Chapter Twenty-Six
Dax was already knocking on the door. He presented his letter to the man in all gray who answered it. After a brief discussion, they were allowed inside, as simple as that.
Over his shoulder, Dax flashed her a smile. His letter had worked. He’d gotten them in. She had the sense this place was easy to enter, harder to leave. She followed Dax in and wished she were on the open sea.
The entry room was sparse and gray, with no decorations on the wall, only a desk and a row of uncomfortable-looking chairs lining the side. Yep, no humor or joy allowed here.
Standing in front of the desk with his hands clasped behind his back, Dax explained they were here to speak with Rijes Velk, head of the Great Library of Alyssium, on behalf of the Music Conservatory of Alyssium, blah, blah, blah.
It was jarring to watch. He didn’t seem like the Dax she knew. As he talked, Marin studied him and tried to figure out why he seemed so different here than he did when he was on board Silver out on the waves.
It was his posture, she decided—he held himself stiff and straight, his head angled up so that his horns caught the gleam of the light from the sconces.
He looked official. Regal, even. Not at all like the relaxed Dax who played his tri-lute on the bow of her sailboat.
He’s a different person here in Alyssium.
She wondered which was the real him, Dax or Daxicend.
Or maybe they were both him. She felt a smile tug at her lips and suppressed it.
Usually, he was so open and joyful that he came across as guileless.
But here he was, full of so much smooth confidence.
She liked seeing it—he’d spent so much of his life pleasing his parents, his mentors, and his classmates; it was nice to see him be forceful. I didn’t know he had it in him.
As soon as Dax finished his speech, the official explained that it might not be possible to see Rijes Velk immediately. There were approvals that needed to be sought, schedules that needed to be consulted, et cetera. He literally said “et cetera,” which Marin didn’t think anyone ever did.
“We’ll wait,” Dax told the man, as if he had all the time in the world. He didn’t move toward the chairs, and so neither did Marin. She pressed her lips together hard so that the official wouldn’t guess how surprised and proud she was of Dax’s strength.
If only he’d stand up for himself with this much determination …
She didn’t move or change expression.
Unsettled, the man in gray darted his eyes to Marin then back to Dax—apparently, that wasn’t the response he’d expected. At last, he ducked out of the room through the sole door. It closed behind him with a heavy thud, louder than an ordinary door.
“Chances are they’ll make us wait awhile,” Dax told Marin in a soft voice. “It’s a common power play. Don’t show any irritation.”
How fun. “The sea doesn’t play games like this.
If she wants you to go away, she just drowns you.
” She stood next to him and first clasped her hands behind her like Dax, then decided it looked as if she were mocking him and let her arms dangle by her side, then felt self-conscious and crossed her arms.
“You look irritated,” Dax told her.
“I am irritated, but not at you—you’re great.
You were great, just now,” Marin said. “Why won’t anyone tell us why they’re holding Rijes Velk?
” Sure, she didn’t know what the head librarian may or may not have done to land here in this austere building, but the way the whole city felt on edge …
She didn’t like any of it, and she wished again that they were out on the water, with the waves beneath them and the wind in their sails.
She’d rather face another magic storm than whatever political or legal snarl lay on the other side of that door.
“It feels less like justice and more like someone is trying to get rid of a mess by sweeping it belowdecks.”
“I think,” Dax said unhappily, looking at the closed door, “that may be exactly what they’re trying to do.”
Marin paced.
Dax whistled, stopped whistling, then whistled again.
Objectively not that long, but subjectively hours later, the door opened again, and a new and very harried-looking man scurried through.
Like the other official, he wore gray, but she could tell that his was a finer fabric.
It was embroidered with symbols that she assumed had official meaning, and he wore a stiff box-shaped hat on top of slicked-down hair.
“I am Senira Erson, overseer of the Fourth Judicial Committee of Internal Affairs, at your service.”
Dax bowed his head. “Daxicend of the Music Conservatory of Alyssium at yours, and my colleague Mariner of Flicker. You read my letter of introduction from Grandmaster Vorac? It is imperative we be allowed to speak with Head Librarian Rijes Velk.”
Marin bowed her head like Dax had and said nothing.
“The letter was vague as to the reasoning,” Senira pried.
