Empire

  And then Tanit would be set loose on the remains, making them burn, smiling peacefully as flames of many colors licked at the flesh, ultimately turning it all to ash, including the fragments of bone.

  These, then, were the Gifted.

  “What about Dessa?” asked Syl.

  “I don’t think Dessa’s quite as powerful. She’s like me, really. Just a clouder, only more advanced—she often has lessons alone with a tutor too. And you know about Xaron and Mila—they move things with their minds—but they have another skill too, when they stand together, touching each other.”

  She told Syl about the bloody pinpricks, but Syl couldn’t look more horrified than she already did. She merely shook her head, dazed.

  “And Iria?”

  “Well, Iria is clairvoyant. That’s a bit of a game we play in class, actually: we’ll give her something that belongs to another Novice, and she’ll tell us who it is, and all their little secrets. It can be embarrassing, which is why we only do it now with possessions belonging to non-Gifteds.”

  “Have you given her anything of mine?” asked Syl.

  “No!” said Ani. “I wouldn’t do that to you, ever.”

  But Syl carefully logged this piece of information, and determined to lock her room when she was away from it. She didn’t want Iria nosing around, not if she could sniff out secrets merely by touching an item owned by another.

  “How good is Iria?”

  “Generally very good, but she struggles with Tanit. Like I said, though, she is talented with objects. If she could be trusted, she might be able to tell us something by touching Elda’s locket.”

  “But she can’t be trusted, can she?” said Syl. “None of them can.”

  Ani handed the locket back to Syl, who slipped the cord over her head.

  “But I don’t understand why, Syl,” said Ani. “Why would Sarea do something like that to Elda? She’s banned from hurting anyone within the order. All of the Gifted are.”

  “A ban?” Syl laughed. “Fat lot of good it does. I watched them hurt Elda, and they tried to do the same to me.”

  “You know what I mean. The odd rash or minor burn is hardly on the same scale as crushing bones, and it’s a big step from bullying to murder.”

  “Is it?” asked Syl. “Is it really?”

  Ani didn’t answer.

  “Look,” said Syl, “all I can think is that Sarea—and I guess Tanit too, because there’s no way Sarea would do anything so extreme without Tanit’s approval—found out that Elda was a spy. Maybe they were torturing her and, I don’t know, perhaps she tried to escape and ran out into the darkness.”

  “No, don’t you see? If Tanit found out Elda was a spy, she’d go straight to Thona, or even Oriel,” protested Ani. “Tanit’s devoted to the Sisterhood, Syl. They all are. They worship Syrene. Tanit would report it so that the Sisters could take appropriate action. She wouldn’t act alone. She’s not like that.”

  And suddenly it started to make sense.

  “Maybe she did report it,” said Syl. “Maybe this was what the Sisters deemed to be appropriate action, Ani. Maybe it was one of the Senior Sisters who issued the order.”

  Ani opened her mouth to speak, but Syl cut across her, stabbing at the air with a pointed finger, her voice growing more strident with each word, her breath catching in her throat as the pieces fell into place.

  “Do you really think the Nairene Sisterhood is training you all up in some great act of philanthropy? Don’t forget who is behind the project: Syrene, always Syrene. Thona answers to Oriel and Oriel answers to Syrene. Syrene is the one who was so interested in you and your powers. Syrene singled you out, and now you’re honing your skills, along with those other bitches, on her orders. You’re all Syrene’s ‘special project.’ But what does she plan to do with you all? Whatever it is, it isn’t pretty, not from where I’m standing.”

  Ani was crying now.

  “Please, Syl, stop! Okay, so some of the Gifted might have hurt Elda, but you hate all of the Sisterhood. You hated them even before this happened. You’re just using this as an excuse to turn me against them. There’s goodness in the Sisterhood too.”

  “Oh, do you think so?” said Syl. “Yet you don’t find it strange that they never try to teach you anything good or kind? They want you to crush bones, to burn, to cause disease. They encourage that, but surely, surely your powers could work the other way too?”

