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watcher-on-the-walls · 1 year ago

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Chapter Two: Keepers of Knowledge

“I’m sorry, little one. I’m afraid someone else is borrowing that book at the moment.” Tamani crinkled her nose at the old man as he spoke to her. Archivist Kumbuk always had the books she wanted. If she came back without it, Mother wouldn’t let her go by herself again until she turned 100 and she couldn’t wait that long. She huffed, and Kumbuk gave her that same smile that every old person did when they were about to tell her no.

“Well…” Tamani shifted her balance from one foot to the other, “who’s got it then?”

Kumbuk chuckled to himself, wiping away a stray tear from his round, crow marked face. “As much as I adore your dedication to education, Lady Nyota, I cannot tell you.”

Tamani gave a frustrated huff, crossing her arms. “And why not?”

He sighed, twisting one of the many rings that adorned his fingers. “Because that is simply how some things are.”

“Even if I said please,” Tamani asked, doing her best to look as though she had never done anything wrong or told on any of her friends when they swapped secrets.

Kumbuk shook his head with a knowing smile, and Tamani stormed off in a huff, garnering no more attention than a few stray chuckles from any adult she happened to pass as she delved deeper into the library. She couldn’t fathom how the old man could betray her like this, he never kept books from her, and certainly didn’t play favourites with other patrons. She stopped for a moment to try and recall if there had ever been a time that someone else was using a book she’d wanted, and seeing as it had never happened Tamani concluded that she was owed that which she came for. And recompense to boot.

Now, however, she was tasked with an even greater mission: finding the genealogy for her mama like she did every year. And, to prove her worth and resourcefulness, she would do it all herself! The Archivist had said someone else was using it so… it had to be one of the people out in the sitting areas then! Very inconspicuously, she set out. Checking all the tables, and all of the side tables that flanked the chairs by the hearth. Luckily, she knew what the book looked like quite well.

Unluckily, this was taking absolutely forever. The library was only so big, and whoever was hogging her book could only keep it for so long… so how did they keep hiding from her? She was starting to get frustrated when she had an epiphany: she could use magic. She wasn’t sure how or why it took some klutz needing to cast a mending spell on a book page he tore for her to realise she could just use magic to make this problem go away. Honestly, it was elementary.

But… the spell she had in mind required something. In a flurry, she reached for her purse, pulling open the drawstring and subsequently spilling half its contents on the floor looking for a stupid little twig, but it was no use- she didn’t have her component pouch with her. All she had was a handful of stupid silver sasu and one or two golden axum, which she hurriedly stuffed back into her purse. Well, shoot, she needed that forked twig if she was going to find her book. It was then that her eyes landed on the worn end of the bookshelf next to her. Surely, nobody would notice if she just… scratched off a twig, right?

Looking to make sure no one was watching, Tamani very slowly began digging her nail into the already chipped spot in the wood. It was a slow process. For one, because it hurt and her finger felt gross and woody. For another, because she looked over her shoulder to make sure no one was watching her every five seconds. Eventually, her hard labours bore fruit, and there she held the saddest most pathetic looking twig the world had ever seen. A masterful heist. A daring attack on the system itself! Sticking it to The Man, one library graffiti at a time.

With her hard won prize in hand, she let out a well earned sigh. Now, the magic could happen. She took the twig between her first two fingers, tracing out an emblem only she could see before cupping it in her hands and whispering to it. “Show me where my lineage lies,” she said, and for a moment alone, her sigil flickered in the same pale lavender light that flashed through her eyes, like a web catching flame. And then her twig came to life, pulling her at first directly into a bookshelf, but with careful navigation she steered her way towards the eastern wing.

It was a welcoming enough area. It had another hearthfire, roaring blue in a sunken down seating area decorated with carpets and pillows and couches and chairs. A few more snobby looking people sat in various stages of recline, many of them with at least three books stacked to their off hand. Unnecessary and hoarder-esque in Tamani’s opinion.

According to her twig though, that was not her quarry. Instead, that lay behind one of the doors that encircled the wall around this wing of the building. Considering that all but one door was wide open and empty, she and her twig narrowed down her options quite quickly.

Keeping the twig in one hand, she trotted up to the shut door with the most commanding presence she could conjure and was about to knock when she heard the voices on the other side. Well… she knew where the book was now, it wasn’t going anywhere. It would be rude to interrupt whoever was in there, she told herself as she put her ear to the door. A man’s voice spoke first. “- Honestly, how long does it take to find one high born mage? I’m surprised they haven’t taken to flaunting their skill in everyone’s face like every other stuck up graduate from the academy.”

