All of the information on Takinat was gathered in a collection of drawings, charts, and maps at a central location. Other cities and regions were there, as well, but the Takinat information was in a separate stack. It wasn’t the only separate stack, but it was the smallest one. Most of the others were on regions, while this stack focused on a particular building. Even the maps of Takinat dismissed the rest of the city as “presence of structures” with limited notes on which areas were intact as of the most recent observation.
One chart in particular pulled together the results of the attacks on the “large heavily enchanted domed building,” including both the attacks themselves and the observed information. It charted the time required before the building was fully repaired after each attack and noted that it was increasing, starting a couple months earlier when the raids on the building increased.
Something as small as a single miss or attack against a potentially-dangerous group could be a significant setback, according to the chart, but they were making progress. The extrapolation predicted that the building would be vulnerable to ground assault within the next four months if everything stayed the same.
There were no observations or recommendations attached to the data, simply the data itself, presented in a number of different formats.
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Kerr stared at the giant spider on the wall. Of all the things she’d expected when she decided to learn more about the Library, giant spiders wasn’t one of them.
She wouldn’t have even noticed it if Honoria hadn’t pointed it out. It was well above the height of her head, traveling slowly across the wall, apparently completely uninterested in either Kerr or her guide. It was also about the size of her head. “I see the spider. Why are there giant spiders in the library?”
Honoria looked at the spider and frowned. “It’s not a giant. That’s a fairly common Library Spider.”
“Library Spider? Really?” She’d never heard of a species called a Library Spider. It looked an awful lot like a monster to Kerr; weren’t spiders not supposed to be able to get that big without significant magic?
“Yup!” Honoria grinned at Kerr. “Library spiders are great! They keep pests out, especially the insects and sometimes mice. Mice are mostly dealt with by the cats, though, especially Chesire. He’s probably around somewhere, but you have to keep an eye out to see him; he can vanish. I think it’s part of how he catches mice.”
“Are they everywhere in Takinat?” Kerr didn’t think she really wanted to have to keep an eye out for giant spiders everywhere. It seemed dangerous, especially with the flying explosions; even if they wouldn’t attack a human normally, they might be willing if the human was already hurt.
Honoria shook her head. “No, only in the Library. That’s why they’re called Library Spiders. According to the Library’s legends, they were imported along with the original books from the First Library when Tahkittinakt set up his duplicate of that Library. Something about pets?” Honoria shrugged. “I don’t know if that’s true or not, but as far as I know, they’ve always been here.”
Kerr frowned. This was a library; didn’t that mean it was about preserving knowledge? “Why don’t you know? Didn’t anyone write it down?”
Honoria shook her head. “Not unless it’s in the Locked Archive. Some of the Histories indicate that it might be; they refer to Histories of the Library that I’ve never been able to find. It’s not possible to get in, unfortunately; I’d love to know what’s there.”
Kerr nodded and let it pass; Honoria returned to the detailed tour she was giving.
It wasn’t until they actually reached the door to the Locked Archive itself that an odd thought occurred to Kerr. No one could get in? “Why don’t you just send Serenity in?”
“What?” Honoria turned to Kerr with a puzzled expression on her face.
Kerr hadn’t realized she’d said that aloud, but the more she thought about it, the more reasonable it seemed as a suggestion instead of a joke. “Well, you know how Serenity breaks stuff? Did I ever tell you that the second time I saw him, he’d walked straight into the Armory without permission? He wasn’t an instructor yet, then.”
Honoria stared at Kerr, so she took that as an invitation to continue. “He said it was something about a Title, eventually. Never did explain what that meant. Plus, you know how the Library recognized him and gave him lots of access? Maybe he has access to things you can’t even see.”
Honoria blinked a few times, then took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I may try that. It can’t hurt as long as he backs out when it says he can’t enter. I would like to know what’s in there.”
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Jemma watched the painfully young man draw the image he’d seen on the high-flyer. For some reason, he sketched in a rough outline of the flyer itself before he started on the rune, but that was certainly acceptable. She hoped he’d do as well on the rune itself, if it was actually a rune. She’d heard there was a symbol there, but she’d never been close enough to see it. She certainly wasn’t going to head over to the Library and sit in the danger zone just to see it!
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At least he knew how to draw; the last too-young man she’d put through a punishing Journeyman Test hadn’t even known that. He’d tried for far too long, as well, long past the point where it was obvious he had no idea what he was doing. That one had eventually accepted that he didn’t have the skills of a Journeyman; for all that he’d taken the apprenticeship, she seemed to remember that he’d run off only a month or so into it.
The other thing in his favor was that he didn’t spray his aura everywhere like the spoiled young brat she’d assumed at first; he kept it politely contained, even when he didn’t get what he wanted. That counted more in his favor than she thought he realized. It was enough to make her wonder if he was older and higher Tier than he looked; some people stayed young-looking for quite a while.
