“Yes, leave me, you hounds! Go! Follow your chosen leader, and find the sword if you can!” Quentin called after them. The huge door boomed shut behind them, and the sound filled the near-empty throne room like the crack of doom, or the axe falling upon the head of a deposed King.
A young Curatak girl cleared away the dishes from the women’s midday meal while Esme, Bria, and Alinea talked with Morwenna, Elder Jollen’s wife. Over their meal the conversation had touched upon the continuing work of the Curatak at Dekra, and the progress being made in restoring the ruined city once more to glory.
Esme said little, but found the talk fascinating. She listened intently and turned her eyes this way and that over the city from the balcony where they sat. Yes, she could almost imagine what it had been like, for out of the jumble of stones and pillars there rose wonderful buildings under the hands of skilled masons and carpenters who worked from ancient drawings found in the great Ariga library.
“You must see the library,” Morwenna was saying. “I am certain you would find it interesting.”
“I would very much like to see it,” replied Esme at once. “All that I have seen of this magnificent city enthralls me.”
“If you would like to go there now, I would be most happy to show you.”
Before Bria could reply Esme said, “Oh, would you? I can think of nothing I would rather do!”
“Yes,” agreed Bria. “I think I would like to see it once again.” She made to rise, but Esme was already on her feet. “You and I must hurry, Morwenna,” laughed Bria, “or Esme will be the one to guide us!”
They started off together, walking along the wide winding cobbled streets of Dekra. Grass grew thick and green between the stones, and moss roses of pink and yellow poked up through chinks in the paving. Blue-feathered birds hopped along the tile rooftops, or flitted from street to eaves as the ladies passed.
“Is the library as large as men say it is?” asked Esme. They had turned and passed beneath a standing arch which stood before a narrow courtyard lined with doorways opening onto a common area dotted with neatly pruned trees and small stone benches.
“That you must decide for yourself,” replied Morwenna. “I do not know what men say of the Ariga library, but the Ariga were very fond of books and were great scholars.” She waved her hand to include the whole courtyard. “There are thousands of books here.”
Esme blinked and looked around. “Here? Where? I see no building capable of holding even a hundred books, let alone thousands.”
Morwenna smiled and Bria explained, “You are standing on the library, Esme. It is underground.”
“The entrance is there.” Morwenna pointed across the courtyard to a wide arched doorway between two slim poplars standing guard before it. They crossed the commons and entered a great circular room of glistening white marble. On the walls were murals of imposing robed figures who watched the visitors with large, dark, serious eyes. “These we believe are some of the more renowned Ariga leaders, or perhaps the curators of the library.”
“Where is the entrance?”
“Beneath that arch,” said Morwenna. “Come.” She led them to where the marble steps descended into the underground chamber and pointed into the darkness. “There it is. Esme, would you like to lead the way?”
Esme peered doubtfully into the darkened stairwell, but gamely placed her foot on the first step. Instantly the stairs were lit from either side. “Oh!” she cried in surprise.
“Mine was the same reaction when Quentin showed me,” laughed Bria. “It does seem most magical.”
“Indeed!” called Esme, already springing down the steps to the chamber beyond.
When the Queen and Morwenna caught up with Esme, she was standing at the bottom of the stairs, gazing with open mouth at row upon row of towering shelves, each shelf bearing the weight of dozens of scrolls. Young men moved between the shelves with armloads of books, taking scrolls from among the shelves, or replacing them.
“These are our scholars,” explained Morwenna. “We are translating the books. All we have learned about the Most High we owe to our scholars. The teachings of the Ariga are contained in the books.”
“They are priests, then, your scholars?”
“Yes, but not the way you mean, Lady Esme. The Ariga believed, and so do we, that the God Most High dwelt among his people and permeated all of life with his presence. Therefore there was no need for a separate priesthood-each man could be his own priest.”
Esme cocked her head in an attitude of puzzlement. “That must be very confusing.”
“Not at all! Though I will admit that it does require men to take responsibility for learning the ways of the god and living before him accordingly. This is why we have elders, to help us and instruct us and lead our worship of the Most High, Whist Orren.”
The three began to walk along the rows of shelves in the immense underground chamber. Esme had expected a dark and musty dungeonlike place, and was surprised to discover how dry and pleasant the immense library was. As the other two talked, she wandered alone among the books, stopping now and then to finger an interesting scroll, or to try to make out the words written on the hanging ribbon that identified each one. The words, though she could not read them, charmed and fascinated her, so gracefully were they written.
She came to a nook lined with more honeycombed shelves containing extremely large scrolls rolled in fine red leather. A low wooden bench sat within the nook; so Esme, feeling herself invited, stepped in and withdrew one of the bound scrolls and settled herself on the bench to unroll it.
She could still hear Bria and Morwenna talking in low tones nearby, so she thought she would take a quick look at the book for curiosity’s sake. It was bound with a leather thong, which she untied; then she carefully drew off the cover to reveal a fine white parchment, yellowed at the edges with age, but undamaged for its years. With trembling fingers Esme took up the carven wooden knob at the end of the rod and began to unroll the scroll. She held her breath, for there before her eyes were the most beautiful drawings she had ever seen.
The drawings, she guessed, were illustrations taken from the accompanying text, for beneath each was a double column of the wonderful Ariga script. Each illustration had been rendered in delicate colored inks, the colors scarcely faded since the artist had dipped his brush to them long ago. There were exquisite renderings of tiny colored birds and forest creatures, depictions of everyday life in the Dekra streets, a long scene of a river alive with fish of many different kinds, and quaint little boats with fishermen in them trying to catch the creatures with nets, and many other delightful images.
Esme gazed at the scroll in rapt wonder, feeling as if she were a child once again and had been given a rare and costly gift of a book from a far-off land. As a little girl growing up on her father’s house, she had had many picture books which she loved dearly and pestered her nurses to read to her constantly. At this moment she entered once again into that special time. Her surroundings faded from view, and she became once more the little girl transported to a distant time and place.
THIRTY-FIVE
WHEN QUENTIN returned to his apartments, he found Oswald the Younger waiting for him in the antechamber. One glance at his servant’s deathly pallor told him that some dire event had overtaken them which he now must hear.
“Well, what is it?” the King demanded. Theido entered behind him at that moment and Oswald, relieved not to have to deal with his foul-humored monarch alone, breathed more easily. He shot a worried glance at the gaunt knight, who returned it with a nod as if to say “proceed.”