Compendium Page 12

“Oh, can you?” a voice said from behind her. “Have you taken up in the kitchen or become precognitive?”

  She stopped dead and spun around to face her detractor. Cedar’s form was comically lanky as he made an emergency stop to keep from slamming into her. She poked him in the chest.

  “My sources are none of your concern,” she said lightly, and turned to continue to the dining area.

  He took long steps to catch up to her short but rapid footfalls. “I don’t suppose your recent absence was a reconnaissance mission to determine our dining-room menu.”

  “Alas, no,” she said. “I had a tangle with the beast.” She looked over to Cedar with mock foreboding.

  “The beast?” he replied, arching a black eyebrow. The light in his eyes darkened as they slid down to her throat.

  Mia was suddenly very conscious of the bruising. She supposed her levity was out of place, but she had too much worth focusing on at the moment to brood over SainClair’s misplaced ire. She had a secret weapon now, a means to change her fortune, something she could rely on to see her through this experience.

  “Might this beast be a surly cleric who stomps around in boots all the time while the rest of us wear slippers? And might he have some sort of bizarre vendetta against you?”

  “Perhaps,” she said. “Perhaps he caught me having a look around the lower corridors and assumed I was a Druid spy. And perhaps he threw me into the brig until Dominus Nikola knocked some sense into him, figuratively of course. Although I would rather like to see Dominus Nikola clock a particular someone real good.”

  Cedar laughed, his voice deep. It resonated down the corridor toward the dining hall. “I suspect you could get a good value in trade for orchestrating a viewing for that match.”

  They entered the dining hall, the good spirit between them lingering and mixing with the hearty smell of the roast emanating from the hearth.

  “Ha-ha!” she exclaimed. “I am precognitive!”

  Really she had just noticed that every fourth day the kitchen served some sort of roasted meat, probably to keep those who might be less than thrilled with stew every night from lodging complaint.

  Cedar rolled his eyes, and they proceeded to pile their bowls high with meat, vegetables, and rice. Mia smiled at the sight of a hunk of cake in her ladle of vegetables and recalled Brother Cornelius’s admonition against spilling Borus’s secrets.

  They surveyed the dining room for an empty seat. Mia spotted Taryn across the hall, and she waved them over with her knife.

  “You’re looking refreshed,” Taryn said as they approached.

  “I’m feeling quite a bit better indeed.”

  Mia and Cedar sat down across from Taryn; it was odd to actually be part of a group. Cedar was friendly with most of the acolytes, and Taryn welcomed his presence with easy jibes back and forth.

  “Have you been cooking the books for us?” Cedar asked her, grinning his usual playful smile.

  “I suppose we could cook up the three sacks of rice we received today in exchange for that basket of extra-long-lasting gourds Sister Moritania engineered, but I think Brother Cornelius would take issue with us cooking his books.”

  Mia couldn’t decide whether Taryn’s response was dry wit or genuine naïveté. She had such an innocent, unassuming way about her that made her hard to read.

  Cedar nodded. “I suppose rice would taste better than dusty old books anyway.”

  “Now, now,” Mia chimed in, “I take issue with use of the word dusty. I’ve been working very hard to de-spore every single one of those tomes in the Archives. I won’t have my reputation as a librarian tarnished by your defamatory words.”

  Taryn giggled. “Actually you’ve been doing quite a thorough job. The books I checked out yesterday were all in tip-top condition.”

  “Thank you, Taryn. I feel I truly have a calling as a book cleaner.”

  Taryn giggled again.

  “Oh, please,” Cedar said with a grin, “we all know you’re just using Brother Cornelius because he’s easygoing.”

  “How dare you imply that I’m anything other than devoted to the good Brother Cornelius!” Mia made an exaggerated display of mock insult.

  Truth be told, she was rather devoted to him, but it was nice to entertain and be entertained. When the hilarity died down, she weighed her next question.

  “What do you know about the artifacts from before the Great Fall?” she asked.

  Cedar shrugged. “There are always rumors about which artifacts might be out there. I heard one once about special paper that you write on, and it sucks in your words and stores them for later, almost like a journal. It’s only a single page thick but can store much more than a page of writing. I heard another story about a gourd that can boil water without a hearth to make it potable when you travel.”

  These sounded interesting but nothing as complex as Compendium.

