THE IMPOSING COGITARY WAS one of the largest buildings in the Citadel complex. Built of polished white stone that shone with flecks of gold, the repository of scrolls consisted of five concentric pentagons which, from outermost to innermost, grew progressively smaller in diameter but taller.
Lyssandra seemed very proud of the structure. “Each of the chambers encloses exactly the same amount of space.”
With a soundless whistle, Vic tilted his head back to look at the high ceiling. Five-sided skylights alternated with sun crystals so the Cogitary would be well-lit at any time of day or night. “The number five must mean something special to Elantyans.”
Beside him, Gwen gave a soft snort. “Brilliant deduction, Holmes. Our medallions have five sides, too, and I still can’t help thinking that our mothers must have had some connection with this place.”
“If my dad was trying to open a crystal door, then I bet he thought coming here would help him find Mom.” Vic blew out a long sigh. “There’s so much they never told us — but I plan to ask him as soon as we get back.”
Lyssandra spread her hands. “How would you like to begin your research?”
Gwen glanced around the huge angular library, then turned her violet eyes upward, as she often did when she was thinking. “First, I suppose we should find the crystal doors section and do some research.”
“Always begin with the obvious.” Vic put on a mock serious expression, pursed his lips, and nodded. “And then… ?”
“And second, we find out more about those aja crystals Rubicas used. He said they were rare. Your dad had crystals in the solarium, too. I wonder what kind they were.”
“And twelfth?”
“Third, we gather the supplies we need based on what we learn. And fourth,” she plowed on before Vic could interrupt her list, “we build an array like the one your dad and Rubicas were both using, then test it. If everything goes well… fifth, we go home. What could be easier?”
“Ah, five simple steps — that magic number again. And all so… conveniently vague.” Vic stroked his chin with a thumb and forefinger now in a caricature of one of his father’s curator friends from the museum. “Tell me again how we start doing number one — the research, was it?” He knew she hated it when he goaded her like this, but he just couldn’t help himself. “I doubt there’s any kind of Elantyan search engine or online card catalog.” He looked at Lyssandra for help.
A tinge of pink crept into Gwen’s cheeks. “Well, we ask someone, of course. There’s got to be a librarian —”
She turned, ready to start looking — only to bump into a stocky older gentleman with a round, kindly face. His intelligent eyes were set above a doughy lump of a nose. “Actually, we call ourselves Cogitarians. How may I help you?”
Gwen’s cheeks turned pink again. “I didn’t know anyone was behind me.”
The man folded his pudgy fingers in front of him. “I could not help but notice that you have been here for several minutes and have not selected a scroll.”
“We’ve never been here before,” Vic said. “We were just trying to get our bearings.”
“Cogitarian Zotas will be glad to help you,” Lyssandra said. “He has often helped me in the past.”
The man’s eyes sparkled. “One of the greatest pleasures of my work here is to introduce newcomers to our Cogitary. I am here solely to assist others in their searches. Please allow me to show you around. Once you understand our system, you will be able to find anything you need. Is this a project for the Citadel? Or a personal interest?”
Gwen cleared her throat. “Personal, but very important.”
Lyssandra added, “My friends seek information about opening crystal doors.”
Vic whispered to his cousin, “I think that was step one.”
Zotas spent the next hour sharing the wonders of the scroll repository with Vic and Gwen. Each of the five-sided sections of the Cogitary was called a pentorium. With the exception of the arched doorways, the walls were lined floor to ceiling with shelves and cubbyholes, all stuffed with preserved scrolls.
The lower shelves, the ones most easily reached, held the thickest scrolls, documenting a wide variety of topics from history to health, philosophy, magic theory, and science. The higher shelves held more delicate spell scrolls, all of them written with powerful aja ink.
As Zotas led them through an archway into the next pentorium, something small and dark flitted through the air and darted down to hover in front of the plump Cogitarian. Vic thought it must be a giant flying beetle, but its movements were too precise and delicate. More like a hummingbird.
Gwen gasped. “Is that a fairy? A real one?”
Vic looked at the hovering creature and saw that it did indeed appear to be vaguely human-shaped, but quite different from the ethereal Piri inside Sharif’s glowing crystal sphere.
