Chapter Twenty-Seven #2
It was a good question. Not one that Marin would have felt comfortable asking—it was a very personal question.
She’d seen how passionate Rijes Velk was about the library and about protecting both her books and her librarians.
She thought of Terlu, the former statue, and the lengths to which Rijes had gone to save her.
“The latest emperor was afraid,” Rijes said, “and his fear spread to and was stoked by the people he surrounded himself with. They saw themselves as separate from the people of the Crescent Islands, better than. Over time, this false perception of difference grew, and they began to see the people as the enemy. So they tightened their grip. You can see it in the laws they passed. At their core, their actions stem from a very human belief that if you can control everything, you can keep death at bay—a belief that you can control your destiny by controlling all around you.”
Marin snorted.
With a nod to her, Rijes said, “Sailors know this is nonsense better than anyone.”
“The wind, the waves, the world—you can’t control them,” Marin said. “We sail on only by the grace of luck.” She glanced at Ree. “Skill helps. Knowledge too. But in the end, the sea decides whether we live or die.”
Looking out at the waves, Rijes said, “Emperors don’t sail, and so they forget that.
They think they can control the currents of time and the hearts of people, and they cannot.
The imperial government passed law after law to tighten their grip.
Access to spellbooks, history books, folktales became more and more restricted.
Only the right sort of people were allowed within the walls, and that…
” She sighed heavily. “I blame myself for not fighting it harder.”
“If you had, you wouldn’t have lasted as head librarian,” Marin pointed out. She knew about people who grasped for power, for control. On a far smaller scale than an emperor, Iovar had tried to tear her down the second he felt she was slipping from his grasp.
“Indeed,” Rijes said. “That was what I told myself.”
“So, what changed?” Ree asked. “Why don’t you want to continue being a librarian?”
Marin reminded him, “It’s not safe for her to go back.”
Rijes held up her hand. “It is not only that. My time there … It’s done. Now it will be up to new librarians to carry the work forward, to hopefully reshape the Great Library into what it was supposed to be: a resource for the world.”
He asked again, “But what changed?”
“I grew older,” Rijes said. “I’m tired.”
Ree snorted.
It sounded like a reasonable answer to Marin. Her parents loved the sea, but they couldn’t sail as widely or wildly as they used to. “Ree,” she said warningly.
Rijes waved her hand to show she wasn’t offended.
“The revolution. That was what changed everything for me, as well as for the empire. You know that at the height of the chaos, the Great Library burned, yes? It is widely believed that this was simply the result of violence spun out of control. Rage surged through the populace, and they attacked everything that was a symbol of what they’d been denied, a symbol of the power of the empire. ”
That was exactly what Marin had assumed. She’d imagined they saw the opulence of the library, decided it was a symbol of what they were denied, and attacked.
“The truth is that it wasn’t the revolutionaries who set fire to the Great Library either by accident or through overzealous enthusiasm,” Rijes said.
“No. It was the imperial forces, acting deliberately. The emperor with his advisors and generals had seen unrest brewing, and they made a plan, preparing for the worst. Part of this plan included removing anything that would give power to the revolutionaries. If the worst happened and the emperor fell, the imperials wanted the revolutionaries to fail. And so the Great Library was their target.”
Marin stared at her instead of the sails.
“Books are power,” Rijes said, “and they didn’t want the people to have that power.”
Ree breathed, “So they were willing to destroy it?”
“They were,” Rijes said. “In that moment, I knew my time at the Great Library was over. This would be my last act: to protect as many books as I could.”
“Did you succeed?” Ree asked.
“I saved many,” Rijes said, “and I watched many more sail away, saved by my librarians.” A sad smile crossed her lips.
“Some didn’t even know they sailed with my approval—they took it on themselves to save what they could, and they didn’t know that I watched and rejoiced for their escape.
In the end, all of us together saved more than we lost, and the fire was stopped before the entire library could be consumed. It was, I suppose, a victory.”
