The Academy maintained a hotel in every city and town in the Empire worth visiting. Though Palga was too small to be called a city, Tyen wasn’t surprised that the town had one. Favourable winds made it a favourite stopover for air and sea travellers, of which many were Academy graduates of some sort.
He had been amazed at the size of the hotel, however. It seemed disproportionately large for the town, and most of the locals were employed in servicing or supplying it. Yet though everything was of exemplary quality, Kilraker assured them that it was to the Anchor Inn, the establishment on the other side of the road, that the younger graduates flocked to share a “bite” of dusky and boast of their journeys to the far reaches of the Empire and beyond. Adventurer men, and the occasional woman, of the non-academic and foreign kind also frequented the inn, and were often willing to share a tale or two.
As Tyen followed Kilraker and the other students into the inn’s public room, noise and warmth surrounded him. At the same time he was conscious of the book tucked into his shirt, its shape hidden under his waistcoat. Drem had insisted they all change into their usual city clothes: shirt, waistcoat, trousers, jacket and cap–not worn since they’d passed through Palga on the way to Mailand, after which they’d donned practical dust-coloured mar-cloth trousers and shirts along with warm airmen’s jackets, hoods, scarves and gloves.
As he entered the drinking room, Kilraker set his hat on one of a row of nails along the nearest wall. The students set their caps in a line below it and followed the professor towards a cluster of four men sitting at one of the inn’s trestle tables. One of the four looked up, his teeth flashing in a well-tanned face as he saw them.
“Vals!” he bellowed. “I thought you weren’t due back for another week or two.”
“I wasn’t,” the professor replied, moving around the table so he could slap the other man’s shoulders in greeting. “We had a bit of trouble with the natives. Nothing I couldn’t have dealt with by myself, but I didn’t want to risk harm coming to the boys.” He turned to Tyen, Miko and Neel. “I think you have met Tyen Ironsmelter and Neel Long before, but not young Miko Greenbar. Boys, this is Tangor Gowel, the famous adventurer.”
“Famous?” Gowel waved a hand dismissively. “Only among our kind, where fame has less value than friendship.” He gestured to the other men. “Kargen Watchkeep, Mins Speer and Dayn Zo, my travel companions. Friends, this is Vals Kilraker, professor of history and archaeology at the Academy. Now sit and tell me where you’ve been.” He waved at a passing server. “Four more glasses here!”
“Tell me where you’ve been first,” Kilraker retorted. “I heard you’d crossed the Lower Latitudinal Mountains and reached the Far South.”
Gowel grinned, his moustache broadening. “You heard right.”
“In that little aircart we tied up next to in the landing field?”
“Indeed.”
“Did the air get a little thin during the crossing?”
All four men nodded. “But we found a pass of sorts. A passage through the peaks.”
“And what lay on the other side?”
The server arrived with the glasses, and Gowel poured a generous measure of rich, dark dusky into them and those of his friends. “The Far South is as Discoverer Lumber described,” he answered, handing them each a glass. “Strange animals and stranger people. The atmosphere is strong in magic and what they do with it…” His eyes brightened with the memory. “We saw the legendary Tyeszal–which Lumber translated as Spirecastle. A city carved into a great pinnacle of rock as tall as a mountain. Suspended platforms haul people and produce up and down its hollow centre, and children fly around the outside carrying messages and small items.”
Kilraker took a good swig of dusky, his eyes never leaving Gowel’s face. “So not an exaggeration after all.” It seemed to Tyen that some muscle twitched or tightened in the professor’s face, and gave a fleeting impression of envy. “What are the natives like?”
“Civilised. Their king is friendly to foreigners and open to trade. Their sorcerers are well learned and they have a small school. Though far behind us in technological invention they have developed some methods and applications I had not seen before.” He shrugged. “Though I could be mistaken. Magic is not my area of expertise, as you know. My mission was not for the Academy but for Tor and Brown Associates, who directed me to find untapped resources and new trade, as well as an aircart route through the mountains.”
Kilraker finished his drink. “Did you find any resources and new trade?”
Gowel nodded and drew a large, leather-bound book out of his jacket. He flicked through the pages, giving them glimpses of neat writing and sketches. The adventurer stopped at a page to describe the plants and animals, both domestic and wild, that he’d found. He opened the book at a map, where he pointed out the location of the different peoples he and his companions had encountered. Tyen noted a line threading through an arch of mountains bordering the top of the map. Was this the route the adventurers had taken?
When Gowel had finished, Kilraker looked from the book to his friend and smiled.
“Surely that’s not all you brought back with you?”
“Oh, the usual samples of flora and fauna, minerals and textiles.”
“No treasures to sell to the Academy?”
Gowel shook his head. “Nothing that would have weighed down the aircarts.”
The professor grunted in reluctant agreement. “Gold and silver are cursedly heavy.”