Zotas held out his palm, and the little winged thing lit on his hand. Vic saw that the flitting creature looked exactly like the Protective Vir Helassa, whom they had seen while Tiaret told her story. The figure wore a vaguely Grecian-looking scarlet gown that began on her left shoulder and swept in flowing folds across her bodice; it was clasped with a glittering broach at her right hip, revealing a good deal of midriff and navel before flowing into a skirt that hung low on her hips and reached to her ankles in a fluttering crenellated hem.
“Wow,” Vic said. “The amazing shrinking woman?”
Without looking up, the Cogitarian said with a chuckle, “Not Helassa herself, merely a skrit with a message from her.” He spoke to the creature on his palm. “Message, please.”
The skrit’s imitation of Helassa fixed him with an imperious gaze. “I require three spell scrolls without delay: one for boiling large quantities of oil, one for a flame catapult, and one for healing burns. Do not keep me waiting. Sage Polup is assisting me with weapons. This is a matter of utmost urgency.” The skrit put its arms down at its sides. “Repeat?”
“No, thank you,” Zotas replied. “You may revert now.”
The little figure shimmered and became a female figure five inches high, clad only in wings and a pair of tiny, transparent slippers. “Reply?”
Zotas raised a hand and made a circular motion twice in the air. “No need. Helassa does not want conversation from me. She just wants her scrolls.” Two more skrits appeared and landed on his palm beside the first.
Lyssandra explained to the cousins, “Skrits are able to lift more than their own weight, but three scrolls are too heavy. They will each take one.”
Zotas tapped the first skrit on the head. “A boiling oil spell to Helassa.”
“A boiling oil spell to Helassa,” she repeated, and zipped away with hummingbird speed.
Looking concerned, Gwen asked, “Helassa said it was urgent — are we under attack?”
Zotas pinched the bridge of his nose. “With Helassa, all matters are urgent.”
As the other two skrits went to fulfill their assignments, Zotas continued the tour. In each of the pentoria, the marble floors were inlaid with mosaics depicting various subjects of the scrolls stored in that area — scenes of history, science, agriculture, magic. Polished stone benches ran down the center of each gallery.
The central pentorium was Vic’s favorite. Like the other levels, the perimeter was lined with shelves of scrolls, but the upper third of the innermost chamber was made entirely of glass, rising into the air like a perfect five-sided crystal letting in sunlight. Carved reading benches and small trees encircled multitiered trickling fountains. Tiny crystals of sun aja dangled in the trees to provide light to readers after dark. Plump cushions strewn on the floor offered younger visitors a comfortable place to sit. A dozen novs, apprentices, and sages worked silently at tables, poring over scrolls and taking notes.
Gwen looked at all the other people in the chamber. “Do you have to be a wizard to use the spells on the scrolls?”
“You need only the ability to read.” The Cogitarian smiled.
“We learned how to read before kindergarten,” Vic said. “Both of us.”
Gwen punched him lightly in the arm. “When did you learn how to read Elantyan? Just because Lyssandra helped us speak the language doesn’t mean you can make out those symbols. They look like hieroglyphics to me, with a little Japanese and Arabic thrown in.”
“Oh. Good point,” said Vic, crestfallen. “We’ll never be able to figure it out.” Then he turned hopefully to the copper-haired girl. “Can you teach us to read Elantyan, like you taught us to speak it?”
Lyssandra shook her head. “Alas, Viccus, some things truly must be learned.”
“Great,” Vic said with a groan. “Looks like it’s back to school again.”
“The courses at our Citadel are enlightening, gratifying, and often entertaining.” Lyssandra intentionally touched Vic’s arm, though she didn’t have to. “I would enjoy taking a discovery or a praktik with you, Viccus.” She blushed and glanced at Gwen. “With both of you.”
“Uh, maybe if this spell experiment doesn’t work,” Vic said, embarrassed by the attention. “All right?”
Meanwhile, the Cogitarian brought them an imposing rolled scroll. “This is in the ancient language, bound to the scroll with aja ink. As you see, it is much more complex than simple Elantyan.”
“Now that looks like hieroglyphics,” Vic said.
