I have a confession. I’m currently reading a romantasy. I will be the first to admit that romance novels are definitely not my thing. They are all the same plot with minor tweaks. Paper doll characters. Change the hair colour, name, era, setting, clothes, doesn’t really matter, they are all cardboard underneath, and so predictable. Don’t get me wrong, I understand why they are popular, but they just aren’t for me. I was really hoping that the latest trend of combining romance with fantasy would bridge that gap for me. But sadly it’s the same tired trope , but with fairies. Really handsome, and fearsome fairies, but the plot is the same and doesn’t really interest me. I’m persevering through book one of a six book set, and honestly, I’m struggling. I have about three chapters left and I’m forcing myself to finish it. Mostly because I can’t say I don’t like something if I’ve never tried it. And I’m stubborn that way.
So, I’ve tried romantasy. I’ve read book one of six. I will not be reading any more. I have other, more interesting things to do with my life. So, back to Kristof, Martin, Weir, Shaw, and as far away from romantasy as I can get.
By the way, there will be some romance in The Edge of Oblivion, eventually, but rest assured, it is NOT the driving plot.
So, back to Bex. She’s certainly started to stir things up in Anckesh. She’s not afraid to take risks or speak her mind, she is impulsive, and a non-conformist (yes, I know that sounds like a typical romance heroine, but this isn’t a romance story. That’s as far as the similarities go). Now that she has the book, what is she going to do with it? Let’s find out…
Chapter 7
I sat at my desk flipping through the pages of the mysterious book that Xan Janal had guarded with his life. There were images of foreign lands with maps of strange landscapes. Each chapter looked as if it had been written by a different hand in a different language. None of which I could decipher.
“What am I supposed to do with this?” I whispered. The words of the old fortune teller snuck into my mind ‘Seeks the veils’. Xan had said something about crossing veils and stopping someone from releasing chaos across the worlds. Worlds. Plural. He definitely said worlds. He didn’t just mean our world, but many. I felt the tears stinging my eyes again and fought them back. It wouldn’t do any good to spill them onto one of the intricately drawn maps or mess up the script – even if I couldn’t read it.
Lifting my head, I listened. I felt, as much as heard, my mother making her way down the hallway toward my room. I quietly closed the book, stood up, and slipped it under my bed.
There was a light knock on my door. I lay on the bed and stared up at the ceiling, just as she opened it a crack.
“Bexlin, can I come in?” she asked quietly.
“Looks like you already are,” I snarked.
She ignored my tart comment as usual and pushed the door open as she stepped in and walked over to my bed. Perched on the edge, she reached for my hand. I stiffened, as she clasped it.
“Bex, I know you’ve had a tough time the last few days,” concern on her face as much as in her tone. “Finding a man in such a state will take its toll on anyone.”
“He wasn’t just any man,” I muttered through my gritted teeth.
“I know you looked up to him and I’m sorry that his life ended the way it did.”
“Don’t feign remorse,” I pulled my hand back from her. “You never cared for him anyway.”
She was quiet for a moment staring at her hands. “It wasn’t that I didn’t care for him, Bex.” Her hands twisted in her lap. “It’s just…there is so much more about Xan Janal than you know or could ever understand.”
I looked at her, my mouth open, ready to spew hatred and vitriol at her. She was just annoyed that Xan Janal’s death bought me the small miracle of missing the meeting with the fat fingered Guild Master. She was just mourning me not following in my father’s footsteps. She hated Xan Janal. A wastrel. A half gemel bard with delusions of grandeur. Why was she even here?
My mind froze. The words losing both bite and bile before they could leave my lips. Her eyes, red rimmed. Puffy. Shrouded by dark shadows. I did not need a mirror to know they matched mine. Why?
My mother was not one to mince words. While she was diplomatic and honest, she was also forthright and had little patience for frivolity. I guess that was why she made such a great council leader for so many years. After Da’s passing, she stepped back from the council to ‘take a more active role in my upbringing’ – or so she told me. I think it was a good excuse to escape the petty infighting and boring discussions about sand ownership. Her modest income enabled us to live comfortably, and she remained active on several committees. She aligned herself long ago with the Traders Guild and still wore the purple armband to signify her association.
“Ma, I know you’re disappointed in me,” my voice was a whisper. Anger, little more than a ghost. I was surprised by my own words but could not muster the strength to fight them. “I’ll go see Master Churznach as soon as I leave Abuzi’s office.”
Her head snapped up at the mention of the Advisor. “Why would you be at Hadrial Abuzi’s office?”
“She requested that I come see her today. And it’s about time. They’ve wandered around poking at stones for four days and not once questioned any of us who actually found Xan Janal.”
“I see,” my mother said coldly, her back stiffening. “I’m surprised she didn’t ask my permission first. You aren’t yet liberated. Protocol would dictate that she requests my permission to speak with you first.”
“Mum, my liberation day is weeks away. I think I can handle this,” I assured her.
