Chapter 14 #2
Alek’s eyes have narrowed. “And what did your parents do that they learned to read?”
My stomach knots. “I don’t see how their occupations are relevant to our mission.”
The scholar turns to fully face me, his jaw clenching. “You’re expecting us to trust you with—with everything. Even with Julita’s soul. Why wouldn’t we want to know exactly who we’re dealing with?”
I refrain from saying that I’d happily hand over Julita’s soul to any of them given the choice.
My voice comes out tart all the same. “I am not my parents.” As they made amply clear hundreds of times over.
“And it seems to me that I’m the one who’s risking far more here with people I have only a ghost’s word that I can trust. You already know more about me than I do about you! ”
Alek opens his mouth and closes it again. I can’t decipher what’s going on behind his penetrating gaze.
Julita gives a soft laugh. That set him straight.
Then he lifts his chin just slightly. “What do you want to know?”
I hadn’t actually expected him to offer himself up for examination. I hesitate, and one obvious question pops into my head. “What’s your gift?”
“What makes you assume I have one?”
I stare at him for a second. Asking for at least a small dedication gift is par for the course among nobles.
They can afford to lose a little of their bodies to gain power. Anything to gain a potential advantage in all their jockeying for prestige.
I’m not sure how to say any of that politely, though, so I settle for, “It seems like everyone here does.”
“Well, I’m not everyone.” Alek pivots back toward the shelves as if he’d rather not face my scrutiny.
His hand rises to the middle of his chest, where his godlen brand must be.
“I dedicated myself to Estera, of course. But I wanted to know that whatever I accomplished, I brought about through my own abilities and not because of a divine leg up.”
It’s true, Julita tells me. At least, that he doesn’t have a gift. We discussed all of our potential strengths when we first started meeting.
His commitment to relying on his own mortal abilities… is almost like my own. Other than the part where I do have a gift, just one I never asked for and that’s actually a curse.
I can’t help watching him for a little longer, taking in the staunch dedication that shows in every movement of his lean body.
Another question spills out of me. “What is it you’re hoping to accomplish?”
“At the moment, I’ll settle for preventing a second Great Retribution.”
The dismissal in his flat tone kills my curiosity. I yank my gaze to the next row of books.
Along that bookcase and on to the next, I skim the titles in search of anything to do with the history of several centuries past. Alek continues his own perusal without comment.
Then a book catches my eye with enough of a jolt for me to break the silence. “They’re not all in Silanian.”
Alek’s dry voice carries through the shelves from farther into the room. “No, most of us at the college know our Veldunian as well, and many have kept some fluency in Darium, if only for being able to access the records from when we were under the empire.”
“I expected that. Not folk tales in Woudish.” I flip through the pages and grin at the fanciful illustrations that decorate the pages between the curving script.
Alek appears at the end of the aisle I was wandering down. “You can recognize Woudish? What, were your parents immigrants from Woudland too?”
I chuckle. “No. I just—living on the streets, it pays to keep up with all the news you can. And a lot of the best news comes from merchants. There was a Woudish expatriate who did a fair bit of business with his former countrymen when they passed through the city, and I found a couple of old teaching volumes on the language among the cast-off texts I had access to. It meant I could listen in on more of his conversations.”
Alek is outright gaping at me now. “You taught yourself Woudish.”
“I mean, I wouldn’t say I’m exactly fluent. I can follow the gist of a conversation and fairly simple text. I wouldn’t attempt a legal treatise, but I’d imagine I could handle this.” I hold up the book of folk tales with a hopeful expression.
Alek stares at me for a moment longer. Then he shakes his head with a sputter of a laugh. “Go ahead and borrow that one too. Gods above. Other than me, I only know three students here who’ve bothered to pick that language up.”
“Different priorities.” I turn to the opposite shelves, resuming my real search. “I suppose it can’t be totally useless even to a noble, or you wouldn’t have bothered learning it.”
“I like to know everything I can. Which I suppose is about the same as your reasons.”
Alek lingers at the end of the aisle for a few moments longer. For just an instant, his presence feels almost friendly.
Then his mouth twists into a smile that’s bittersweet. “Julita probably thinks we’re both absurd. She didn’t even like bothering with Veldunian. But then, she could hold anyone’s attention without even needing to speak, so she hardly needed it.”
The tenderness in his voice is so potent it sends a shiver through my nerves even though it’s got nothing to do with me. The guy really was over the moon for my ghostly passenger.
Not that he ever would have talked about a street rat like me that way regardless. It hardly matters.
But when Julita responds with a giggle of wry amusement, my hackles rise of their own accord. Some of us do know the most useful things can’t be found in books. He’s done his best, though.
I have to think she never talked to Alek in such a patronizing way when she was alive, or his feelings wouldn’t have remained quite so fond.
Anya might be a vapid priss, but I don’t think her assessment of Julita is totally wrong. My uninvited guest did have a habit of charming people simply to get what she wants.
I’d rather not think about to what extent that might include me. I’m on this quest for my own benefit now—for reasons she couldn’t even guess at.
