Page 37 of The Book That Wouldn't Burn

The man furrowed his brow. “And what’s the most important thing you’ve learned?”

“Brevity.” Livira had many new words like this one that she was eager to try out. She’d been working slowly through the first chapter of one of Meelan’s books written long ago and far away and concerning the arts of armed combat. According to the author, presenting a small target was of prime importance. Livira had decided to opt for the same tactic with her current opponent.

Logaris snorted his disapproval but was unable to suppress an undercurrent of amusement. “Brevity is a desirable quality in those with nothing to say, and it generally takes me a good four years to hammer any worthwhile opinions into new trainees.” He turned to Arpix, whose height and serious demeanour marked him as the group’s leader—certainly to outsiders. “I want this book.” He held up a slip of paper between massive thumb and massive forefinger.

Arpix paled and nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“You have two days.”

Arpix’s eyes widened but he kept his mouth tight shut and took the slip.

Master Logaris frowned. Regarding them all with an unreadable expression. “Fail me and one of you will be leaving the library.”

The five of them watched as their teacher returned to the front of the classroom and to his favoured senior pupils. Livira wondered if the paper Arpix now held had passed between Algar and Logaris. Algar’s reappearance in her life seemed suspicious, coming as it did so hard on the heels of her encounter with Serra Leetar the previous day.

“What does that gold disc mean?” Livira asked.

“What?” Arpix looked up distractedly from his contemplation of the slip.

“The disc that Algar—Lord Algar—was wearing.”

“It’s the symbol of envoys, and negotiators.” Carlotte answered for Arpix. She looked frightened. “In his case it shows he’s the king’s mouth.”

Serra Leetar had worn it too. She hadn’t wanted to become a diplomat though. Algar had taken her into his service and killed her hopes of joining the university. Livira wondered if that had always been going to happen—something arranged between him and the girl’s parents—or if it had been a spur-of-the-moment thing, somehow connected to her own appearance at the allocation in Serra Leetar’s company.

Meelan took the paper from Arpix. “This is bad.”

“Two days to bring him a book?” Livira asked. “How hard can that be? We should be able to look it up in the index. If it’s not there and we know what type of book it is then we can narrow it to a section. And even if it’s not in the index and we don’t know what it’s about we still have time to hunt it down. You and Arpix start at the far end of the hall and we three start at the other. We can check every damn book in two days if we work fast.” At least if they worked fast and didn’t sleep.

“What are you talking about?” Meelan flashed her an irritated look.

“I said we should start at opposite—”

“She thinks she’s seen the library.” Carlotte laughed nervously.

“I have seen the library...” The hall was huge. Twice as long as Yute’s house if you laid it down on its side and many times as wide. The shelves that ran from floor to ceiling were so tightly packed that a man like Master Logaris would have to edge between them facing the books.

“That’s the trainee library.” Arpix sighed. “It’s just for projects and learning the trade.”

“Oh.” Livira deflated. “How big is the other library?”

Arpix spread his hands. And kept on spreading them until his arms were stretched out to their limits. “...Nobody knows.”

Many sources report that Irad’s great-grandmother was tricked into an education by a smooth-talking serpent. Whilst the records agree that she and her husband were evicted by their landlord shortly afterwards, the exact reasons remain an area of academic dispute. It is known with more certainty that once Irad founded the first library—the athenaeum—the serpent became a regular visitor, being credited with controlling the rat population.

Shadows of the Athenaeum, by Methuselah Deusson

CHAPTER 16

Livira

I’d like to be able to explain the library to you,” Arpix said.

They had been served a breakfast of seed-crusted black bread and white goat cheese, with apples piled at the centre of the table. Each of them had immediately scooped up a plentiful supply and followed Arpix from the refectory.

“Go on then,” Livira said, biting into a crisp red apple. The explosion of taste and wetness in her mouth was still a delicious astonishment to her. The only fruit she’d ever eaten out on the Dust was dried strips of pear with the ghost of flavour still clinging to them. “Explain it.”

“I’d like to be able to,” Arpix repeated. “But I can’t.”

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