She looked at me for a long moment as if weighing whether to push the matter further or let it go. Then she stood and walked to the door. Turning back, she said quietly, “She is the Advisor to the Council and the Guilds. Be very careful about what you say to her.”
I lay there after she left. Playing our conversation over and over. I have only known my mother as stoic and stern. This was the second time I had ever seen fear on her face. The first was when she thought I had drunk a jug of alchemical cleaners. And now, years of rigid and strict lectures later, she warns me of the advisor with fear on her face. The realization crept into my belly, curled up and settled there like a prickly scalard.
***
The flat purple shard skipped across the cruel ground. It hit lightly on the first two skips, then plummeted in a puff of dust skittering to a stop. Muut turned with a smug look on his face as I readied mine. Pulling my arm back, I balanced my feet evenly and then flung my shard in the same direction. We watched from beneath the thin shade of a galaal tree with its twisted branches and meagre foliage clinging to the edge of the long dead sand bank. I crossed my fingers as my shard danced along a similar path to Muut’s. It hopped four times before coming to a dusty halt about a meter beyond his.
“Oh Sarnoth’s Teeth!” Muut exclaimed in frustration. “How do you do that?”
“She gets you every time,” Nyraj’s baritone laughter filled the air as he stood, dusted off his trousers, and walked toward us. “You think too much Muut. That’s your problem. I can see your mind calculating the wind, measuring the angles, weighing the shard, checking, and rechecking the angle of your arm. Sometimes you just have to trust and go with your gut.”
I watched as Nyraj leaned down, picked up a flint shard, reeled his arm back and flung the shale out across the ground. It sailed across the surface, bouncing several times, tapping little dust puffs in its wake. When it finally came to a stop, it had skipped eight times and landed twice the distance of my shard.
“Show off,” Sarja called to her brother as she scrambled down the sandy bank to join us.
“Yeah, easy for you when you’ve got arms as thick as galaal trunks,” Muut grumbled.
“Glad you could make it Sarja. I know how busy you are at the shop these days,” I said as I bent down and picked up my pack.
“It’s nothing Uncle Diadys can’t handle for a few hours,” she smiled.
“So, what’s so important that we had to meet way out here?” asked Nyraj, slapping his hands together to remove the dust.
I looked at each face of my closest friends. If I can’t trust them, who can I trust? Ignoring the prickly scalard twisting in my stomach, I picked up my pack, flipped the top open, reached in and pulled the wrapped book out. Dropping my pack, I held the loosely covered book.
“You made us a cake,” joked Muut.
Ignoring his jibe, I pulled the soft leather cover away from the front of the book and held it out for them to see. In the pasty shade of the galaal tree, the leather had a decidedly blood red look, making the gold script all the more brilliant. Muut, being the ever curious one, reached for the book first. He ran his finger over the script, tracing each letter as if writing it himself.
“Where did you get this?” he whispered. “This script is familiar, but I’ve only seen it in the guild libraries and usually behind very thick glass.”
“You’ve seen this script before?” my eyes narrowed in disbelief.
“Well, maybe not this exact language, but definitely something similar,” he explained.
“Can I see it?” asked Sarja reaching tentatively for the book.
I held it out to her, and she picked it up carefully, holding it within the soft leather wrapping. She lifted the cover and began flipping through the pages. She settled on a map that was mostly colored in shades of browns and greys. There was a large swath of ridges that ran along one side of the topography. Sarja traced her finger along the depiction of the craggy ridge. Then she looked up, her mouth agape.
“This is a map of our world,” she gasped. Then she flipped to another page with a map that was mostly colored in shades of green. “But I’ve never seen a map of this land.”
Nyraj leaned in to look at the page she had displayed.
“Or this one,” she flipped to another page that showed lines of what looked like vast bodies of water all colored in blue with green and brown dots floating within it.
Nyraj, Sarja and Muut all turned and looked at me. Nyraj spoke for them all. “Where did you get this book, Bex?”
My lower lip quivered and tears stung my eyes for the millionth time. I looked up and saw confusion on their faces as the reality hit each of them.
“I took it from Xan Janal’s room,” my voice cracked, and I sniffled. “The night he died.”
“It was you who broke into his room and stole his stuff?” Sarja asked in disbelief.
“No! Well, yes. But it wasn’t like that. I didn’t break in or steal anything,” my heart raced and that prickly scalard began to squirm. “I knew this was a mistake. I thought I could trust you guys.”
Nyraj took the book from Sarja and looked at it more closely. Always the calm level-headed one, he asked quietly, “This is Xan Janal’s story book? Why did you take it from his room? And why are we only now learning of this?”
Twisting my hands together, I looked down, shame for not sharing my secret with them sooner, shading my face deep crimson. I mumbled, “He asked me to save it from the ones who killed him.”
“Is that what he whispered to you before he died?” asked Muut. “That’s why you asked where he was staying.”
I looked up at him and saw the hurt in his eyes, “Yes. He gave me his room key and told me to get it before they did. This book is why they killed him.”
