Ike wasn’t wrong. Scholars loved books. They loved them so much they dedicated entire sections of their massive palace simply to the storage and study of more books then Ike could imagine reading, let alone how many people must have written them, not even how they’d been organized so neatly into the stacks of perfect shelves which filled the library from the ceiling to the floor.
Thousands of books from a bygone era. The hopes, dreams, and educations of countless generations turned to mud beneath the feet of an unknowing people and uncaring blight.
Marcus and Isibeil led the Guardian through these winding shelves to their study, which sat at the top of a curved staircase and managed to have a view over the rest of the room. The tables on the lower level were still covered with books- some opened, some stacked in messy piles- and scratchy noteboards with lists upon lists of foreign symbols.
The study was, somehow, worse.
“Please, take a seat where you can Guardian this will take some time to open,” said the dismissive Marcus. Even he had to shuffle through some precarious piles to reach his fluffy chair behind the lone desk in the room where he started rooting through the drawers.
Isibeil planted herself on top of some interlocked leather bounds, apparently used to the mess. Ike wasn’t, and he definitely wasn’t sitting on any books, so he started clearing off one of the smaller and covered chairs in the room.
“Where’d you find the book?” asked Isibeil.
Ike just managed to sort out the seat and sit down when he came up with an answer. “Found it.”
“Found it where.”
“Upstairs.”
She looked away from the mysteriously appeared knife twirling in her hands to him. “Upstairs, and I cannot stress this possibly enough, where?”
Ike shrugged. “I don’t really know, some kind of bedroom? There was a nice painting on the wall, uh, lot of green, and I kicked a night table and-”
“So you didn’t get it from the Raveness?”
He could only look at her with his best face of confusion. Did she seriously think he would be giving them something that she’d entrusted him with? They really didn’t know Ike at all, which was a relief considering how much they did know, but was still some sort of… What? Advantage? Ike wasn’t playing a game over the heads of these strangers and detested the idea of sitting here talking circles around each other when obviously they were much more open about information then anyone else in the palace had been.
So he leaned forward in his chair and asked directly: “How did you two find out about the Palace? I mean, not doubting the ‘university’ or whatever but, this place isn’t, you know, public. I still don’t even know where we are. Not in a grand scheme kind of way, on a map, how far from home, all that.”
Ike’s voice began to tremble and taper off but obviously his little confrontation had worked. The both of them bristled.
“Well, we sort of assumed…”
“That it was you,” finished Isibeil.
Ike shook his head in response and watched the two of them. They shared a look of mutual concern, which did not begin to match the feeling boiling in Ike’s chest. Someone at the monastery had let out the secret of the Black Palace to the Crows, the Arcani, these Scholars and somehow even those Marcusi folks. Ike had an assumption they hitched a ride with Donnahais from the way they mentioned the journey, but even he must have had a hint from someone else. Who? Ike didn’t even want to start working on that question, too many unknowns, too many people he had wanted to trust at Cadeloch.
So he focused on the book again. “Is it open?”
Marcus briefly collected himself and then stuck his thumb into a jar of something waxy. He rubbed the binding of the book, touched the rune with his middle finger and silently whispered something.
More likely than not Ike was watching him commit to a ritual. Not the kinds of the shamans, more like a key. Anybody could mess with the binding of a rune or spell once it had been placed in the world, so long as you had the knowhow and tricks, which apparently Marcus did. It would have made him a rich man, Ike assumed, if this University cared so much about the value of such a skill.
Then the front cover flipped itself open with a pop. Marcus smiled, and both Isibeil and Ike crowded around his shoulders to read along with him.
“Now, my friends, what we are seeing is quite the artifact,” Marcus said, flipping through the early and blank pages with extreme care and showmans dramatic effect. “Notice the tinge of the pages? And it seems-”
He stopped mid-sentence, smiling frozen his lips at the first page with written words. There was no ink on the page. Just the smudged lines of brown, a very simple phrase painted in blood. IGNORE THE CALL, TURN AWAY.
Well. Ike was not ashamed to admit his stomach sank even before reading those words, and then proceeded to do a somersault after five words.
This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.
He stepped away from the table and over to the railing looking down at the library, guided more by his feet then his mind. Ike had never been so good at following orders as in that moment. Very briefly, he was curious to turn back and read whatever else was in that book, but would it have been worth it? Not likely. Then he became nervous. Call? What Call? Where was Nerinai now, and wouldn’t that message have been meant for her?
The sudden appearance of Isibeil by his side did nothing to calm his nerves. Did she do anything without looking like a menace? He wouldn’t be surprised if her teeth were sharpened to points and half her body was covered in knives.
“Let me guess.” She whispered now, leaning over the railing but not in a relaxing way. “You lost her?”
“Is it so obvious?”
“Incredibly.”
Ike could only sigh. That probably wasn’t the end of the world, as he assumed pretty much everyone knew at least that much by now. Who would bother dragging around Ike, idiot of the century?
