Rem greeted them in the Proconsul’s office,
happy but wary. He embraced Kath with unalloyed joy, shook Hardacre’s hand, and
nodded at Viola. Viola was sad to think that his old prejudices were still
there even after everything they had been through together.
Rem allowed
himself no time for reminiscences or nostalgia. He took a step back and rested
his hand on Marthian’s table.
‘Kratos plans to
murder the Lady’
Viola was
horrified, but also puzzled.
‘How is that
possible?’
Rem didn’t respond
immediately but Hardacre did. He shook his head.
‘It’s possible’ he
muttered
Viola remembered
Bea in the Prime-space. If Kratos were even more powerful, then anything might
be possible.
‘What on earth do
you think we can do?’ asked Kath
Rem frowned.
‘I’m sorry Kath –
I have no idea, I’m just obeying my Master’s order’
‘Yes – of course…’
said Kath, her voice small with contrition.
Hardacre cleared
his throat: it was the gentlest of interjectory utterances. They all looked at
him.
‘I will call the
council’
Viola started.
‘What, here? I’m
sure that would be against Imperial laws… Shouldn’t we inform the Emperor
first?’
Hardacre had
already pulled a stick of chalk out of his pocket.
‘You do what you
need to do, major; and I’ll do what I need to do’
Viola stepped in
front of him.
‘Not here – you
can’t just do witchcraft in the Proconsul’s rooms’
Hardacre looked
genuinely crestfallen but he didn’t stop.
‘For once, there’s
no time for etiquette - lives are at stake’
‘At least wait for
Marthian to come back…’
Hardacre shook his
head.
‘She has a city to
defend. We have no time…’
Viola stepped
aside. Hardacre chalked out his pentangle on the wooden floor. Once it was
finished he took a deep breath and then whispered the invocation trigger word.
A hole opened up
at head height. Through it they could see the hazy iamge of a redheaded woman.
‘Miss Preece!’
exclaimed Hardacre
‘Is that you, Laurence
– what’s happening?’
‘Mae angen
i chi alw y cwfen[1]’
The voice came
back with the tiniest tremor
‘To where?’
‘To my trace; I
have chalked a pentangle’
‘Where is that?
‘I’m not going to
reveal my location. I will explain to each councillor separately as they
arrive’
‘Understood’ said
Bronwyn. The conversation ended. Her face disappeared.
Viola stared down
at the pentangle.
How long will it
take?’ asked Kath
Hardacre shook his
head.
‘I do not know,
but I will stay here until they have all arrived’
‘I will stay here with you, then, Mr Hardacre’
said Rem
Hardacre bowed to
him.
‘Thank you, Master
Healer’
Viola frowned.
‘We can’t all stay
here. I need to find a weapon and report to the Proconsul’
‘We two will be
sufficient I am sure’ said Hardacre
Kath looked up at
Viola expectantly.
‘And what should I
do? I’m at a loss to see what use I’m going to be… I have no desire to use a
weapon’
Viola gestured to
the door.
‘Of course not. Go and find that secret book –
before the war starts in earnest’
Kath nodded
eagerly, she was happy to have something useful to do. She hurried away.
***
It took a while to persuade the archivist to let
her see the books. She had to explain in
great detail why she needed to consult them; but once she had made it clear
that her researches would help Viola then most of the opposition evaporated
away.
The library was
housed in a three long shed-like buildings in the centre of the complex.
As Kath was not only a barbarian but also an unbeliever, she had to be
blindfolded and led by a circuitous route to the archive.
As soon as they
were indie one of the rooms she gently unfastened Kath’s blindfold. Kath was
astonished to find that the room was packed full of ancient tomes. A quick scan
showed that they were all in Archaic Elven.
‘Why are they all
in the old tongue?’ she asked
‘They are books
awaiting translation for the public library’ the archivist explained., ‘but we
no longer have many who have the necessary training. I am about the youngest
with a translator’s degree from Vyrnia’
That explained why
it was so musty in the room. No-one had
used it for its original purpose in hundreds of years.
‘What about the Skiophographia?’
The Archivist shook her head.
‘There’s already a well-known translation of that…’ she explained
‘Not really…’ muttered Kath, remembering the heavily abridged versions
in the Kinspit library.
The Archivist ignored her. She pointed over to an entire shelf of books.
‘There they are’
She glared at
Kath. She wondered why they were here if they weren’t going to be translated. The
archivist was very stern.
‘Don’t touch
anything else…’
Kath nodded,
assuming her most serous expression.
‘…I’ll be back
periodically to check on you’
Kath continued to
nod. The archivist backed away slowly. Kath was delighted to see her leave.
She ran her hand
along the histories. They were bound in some luxuriant leather, but they weren’t,
in eleven terms, particularly old – perhaps no more than five hundred years
old.
She began to read
the first page of the first book. There was no introduction, it just began
abruptly
river ran, past Adeolus and Evanile, from swerve of shore to bend of
bay, from its source to its mouth, the sea at Hesperos. It had ninety three
tributaries from its upper reaches to its mouth. They were, in order, the
rivers Ongilia, Retratus, Hemile…
For a while this completely stumped her, but something
about the fragmentary nature of the prose gave her a clue. She remembered how
the Archaic Elves had written their script in the most ancient days – it was
like a plough team working a field: first, right to left and then left to
right. Perhaps this was a boustrophedon work. Right to left she thought, then
left to right. But on a bigger scale.
She worked her way
along the books and found the last volume, one hundred and fifty two volumes to
the right. She pulled it out and turned
to the last page:
The First part – on the rivers of Visneoria. There are fort-two
primary waterways in Greater Visneoria, including Eddorre.
Kath skipped backwards, page by page, until she
came to this, at the bottom of a page about a third of the way back in the
volume:
The exact mouth of that river is unknown as it enters the sea
somewhere on the unexplored coast of Semprelysia. The thirteenth river of Greater
Visneoria is the Riberia. Of old the…
…river ran… thought Kath, so that’s it. A bloody hard read for anyone without infinite patience. Or
a lot of time on their hands. Or just an elf…
Kath pulled the scrap of paper out of her
pocket. What was that page number? – page fourteen-thousand, thirteen hundred
and three. But was that of the main work or of the secret history part?
There was only one way to find out.
She began slipping
a book mark into the volume every fifty pages as a way of counting them. She
followed the sinuous progress of the narrative from book to book. Eventually
she got to the right page, but it was a description of the court of Laurentius,
the eleventh Emperor. It seemed to have nothing to do at all with Viola. The next page was an example table of court
expenses.
She probed
further, darting back and forth between the volumes. Eventually, in part CC she
found it. The Secret History –
printed only on every ninth page, intercalated between the overt history, and
still with no page numbers. Eventually, several hours later, she had found the
page. It was clearly the right one, this time.
She copied out the
page with great care, forcing herself to be accurate but not dwelling too long
on the content. She knew she had very little time. She knew what it meant well
enough, however. She needed to take the
page to Viola. She had to read it as soon as possible.
[1]
The traditional words in Enchanter’s Rhylic used to summon the coven. It is a
formal, binding, order that cannot be refused. Hardacre was the only
non-council-member with the power to invoke it.
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