“You suppose?” Marin asked. It sounded like a victory to her. Heroic, far beyond what she should ever have been expected to do. Rijes could have simply fled to safety, but she’d stayed for what she believed in. That sounded like something to be proud of.
Rijes stared out at the waves, at the sea serpent who frolicked in the sun.
The merhorses had galloped on, but Perri continued to dance through the swells.
“Before that moment, before I learned of the imperial plan, it had never occurred to me that anyone could want to destroy books. Hide them, yes. Hoard them even. But destroy them? Gaining that knowledge, that people can be so fearful that they would choose to destroy our legacy, and knowing that this was a planned attack, not one that sprang up in the heat of passions … I cannot remain in the library with that knowledge and still believe in the goodness of people. It is time for me to leave.”
“Do you really just want to rest?” Ree asked.
Her smile was wry. “I have not yet found another alternative.”
“You will,” the bush said. “Give it time. You’ll see your new ocean.”
“Perhaps,” Rijes said.
They fell silent after that.
As the sun rose higher in the sky, it blanketed the sea in sparkles. In the distance, Marin watched the herd of merhorses. They were swimming through the waves in great arching leaps, their jeweled scales reflecting the sunlight. Above, seabirds were circling the boat and Perri, hoping for fish.
It was the perfect day for a sail, and Marin couldn’t help wishing Dax were with them.
He’d have enjoyed the sunlight and the smooth waters.
Perfect wind too. Just enough to keep them at a brisk pace.
Steady, so she didn’t have to fight it. It was almost as if the world wanted her to have a beautiful day.
She needed to stop thinking about him. He didn’t belong on her boat or in her thoughts. He had a future, and it was separate from hers.
“When Dax is back on board, we should try to find those singing waterfalls,” Ree said, as if sensing her thoughts. She startled at the mention of his name. “We didn’t get a chance before, with the whole magic storm and stuff.”
He won’t be coming with us on more adventures.
Marin didn’t know how to tell Ree that. When they saw Dax next, it would be in Alyssium and only briefly.
It wouldn’t be the same. That part of their lives was over, like being at the Great Library was over for Rijes Velk.
Marin gentled her voice. “Ree, he has his music to make now. That’s his ocean. ”
“But he can make his music on the boat,” Ree said. “With us. He already has.”
She shook her head. She wasn’t sure how to explain concert halls and all of that—she wasn’t sure she understood it herself. But she knew his music was special, and the other musicians certainly believed he belonged with them.
Did he believe that? she wondered.
Of course he did. He’d asked to return to the conservatory.
“He just has to perform his opus,” Ree said confidently, “and then he’ll come with us.”
No, then he’d be a grandmaster, and he’d have all sorts of important people demanding his time and his talents.
It was the future he’d been training for, aiming for, believing in.
It was what his parents had wanted for him and what all his teachers had prepared him for.
And she knew he loved it, loved the music.
You could see it in his face and hear it in his voice.
He loved music with every fiber of his being. He needed it.
I could never take that from him.
“You’ll see, Marin,” Ree said. “After the opus.”
He sounded so confident that for an instant, Marin believed him. “Ree … I don’t know that we’ll be returning to Alyssium. At least not for a while.”
“But … We have to! Dax wants us to!”
Dax had said that. In fact, he’d been emphatic.
Why had he cared so much? And what had he meant when he’d promised everything would be all right?
How could it be? “He might want us to come—he might even think he wants to sail away with us—but what he needs is to stay.” He belonged to his music like she belonged to the sea.
She had been lucky the two had intersected for a time, but it wasn’t meant to be forever.
Just because she loved him didn’t mean they could be together.
Ree rattled his branches at her. “Shouldn’t that be his choice? You fought for his right to choose whether he sailed or stayed before. Why aren’t you doing that now? You thought his friends were wrong to decide for him back then.”
Marin shook her head. “It’s not the same.”
“It is,” Ree insisted.
He didn’t understand.
“It’s exactly the same. Perri, tell her.”
With zero hesitation, Perri flipped his fin and splashed her with seawater. Marin flinched but didn’t reply to either of them. She knew she was doing the right thing.
She kept sailing.