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“Finally, some decent light, and that’s coming from me,” I said, closing the heavy oak doors of the library. “Seriously, you would think that after all they put into hiding the scroll, they would add more lighting so you could actually read the thing!”
The library was one of my favourite rooms. The doors were decorated with scenes of the four elements and their gods; carvings so beautiful that even after all these years, I could just stand by the doors, running my fingers over the intricate patterns for hours. It was quiet except for the ticking of the grandfather clock. Bright, warm sunlight poured through the windows, framed with heavy, red velvet curtains.
At a first glance, the room would seem small, crammed with more books than there were shelves, but it was really one of the biggest rooms in the house. Floor to ceiling shelves made the room like a maze, filled with books on every subject; animals, history, science, elements – and a large fiction collection. A big study table dominated near the doors, and half a dozen reading nooks were scattered throughout.
Curling up in one of the plush armchairs was the best way to lose yourself in a book, and although I loved to read, I had to be careful around books. If I got mad at a character, well, it wouldn’t be the first time my sister had to soak the books to save them.
Mira shoved some books aside, and put the scroll on the table.
“Ready?” she asked, fingers hovering over the parchment that was yellowed from age, tied with a delicate ribbon, and a broken wax seal.
“After traps and almost drowning in that room? Definitely.”
She unrolled the page, careful not to tear the edges that were obviously a breath away from crumbling to dust. I held my breath, excitement rushing through me.
It was a let down. There were no words on the paper, just symbols that I’d never seen before. The ink was a pretty purplish blue colour I’d never seen before, but an ink sample was not what I’d been hoping for.
My sister’s eyes darted back and forth across the page. “This is . . .” she began.
“Unbelievable? Outrageous? Useless?” I had a few other words for the scroll. “Why would someone hide a scroll with so much security, if no one can even read it?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s a rhyming poem, beautifully handwritten. It’s practically art.” She frowned at me. “Just because it’s in old calligraphy doesn’t mean no one can read it.”
“Uh, yeah it does. It’s not calligraphy, it’s symbols. Sort of like family runes, only more scribbly.”
“Fera, it’s just a poem. No runes or symbols.”
“Stop messing with me. The symbols don’t even look alike, how can they rhyme?” I crossed my arms.
“I’m telling you, there aren’t any symbols, I don’t know what you see –”
“I see what’s really there!”
“I’m not making this up!”
“Neither am I!”
“Oh for –” She yanked over a piece of paper, a quill, and a pot of ink. “Maybe if you’d bothered joining in father’s lessons – This is what it says.” She started writing down the poem in plain old, proper Kanish.
The door banged opened as she was putting the quill back, the pot of ink overturning onto the paper. She cursed and righted the pot, but the lower half of the poem was already covered and unreadable. I looked to see who it was.
Not our mother, thankfully. Standing in the door was a man, I would guess late twenties or early thirties. Short brown hair, dark brown eyes, a brown jacket over a white shirt and black pants – how very generic.
“You must be Mira and Fera,” he said, surprised. He gave a slight bow. I wondered how he knew our names. We had definitely never met him. “I was looking for your father.”
I didn’t believe him. It sounded like an afterthought or an excuse. Guests would know to ask one of the staff, especially if they’d been here before. One glance at Mira told me she thought the same thing.
“We haven’t seen him since this morning,” she said.
“Any idea where I might find him?”
“He could be in the ballroom,” I suggested.
“Or the garden,” my sister countered.
“Dining hall?”
“Maybe the kitchen.”
“Ooh, we should get a snack later.”
“I wonder if there’s any cookie dough.”
“But then I can’t have any without making one big cookie block.”
“Sounds like a fire problem, not a water problem. Have you ever seen water cook something?”
“What about pasta?”
“Which is usually in a pot over a . . .”
“Fire.” I crossed my arms proudly, then realized she got me. “You know, one day, I’m going to win an argument. What are you going to do then?”
She thought for a moment. “Celebrate my eighty-fifth birthday.” She smiled smugly.
“You know what –” The man by the door cleared his throat. I had forgotten he was there. “Sorry, what was the question?”
“Your father.” His gaze slid past us. “What’s that?” He was looking at the scroll and the paper beside it.
“Nothing,” Mira said at the same time I said, “Secret code.” We stepped in front of the scroll and paper, blocking it from view. It probably made us look guilty, but I didn’t want some random man knowing what we did in our free time. He narrowed his eyes, obviously not believing us, but pasted a false smile on his face anyways.
“If you see your father, let him know I was looking for him. Have a good day.”
I shut the door solidly behind him
Mira crossed her arms. “Secret code? It’s plain Kanish.”
“It’s not calligraphy!” I started to pace. “Why can you read it, and I can’t? We’re twins. We’re identical – aside from controlling fire and water –”
“Fera.”
I stopped and looked at my sister. “Fine, whatever.” I marched over to her transcription. “What is this stupid fake poem anyways?”
