The Destiny of the Dead (The Song of the Tears Book 3) (40 page)

The room she entered was small and spare, containing but a
high bench the length of one wall, covered in manuscripts, a stool, a small
hard pallet in a corner and a few shelves, one of which was empty.

‘This was Nadiril’s room, and after I succeeded him I took
it for mine. I like it. There’s no clutter and no distractions.’

She indicated the pallet and they sat down on it. Tulitine
lay back, letting out a small sigh as she took the weight off her aching bones.
Lilis perched bird-like on the stool.

‘Since I knew the question would soon be asked, I made sure
I knew the answer,’ she said. ‘Firstly, our catalogues contain nothing about
chthonic fire – it is never mentioned. Of course, the catalogues are
sadly out of date, but since chthonic fire would have been brought to Santhenar
a long time ago, that does not matter. Neither do any of my junior librarians
– some older than I am – recall the term, and nor do I. I certainly
never heard Nadiril mention it.’

She wrinkled her brow, then went on.

‘Yalkara must know, and I have re-read all we have here
about her, though I did not find anything. The Charon were ever secretive and
she most of all – Yalkara may not have told anyone else about this white
fire, though it is difficult to imagine that the other Charon, at least the
most important of them, would not have known.

‘The other places to look would, of course, be the
strongholds of the only three Charon to came to Santhenar.’

‘Kandor’s fortress of Katazza,’ said Yggur, ‘Yalkara’s
abandoned tower at Havissard, near the ruined Aachim city of Tar Gaarn, and
Carcharon, in the mountains above Gothryme, which Rulke made his own for a
while.’

‘Quite,’ said Lilis. ‘If the information you seek does not
lie there, and I suspect it does not, then either it does not exist, or it is
hidden where no one living, save Yalkara herself, knows where it can be found.’

‘Even with a portal to take us there,’ said Yggur, ‘to
search any one of those places would require more time than we have.’

‘I agree,’ said Lilis. ‘It might be more productive to ask
those who hated the Charon, and have every reason to tell you their secrets.’

‘I’ve heard nothing about the Aachim since I was taken by
the Numinator,’ said Yggur. ‘Are they –?’

‘As I mentioned, the God-Emperor’s realm does not extend
over them, though there was a degree of … border adjusting, shall we say, after
he seized power. There are Aachim at Stassor, their principal city, and of
course the great island of Faranda is their domain. And Clan Elienor, where
Karan’s Aachim ancestor came from –’

‘Karan Kin-Slayer?’ said Maelys, who had always been curious
about her.

‘I knew
Karan
,’
Lilis said deliberately, and her eyes glinted. ‘I met her as a child; I really
liked her, and Llian.’

Yggur had also grown angry when their names had been
mentioned, Maelys recalled. Had Karan and Llian betrayed Lilis too? Even if she
had, Maelys felt for her, for Karan had been pursued relentlessly by Maigraith,
just as Maelys had been.

‘What was she like?’

‘She was small; a little taller than you, I’d say, but her
hair was the most brilliant red – the colour of a smoky sunset. She was
clever, and good at most things; she did not suffer fools gladly.’

‘And she was a sensitive,’ said Yggur. ‘She felt things far
more deeply than normal people.’

‘As I was saying,’ Lilis added, ‘at the end of the war Clan
Elienor went to Shazmak.’

‘Do you know if Malien is still alive?’ said Yggur. ‘Of all
our allies from the olden days, she’s the one I most want to see.’

‘Did you know her back in the Time of the Mirror?’ said
Maelys. She knew that the Aachim were a long-lived species, unlike
old humans
.

‘I did. There aren’t many of us left from that era now.’

‘I saw Malien some years ago,’ said Lilis. ‘She dwelt in
Shazmak at the time, though I believe she has since returned to Stassor. Malien
was looking rather old – a fate that comes to us all, even librarians.’
Lilis smiled. ‘My time is almost up, and I can’t say I’ll be sorry to go. Two
hundred years is long enough, even for a Librarian.’

‘What will you do when you retire?’ Maelys said curiously.

‘Perhaps I’ll go on the road and seek my fortune.’ At Maelys’s
astonished look, Lilis laughed aloud. ‘I look back on my adventuring days, an
orphan child in the company of the mighty, with a certain nostalgia. The
Library never changes, and few people come to consult us in these troubled
times. Sometimes the days can be a trifle dull.’

