CHAPTER 43

The Many or the Few

That night, in her room in the dungeon, Sefia opened her father’s telescope case. Inside, the tubes and brackets gleamed, unspoiled by time. Reaching out, she touched the eyepiece, imagining Lon’s hands flitting over the instrument, turning knobs, adjusting counterweights until the distant images grew sharp and close.

Though the telescope was pristine, the velvet lining was peeling in places, and it tore as she removed the tripod, revealing yellowed sheets of paper beneath.

Frowning, she slid the delicate pages, barely thicker than onionskin, from their hiding place.

The handwriting was Lon’s. It matched the script she’d seen in texts taken from the Library shelves.

She bit her lip. Were these words for her? Some message transmitted to her across time, overcoming even death?

She read the first line—

Master,

—and swallowed her disappointment. The letter wasn’t for her at all.

Master,

Please know I wanted to tell you. I wanted to tell you as soon as I found out. I think you, of all the members of the Guard, might have understood why I have to do this.

Then I remember our oaths:

Once I lived in darkness, but now I bear the flame.

It is mine to carry until darkness comes for me again.

I shall forsake all ties to kin and kingdom,

and render my allegiance unto the service of the Guard.

It shall be my duty to protect the Book from discovery and misuse,

and establish stability and peace for all the citizens of Kelanna.

I shall fear no challenge. I shall fear no sacrifice.

In all my actions, I shall be beyond reproach.

I am the shade in the desert. I am the beacon on the rock.

I am the wheel that drives the firmament.

For today I am a Guardian, and so shall I be to the end.

I wanted to let you know that I haven’t stopped believing. I guess it would be easier if I had. Although there’s nothing easy about what Mareah and I plan to do.

I’m afraid

I’m sorry I couldn’t be the Apprentice you deserved.

Here there was a series of scratched-out words, paragraphs stopped and started.

How do I begin?

If I had to

Once

I want to believe that our choices make a difference. I need to believe it.

Do you remember the first time you left me alone with the Book? I’d been looking forward to it for years. It was as if I knew there was something I was supposed to see, something important. Did you feel this way too, when you were an Apprentice?

“Be warned,” you said. “The Book likes to surprise new readers.”

“How did it surprise you?”

You told me the Book showed you your family. When you were inducted, your parents thought you were dead. They were bereft. They mourned for years . . . until one day, they had another son.

Though they never forgot you, with your younger brother there, every day they thought of you a little less. And every day, they hurt a little less too.

When he grew up, your brother married a fisherman’s son. Together they took in an orphan girl and raised her as their own.

“My parents, my brother, the niece I’ll never meet . . . they were fine without me. They were happy. Seeing that, I knew I’d made the right choice, joining the Guard.”

I asked if the Book would show me my own family.

“Everyone’s relationship with the Book is different,” you replied, “for the Book is not a static history but a living story, full of intent. Sometimes it is a beacon, illuminating your path when you have fallen into darkness. Sometimes it is an oracle, prophesying greatness or hardship. Other times it is a trickster, telling partial truths.”

“What’s your relationship with the Book?” I asked.

You laughed. “I like to think of the Book as an old friend. Faithful, with a good heart.”

Then you left, and I was alone in the vault. I flipped open the Book.

I wonder if I hadn’t been so eager, that would have changed what I found.

If I

When Sefia reached for the next pages, she found the familiar lettering of the Book, the ragged edges where Lon must have removed them.