“By all the stars in the sky
There is a change upon the land
For the true power shall die
Unless one moves to still this hand
Are you the one to follow these clues?
You clever, cunning, tricky, and skilled?
If not you will undoubtedly lose
The prize lies only if you are strong willed
The Crystal of Arasha’s home lies deep
Let the world hope you don’t get cold feet.
“Stand outside upon the green
Where the tallest three make an arc
Turn from the blue domed screen
And find the oak with stone grey bark
A branch you’ll see, with leaves red
Pull and follow down
Stay left, clear your head
The next link is done in brown
This is but one, one piece of four
Gather them all and your talents will soar.”
Mira picked it up.
“Now you have but half of clue two
This is the village of Laydron
So head to a place that is never new
Start from the pillar carved of dragons
Head north by thirty lengths
Twelve steps east, three southwest
Give the girl idol your thanks
Down past the viper’s nest
Dig beneath the silver earth
Take what is not worth.
“Your noble quest is but at an end
Do you see the glyph upon the tree?
You’ll soon see why water is such a good friend
For one’s true power will soon be free
Turn north, and north again
From tree to arch, in direction of water
Now, east, paces of ten
Wait ‘til midnight, or you will falter
The keys you have gleamed will be needed soon
One can find the spot by the light of the moon.”
I made a face. “So, it’s nonsense. Is it supposed to be one of those meta-things?”
“I don’t know. How does one even see anything by moonlight?” She pointed at symbols that I assumed were the words.
“You’re sure you didn’t read it wrong?”
“I know how to read Kanish.”
“No, you know how to read weird symbols that only you can read for some unknown reason.”
“I don’t see any symbols.”
“Well, I can read Kanish and Roanilan, and that is not Kanish.” My sister raised her eyebrows. “All right, I can read most Roanilan.” She tilted her head. “Fine, I can read a little Roanilan. Happy?”
She gave a please nod. “I don’t know what type of poem it is. Sounds more like a treasure hunt.”
“Maybe we can look for matching lines in the books?” I suggested.
“Between the two of us, we’ve read almost every book, I’d think we’d have recognized something. And our parents would ban us from the passages if we brought it to them and they asked how we found this.”
“Well, maybe –”
The door opened again, this time softer. Our father came in, his short black hair was messy, like he had been running his hand through it a lot. His eyes, a mix of brown and green, passed over me and my sister.
“Found a new passage?” he asked, politely. He was trying not to laugh.
“What makes you think that?” I asked innocently.
He laughed under his breath. “You forgot to brush your hair again.”
I glanced at Mira. Her braid had started coming undone and there were cobwebs on her shoulders. Dust and dirt smudged her face. Judging by her expression, I probably looked as bad.
We had been so focused on the scroll, we hadn’t realized how we looked. If we didn’t return to our rooms early, Mother was going to give us a lecture while rushing us to be ready.
“Your mother has been neck deep in preparations all day, and you two go running off like always. I almost wouldn’t know today was special.”
“She’s the one who said we could do what we want,” I grumbled.
“Oh, someone was in here looking for you. Had a sort of brown colour scheme – we didn’t recognize him,” Mira said.
“Ah, thank you. I don’t suppose you know which way he went? No? I’ll track him down myself.” He smiled over his shoulder at us, halfway through the door “And whatever it is you’re hiding behind you, I’ll find out about later.” He closed the door behind him.
“How are we supposed to keep anything a secret around here?” I complained.
“Mother would’ve figured out far more. Er, Fera – about figuring out the meaning of the poem, considering the timing –”
“What, you mean wait a whole year to find out what this means? I really hate waiting.”
“You have any better ideas?”
“Not yet.”
“Well, you don’t have much time to think of a better one.” She pointed at the grandfather clock.
I muttered a curse under my breath. It was almost two o’clock. We’d missed lunch. “How does time always seem to pass faster when we actually have something interesting to do?” I asked.
Mira carefully rolled up the scroll. “It’s one night in the spotlight, I think we can handle it,” she pointed out. “Race you to our room?”
“You’re on!” I called, already making my way to the door. I wasn’t losing this time.
***
OUR ROOM HAD ORIGINALLY been a bedchamber for one, and had a cramped feel now that it served two. It had two canopy beds, one on either side of the room, each with a small table cluttered with seemingly random objects; maps of the passages, hair clips, things that we kept meaning to put away but never got around to. We shared the large oak wardrobe set in the corner, and the vanity opposite it. It’s not like we ever fought over using them. We had a set of changing screens, and a couple chairs we liked to read and snack in as well. Our mother was sitting on one of them.
“No one had any idea where you were. I should have guessed,” she sighed, getting up.
“Sorry,” Mira said with a wince.
“We still have lots of time,” I pointed out with a huff.
“Fera!” Mira hissed under her breath.
“Mira,” I muttered back mockingly. Both my mother and sister glared at me.