She studied each of them in turn. ‘I haven’t been much help,
have I?’

‘You’ve told us everything you know,’ said Yggur.

‘But you’re disappointed I can’t tell you more.’

‘I confess it.’

‘What is your second question?’

‘Does the Library mention any way to attack a
being
?’

‘Anticipating that question, I’ve done some reading
already,’ said Lilis. ‘I haven’t uncovered anything so far and, even if the
answer is in our archives, it could take months to find. But …’

‘Yes?’ said Yggur.

‘It would depend very much on the nature of the
being
. I wouldn’t look to attack one
with some mighty power or force, like the Profane Tears. I would ask myself
what the true nature of the
being
is,
and where, given that nature, its weakness lies. Once you know that, it may be
a simple matter to attack it. I will consider the subject further after you’ve
gone. And your third question?’

‘I don’t have another question,’ said Yggur.

‘You surprise me,’ said Lilis.

‘May I ask one?’ said Maelys.

‘On Yggur’s account?’

‘I, er, don’t have any money –’

‘On my account,’ said Yggur brusquely.

‘You may ask,’ said Lilis.

‘What will happen if someone finds the true fire and gives
it to Stilkeen?’ said Maelys. ‘Will Stilkeen accept it and go away?’

‘The future is out of my realm, child,’ said Lilis. ‘That is
a question better put to Tulitine; she is the seer among us.’

Tulitine sat up, painfully. ‘Not even the greatest seer can
read the future that clearly. However, judging by Stilkeen’s demeanour in the
two times I’ve seen it, I doubt that it will go away.’

‘Perhaps your question, Maelys, should have focussed on what
I know of
beings
,’ said Lilis. ‘The
answer is, not much, though they are never humble, and Stilkeen has suffered
terribly from what Yalkara did to it. Did she steal its binding fire out of
malice, I wonder, or come upon it by accident and take it, thinking it was a
treasure beyond price, only to discover that there was no way of using it
safely?’

‘I understand that chthonic fire gave the Charon their way
out of the void,’ said Yggur. ‘It has a unique ability to dissolve the walls
that separate the eleven dimensions of space and time.’

‘But once she stole the fire,’ Lilis went on, ‘Yalkara must
have discovered that there was no way to return it. Whatever she did with it
would leave a trail leading straight back to her. Furthermore, immortal beings
have a powerful sense of their own importance and cannot suffer an injury
meekly.’

‘You have confirmed my own thoughts on the matter,’ said
Yggur. ‘Stilkeen will want to make humanity pay for the monstrous sacrilege
done to its sacred person by Yalkara and, by extension, all humanity. It won’t
let us go unharmed, even if we give it the true fire.’

‘What is your final question?’ said Lilis.

‘I have no other,’ said Yggur, frowning as if trying to
locate an elusive memory.

‘Are you sure?’

‘There’s nothing else that comes to mind.’

‘I have another. Do you know anything about taphloids?’ said
Maelys, clutching at it through her shirt.

‘There was only ever one device of that name, to my
knowledge,’ said Lilis.

‘Was it this one?’ Maelys pulled the chain over her head and
handed the taphloid to Lilis.

She studied it carefully. ‘Yes, this is it. I never thought
I’d see it again, but such things have a way of returning to the place they
came from.’ She was looking at Yggur, head to one side. ‘The Library obtained
it four hundred years ago, from a private collection Nadiril had acquired.’

‘Who sold it?’ said Yggur.

‘That does not matter,’ said Lilis. ‘If the seller does not
want their name revealed, we do not reveal it.’

‘Even after four hundred years!’ cried Yggur.

‘Even so. Our confidentiality is absolute and enduring. In
any case, the owner did not know where the taphloid had come from originally;
it had been sold and resold many times, for it is a beautiful thing. Neither
did anyone know what it was for.’

‘It protects me by concealing my aura,’ said Maelys. ‘And I
was told that it contained information that would be vital, later on.’