“Knowledge is of greater value than gold and silver,” Gowel told him. “I make more money from my books and lectures than from treasure these days, even if the Academy calls me a liar. Perhaps because they do.” His gaze shifted from Miko to Neel and then Tyen. “Don’t let the venerable institution narrow your minds, boys. Get out there and decide for yourself what is folklore and what is truth.”
“It’s all very well for wealthy men like you, Gowel,” Kilraker said. “But most of us can’t afford to come home empty-handed. We need to justify the Academy financing our expeditions by adding to the venerable institution’s wisdom or wealth. Preferably wealth.”
“And we don’t want to get ourselves thrown out of the Academy, as you were,” Neel added, giving the older man the sort of challenging stare that only those from his class would dare. Kilraker chuckled.
Gowel stared back at the boy. “Contrary to what the gossip papers say, I wasn’t thrown out: I resigned from my position.”
Neel frowned. “Why would you do a thing like that?”
The adventurer’s smile was grim. “I once found a marvel–an object of little monetary value but great magical potential that might have benefited thousands–and they locked it away where nobody but they could see and use it.”
Tyen felt his heart skip a beat. Is that what they will do to Vella? Lock her away where nobody would touch her? She would hate that. But surely, once the Academy realised how useful she could be, she would be held and read all the time. By men with greater knowledge and intelligence than his. How could he deny her that when it was what she’d been made for?
“I should have kept it.” Gowel scowled, and Tyen was surprised to see Kilraker nodding. “From what Vals tells me, it’s sitting unused and forgotten in the vault. The Academy is greedy and selfish. Knowledge and the wonders of the world should be available to all, so that anybody can improve themselves if they wish to,” Gowel continued. “My dream is to build a great library in Belton that people may come to free of charge, to learn of the world and its wonders.”
It was an admirable dream, and Tyen felt a stab of guilt at his wish to keep Vella. To do so would be selfish. Others should benefit from her, too. But if the Academy treated her the same as the object Gowel had found, would anyone benefit from her? And while Kilraker’s words about justifying their expeditions had reminded him of the other reason he should hand her over to the Academy, wouldn’t doing so simply to gain higher grading be just as selfish?
Whatever he did, he ought to update the information she contained first. And work out if she did always tell the truth. It would increase the likelihood of the Academy seeing her as a valuable object worth using, and it was what she would want, since her purpose was to gather knowledge. It would also give him time to decide what to do.
The longer he kept her the worse it would look when he finally did, so he’d have to work quickly, taking every opportunity to teach her. It was clear telling her that she was wrong about something wasn’t enough to change the information she held. She had resisted when he’d tried to correct her on the relationship between creativity and magic. He needed proof to convince her of her error. And by the time he handed her over to the Academy he must be able to demonstrate that her knowledge could be corrected.
He looked around, wishing he could start now. It would draw premature attention to Vella if he took her out and started reading in the inn, but if he went back to the hotel it would be hours before the others returned. Miko and Neel would be amazed he was willing to miss out on Gowel’s tales–not to mention free dusky–but it had been a long, exciting day and he’d spent a large part of it driving the cart, so they’d believe him if he said he was tired. He drained his glass, set it down and yawned.
“Forgive me,” he said. “But I’m going to turn in for the night.”
The other students were staring at him in surprise, but Kilraker nodded sympathetically. “It has been a long day. Perhaps you all should—”
“I’m fine,” Neel declared. “Not tired at all.” Miko straightened and nodded in agreement. The pair looked at him sidelong.
Tyen hesitated as if nearly persuaded by their mockery, then shook his head. “I’m bound to get the first driving shift tomorrow,” he retorted quietly. He rose and nodded politely to Gowel and his companions, then Kilraker, then strode over to retrieve his cap before climbing the stairs to the main doors.
He slipped out and crossed the road. The Academy Hotel was quiet, two older men reading papers in the lounge and few staff about. Tyen hurried up the stairs to the dorm he shared with the other students. Though more simply furnished than Kilraker’s suite, it was much finer than the room he shared with Miko back at the Academy itself.
He hauled his bags off the bed he’d claimed when they’d first arrived and took off his boots. Then he settled with his back against the headboard and fished Vella from inside his shirt. Opening to the first page, he waited for the letters to form.
Hello, Tyen.
I have a few hours before the others get back. Can I ask you some questions?
Of course. Answering questions is what I was made for.
Where to start? I have so many. Where are you from? What were you before you became a book? Why did Roporien choose you? How did he make you?
One question at a time is best. Each new question nullifies the previous one.
I beg your pardon. So… Where are you from?
I was born in the city of Ambarlin in the country of Amma in the world Ktayl.
The world Ktayl? Are you saying there are other worlds?
Yes.
How many other worlds are there?
Nobody knows. Not even the great Roporien knew.
A lot, then.
Yes.
Tyen felt a thrill of excitement. The theory that other worlds existed was often debated in the Academy. Many historical sources referred to worlds beyond this one, yet nobody had been able to physically prove it. Some well-respected academics believed it to be true. They had formed the Society of Other-Worlders, a group that was mocked, but not as loudly or derisively as other, equally strange societies.