  Taryn sighed, and a dreamy expression crossed her face. “In my historical research, I’ve run across references to an object called the Shillelagh. It’s some sort of stick, and you supposedly can use it to travel anywhere in Lumin just by tapping it against a surface and telling it where you want to go. Then a hole will open up and take you there.”

  Cedar raised an eyebrow. “That sounds like rubbish.”

  Taryn’s face grew even more animated. “Oh, I assure you it isn’t. Numerous references are made to it in the ancient texts. It’s even depicted in some of the drawings I’ve seen. The real question is what happened to it after the Great Fall.”

  “I’ve never heard of such thing,” Cedar said, waving his hand dismissively.

  “Still,” said Taryn, not dissuaded, “can you imagine how amazing it would be to travel instantaneously anywhere in the realm? You could go home for the day or visit the top of the highest mountain or see the snowy peaks of the Northlands.” She rested her chin in her palm, and her eyes lolled upward, as if her whole body were following them up and out of the Compound and far away. “If I had the Shillelagh, I’d use it to visit the whole realm, one town at a time. I would see it all. It would be glorious.”

  “Do you think something like that really exists?” Cedar said, his voice still holding doubts. “I mean, if the Order had an object with power like that right under its nose, I’d think they’d be making use of it.”

  “How do you know it isn’t here? They could be making use of it as we speak,” Taryn shot back. “It’s not as if we’re privy to every move the senior clerics make. We’re among the Order’s lowest ranks and certainly wouldn’t be trusted to even know about the Shillelagh’s existence, let alone whether it’s being employed on secret missions.”

  “Secret missions?” Cedar asked. “Now you’re really starting to sound a little bit mad. This is an organization dedicated to study and reflection, not crazy secret missions using ancient technology.”

  “I don’t think Taryn is completely mad,” Mia added, trying to be helpful.

  “Well, thank you,” Taryn said, gesturing her knife at her in salute. “I think…wait, not completely mad?”

  “Well,” Mia continued, “I’ve heard many stories about the Order from my father, and if he’s to be believed—and I think he is—the Order isn’t entirely about study and reflection.”

  Cedar’s face darkened slightly. “What do you mean?”

  “For instance, Father said that during the last war, the Order refused to get involved even as Willowslip pleaded for help. Certain clerics went against the Order to assist the people and were ejected from its ranks. Many clerics and nonclerics alike died. By the time the Order got involved, the city’s losses were great. Father said the Order waited so long that it sacrificed its chance to remain relevant.”

  Both Cedar and Taryn looked somewhat scandalized by Mia’s words.

  “Well, even if that’s true, what does that have to do with anything? It sounds like perhaps warmongering wasn’t the Order’s place.” Taryn squinted, as if she were mulling over her own words.

  Mi
a lowered her eyes. “I might agree, if Father hadn’t also told me of rumblings from the Order of a weapon that could change the tides of the war.”

  “Well, that’s just pure speculation,” said Cedar. “There are no records of any cataclysmic weapon being discharged during the last war.”

  “No records that are public,” Taryn corrected, tapping a slender finger against her jaw. “Perhaps in my digging, I can unearth some.”

  “That’s twenty cycles in the past,” Cedar said. “How’s any of this relevant?”

  “Well,” Mia said, “one, we don’t necessarily know everything there is to know about the Order. And two, I believe artifacts exist. I also believe it’s possible the Shillelagh exists.”

  “Very well,” said Cedar. “Suppose it does indeed exist. How does that have any impact on us?”

  His question was entirely valid. Supposing the Shillelagh existed, what did that mean for them in real terms? Probably nothing. They were just acolytes, after all. Even if this traveling stick was an artifact under the protection of the Order, it wasn’t as if they’d be offered a go with it. Yeah, sure. Take it to visit the waterfalls of Concordia. Just be sure to bring it back in the morning so we can make that grain delivery. It was nonsensical speculation, fodder for idle minds.

  “I don’t know,” Taryn said. “Just knowing it exists gives me a sense of optimism.” She paused, her voice catching in her throat. “Like I might see Ma and Pa again someday. But I guess it’s all just daydreams,” she said, smiling a sad smile, the fight and fire leaving her demeanor.

  Mia understood completely. Daydreams of home. She supposed they all had them, even those of them here by calling—or at least choice.

