Page 17 of Palaces and other Prisons
By the time Ul returned to the library, the librarian seemed to have grabbed every single item they had about the humans who’d arrived there by boat centuries ago and spread them over two tables. There were maps and books, and both Dawson and the librarian had been drawing as they tried to communicate.
Jealousy struck hard. He wanted to be the one solving these riddles with Dawson. He should be glad Dawson was learning to communicate, and that the librarian had worked out where Dawson was from. So he bit back on the jealousy and joined them.
Dawson smiled at Ul and pointed at the soldier. “Norseman.”
He pronounced the word strangely, but perhaps that was correct in his language. Or perhaps the librarian and Dawson were just guessing about everything.
Dawson pointed at the very old map; his hands were wrapped in linen mittens to protect the paper. Ul had no idea if the map had been brought by the humans or created after they arrived, but it was a beautiful piece of art that included many lands from the other world.
“Denmark.” Dawson named one of those lands before tracing across the ocean. “England.” He tapped his chest as if to indicate that was where he was from. Then he did something surprising. He pointed at the drawing of the boxes on legs, and at a place in the ocean. “Oil platform.”
Ul almost pointed with his missing hand—that habit was going to be hard to break—corrected himself and pointed at the boxes on legs. “Oil platform?”
He mimicked Dawson’s words, even though he didn’t understand what they meant. Not yet.
The librarian turned to him. “From what I have gathered, hisoil platformwas in the ocean, and he is from the land called Britain on this map. Also, he recognized this, and the letters are very similar to his. It appears to be from his country.”
“And the Nosemen are from a different country? Are they not all Nosemen?”
“That does not appear to be the case.” The librarian pointed to several other countries on the map. “They are all Nosemen, Vikings. But he is not. He says he ishuman, from Britain…which he callsEngland. But he understood the word Britain.”
Ul pressed his lips together and nodded. “Everything spread before you is hundreds of years old. Language changes and countries change names.”
There were places his great-great-grandfather had traded with that no longer existed, sometimes because the city-state had fallen because of war or plague, the ruling kind changed, or it was consumed by a bigger city-state. There were markings on the map that indicated the Nosemen had thought in terms of kingdoms…countries. And while Ul was familiar with island kingdoms such as his own, it was much harder to envision them on the much larger land masses.
“What else have you found out?”
“That he cannot read the runes of the Nosemen, and that he is twenty-four.” The librarian pointed to some markings on the paper. They weren’t numbers but little lines. “He wrote his numbers, but I cannot read them, so then he marked each year of his life after I wrote my name and a dot for each year of my life.”
That explained why there were so many neat pyramids of dots.
Dawson looked at him, tapped the markings where he’d written his name and age and then offered Ul the charcoal. He asked a question, which Ul guessed to mean Dawson wanted him to write his name and age.
Which he did, carefully drawing pyramids made up of three dots, grouping them in clusters of three until he reached forty-seven. It was an inefficient way to write his age when he could’ve used numbers, but since Dawson couldn’t read their numbers or letters, it was the only way unless he brushed off his request, which he didn’t want to do either.
Why was this man supposed to be his mate?
“Is there more to learn? Would you like me to bring him back here tomorrow?”
“There is always more to learn, sire, though I believe my questions will be better answered once he can speak our language.” The librarian glanced at everything spread across the tables. “It is exciting, though. It has been a very long time since anyone has visited from the other world. The records state that the last Noseman ship to arrive was over five hundred years ago.”
Ul did not think it was exciting; troubling was a better word. Why were strange objects from the other world arriving now?
The krakke examining the water around Felloi kept bringing back more disturbing news. The changes to the ocean floor around his island were widespread. They claimed there were norecognizable landmarks. And one reported finding anotheroil platformstanding in the ocean and rooted to the ocean floor. Ifer was correct; they were not made to travel.
While he had not shared his fears, every news report he received confirmed them.
He studied the map of the other world that the Nosemen had created, knowing exactly where Dawson had pointed in the ocean. If that was where hisoil platformstood, that is where the island now was.
“How manyoil platform?” Ul pointed at Dawson’s counting lines.
Dawson’s dark eyebrows pulled together. “Oil platform?”
He pointed at the map several times and said something Ul didn’t understand. He made some lines on the page in charcoal and shrugged and wiggled his hand as if he wasn’t sure. Ul counted the lines. There were over twenty.
“Fetch me a map of Tariko,” he ordered the librarian.
The man shuffled off and returned as fast as he could. “You are concerned.”
