Page 34 of Strange Familiar

“Maybe we can answer those questions,” Cillian said, thinking. “Han, when did I pull out those bound minutes—today?”

Han uncoiled gracefully to his feet and went to check his ledger. “About two hours ago. Since then you extracted a booklet on wasps and the effect of their larvae on young peach trees, a book of recipes for using dried fall fruits, and a record of the ball gowns worn by the last Lady Phel to various Convocation functions.”

“It makes no sense that they hid away such banal stuff,” Iliana complained. “Or that any of that information was in Convocation Archives to begin with. Who cares about Lady Phel’s ballgowns?”

“Lady Phel did, along with her friends,” Cillian answered, unable to help himself. “It was a common practice in that era to note what was worn to society functions so as not to repeat outfits or inadvertently wear the same gown as a friend. They stopped after House Ophiel took over the trademark for all formal wear and, as part of their service, they began tracing style, color, etc.”

Iliana gazed at him for a long moment. “Sometimes I worry about how you’ve spent your life so far, Cillian.”

“In the library, nose in a book, thank you.” He gave her his version of her impudent nose-wrinkle. “You should try it sometime. You’d be amazed at what you learn from gaining a general knowledge of even what you call banal records. They can give insights into the lives of the people of the time, illuminating that history, revealing layers of meaning that…” He trailed off as the significance struck him.

“Layers of meaning,” Han echoed, raising his pale brows.

Iliana looked between them. “What am I missing?”

“It’s a code,” Cillian said with rising excitement and the certainty of intuition. He seized the slim book of ballgown records, which included sketches of the designs and listing of fabrics used, embroidery, jewels, and other accessories. Even as he scanned the pages with their meticulous detail, he fumbled blindly for another. Iliana put one into his outstretched hand.

“Experimental data on wasp larvae,” she said, practically vibrating with hopeful excitement. “Do you think this is code for Anciela’s experiments on turning familiars into wizards?”

Cillian tried to train his own wild and hopeful speculations into a rational and clear-headed analysis. “If we go with the theory that the archive was initially created to hide documents out of a desire to protect the Phel records rather than out of malice, then that could make sense.”

“Anciela went back to House Phel,” Iliana mused, picking up the story thread, “to prove that the other houses needed to test this widely, gathering her data.”

“Meanwhile, House Phel became aware of enemies moving against them,” Han filled in. “They couldn’t have been so naïve as to imagine this discovery would be widely embraced by the Convocation, especially after the committee’s reception.”

“But Anciela might have believed the committee, at least, would be more invested in knowledge and sharing information than in suppressing it,” Cillian added thoughtfully. He would have been like her, blithely trusting his colleagues.

“House Phel would’ve been a fully staffed house at that time,” Han said. “Even if Anciela had been immersed in the research and knowledge side, Lady Phel and her support staff would have been thinking in terms of conflict and how to manage that. They’d have accessed their allies and determined who would support them. Even if they couldn’t predict that this would result in the demotion of the house and the destruction of Phel to the point of sinking the manse entirely, they would have known this information had to be preserved and protected. And hidden, just in case.”

“Phel took a risk allowing the research in the first place,” Cillian agreed, holding up a hand. “I’d have to think they’d have planned for the eventuality that the Convocation would move to destroy the information and suppress all knowledge of it.”

“Uriel and Harahel would have helped preserve knowledge,” Iliana said staunchly. “Those two high houses have always believed in that.”

“And in fairness,” Han agreed, holding Cillian’s gaze. “House Harahel would have helped.”

Cillian appreciated their faith, and that they took the time to express their confidence in House Harahel. It had bothered him deeply, maybe more than he’d acknowledged, to contemplate some Harahel archivist ancestor working on the side of the conspirators to conceal the books that rightfully belonged in Convocation Archives, violating their sacred charge. This new spin, that the clever and powerful maker of the folded archive had been acting to help House Phel to preserve this crucially important knowledge, instead of working to destroy it. He wasn’t sure about Iliana’s fanciful tale of the wizard and familiar working together. It seemed a little too romantical.

“It makes sense this way,” he said slowly. “Though that might be because I want it to. If Phel and Harahel worked together to codify and hide Anciela’s data, we still have to account for a few facts we’re unsure of. One is that House Hanneil had to have erased memories of all this, especially as they’ve been actively working to prevent anyone from knowing about this archive. But Hanneil wizards couldn’t have continued to add to the folded archive over the ensuing years. You need a librarian wizard for that, and that means Harahel. So why did they continue to hide everything Phel related if they weren’t on the side of those protecting the knowledge?”

“I know why,” Iliana inserted, nodding so that her fat, fiery braids slithered over her shoulders. “Once things like that get started, they’re perpetuated. Who knows what happened to your unknown Harahel wizard, Cillian? They set up that archive, hid the coded information, then maybe had to go into hiding themselves.”

“Or were killed,” Han said bleakly.

“It sounds like maybe a lot of people died, the memories of their existence erased, and no one left to save their stories,” Iliana agreed sadly. “But the Hanneil conspirators could have embedded an instruction in a Harahel archivist of the time to continue the work, since they couldn’t be sure if more information had been encoded in books that hadn’t been hidden away. I don’t know if a Hanneil wizard can do that, but—”

“They can,” Cillian assured her, thinking of the compulsion Gordon Hanneil had embedded in Alise’s mind. If not for her powerful will and wizardry, she wouldn’t have been able to resist it as well as she had. A lesser, milder librarian wizard might not even have been aware of the compulsion. “And that would make sense that they simply stowed everything that came across their desk—or that they found in the stacks—regarding Meresin and House Phel until there was nothing left.”

They were all quiet a moment. Then Cillian shook himself. “All of this speculation is worth only so much. What we need is to break the code.”

“Don’t look at me,” Han said. “Iliana is the smart one in this relationship.”

Iliana was already shaking her head. “Not that kind of smart. I’m not good at puzzles and riddles. We need someone who is.”

“You are, Cillian,” Han pointed out.

“Not in the way we need.” Besides, Cillian couldn’t devote the extended time it would take. More urgently than ever, he needed to get to Alise and tell her what they’d found. “We need someone who can find the key in here.”

“Key?” Han echoed blankly.

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