I tuck the Woudish folk tales under my arm alongside the Traveling Diaries and continue the search. Alek moves on to the next aisle over.
My head is starting to spin with all the titles I’ve taken in when the scholar lets out an exclamation of triumph. “If the answer’s anywhere, it’ll be in here.”
As he lugs the thick volume he’s found over to one of the room’s small desks, I hustle to join him. He flips through the yellowed pages, sucking his full lower lip under his teeth in concentration.
“What exactly are we looking for?” I ask, leaning over the desk next to him.
A faint whiff of a scent like mingled citrus and mint reaches my nose, both tart and cool. Fitting for the man himself.
Alek keeps paging through the book, his eyes narrowing in concentration. “From what I recall from past readings, the one time magical suppression was commonly used was in the old kingship trials.”
I frown. “The kingship trials?” That’s one bit of information I haven’t stumbled on myself.
He nods absently. “Before the Great Retribution and Darium’s imposing of their empire, Silana’s rulership wasn’t entirely hereditary.
When a king or queen died, their successor had to go through a series of challenges to prove themselves worthy to the people and the gods.
If they failed, others could step up to vie for the throne. ”
I raise my eyebrows. “That sounds like a fairer way of doing things than just handing it over to the next in line automatically. Why did they stop?”
“It was rather barbaric. Some of the trials could get quite… bloody, and sometimes perfectly good candidates weren’t able to take the crown because of injuries sustained. And I suppose it was simpler for Darium to control the monarchy when it was handled in a more straight-forward fashion.”
“Darium hasn’t ruled here in nearly a century,” I point out.
Alek hums thoughtfully. “There’s something to be said for simplicity of inheritance even for ourselves.
King Melchior did prove his worth by regaining our freedom from Emperor Vitus.
And the Melchioreks don’t have to pass on the crown to the next in line genetically.
They use their best judgment, and the country does just fine without any violent challenges. ”
I don’t know if I’d say that all of Silana is doing “just fine.” But then, who knows if the rulers who won the throne through bloody trials were any kinder to their poorest citizens?
Alek stops and trails his fingers across a particular page. The ink has faded, and the handwriting style—from before printing presses like Da’s had been invented—is more ornate than I’m used to, but I can read it well enough to determine that this page is talking about a feat of “might.”
“Here.” Alek taps a spot near the bottom of the page.
“For one particular challenge, they wanted to be sure the feat was accomplished through strength of will and body rather than anything magical. The prospective monarch ingested a specific herb… They call it “pipe fleece” here, but I’ve never heard of that plant before. ”
Pipe fleece. My spirits leap. The name is unfamiliar to me too, but it’s a start.
“It’s probably a common name, like some people call volhana ‘pig’s lip.’ You’ve never run into it before?”
Alek shakes his head. “It mustn’t have been used often—the herb or the name. But botany is far from my specialty. And we don’t have that many records that survived both the Great Retribution and the empire’s purges.”
I straighten up. “I might be able to find out more—maybe even get my hands on some of the stuff. There are people I can ask.”
“If you give me their names—”
I shoot him a pointed look. “I mean people who are a lot more likely to talk freely with someone on their level than with a noble. Let me handle this. It’s one thing I’m actually better equipped to do than any of you.”
I must have gained a small measure of respect from the scholar during our search, because he tips his head in acknowledgment rather than arguing.
Alek hefts the book in his slim arms. “Even if you can find it, we don’t know how effective it actually was or how we’d get it to the right people without interfering with the rest of the school too severely. But the others might have some—”
“Don’t mention it to the others yet,” I break in.
His gaze jerks to me. “Why not?”
Because I don’t want anyone else speculating about that particular goal of mine.
The answer I give out loud sounds feebler than I like. “You just said we have no idea if it’d work—and I don’t even know if I can find it. Better not to waste anyone’s time thinking about it until we’ve sorted the first part out, right?”
Alek studies me for a few beats longer than I’m totally comfortable with. I make myself hold his gaze.
His lips purse, and whatever warmth I caught a glimpse of vanishes behind his shuttered eyes. “Fine. But I expect to hear about it as soon as you’ve discovered anything.”
He strides onward, leaving me wondering how I’ve managed to offend him now. And just how much I should regret it.
I trail behind him. “Where are you going?”
“There’s one thing I wanted to double-check in regards to scourge sorcery practices. I have managed to find a few accounts of their rituals that were missed in more general volumes of—”
His voice cuts off abruptly. I hurry over to find him pawing through the books strewn haphazardly across a shelf.
“They’re gone,” he says.
“What?”
Alek glances over at me with an anxious gleam in his bright eyes. “All three of the books I set aside here that had some mention of scourge sorcery. Someone’s taken them.”
My heart sinks. “The librarians realized and sent them to be destroyed?” I venture.
Alek puts my darker suspicion into words. “Or I wasn’t the only person already aware of them... and the same people who murdered Julita set out to make it even harder for anyone to figure out what horrors they’re committing.”