“Both of you, change out of those clothes and go at least wipe yourselves down,” Mother instructed.
“Yes,” we mumbled and scampered off to do as she said.
An hour later we were scrubbed clean and hadn’t hit one another in the eye when we started throwing things. Our mother had our formal dresses and their matching overskirts and stoles laid out for us. Another household might’ve had a maid to do that, but we’d never much felt they were needed and inadvertently scared a few off. Also, I think our mother liked looking after us herself so much she never bothered looking that hard for one.
They were both traditional Freckanian formal dresses – a long sleeved underdress that hovered dangerous close to the ground, hanging sleeves that always twirled wonderfully, the detachable overskirt with its bold damask pattern, and a portrait neckline bordered in the same fabric that always seemed to threaten to slip off my shoulders. Mine was shades of red with embellishments of gold, while Mira’s was all blues with silvers.
It wasn’t like we really had any colour choices, considering the occasion.
“Do we have to wear these things?” I asked, although I’d already heard the answer before, like when being fitted a hundred times, or wearing formal dresses for other events like our cousin’s ceremony. Somehow the style never got any more comfortable.
“Yes. It is one of the most important ceremonies you’ll be attending in your life and you have to look like respectable and proper young ladies. This is celebrating your arrival into adulthood,” our mother reiterated for the millionth time.
“Fine. I have to wear it but I don’t have to like it. I would be fine in the jacket the guys get to wear,” I complained.
“You’re not a man,” our mother said. “You’re . . . almost a woman. You should be appreciative – most girls would love to have a coming-of-age dress this fine.”
“So? When will we ever wear them again?” I asked.
“Potentially at your own children’s ceremonies, providing you have them, and that they still fit. Now come here. We need to do something with your hair.” She handed us each a brush.
“I’m guessing ‘something’ doesn’t mean a simple braid?” I sighed at her expression, saying she wasn’t going to answer such a silly question.
“Well, I'm glad I won't be dancing, or else this would be really annoying,” Mira said as she started to brush her hair. “Please say whatever you have planned won't pull on our scalps though. I don't think either of us could stand that for hours.”
“First of all, there will be dancing and I expect you to participate. Second, you will take whatever I do with your hair and like it,” she said, laying out the flower crowns and hair pins with dangling decorations. I ran the brush through my hair, wincing as the brush caught all the knots and pulled on them.
My sister looked at me and mouthed, and you call me a tyrant? I resisted the urge to giggle. “I don't dance, mom, you know that, and please don't make it too painful,” Mira said meekly.
“Hey, if my brush is stuck, is there any chance you can braid around it?”
“Really, Fera?” Mira laughed.
“I’m still raising a child,” our mother muttered under her breath.
“Does that mean after tonight I’ll be an adult but Fera won’t?” Mira teased.
“No fair! Why do you get to be an adult without me?”
Our mother sighed and came to take the brush from me, running it through my hair with such force I figured I should shut up, or she might leave me bald.
***
“OH CALM DOWN,” MIRA told me. “Mother will be furious if you mess it up before we even get out of our room. I’m sure you’ll accidentally knock it all loose while dancing, anyways.”
“I can’t help it if I’m a boy magnet and a good dancer. You’ll probably spend your time hiding by the punch bowl.”
“We have the same face! Why are you the self-proclaimed boy magnet?”
“You like to avoid dancing and people.”
“No, I don’t. Well – the dancing, yes, and I guess I don’t like it when people come on strong –”
“Forget it, just forget it. I’ll just have enough fun for the both of us for the whole year. I can’t stand that we’re going to be apart that long!” I seriously dreaded being away from my twin. We had always been together – the furthest apart was us being on opposite sides of the house. I would never say it aloud, but I was worried Mira might make friends in the tribe that she would like better than me.
“I know. It really stinks,” Mira said. She seemed much more at ease with this idea, though I knew that she was probably dreading being the centre of attention in the tribe.
“I mean, who else is going to put up with me?”
“That is a very good question.”
“You’re supposed to say, ‘oh dearest Fera, it is an honour to even be near you’.”
“I’m your twin, I’m honest.”
“Brutally so. Do you think mother would be upset if we switched the overskirt belt to a leather one? And where’d you put the scroll?”
“Oh, the embossed pair we have would look nice – much better than the ones that match the damask. The scroll’s on top of my canopy. I put it up there when mother was doing your hair.”
“Oh, that’s what you were doing. Hey, could I get away with wearing boots? Ooh, maybe the really cute brown ones with the laces.” I may not have loved dresses, but I did love boots. “I think these fancy shoes are going to fly off even before I start dancing.”
“They are slippery. I’ll get the boots.” Mira rummaged through our wardrobe. “Here they – oh, this is your pair. How are your feet smaller than mine?”
“Dunno,” I said, looking out the window at the gardens below. “I think they’re just about ready for us.
“Then let’s go before they start to worry.”