar. “There are no records of any cataclysmic weapon being discharged during the last war.”

“No records that are public,” Taryn corrected, tapping a slender finger against her jaw. “Perhaps in my digging, I can unearth some.”

“That’s twenty cycles in the past,” Cedar said. “How’s any of this relevant?”

“Well,” Mia said, “one, we don’t necessarily know everything there is to know about the Order. And two, I believe artifacts exist. I also believe it’s possible the Shillelagh exists.”

“Very well,” said Cedar. “Suppose it does indeed exist. How does that have any impact on us?”

His question was entirely valid. Supposing the Shillelagh existed, what did that mean for them in real terms? Probably nothing. They were just acolytes, after all. Even if this traveling stick was an artifact under the protection of the Order, it wasn’t as if they’d be offered a go with it.
Yeah, sure. Take it to visit the waterfalls of Concordia. Just be sure to bring it back in the morning so we can make that grain delivery.
It was nonsensical speculation, fodder for idle minds.

“I don’t know,” Taryn said. “Just knowing it exists gives me a sense of optimism.” She paused, her voice catching in her throat. “Like I might see Ma and Pa again someday. But I guess it’s all just daydreams,” she said, smiling a sad smile, the fight and fire leaving her demeanor.

Mia understood completely. Daydreams of home. She supposed they all had them, even those of them here by calling—or at least choice.

“Ah, well,” Cedar said, his tone softening, “there’s always cause for hope. I mean, one of these days Mia might learn her way from the barracks to the dining hall without getting hopelessly lost.”

“Hey,” Mia said in mock indignation.

Taryn giggled, and Cedar playfully nudged Mia’s arm. She elbowed him back.

“Perhaps Taryn can research me an artifact that gives directions,” she said, shaking her head in simulated despair.

Taryn laughed. “Well, that might take more manpower than the entire Order is capable of.”

Mia laughed too, although her mind began to wander. She would tell them about Compendium eventually, she supposed. It wasn’t as if she didn’t trust them, but for now it was her secret, her weapon against the threat of losing herself to this place and its ways. Compendium would see her through the maze. She no longer feared losing her way.

That
night and countless nights afterward
, Mia spent her free time after dinner tucked under her blankets, her feet nestled up against one of Brother Cornelius’s cakes. She whispered questions to Compendium on every topic imaginable until she fell asleep with the tome in her hands. When she was alone, she always opened the book to find Compendium’s title staring up at her with a personalized welcome. It was only around others that it appeared as an innocuous listing of family lineages.

Sometimes Taryn peeked over the half wall and asked what she was doing. Mia would invite her over to toast her feet for a bit and listen to her moan about how the Ledgermaster never had any amazing inventions that warmed feet or created different kinds of light. They’d sit in the dim light of the barracks and tell each other stories about their childhoods and their lives before the Order.

Cedar often wandered around as well from his bunk on the opposite wall, if he noticed them engrossed in conversation. Mia learned about his family and his life in the northwest on a large island called Senegast. He had two brothers that were rangers, following after his father. He followed after his mother, who worked as an engineer on Senegast. She would tell him stories about his ancestors who helped found the Order, and it was then that Cedar knew he would serve. She’d been very proud when he’d made the decision to leave Senegast for Willowslip.

It was a generally calm period. Mia slowly worked her way through the ancient texts, removing spores from the books. Although it was an easy task, she finished each day with a concrete feeling that she had at least accomplished something productive. She spent her free time in study, primarily combing through bio-chemical engineering books or schematics provided by Compendium, or socializing with Brother Cornelius or Taryn and Cedar, and she was able to mostly avoid any confrontations with Brother SainClair. She had an odd, morbid sort of curiosity about the man who would sooner throttle her than look at her.