  This had only just occurred to Syl, and she ran with it: “Couldn’t they teach you to make people feel better, to cure illness, to mend bones, to take pain away instead of inflicting it? No, they have no interest in making you compassionate, Ani, just dangerous.”

  Ani sniffed unhappily.

  “Stop it!” snapped Syl. “Don’t you dare cry anymore. Just don’t. They’re training you so they can use you, and clearly what they intend to use you for isn’t exactly peace, love, and harmony, now, is it?”

  “No.” One small word, one small shake of the head.

  “I think Syrene’s building her own private army, Ani, an army no one will see coming. Just girls in robes. Can you imagine what you could all do together, if let loose? Can you imagine the destruction you could cause?”

  Syl wanted to vomit just thinking about it.

  Now Ani spoke, and her voice trembled, but her words were strong, her face fierce.

  “But I’m not a puppet, Syl. I may not be as clever as you, but I do have a mind of my own. Have you forgotten who I am? I’m your friend, I’m still Ani. I would never be part of that. Never. I’ll die before that happens.”

  • • •

  They sat on the couch in silence. The words had run dry. Each was lost in her own thoughts, until the cold rising of Illyr’s second sun dazzled them through the window.

  “Right then,” said Syl. “You know as much as I do now”—well, almost, she thought to herself, guiltily remembering the keys—“so I’d better get going to the library.”

  “No, don’t go yet, Syl,” said Ani, holding Syl’s arm. “It’ll be too obvious at this time of day. The libraries will be empty this early on, and you’ll be the only one logged in searching for one weird word. If it does mean anything, they’ll be onto you. Let’s do it after classes. We’ll do it together.”

  Syl had to smile despite her friend’s tearstained face.

  “I never, ever thought that Ani Cienda would be offering to help me with my homework,” she said. “It’s a miracle.”

  “Shut up, Syl, before I change my mind.”

  CHAPTER 32

  The many libraries in the Marque were as daunting as they were inspiring, with shelves of books stretching as high as the vaulted ceilings in the hollowed rocks and stone cathedrals of Avila Minor, the ceilings themselves often covered in even more shelving, hanging above like square bells attached to chains in the rafters. The least-used volumes stored up here could be winched down on request via an ancient pulley system. It was rare that they were asked for, though, for the chains screamed and rattled, and those waiting below feared the entire system might collapse on them at any moment. As much as the Sisterhood revered books, they still had no desire to be crushed to death by an avalanche of them.

  Even the main Novice library in the Twelfth Realm was a thing to behold, serving not just as a small but impressive museum of literature from across the known universe, but also a prime example of design genius. Behind the visible shelves on the walls were hidden more shelves, and behind these even more shelves, opening up like the pages of a huge, solid book.

  On the main floor, towers of glass-doored cabinets held volumes that couldn’t be shelved: words carved on stones and tablets, written on scrolls of papyrus, scratched onto chunks of carefully marked bark; documents chiseled into crystals as long as an arm, and forged onto sheets of metal; records tooled onto rolls of tough hide and softest leather; and even words almo
st invisibly imprinted on fragile, clear membranes from distant planets, only making any sense when held up to the light so that the shadows of the lettering stretched onto the floor.

  One of Syl’s and Ani’s favorite cabinets was filled with the jewel-like remains of long-dead insects from a distant world, balanced delicately on pinheads, their sparkling wings splayed open to reveal the mysterious, minuscule messages set down like a sprinkling of talc on the tiny glittering scales, and only readable through the high-powered magnifying glass that hung on a chain from the locked doors. Even then, they made no sense at all, and the civilization that had created them was long gone.

  “Spells,” said the old librarian Onwyn, when Syl had asked. “It’s all superstition, hocus-pocus, and spells, but still in the Nairene Sisterhood we understand that all knowledge is illuminating. Yes, young ones, even such primitive notions merely serve to cast the perfect truth in better relief.”

  Syl had pressed her on what this might mean, but instead of answers, Onwyn had simply swept her frail arms wide, indicating the books.