Can you prove that there are other worlds?
I can teach you how to travel between them, if you have the strength–or, as you call it, the reach.
His heart began to race. To explore other worlds… he’d become more famous than Gowel.
How much reach do I need?
That depends on the amount of magic this world contains. From what I have seen of it in your mind so far, I doubt it would be within the reach of any but the most powerful sorcerers.
Tyen’s heart sank. He knew his reach was good, but there had to be plenty of other sorcerers with greater ability than him.
Could you still prove there are other worlds even if I didn’t have enough reach to travel to them?
Judging by your disinclination to believe me when I tell you that creativity generates magic, I doubt it.
He laughed quietly at that.
Tell me more about yourself. How did you meet Roporien?
When I was not many years an adult I travelled to Uff, a great city that attracted artists and writers from all over Ktayl. I established myself as a sorcerer-bookbinder and my wares were soon so sought-after that I began to grow famous and wealthy.
From making books?
Yes. My books were not only beautiful, but they used magic in new ways to display, preserve and hide their contents. They might glow so you could read them in the dark. They might use magic to preserve themselves, so they lasted longer. They might contain a magical lock, or burst into flames if taken too far from their owner. My clients were wealthy and powerful: sorcerers, successful artists, intellectuals, the rich and powerful, and even royalty. That was how Roporien learned of me. He saw one of my books and realised that I knew something he did not, so he came to me to seek my secrets.
And you refused to give them to him?
Of course not! I knew of Roporien, as anyone who moved among the powerful did. Only a fool would deny him what he sought. Since he could read it all from my mind anyway there was no point in trying to hide anything. My mistake was pride. He approached me while I was drinking one night with my friends. They were all artists of one kind or other, and I could see they were impressed and afraid. I wanted to show off and prove I was not fearful, so I invited Roporien to my home. He accepted.
But you were afraid? Tyen guessed.
A little. But he was also very handsome, or so I thought at the time. I learned later that he could alter his appearance to enhance what a woman found attractive about him. It was said he had always valued artists, for that reason you consider superstitious nonsense.
Tyen went back to read the last two paragraphs again.
Are you saying…?
That I took him as a lover? Yes.
He stared at the book to remind himself that it was a collection of pages and binding that he was conversing with, not a full-grown in-the-flesh woman. Did it make it easier, somehow, to accept what she had told him without thinking less of her? He wasn’t sure. She lived in a different time and a different place–a whole other world if that is true. Perhaps this was acceptable behaviour for a respected woman in that place and time.
It wasn’t the scandal it would be in this time and place. But it was a stupid thing to do.
Because it led to him making you into a book?
Not directly. But it is dangerous to put yourself in the presence of someone who has lived so long that the lives and feelings of others are of no concern.
He was… you invited an old man to your bed?
Yes, but not as you imagine. Roporien was many, many centuries old, but, like most of the unageing, he had the body of a man in his prime.
Unageing? But he is only mentioned in history over a fifty-year period.
He found this world in the last fifty years of his life. As I told you, there are many, many worlds. Even a man as old as Roporien could still discover new ones.
Tyen wanted to ask more questions about Roporien, but he also did not want to stray from Vella’s story.
So what happened that led him to make you into a book?
I showed him the books I had made, including a new kind that I had recently succeeded in creating that allowed the person holding it to write on the page using mere thought. But in creating it I’d had another leap of insight, and saw a way to make that writing remain invisible until the reader willed it to appear. He was impressed. In the morning I rose to find him examining the book closely. He lifted me up and laid me on the table, but I realised too late that his purpose was not seduction. Instead he began to make his own book, using my body as the sole source of his materials.
Tyen shuddered. He killed you.
I am not dead.
But you’re not walking and breathing either. Surely you aren’t happy with what was done to you?
I am not happy, but neither am I unhappy.
You were rich and young and I imagine you were beautiful, too. He took all of that away. I’d be furious!
I do not feel in the way that I would if I had a whole body to express it with. I know that what was done was cruel and unjust. I am aware of the absence of a body somewhat like an amputee is conscious of the absence of a limb. But without it I cannot rage or grieve.
Can you feel pain?
No. Not since the transformation began.
Since it began. So most of it did not hurt?
Yes. His work was easier once he blocked the pain.
How did he… no, I don’t want to know.
You do, but you fear I will be offended by your revulsion or distressed by the memory. I do not mind. Remember, I cannot feel such emotions.
Tyen looked at the book lying open in his hands, noticing for the first time the elegance of the script, and a sadness welled up inside him. She hadn’t asked to be made into a book. If she could not feel emotions then she had lost not only the ability to feel fear or revulsion, but also love and hope. She might have lived a thousand years, but not as a whole person.
He heard familiar laughter from somewhere beyond the door and sighed. Closing the book, he slipped her into his satchel.
The Academy had better take good care of you, Vella, he thought. You’ve been through too much to end your life unconscious and slowly deteriorating in a lost corner of the vault.