Chapter 16

Sitting alone at the Blue Tail, Danel was enjoying his ale. He had ordered a mug of one of the paler offerings and without even asking, they plopped a saucer of roasted corn kernels in front of him. They were hard, crunchy, and salty, a good compliment to a quiet drink at the end of his day. Others still had an hour or two of work if they had a worthy conscience, leaving the tavern nearly empty and blissfully quiet. After another week of crawling around the First and Second Basements, he was more than ready to imbibe.

“I almost hate to disturb your quietude,” Ka’andel said as she lightly touched his free arm.

“Almost is the operative word, I suspect,” Danel said with a smile. “Are you on-duty or off-duty, my favorite weapon wielding security operative in the entire Library of Ibados? If you are off-duty I would cajole you into being my research partner for the evening as I trawl the bottom of the sweetest ales on the First Floor.”

“Tempting,” she said with an exaggerated sigh. “I’m on-duty and, I am sorry to announce, I am here with security business. My, you stick your nose in the most curious places, my favorite Librarian.”

“I am, am I?”

“Considering I know only two of you on a first name basis, the competition is not high,” she said with a devilish smile. “Oo, wounded to the quick, I see.”

Danel needed another sip before trying to answer. Then he decided not to answer as her smile dropped.

“The Daughters of Raua have sent an inquiry concerning your person,” she said. “My commanders are puzzled, and they don’t like unknowns.”

Shaking his head in bewilderment, Danel popped a kernel in his mouth and chewed. “I don’t think I’ve met a member of that sisterhood, Ka’an. The only woman I’ve spent any time with lately has been you. I’m as puzzled as your bosses.”

“This Order is from the far west, beyond where the merchants usually go,” she said. “Only other thing I know about them is that they are ancient and secretive. They don’t ask for much and although we have records of them coming and going, there is not much else recorded about them. Spooky.”

“I’ve been doing my best to keep a low profile and spooky devotees of an ancient goddess is a contradiction,” Danel said. He snapped his fingers. “Hold on: why did the Daughters come to you instead of the Head Librarian?”

Ka’an shrugged her shoulders.

Standing up, Danel handed off his mug to Ka’an and rushed out of the establishment. He took the stairs two at a time and leapt onto the Second Floor. Taking his bearings, he made his way to the Second Corridor and walked north until he came to Fauntel’s workshop. The door was partway open.

“Danel! What a surprise. It’s good to see you,” Fauntel said, coming around to give Danel a hug.

“It’s good to see you too,” Danel said, squeezing back. “I need your help. Did you identify the writing on those sheets in the Phit alphabet?”

“Yes, but,” Fauntel replied. “As with all things ancient, we have only a smidgen of what was there. Yes, I’ve identified the language as Aphit-B, but what known scrolls we have in Afit-B are formal declarations using the language of treaties. These sheets are pidgin Aphit-B, the common communication of the working classes. The grammar is simpler than the scrolls and the vocabulary is more idiomatic.”

“How idiomatic?”

Fauntel gave out a faint chuckle. “What you and I call a chisel, or a sichal in Aphit-B formal is called an ‘eye-gouger’ on the second sheet, which has a tiny drawing showing us what the word meant. I think that is what the picture represents; it makes sense in a black humor manner, which would be appropriate on a worksite. This is one of the only words that I’ve worked out what it means on these sheets.”

Danel stared closely at the sheets before staring up at the ceiling. Faintly in one corner, he recognized a sigil of one of the building guilds. He brought his attention downward. “We didn’t find the name of the goddess on the statue in that room. Did these people curse or bless the goddess in their writing?”

“On the worksheets, I seriously doubt such impiety would be tolerated,” Fauntel said. “I can look on the formal scrolls though and compile a list of the gods they mention. The documents were typically sworn in the name of their gods. What are you seeking?”

“The room was overseen by a goddess,” Danel explained. “The great tome was not that interesting; I saw no expectation of fruitful hints or observations. Unless one wants to dedicate a decade to translating and teasing out the tiny secrets that are embedded in the daily toil, the tome can stay where it is. The location and the contents are now noted, or noted again as the case may be. I think the key is the goddess herself. She may lead us to the proper route.”

“The proper route to where?” Fauntel asked.

Danel blanched. He continued to stare at the sheets as if they held his attention while he furiously shifted through the possible lies and explanations. “I’ve been curious,” he began hesitantly, “about the earlier origins of the Library of Ibados. Head is looking for specific information from the earlier periods. He gives me a certain amount of liberty to poke my nose into some places in the basement in tandem, but he has me on a short lead. I’ve already been reprimanded once this week. I don’t want to do anything that causes Head to yank me from my assignment.”

“You like rummaging around in the filth and stink of the subterranean levels?” Fauntel said more than asked. “You are a rare bird. Nonetheless, you’re correct that our Head Librarian will tolerate a little bit of wandering from our tasks but at the end of the day, he expects your checklist to be completed. The demands on the Librarians as a whole society are relentless, and we’re always almost-behind.”

Danel pushed away the page and stepped back from the table. “I didn’t expect the pressure to perform,” he confessed. “I naively thought that once I passed the exams, the job would be interesting and comfortable. I had no clue of the pace in which we work.”

“We hide it from everyone, especially our initiates,” Fauntel said. “We are the Librarians, the ones who can and do maintain the Library of Ibados. No one should know just how many close calls we have at any given time that only our skills and preparations save us from disaster. I’m only speaking of the human-generated problems. The gods are another set of challenges and yet, they chose each of us. We put our public faces out there and march around as if all is well and we’re in control of the situation. In these rooms, we allow the bubbles to deflate and our faces to emerge. You’re learning.”

Fauntel picked up the sheets and put them in a folder that he bound with a ribbon. “There is a serious complication with your goddess theory, Danel. Gods and goddesses may appear in different civilizations and in different eras under different names and guises even though they are same gods. The god of war is always the god of war, no matter the name or assigned gender in that case. The goddess you seek may be here now under a different name with a full coterie of acolytes and priestesses. Have you queried any of them?”

Danel slapped his forehead. “You’re a genius.”

“I know. Thank you for acknowledging my greatness,” Fauntel said deadpan. “Having discovered the truth about me, you now owe me at least two pints of ale, and not the cheap swill.”

“Talk to my taskmaster,” Danel called out as he departed. Running downstairs to the First Floor, Danel tossed out all sense of embarrassment as he consulted the great map across from the Grand Reading Room. The visitors gawked at the Librarian as he used his finger to find his target in the listings. A visiting historian with his official badge dangling on his chest worked up the courage to ask where a particular collection was located. Almost without thinking, Danel tapped a spot on the map, telling the man he had a fifteen-minute walk and wishing him well.

Having found his own destination, Danel took off at a brisk pace. He passed one stairwell, thinking about taking the next one, when something sparked his curiosity. He walked back to the first one, feeling as if he was being guided. The sensation was confusing.

At the staircase, he felt a slight tingle in his fingers as he touched the cap on the rail post. He took the stairs two at a time. When he emerged onto the Second Floor, he had to stop himself. He had not moved geographically north before he entered the stairwell. Now though, he was thirty hallways north of where he entered below. Looking back at the stairs, he knew this location was considered stable and unchanging. He touched the first digits of his fingers on his left hand to the first digits on the other. The tingling had departed.