He couldn’t possibly be old enough and high enough Tier to have made Journeyman, no matter who his Master was. Tier Six was not a minor achievement; no one got there quickly, even on the worlds that made it easier than Asihanya. She hadn’t made it until she was well past her century mark, and she was on the young end for it.
The day passed slowly; the only interesting moments were when the young man - Serenity, she thought - finished something and she had to move him on to the next thing. Once she had the image of the symbol on the flyer, Jemma spent some time studying it; Serenity was right, it did look rather like a runic inscription, but it wasn’t clear enough to be certain what it was. That was definitely a point in his favor; he wasn’t just making something up to get attention.
As the day wore on, Jemma grew more and more interested in the mysterious “Vengeance” he’d written down as his Master; he’d clearly taught Serenity the art of runes as well as the magic. His runic solutions were a little idiosyncratic and he frequently used a somewhat odd runic language, but they always worked. Several were more efficient than the standard formulation Jemma would have used; it didn’t matter since they were all simple, but it was definitely interesting.
Even more interesting were the times when he clearly didn’t know a solution and had to come up with one. Those tended to be less efficient but still quite usable, even for someone with a lower mana amount than more journeymen, as if they’d been designed to be charged by someone closer to Tier Four than Tier Six.
Jemma was going to have to test his Tier, wasn’t she? She hated that test; it was painful for everyone, so she preferred to leave it to the end. Most of the time, she could find a reason to reject foolish applicants without enough background without it, and she already knew enough about anyone who apprenticed in Takinat that that test was unnecessary.
They got a different test that was tailored to their Master’s idiosyncrasies, to make sure that they’d actually been taught everything they were supposed to know. If the apprentice failed after the Master agreed they were ready, the Master had to pay for the test. It worked the other way around, as well; if the apprentice succeeded on a test the Master hadn’t approved, the Master had to pay. Jemma remembered when that rule went in; too many of the good apprentices were leaving the city because they weren’t being allowed to test for journeyman.
She’d voted for it, even if it wasn’t her idea. It was a good one. Too many of the old fools just wanted to keep their hands on the assistants that were actually useful instead of letting them become competitors; she just wasn’t going to stand for that. There weren’t enough runeworkers in Takinat anyway; journeyman work wasn’t competition if you were any good.
Not that she did runework anymore, at least not commercially. She was too old to move that much mana every day; it was too hard on her damaged mana channels. It made her a perfect fit for things like this test, however; she had plenty of skill to judge an applicant, whether she knew what his master would have taught him or not.
The next two days passed similarly to the first afternoon; Serenity’s skill with whatever runework she threw at him, including some odd things she’d never seen until after she was a Master Runeweaver, was excellent. The one oddity was that he didn’t seem to know any of the associated skills.
He couldn’t carve. He couldn’t weave. He couldn’t work metal and his skill at embossing leather was pitiful. He had no idea how to manage string-runes and the less that was said about his attempt at runic baking, the better.
He could draw and he could paint. That was it. He could also assemble pieces if someone else prepared them for him; she counted that only because it showed that he could actually manage the design part; it was the execution where he was horrendous.
The morning of the fourth day, Jemma decided to give Serenity a test she would normally never give to an apprentice seeking his journeyman card; it wasn’t a requirement for anything other than the most esoteric of fields. She tested Serenity on all of the runescripts she had available, including two he couldn’t possibly have seen before because they were incomplete examples that one of her former guildmates had abandoned due to some high-level issues that always gave Jemma headaches.
He answered every single one of the questions correctly.
Whoever Vengeance was, he hadn’t trained Serenity to be a runecrafter at all. He was trained to be a Runic Scribe, a Runic Painter, or a Runic Mage, if he wasn’t going for a hybrid Path; RuneKnight was definitely an option, given how fit he was.
No matter which Path Serenity took, he was clearly being aimed at Runemaster. No one else bothered to learn the rules for constructing a new runescript, but Serenity barely had to think about it. It was strange to see a specialty being declared so early. Jemma hoped Serenity would be happy with it; Runemaster was such a useless Path that most people abandoned it before they knew as much as that test showed Serenity did. He’d clearly spent years learning.
When Serenity came back after lunch, Jemma handed him his new Journeyman’s card with a warning. “I can’t justify not granting you journeyman, but it’s only for the theory. You’re allowed to sell simple works, but not in any of the crafts. I don’t know of anyone who’s hiring a Runescribe or Runic Painter, so you’ll have to find work on your own. If we catch you working at any of the crafting trades, there will be consequences that only start with pulling your card. I’m not going to let you pull our name through the mud with your inability to make anything.”
Somehow, Serenity seemed more pleased with her declaration than upset. He was probably just happy to get the card.