“The conservatory has an interest in her well-being, as well as the status of her case,” Dax said easily. “It’s my duty to ascertain that she is not in any distress or being treated unfairly.”
“Ah,” Senira said. “I assure you she is not.” He didn’t move.
Marin resisted the urge to shake him. Crossing her arms, she glared at him. It occurred to her that this was a good dynamic: Dax being the nice one, and her looking as if she were a few seconds away from pummeling whomever was irritating her.
Patiently, Dax said, “I am under instruction to determine this for myself, with Captain Mariner as an impartial witness, on behalf of the conservatory.” He smiled as if to say this was all routine, he wasn’t concerned, and this request should, of course, be accommodated.
“I did not know the conservatory had ties to the Great Library.” Clearly uncomfortable, Senira glanced at Marin. She obligingly glowered harder. She was aware that crossing her arms showed off her muscles. If she’d thought it would help to growl, she would have.
“The arts have always had a singularity of purpose,” Dax said. He did not elaborate, and Marin had to press her lips together hard to keep from laughing. There was so much pompous arrogance in the air exuded by both men that she could nearly smell it like a perfume.
Senira Erson, overseer of the Fourth Judicial Committee of Internal Affairs, studied them for a very long moment, and Dax kept his gaze steady and mild. Marin maintained her glare.
At last, Senira said, “Honored to receive you. If you’ll come this way, please.”
He led them through the door and down a windowless gray hallway.
Marin thought this whole place could be improved with some cheerful paint, but she guessed they wanted it stark and intimidating.
It didn’t quite feel like a prison—it was too clean and too quiet for that—but it didn’t feel like a place where anyone could relax and not watch every single word they said.
She was glad they’d left Ree with the boat.
She didn’t think this place would understand or appreciate a shrub who loved sea shanties and asked questions with all the charming innocence of … well, an innocent.
They were led up stairs and then another set of stairs and then another, all windowless, spiraled stairwells designed to leave you dizzy and disoriented.
Senira waited at the top, watching them, as if he expected them to be overwhelmed and panting.
Marin didn’t give him the satisfaction, and she was proud to see neither did Dax.
Another power play? Probably, but at least we didn’t lose.
He pulled out a ring of keys and opened the fourth door down another featureless gray hall. Inside, a woman in a simple burgundy robe stood. Rijes Velk.
“Visitors for you,” Senira said.
“Delightful,” Rijes said dryly. “More questions that I will not answer?”
“That’s up to you,” Senira said. “But these visitors come from the conservatory, not the provisional government.”
“Oh?”
Marin stepped forward into the light, and she saw Rijes’s eyes widen slightly as she recognized her, but she said nothing. Rijes studied Dax more carefully.
“I will give you privacy,” Senira said.
Rijes clarified, “He means he will be listening through the hole in the wall rather than staring at us while we speak.”
Senira sighed.
“If I am such a trial to you, you could allow me to leave,” Rijes said.
Again Marin had to struggle not to smile. She’d always liked Rijes Velk. It was good to see whatever had happened hadn’t broken her spirit.
“Not without the approval of my supervisors,” Senira said stiffly.
“They would dock my pay for insubordination, and I have a family to support. My deepest apologies.” He then stepped backward out the door and shut it behind him.
His footsteps retreated but only for about half a minute.
Marin heard another door open and didn’t doubt that Rijes was correct—he’d gone into the room next door to eavesdrop. She smirked.
“So polite and yet so unhelpful,” Rijes murmured.
Dax bowed to Rijes. “I am Dax.” He used his shortened name, Marin noticed.
She wondered if he preferred it, if he thought of Dax and Daxicend as two different people in two different kinds of settings.
She wondered which he considered the real him.
She knew which one she thought was, and she knew both Perri and Ree would agree.
It was fascinating that he had that other self within him. “And this is Captain Mariner.”
Stepping closer, Marin asked, “Are you okay?” She didn’t see any visible bruises, and Rijes stood without any sign of pain, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t hiding it.
“I’m locked in a room,” Rijes said crisply, “but I have not been mistreated.”
“Why are you in here?” Marin asked. “All we were told was that your location was ‘classified.’ Are you a prisoner?”