“Each time a scroll is used, some of its magic is released, and the ink becomes fainter. The power of the spell determines the number of uses before the scroll goes completely blank. Once a scroll is used up, it is returned here to be inscribed with a new spell.” Zotas scanned the shelves, as if reorganizing them in his mind. “Common everyday spells — such as those for skrit summoning and heating stoves — are mass-produced from etched xyridium plates on a printing press overseen by sages in the Citadel, and they are written in simple Elantyan. A few are printed with phonetic icons, so that even children can access them.”
The Cogitarian gave each of them a small, lightweight scroll, little more than a scrap of curled paper. “These are the easiest spells we have. They are for summoning skrits, and you can tell them which scrolls you would like from the shelves around here.” He showed them how to interpret the easy icons, and then retrieved other simple spells from a shelf. “And these are translators. When you invoke the symbols, you will comprehend the concepts in the scrolls you are studying. You cannot access the magic itself, but you will understand what you are reading. Translator spells are designed for research.”
“That’s exactly what we need,” Gwen said.
Pressing his fingertips together, Zotas said, “Please let me know if you have any questions.” With a small bow, he left them.
After the cousins found an open table and seats, Lyssandra took her leave of them. “Now that you can be self-sufficient, I must see to my other duties. I have been neglecting my apprenticeship in Translation and Diplomacy.” With that, she left the Cogitary.
Anxious to get started, Gwen unrolled her children’s version of the skrit-summoning scroll and spoke the three sounds printed there, as the Cogitarian had explained. Nothing happened. She looked disappointed and was about to call Zotas back. “I know I read it just the way he told us, and I’m sure I got the sounds right.”
“Sheesh, Doc! You try for two seconds and you’re giving up already? Did you remember to say the magic word?”
“Oh, right! S’ibah.” Before she could draw another breath, a skrit hovered before her. “Aren’t you cute! I need to see spell scrolls that have to do with opening crystal doors. Could you please get them for me?”
“Make as many trips as you need to,” Vic added to the flitting creature.
Time and again, skrits delivered histories, essays, and treatises relating to crystal doors. Invoking the comprehension spells, the cousins scanned document after document, searching for ideas.
The door-opening spells had several variations, and thanks to the help of the skrits in the Cogitary, they “read” enough crystal door spells to understand the patterns and components a Key needed to use. Even Vic didn’t get bogged down in all the studying. They both used up every bit of the skrit-summoning magic in their scrolls, but it was worth the effort.
While the skrits flew back and forth putting away scrolls they had used, Vic restlessly perused the lower shelves in the central pentorium. Suddenly, his heart skipped a beat. There, hand-drawn on the edge of a stone shelf that held a heavy scroll, was the symbol. The symbol. The one from the medallions their mothers had given them. He waved Gwen over and showed it to her.
She grew excited, too. “Maybe it’s an omen? Let’s read the scroll.”
Reading the heavy parchment with the help of a comprehension spell, they discovered what none of the skrits had been able to find all day: a single pre-Closure theory for opening a new crystal door. It used water, prisms, and crystals in a complicated model. The angles for the array were exact, the separation distances perfectly specified and measured, the prisms tilted to magnify and reflect the crystal energies. Vic thought it was worth a try. It was their only lead.
Many hours later, when Vic’s stomach was growling for an evening meal and darkness had begun to fall over the island, they found Zotas again and questioned him about the symbol on the shelf. With great surprise, he said he had never noticed it before and could offer them no explanation. Vic had suspected as much.
“May we take these with us to our rooms at the Citadel?” Gwen asked, holding up several scrolls.
The Cogitarian smiled. “Our skrits always remember who has a scroll. I’ll let them know about this last one you found. When you are finished with a parchment, ask anyone to summon a skrit, and it will return the scroll to its proper shelf.”
“Great,” Vic said. “Now all we need is five star aja crystals to start our experiment. And while we’re at it, maybe we should wish for a few million bucks and world peace.”
Zotas cocked his head to one side. “Do you need the star aja temporarily or permanently? How long will your research take?”
“It’ll be temporary — if this works,” Gwen said. “A few days at most.”
“In that case,” Zotas said, “I know where you might borrow some.”