  “Inside books you will find all the answers,” she declared.

  “But what if we don’t know the questions?” Syl had responded, and Onwyn had looked at her oddly, her head cocked to one side, and thereafter a cautious friendship had begun between the old Sister and the reluctant Novice.

  But today Syl and Ani bypassed the otherworldly butterflies, the skins, and the crystals, for they were looking for just one thing: a reference to Archaeon. First they typed it into the computerized index system, hoping to find a cross-reference, but that drew a blank. This was hardly surprising since the constant influx of material meant the catalogs were always somewhat out-of-date, especially here in the Novice library, where it fell to the youngest and least experienced to maintain them.

  Of course, Onwyn would have known where to look, but Syl wasn’t willing to entrust Elda’s secret to anyone from the Sisterhood, not even doddering Onwyn.

  Instead, Syl and Ani moved to the rear of the library, where they pored over the big old reference books—the Illyri equivalent of encyclopedias—which dated back many centuries, and were as heavy and unwieldy as boulders. Some covered geography, both the terrestrial study of various explored planets and the mapping of the heavens above. Vast volumes cataloged notable Illyri, or famous battles, or the botany of the known worlds in microscopic detail, or the sciences, or history since the beginning of time. The lists were alphabetical, which made the task somewhat easier, but still the volumes piled up around them like a fortress. Nobody asked what the Earthborn Novices were searching for, or why. Here the pursuit of knowledge was expected, and classes had finished, so the library was flooded with eager Novices anxious to prove their worthiness and dedication. Asking why a Nairene Novice might be reading would be like asking a trainee chef why she was studying a recipe: because it would be poor form not to.

  • • •

  Hours later, Ani closed her latest book—a plodding tome on the bacteria, fungi, and algae of the Galatean planetary system—with a determined thump.

  “Syl,” she said, “this is not working. We don’t even know what we’re looking for, or if it even exists. I’m fed up.”

  Syl mumbled something inaudible and continued studying her own bulky book, entitled Celestial Geography, which listed all the asteroids, planets, stars, systems, nebulae, and galaxies in the known universe, along with a short description of each. It was the latest imprint, so thick that she had to stand up to see it comfortably.

  “Ani, could you pass me an earlier edition of this please?” she said, still not looking up. With a small wail, Ani flopped face-first onto the table, waving her arms dramatically.

  “Why, Syl? Can’t we just go now?”

  “Please. It’ll take just a second.”

  Ani stomped over to the shelf, clattered up the ladder, and took down an older edition on celestial geography. She dumped it in front of Syl then sat down again, folding her arms across her chest defiantly. Syl leafed quickly through it, then she stopped and jabbed at an entry.

  “There!” she said.

  Ani sat up. “Did you find it?”

  “No—but here’s Ashkyll-2. I knew it!”

  “What? Actually, forget it—I’m not even going to ask what you’re talking about.”

  Syl ignored her, and carefully marked the page before dragging down another volume, which was older still. She opened that one too, flipped through the alphabetized list, and then looked up, grinning.

  “Right. Let me explain,” she said, pretending she hadn’t heard Ani’s theatrical sigh. “In the latest edition of Celestial Geography, they mention a planet known as Ashkyll-3. But there’s no Ashkyll-2 or Ashkyll-1, which seems a bit odd.”

  “How so?”

  “Because why would they name a planet number three if there was no two or one? Anyway, so I looked in the older edition you gave me, and surprise surprise, there it is”—she opened the book to her marker—“Ashkyll-2! Why would it be in an earlier edition, and not a later one?”

  Ani shrugged. “Maybe it died?”

  “Planets don’t die, Ani—they’re not stars. And then in the earlier edition there actually is a listing for Ashkyll-1, and for both the other Ashkylls as well.”

  “I don’t get it. What are you trying to say?”