“You don’t know that Bex,” Sarja planted her fists firmly on her hips.
“I do,” I looked her in the eye. “They were coming up the stairs when I found the book, so I bolted out the back. I saw that nasty piece of chardung standing at the top of the stairs after I escaped. It was the same trader who was grabbing you and heckling Xan at the pub that night.”
Nyraj looked up from the book, “You’ve had this for four days? You broke into the hotel and stole it from the room? And you’re only just now telling us?”
“I wasn’t sure what to do. I’ve been looking at every page ever since. Trying to figure out what it says or means. And it’s just nonsense. I can’t decipher any of the words and the maps, other than ours, are a mystery. He said it held the code to crossing the veils, but I need to find the crystal key first.”
Nyraj ran his hand through his thick black curls and blew out the breath that he had obviously been holding. Sarja stepped back and sat heavily on the sandy bank and just stared at me. Muut nibbled on his nails and lifted his right leg to scratch the back of his left calf. I could understand why they might be upset with me, but surely now they had to believe that Xan’s stories were all real. That they weren’t just made up to entertain us.
“Don’t you see? This is the book that holds all the information about the worlds that he adventured through. They were all real. He was telling the truth about all those creatures and people in his stories. They weren’t lies. Do you believe me now?”
“How do you know he didn’t just write this book himself so that he could keep the stories straight?” asked Sarja.
“Each chapter is written in what looks like a different language. I don’t know for sure, but I don’t think Xan Janal could write that well in our language, let alone several others.”
Nyraj flipped through the book looking more closely at the different sections. Sarja and Muut waited. When he looked up, he nodded, “She’s correct. Each section is written in a different language, and I’d say by different hands. This is more like a collection of different author’s contributions.”
“OK, so maybe he collected stories from other tellers and then combined them into this manuscript himself,” Muut offered.
“Then why was it so important he hid it in a floorboard under his bed?” I spat at them. Then added, narrowing my eyes, “And lost his life for it?”
“He’s a storyteller,” Sarja interrupted, then cleared her throat, lifting sand through her fingers, “Was a storyteller. This book would have been his most prized possession. It makes sense that he might hide it. But that doesn’t prove that he was killed for it.”
“There was nothing else of value in his room or his satchel,” my teeth were now firmly clenched, and the muscles of my jaw twitched. “You believe what you want. But I’m going to look for the crystal key. He told me that he buried it in the hills of Obupiri under the roots of a galaal tree.”
“Are you kidding? That would take a lifetime of searching and there is no way your mum is going to let you go running off on some wild peckoo chase,” Sarja once again stood with her hands firmly placed on her hips.
“He said the map was in the book. Now I just need to figure out how to read it.”
“I don’t know of anyone who can decipher these languages. Even the Guild Masters would struggle with this one,” Nyraj handed the book back to me.
I snatched the book from his hands and began rewrapping it, “We can’t tell the Guild Masters.”
“I might know someone who can read the scripts,” Muut muttered.
We all turned and looked at him. I was growing impatient and increasingly concerned that I had shared my secret prematurely. But I also wanted to understand what this book was about, “Who?”
“My GrandSir. He has studied more books and languages than anyone I know. If anyone can decipher the pages, he can.”
I stared at him for a moment, then finished wrapping the book and shoved it into my pack, “Can we visit him this evening? I am meeting with Abuzi in less than an hour, so maybe we could go visit him and have dinner or something,” I said, maybe too eagerly.
They all turned and looked at me.
“You’re meeting with the Advisor?” It was Sarja that asked what the others were thinking.
“In less than an hour?” Nyraj added.
“When were you going to tell us about that?” Muut finished.
I stuffed the manuscript back into my bag, “I just did.”
“Bex, what are you playing at?” Sarja asked in a softened tone, concern in her eyes.
“I’m not playing at anything. I just want to fulfill a promise I made to a dying friend. And if that means I have to do it alone, I will.”
Nyraj reached out and placed one of his large warm hands on my shoulder to stop me from turning away from them. “Bex, we’re just worried about you. You waited four days to tell us that you went skulking around in the night to retrieve a book at the behest of a dying man. Then you tell us you have an appointment with the Advisor and that you’re going to go searching the Obupiri Hills for a crystal key. Surely you can understand why we’re a little concerned.”
“I get it. You all have your futures mapped out for you. Sarja, you’re going to be the best Trader there ever was. Nyraj, I have no doubt that you will become Guild Master of the Blasting Society eventually. And Muut, well, if you don’t blow yourself up first, I’m sure that you will make some incredible discovery that will likely change our world. I don’t want any of that. This is the first time in my life that I feel truly committed to something. Xan Janal was more than just a storyteller. And I’m going to prove it.”
I turned and climbed up the bank as quickly as I could in the soft crumbling dirt. They called for me to stop and come back, but the tears were now flowing freely down my cheeks and the prickly scalard of fear had fully awoken in my belly as I made my blurry eyed way back to town.
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