Page 17 of The Book that Broke the World

“In the unexplored chambers everything’s black,” Sternus said. “The mark of a librarian who has done their job here is that they’ll come out looking like a trainee.”

A muted ripple of laughter went through the trainee ranks as they looked from the librarian’s crimson to their own black tunics.

As the walls grew darker Markeet called a halt from place to place and sent the trainees out exploring, equipping each band of two or three with coloured chalk to mark their return paths, though their footprints should also serve. On the fourth such stop Lutna surprised everyone by asking to be in a three with Celcha and Hellet. The librarians, mildly amused, allowed it.

Celcha followed the other two, deep in her thoughts. Not looking for books or anything else. It was in this state of mind that she found the raven, or rather she glimpsed it from a window across the floor of a void that might once have been an orchard. It launched itself from a distant window on the far side, a brief explosion of glossy black wings, gaining height before being lost from view. Back at the dig the eldest slaves, some who had been there more than a century, held great store by the sight of ravens. They even had a peculiar arithmetic whereby the number of the birds seen together constituted a prediction. One was always sorrow.

“Come on!” Lutna called back.

It didn’t take many choices of left or right, up or down before the other groups were out of earshot and a silence enfolded the ganar, broken only by the commentary of their human companion.

“I’m going to tell H’run and F’nort at the palace,” Lutna said. “They’re the ones that taught me to speak ganar. I mean, their language. I bet they’ve never heard about this place. They didn’t say anything and they knew I was coming to the lib—”

“This city is a tomb,” Hellet cut across her. “Many millions died here in the fire.” The air around him seethed and sparkled as Maybe and Starve circled him like prowling wolves. “The remains that were not wholly consumed were heaped together when the survivors returned. They made a pyramid two hundred and fifty yards on each side and a hundred and sixty yards high, just of bones.”

“I didn’t know.” Lutna looked down.

Hellet rolled his shoulders as he often did to ease the ache of his old scars. “It is good that you show more interest in the ganar than your fellows do. But understand that your actions are neither a kindness nor reparation. They are a bandage applied to a cancer.” He waved a hand at the view from the nearest window, looking out across a void to countless windows on the opposite wall. “This was the third and most recent ganar ascendance since the latest descent from Attamast. There have been earlier descents but information concerning those is scarce and patchy.”

“You came from the moon?” Lutna’s eyes went round.

“Our ancestors did,” Celcha said, glad to know something about her people that the child did not.

“They will come again.” Hellet’s voice was grim. “Or one of our enemies will go there. It never ends well. One world always burns. Or both do.” He walked across the room and knelt beside the wall where a pile of rubble lay. He moved a few blocks, disturbing a small cloud of soot. There seemed to be a space in the wall at floor level, partly obscured. Hellet drew out first one book, then another, the fur of his arms black now. The first was large with gold foil decorating its embossed cover, the other much smaller with an ink-dark cover and the edges of its pages dyed black. This smaller book he placed in his satchel, offering Lutna a slow wink. Next, he stood, crossed back to them, and placed the larger book in Lutna’s arms. “Well done, you’ve found a treasure.”

—

Of the two librarians it was Sternus, the younger one, who managed to disguise his excitement best, perhaps because he didn’t fully appreciate the importance of the book Lutna presented them with. Markeet, in contrast, couldn’t stop his cheeks spasming periodically with an alarmingly wide smile. Moreover, the older librarian began to sweat, and at such a rate that Celcha wondered if he’d reach the outer library half his current size, shrivelled beyond recognition.

The expedition ended abruptly and Markeet warned them all to be ready for a swifter return journey than the outward one. Celcha, whilst she could imagine that the book was important, was unclear why the librarians were in such a hurry to get back. It wasn’t as if someone was going to steal their prize from them.

On the retreat through the deserted warrens of the city Celcha lingered at the rear of the party with Hellet. “It was Maybe that put those books there, wasn’t it?” she hissed.

“I don’t know.” Hellet shrugged. “He knew they were there. That was enough.”

“Why though? What good does it do us?” What good does it do him? She wanted to ask that too, but Hellet grew uncommunicative if she ever questioned the angels’ motivation. Even pointing out that from what she could see Maybe was definitely canith had set her adrift on his silence for a day. Starve she saw less well—he, or she, could be canith, or human, or something similar to them both.

“Goodwill is a currency that can be spent in many ways. We’ve opened an account with both librarians and with the princess.”

“She’s not a princess.”

“Their queen has bounced her on her knee. It’s close enough.”

—

They reached the bottom of the last flight of steps on weary legs and walked down a long corridor before emerging from the city. Behind its curving wall it had reminded Celcha of the towering ant nests and hanging beehives she’d seen illustrated in a book Tutor Ablesan had been teaching her to read from. As if it were an amalgamation of both, fashioned from stone.

Celcha’s stomach rumbled as she crossed the ground between the city’s wall and the corridor. Her last meal seemed a very long time ago, her stomach already accustomed to the librarians’ plenty. The sustenance offered by the centre circle of each chamber felt like a poor exchange for actual food. She was glad the searching had been cut short, but they still had a long walk home and would sleep a night on empty bellies before reaching the outer library.

The librarians led the way down the corridor, halting before the white door then turning to look expectantly at Hellet. Celcha noticed that both angels, who had been hanging around her brother ever since their arrival at the chamber, had vanished. Without acknowledging Sternus or Markeet, Hellet came forward and set his palm, still black with soot, to the door. Nothing happened.

Markeet’s brow furrowed and, with his arms folded across the expanse of his belly, he swung his gaze to Celcha. “You try it.” All command, no request.

Celcha joined her brother and set her hand to the door. Nothing.

“This is...” Sternus looked astonished.

“Bad,” Markeet supplied. “It could be days before they come looking. And even if they bring more ganar... the door’s not opening for them.”

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