  “There’s a page missing, Ani, I’m sure of it. In every volume. Look—the older volume goes from Arbia to Ashkyll-1, yet this newer one goes from Arbia to Ashkyll-2, with no mention at all of Ashkyll-1. Then this third one has both Arbia and a planet that’s not in the others at all, called Arcdarrit, and then it leaps straight to Ashkyll-3.”

  “But what has that got to do with Archaeon?” asked Ani, baffled.

  “Well, think about it; they’re the planets that would be listed on either side of Archaeon in alphabetical order, if Archaeon was originally included in these books. So if you took out the page referring to Archaeon, chances are you’d also lose a few references that were on the same page, or overlapped, like Arcdarrit, and Ashkyll-1. You see?”

  Ani looked at the page, flipping it backward and forward lightly, then she glanced up, pursing her lips as she considered it. Frowning, she turned to the other books on the shelf beside them, climbing even higher up the ladder and taking down the oldest volume she could find. Syl watched in silence as Ani thumbed through it.

  “A for Arbia, A for Arcdarritt . . .”

  She looked at the next page then back again. Then she spoke in a whisper.

  “And then A for Ashkyll-3. Oh my . . .”

  “Exactly!” said Syl. “And we’d never have noticed that those planets were missing if we hadn’t seen them in the other volumes. Archaeon would fit right between Arcdarritt and Ashkyll-1!”

  The friends stared at each other, wide-eyed. Ani bit her lip.

  “What now?” she said in a whisper.

  “I don’t know but, just to add to the weirdness, you remember that book I was reading, The Interplanetary Pioneers—the one about the early explorations?”

  “Vaguely.”

  “Well, the last chapter of that is missing entirely. When I looked next to the spine I could just make out where the pages had been sliced out.”

  “Why would someone do that?”

  “Well, at first I thought someone was just too lazy to copy them down, so tore them out, that it was just stupid vandalism, but now, looking at these books”—she waved a hand at the volumes splayed before them—“I’m wondering if it’s more than that, if there’s some sort of censorship going on.”

  Ani nodded thoughtfully.

  “So what we need to do to test this theory of yours is get hold of another copy of that book, Inter-whatever-it’s-called. If both are missing the same pages, then we know there’s something very odd happening.”

  “Good thinking. And we know the Marque has lots
of libraries, and lots of books, and that there are multiple copies of the non-rare books. I found The Interplanetary Pioneers forgotten behind a shelf where it shouldn’t be, but maybe there are more, perhaps even right here. So what if we were to ask . . .”

  “Onwyn,” they both said together.

  • • •

  After they’d replaced the reference books Ani went to find Onwyn alone, for Syl was worried that if she asked and the old librarian checked on the computer system, she’d see that it was Syl who had withdrawn the book in the first place.

  “I beg your pardon, Sister Onwyn,” said Ani, all big-eyed innocence and old-fashioned manners, while Syl watched from a distance.

  “Yes, Novice?” said Onwyn, not unkindly.

  “I’m looking for a book and I was hoping you could help me?”

  “Of course. What is it you seek?”

  “Why, a volume that was recommended to me by a friend: The Interplanetary Pioneers, I think it was.”

  Onwyn’s face split into a wide smile, revealing her old, peglike teeth yellowed between her thin lips.

  “Now, that’s a title I haven’t thought about in years!” she said. “Excellent choice, my dear. It’s a wonderful book, but I’m afraid it rather fell out of fashion when the explorations moved further afield. I’m most delighted it’s being sought out again.”

  She hobbled over to the computer, talking partly to herself: “Now at one stage we had four copies, I believe, but we gave one of everything to the new library in the Seventh Realm. Well, hardly new anymore. Why, it must be sixty years since it was constructed. So that would leave three . . .”

  She tapped slowly on the screen, clearly not entirely at ease with the modern system.

  “Yes,” she said finally, “we have three, but one has been checked out by a, er, Syl Hellais, so there should be two remaining.”

  “Syl is the friend who recommended it, Sister,” said Ani.

  “I know Syl. She has excellent taste”—Onwyn beamed—“but do tell her it’s overdue. Right, follow me.”