Chapter Fifteen #2
Skovos had changed. Tyrael could remember an era long ago, admittedly a harsher time, when the Amazon Queen who could not lead her army into battle lost her throne.
He would not celebrate a return of the islands to that way of life, but he also could not help but feel the Amazons had lost something when their warrior queen seemed so disconnected from the needs of her people.
“I don’t know if you have already found lodging for yourself,” Etara said, “but we have secured quarters for you within the palace.” She gestured at the garden around them. “You are welcome to stay as my guest and enjoy the grounds at your leisure.”
The invitation surprised him, considering his relative anonymity and the welcome he and the others had initially received. He suspected a hidden motive. “I wonder what I have done to warrant such generosity.”
“You intrigue me,” she said with a shrug. “I do not need to have a seer’s sight to know there is something exceptional about you, even beyond your rare armor and sword.”
“Now it is you who flatter me,” Tyrael said.
The queen rose from her chair and made a show of offering him El’druin, holding the sword by its blade as she extended the hilt toward him. “I thank you for speaking with me,” she said.
Tyrael stood with her and gently accepted the sword from her hands, feeling a subtle and familiar surge of connection between the weapon and himself as soon as he touched it. “It was my privilege,” he said.
“And now I bid you good day. But I hope to speak with you again soon.”
She turned and strode from the garden by a different route than the one Tyrael had used to enter it. Myrina approached him after her mother had gone and said, “If you will accompany me, I would like to show you something that I think will be of interest to you.”
The captain guided him from the garden back to the courtyard, then down one of its branching hallways, which shortly deposited them into a small, shaded cloister.
An octagonal white tower dominated the enclosure, a Firstborn construction like much of the palace.
They followed the columned perimeter of the cloister and entered the tower through narrow pointed doors.
Inside the building, Tyrael found an impressive library, the air heavy with the scent of old paper and parchment.
A sweeping staircase connecting its five levels followed the angled curvature of the wall around and around, rising from the base of the tower to its conical peak high above their heads.
Wooden shelves filled with many thousands of books and scrolls lined the entirety of the structure’s interior, except where slender windows interrupted the collection to admit slashes of light.
Several heavy desks and lecterns occupied the ground floor, covered in stacks of books and maps.
A heavyset man wearing plain brown robes looked over the balcony of the third level, an open tome in his hands. “Welcome, Captain Myrina,” he said, speaking with a gentle voice further softened by all the sound-absorbing leather and paper.
“Greetings, Keeper,” the captain replied.
“Wait there, I’ll be right down.” The man then carefully closed the book and replaced it on the shelf before beginning his descent down the staircase. His footsteps sounded more like shuffling scrapes than thumps against the floor.
Myrina turned to Tyrael. “This tower holds the Askari royal archive and library. Not all, but much of it.”
Tyrael wondered why the captain had brought him here. “It is an honor and a pleasure to be admitted here,” he said, and he meant it.
“It is a pleasure to have you here,” said the heavyset man as he came down the last flight of stairs to the ground floor. He was shorter than either Tyrael or the captain, with blue eyes, a mass of long blond hair, and, unlike other clean-shaven Askari, a close-cropped beard.
Myrina gestured toward him with a formal flat hand, leaving the other behind her back. “Faysal, this is Maziel, Keeper of the Archive. Maziel, this is Faysal, the mainlander I told you about.”
“I was informed you are a scholar,” the librarian said.
“I do have a deep interest in history and lore,” Tyrael replied.
“Then I trust we will have much to discuss.”
“Discuss?”
“Yes,” Myrina said. “I thought the two of you might find common ground.” She swept her hand in a disinterested arc, taking in the tower. “Perhaps some of the volumes here will contain answers to your questions about our history.”
“I would be very pleased to explore your archive,” Tyrael said.
The captain nodded. “Then I shall leave you to it. When you are ready to retire for the evening, I’m sure Maziel can show you to your guest quarters.”
“I’d be happy to do so,” the librarian said, with a slight bow at the waist.
With that, Myrina departed at a brisk clip, leaving the two men alone. A moment passed between them full of the library’s silence.