‘It contained a series of lessons,’ said Lilis. ‘Nadiril
learned that much, but not even his vast Arts and experience could recover
them, though he did discover that the taphloid had first been sold in the
Clysm. That was a series of terrible wars between the three Charon who dwelt on
Santhenar, and the Aachim,’ she explained to Maelys, though Maelys, who had
been taught the Histories by her father, already knew it.

‘Santhenar was devastated by those wars and it took hundreds
of years to recover from them,’ Lilis continued. ‘And apparently the original
owner of the taphloid was left destitute and sold it. That was all Nadiril
could discover. It was just another inexplicable curio from the past, and there
are many of them in the Library.’

‘Then how did Father end up with it?’ said Maelys.

‘That’s another story, though it comes from the most recent
era. The Library was not greatly troubled by the lyrinx during the great war,
for they had a reverence for the Histories, and for knowledge generally. They
seldom came near the Library, save for information.’

‘Do you mean to say that you even provided information to
the enemy?’ growled Yggur.

‘Indeed,’ said Lilis, unperturbed, ‘though they were not
my
enemy, since the Great Library has
from its beginnings, under an ancient charter, always been an independent
entity. I found the lyrinx to be entirely courteous, well-mannered and prompt
in paying their accounts, unlike some
old
humans
I could name. But won’t,’ she added hastily.

‘In fact, I found them to be rather more human than many
humans I’ve dealt with. Over the hundred and fifty years of the war the
protection was only broken three times, each time by lyrinx who were outcast
from their communities. They gave us no great trouble, though the last time,
twenty years ago, three broke through our defences and stole a number of
valuable items, including this taphloid.

‘I tried to get it back, but in war things become lost and
sometimes no one knows what happened to them. I can only assume that your
father must have taken it from a dead lyrinx on a battlefield and, having a
strong gift for the Art, he recognised its potential. Even recognised that it
contained lessons.’

Lilis pressed the taphloid against her forehead and closed
her eyes.

‘With my Librarian’s Art I can read an intention in the
device, one I don’t believe was here when I last held the taphloid, a long time
ago. Wait a moment; I’ll have to search my memories of that time. So many
years, so many memories,’ she mused. ‘An old Librarian’s mind is like the
Library itself – rather dusty, a trifle battered and decayed, some
memories mislaid, others put on the wrong shelves, and yet others gone forever.
But I’m sure I can find this one. Ah!’

She lowered the taphloid to the bench.

‘Yes, I have it. Maelys, your father must have recognised
that it was a teaching and shielding device, and attempted to put a number of
lessons into it, to teach you about your gift for the Art when you were old
enough; and when it was safe to do so.’

‘I knew it,’ said Maelys. ‘Ever since I was told that I had
a gift, I’ve been trying to find someone who could teach me to use it, and yet
my teacher was hanging from my neck the whole time. Can you unlock the lessons
for me?’

‘No,’ said Lilis, and Maelys’s face fell.

Lilis took up the taphloid and again pressed it to her
forehead. ‘I can read that your father worked hard at your lessons. It must
have taken him many months, and he
thought
he had put them into the taphloid correctly, keyed in such a way that no one
could ever recover them save you. He would have done so for your protection
since, under the God-Emperor’s rule, it is illegal for private citizens to
possess enchanted objects.’

‘Then what went wrong?’ said Yggur. ‘I assume something
has
gone wrong.’

‘The original lessons must have been put into the taphloid
by a master, probably the one who made it, so they could only be read by the
person for whom they were intended. Unfortunately, Maelys, two such sets of
instructions could not occupy the same place and, I believe, your father’s
lessons corrupted the earlier ones. In the Library we are adept at recovering
information from the most fragmentary of sources, but I can tell at a touch
that I can’t get anything out of your taphloid. I’m sorry.’

‘A voice spoke from the taphloid, twice,’ Maelys remembered,
‘when Yggur first approached the caduceus with it, before we left the Range of
Ruin.’

‘
Twice
?’ said
Yggur.

‘Yes. Surely you remember?’

‘I remember it telling me to keep watch, but that’s all.’
Yggur was looking at Maelys as if she were mad.

‘The first time it spoke was before that,’ said Maelys.
‘Just before you fell down against the caduceus and we had to drag you away.
Your hair was smoking.’

He put his hand to the top of his head, feeling the frizzy
patch there. ‘I believe you, though I don’t remember that either.’