“Hold your tongue,” a woman’s voice this time, “you would do well to remember Kital counted himself one of their alumni as well.”

The man’s voice again. “No disrespect to the dead but it’s true. It’s like they have nothing else going on in their lives.” A pause, and then a small self satisfied laugh. “Probably because they don’t,” he said.

“I’m sure you know that well, considering how well you like to study yourself more than our case.”

“Ooh, burn,” Tamani whispered, and then promptly covered her mouth. The silence on the other side of the door was deafening. Maybe they hadn’t heard her, maybe she could sneak off to get the book once they left.

The man’s voice spoke, an aggression that wasn’t there a moment ago. “Enter. Now.” Tamani opened the door and peeked her head through the crack. A man dressed in vibrant hues of bronze and red stood, a chip of mica in hand. Tamani let out a squeak when she saw his hands begin to move and ducked behind the door when the woman grabbed his arm.

“Qaban,” the woman snapped, “that’s enough. She’s just a child.” Tamani didn’t have the time to think to book it before a firm hand wrapped around the side of the door, and a face of soft angles and deep red eyes peeked around the door to look at her. “I’m sorry for my friend,” she said, “he can be hotheaded. And jumpy. What brings you to our chamber?”

“I need a book for my mother,” Tamani said with a bravado she desperately wished to have in the face of these strangers. “We always go over our family history this time of year.”

The woman nodded, looking around the rest of the wing, and then offered Tamani her hand. “Well, let’s see if we can find your book. And your mother as well, it seems.” Tamani took her hand, finding herself looking with jealousy at the arcing bands of deep scarlet that emblazoned themselves up the woman’s arms and beyond. Her own were barely visible, the swirling patterns looking more like an accident of tan than the reminder of divinity they were supposed to be.

Inside, the room was significantly larger than she’d initially thought it was. More than that, it was a mess of books. Heavy tomes were splayed out alongside loose papyrus sheets with scrawlings she couldn’t make out atop the table. The floor was even worse. Books scattered without acknowledgement or organisation, though she spotted a few attempts at neat stacking that had since been given up on. The man, whose name was apparently Qaban, seemed none so happy at her presence. “You’re bringing her in, of course you are. Why in starlight are you bringing her in here?”

“She needs one of the genealogies we have,” the woman said, her tone almost dismissive of her partner, “and I’m sure that if we end up needing it, she’ll being it right back if we send a message, won’t she?” The woman gave her a very pointed look that Tamani took as a sign she should nod before the woman began looking through the books on the table before them. “Now, what did you say your surname was?” Tamani was about to answer, before a glint of silver pulled her gaze down to the woman’s waist.

“Why do you have swords in the library?”

The woman stopped her rummaging as Tamani pointed out her blatant disregard for the archive rules, and then continued on. “Some people need them for emergencies. The same way the Pale Guard always have their spears.”

“So are you like a… guard captain or something? Oooh, are you a sellsword?” She asked, eyes gleaming with intrigue.

“No,” Qaban answered for her. “I’ll ask again. Your surname.”

Tamani decided she did not much like Qaban. His voice was huffy and angry and annoying. “It’s Nyota.”

The woman muttered the name a few times, turning books over to check their spines before moving on to the next. Her eyes lingered on the pair’s garments, fine make, like something her grandparents would wear. They looked nothing alike, save for the metallic armour pieces around their necks.Tamani spoke again. “You don’t look like normal sellswords. Are you-”

“We’re not sellswords,” the woman said, “we work for the king.” The man buried his face in his hands.

“What does the king want with my family?”

“Most likely, nothing.” The woman paused for a moment, hands lingering on a familiar leather bound book with silver embroidery. “Does anyone study magic in your family?” Tamani started to say no, and the woman spoke again. “Aside from you, dear.”

Tamani thought for a moment. “My mama taught me what I know. And… I don’t know where she learned it from.” Her grandparents never bothered with the arcane, and her baba? She didn’t even know where he was.

“I see,” the woman now picked up the book and handed it to her, “here’s your book. Run along now, I’m sure your mother must be waiting.” Tamani took the book in her hands, the life now fading from her twig as it cracked and shattered against the book. As she passed the threshold, the woman spoke once more. “Oh, and Miss Nyota,” she said, “You never saw us.”

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#autumn’s fallen leaves #fantasy #elves #oschas #ovda #danai #qaban #tamani

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