“If it’s any consolation I find myself in a- similar- situation.” Ike turned to face Isibeil, who’s expression was stone cold. “Marcus is my charge,” she explained, as if that explained so very much.
It did, in a way. No wonder she was a natural with that sword. Slowly Ike started to put together a picture of what her life must be like, being the guardian to a man who reads books all day. It wasn’t exactly a dangerous job. Clearly she was more dangerous than a room of Ikes combined, which meant that it was definitely a dangerous job.
“At least your charge is still here, right? You haven’t exactly failed.”
“And neither have you,” she retorted. She glanced at Ike, grimaced, then reached to her left hip and drew out a knife. Ike recoiled just before seeing that her hand was on the blade, pointing out the handle towards him. He had no doubt she could still kill him very quickly that way, but a gift was a gift.
“Take it,” she barked when he hesitated, so he did. Grabbed the knife and fiddled with it in his hands. “You’re not done until you’re certain the Raveness is a corpse. Even then you’ve a responsibility to avenge her death tenfold. That’s what I was told, anyways.”
She pushed off the railing and slid back into the room like a gray leaf on the wind, leaving Ike alone with this sudden fire lit in his gut. Frankly he didn’t appreciate that. Who was she to walk over to him, deliver such a rousing speech with so little words, then walk away? And the knife. Shame!
Soon enough he found himself following her back into the study and over to the desk where Marcus was still flipping through pages. His expression had shifted to a stern attention, as stalwart as the black walls of Cadeloch.
“What else? Is in the book, I mean. I mean, it’s not just a warning, right?”
“No,” Marcus answered, not breaking focus. “There’s more. It’s a journal.”
Ike pulled the chair closer to the desk and settled down inside, then moved himself to the edge and leaned over. He was still worried about what else could possibly be written in the mystery book.
The room was silent for a while as Marcus flipped through the pages, occasionally scribbling notes onto a pad by his left arm. The silence was killing Ike. How much had this person had to write about, seriously?
Then, finally, Marcus began to speak.
“It is the journal of a Raveness. The last, to be clear, whose name was Cerian. Her Guardian was a fellow named Tomas, sounds like quite the gentleman, very chivalrous. There is a note mentioning the Order, but I cannot be certain it means the Arcani.”
So, leagues past the current Guardian. He could have simply spat in Ike’s face and called it a day.
“The journal starts after they leave the Black Monastery. Really you people enjoy that color far too much. She recalls the magic to get here, all the hoops they ran through simply to make it here. Quite a ritual, hm? And then it continues into very little of note, just the two of them exploring the Palace together and searching for the seals….”
Ike ceased to pay attention. His own worries and anxieties were beginning to pile up on themselves in his head, drowning out any useful information. By faith, Nerinai had been right to want Ike gone. Look at how great all his predecessors had been, and who was he to them? A mud boy. Just a peasant who nearly died, got his ass saved and played like a fiddle for a priest's traditions. He hadn’t a single use in this damned palace.
“Guardian?” He looked up at his title, and immediately wished he hadn’t. Somehow the creases in Marcus’s face deepened, and now all his worry was turned on Ike.
“Uh, sorry. I think I missed that. What?”
“The book mentions, ah, I think you should just read.” He stood up and handed the journal over the desk, a feather sticking out of the designated page to read.
As my duties come to an end, I worry. He tells me I shouldn’t. He tells me everything is as it should be. The Guardian's blood is meant to be spilt from birth, but must it be Tomas? He tells me yes. He tells me so much and I must listen for I no longer know how to work my hands without Him. Tomas knows. Has known, since the start, for I could not bear the secret to keep. How could I? Stupid man, he is so utterly selfish. Thinks his death here would be an honor and wishes to keep all his glory for himself. He tells me that's not true. He tells me that I know how to seal the gate, and Tomas is simply a stone for me to step on. Damn the ancients, their rituals, their pride and insecurity having led me here, but also thank them. Thank them for bringing me the hope of a thousand thousand people on this blighted earth.
He tells me I am strong for that.
Ike closed the book after that last line. There wasn’t much else he needed to read, really. He wasn’t relieved, or dramatically upset. The others seemed to be expecting that from him.
“Well. Appreciate the help, I, er, think I should get some rest. I’ve been out of the room too long anyways. Nerinai will be back soon.”
“And do you think that’s such a good idea, Guardian?”
Ike got up to leave. He really wasn’t sure what he’d expected to find in the book, but mission accomplished right? Or not. Apparently Nerinai already knew everything inside. Apparently, she knew from the start why she brought Ike here.
“Guardian,” said Marcus, stepping between him and the door. “Seriously consider your options. While Cerian sounds much more… off the handle, then your Raveness, she could just be the next step. We know so little about what happens here. Please do not charge yourself recklessly into an unnecessary death.”
Unnecessary death. Maybe Ike was a necessary death, and they were just too friendly to see that. Or, perhaps, not quite as meaningless to the world.
He sidestepped Marcus and quickly made his way down the steps, calling behind him: “Thanks again! See you, maybe!”