“Thank you for tolerating my presence,” Tyrael said. “I suspect the captain sent me here to keep me out of her way. I hope I will not cause too much disruption to your work as the keeper of this archive.”
“Not at all,” Maziel said. “I wish more people took an interest in our history, but to be quite candid with you, I’m seldom visited or consulted.”
“That is unfortunate.”
Maziel’s glance seemed to linger on El’druin. “If you’ll pardon me,” he said, “you give the impression of a soldier more than a scholar.”
“Can one not be both?”
“I suppose it’s possible, if one lives long enough.
” He looked down at himself. “It’s too late for me now to start winning sword fights.
But I knew my proper place from an early age.
” He stepped away from Tyrael and went to one of the desks, where he began to sort and straighten the piles stacked upon it.
“I started in the archive as a young man, assisting the previous Keeper. When he passed, I was offered his position.”
“It seems an enviable occupation.”
He looked up from the desk. “I’m glad you think so,” he said, as if it were the first time he had ever heard anyone express that sentiment. “As a scholar, do you have any specific areas of focus or interest?”
Tyrael had begun to wonder if the archive might help revive some of his memories from the last time he was in Skovos.
The first Horadrim had traveled more openly as powerful mages and it was likely their activities had been mentioned.
It was even possible that evidence of Sho-Ren might be found in the records.
“At present,” he answered the librarian, “I am curious about relations and diplomacy between Skovos and other nations, factions, guilds, and other groups.”
“Diplomacy is always an interesting topic,” said Maziel. “The willingness of our queens to engage with other parts of Sanctuary has gone through periods of fluctuation. Skovos has been a much more open society at certain times in the past, more so than it is now. Come with me.”
He shuffled toward the staircase, and Tyrael followed him. Together, they climbed to the second level of the tower.
“Below us on the ground floor are maps and atlases, along with non-Askari texts about other peoples and places. That is where you would find the writings of Abd al-Hazir, for example. On this floor, we keep all the royal Askari records, which would include decrees, treaties, trade agreements, and official annals and chronicles. You might start here.”
“What do you keep on the upper floors?”
“On the third floor just above us, you’ll find books written by Askari historians.
Not official accounts, mind you, but they’re often more detailed and textured than the dry renderings of palace scribes.
On the fourth level, we keep our more…subjective texts.
That’s where you’ll find journals and memoirs, private correspondence, collections of folktales, that sort of thing. ”
“And on the fifth floor?”
“That is where we shelve materials related to the Firstborn.”
Tyrael looked at him in surprise. “You have Firstborn writings?”
“Not a large collection, but yes. That is also where we keep the work of Askari scholars who have made a study of Firstborn architecture, relics, and so forth. As you might assume, much of it is highly speculative.”
“I see.”
“Do you have a particular time period you’re interested in researching?”
Tyrael did not want to reveal too much about his true interest in the Horadrim, so he decided to let the librarian believe he had guided him where he already wanted to go. “A moment ago, you mentioned a more open period of diplomacy in the past?”
“Yes, the eleventh century comes readily to mind. That period saw Kurast become the capital of Kehjistan under Emperor Tassara, the conquest of the west by Rakkis, and the rise of the Zakarum church. I’d assume those powers all sent emissaries to Skovos, for which there would be some records.”
Those events also happened to follow the founding of the Horadrim, very near the time of their first visit to Skovos. “You are quite knowledgeable, Maziel.”
“I live in a library,” Maziel said. “I’m expected to be knowledgeable.”
“I suspect your knowledge of Skovos history gives you a unique perspective on recent events.”
“Such as?”
“The formation of the Askarra Guard, for example. Such divisions within the Amazon ranks are rare, historically, are they not?”
Maziel’s demeanor turned hard and blank. “Unprecedented challenges call for radical solutions.” He then ushered Tyrael around the course of the walkway to a section of shelves on the far side of the tower. “I would suggest you begin your reading here.”
With that, the librarian returned to the stairs and climbed back up to the third floor, while Tyrael began his search.