  “Ah, well,” Cedar said, his tone softening, “there’s always cause for hope. I mean, one of these days Mia might learn her way from the barracks to the dining hall without getting hopelessly lost.”

  “Hey,” Mia said in mock indignation.

  Taryn giggled, and Cedar playfully nudged Mia’s arm. She elbowed him back.

  “Perhaps Taryn can research me an artifact that gives directions,” she said, shaking her head in simulated despair.

  Taryn laughed. “Well, that might take more manpower than the entire Order is capable of.”

  Mia laughed too, although her mind began to wander. She would tell them about Compendium eventually, she supposed. It wasn’t as if she didn’t trust them, but for now it was her secret, her weapon against the threat of losing herself to this place and its ways. Compendium would see her through the maze. She no longer feared losing her way.

  That night and countless nights afterward, Mia spent her free time after dinner tucked under her blankets, her feet nestled up against one of Brother Cornelius’s cakes. She whispered questions to Compendium on every topic imaginable until she fell asleep with the tome in her hands. When she was alone, she always opened the book to find Compendium’s title staring up at her with a personalized welcome. It was only around others that it appeared as an innocuous listing of family lineages.

  Sometimes Taryn peeked over the half wall and asked what she was doing. Mia would invite her over to toast her feet for a bit and listen to her moan about how the Ledgermaster never had any amazing inventions that warmed feet or created different kinds of light. They’d sit in the dim light of the barracks and tell each other stories about their childhoods and their lives before the Order.

  Cedar often wandered around as well from his bunk on the opposite wall, if he noticed them engrossed in conversation. Mia learned about his family and his life in the northwest on a large island called Senegast. He had two brothers that were rangers, following after his father. He followed after his mother, who worked as an engineer on Senegast. She would tell him stories about his ancestors who helped found the Order, and it was then that Cedar knew he would serve. She’d been very proud when he’d made the decision to leave Senegast for Willowslip.

  It was a generally calm period. Mia slowly worked her way through the ancient texts, removing spores from the books. Although it was an easy task, she finished each day with a concrete feeling that she had at least accomplished something productive. She spent her free time in study, primarily combing through bio-chemical engineering books or schematics provided by Compendium, or socializing with Brother Cornelius or Taryn and Cedar, and she was able to mostly avoid any confrontations with Brother SainClair. She had an odd, morbid sort of curiosity about the man who would sooner throttle her than look at her.

  Still, Mia couldn’t help feel as if there were some connection between them, some reason she had triggered his rage, and it wasn’t just because she was a pretender. She was, to be sure, but the circumstances of the acolytes here were so varied, and the more she learned about them, the more she realized that not everyone was here because they had a calling.

  Cedar had the calling, but Taryn had grown up in a gypsy forest camp, and her parents had sent her to the Order because they thought she would benefit from the stability of an education there. She missed the freedom of roaming all over the main continent, especially the forests, and talking to her grandfather. That said, Taryn was constantly amazed by the amount of reading material at the Order. Her family always traveled light, so she had little in the way of a book collection. She’d been at the Compound for a few cycles, but her dedication to history wasn’t enough to progress her past the stage of acolyte. Another of the acolytes joined the Order specifically because he’d heard whispers about its feats of engineering. There were as many reasons for coming to the Order as there were acolytes.

  Something else had to be driving SainClair’s mistrust, and Mia was curious what that might be.

  “Compendium,” she said, “tell me about Thaddeus SainClair’s family.”

  The results were surprising to say the least.

  The SainClair lineage is long and illustrious indeed. The SainClair family served as ministers on the Central Counsel. The very last SainClair to serve on the Central Counsel was Aris SainClair.

  “What happened to her?” Mia asked.

  Unable to respond. Information locked.

  Mia sighed. She sometimes encountered such roadblocks when she asked Compendium questions.

  “What happened to the SainClairs after the Great Fall?” she asked, changing the subject.

  Gerard SainClair, Aris’s son, was among the founding members of the Order. The SainClair family has served in the Order continuously since its inception.

  No wonder Brother SainClair was so wrapped up in the idea that the Order was a calling. “He sees it as his sacred familial duty. He probably thinks the purity of the Order’s mission is being diluted. Still, that’s no reason to be a total arse.”

  The SainClair family has been decimated in recent generations, Compendium continued. At least one SainClair from every generation has taken vows to serve the Order. That is the family’s sacred pact. In Brother SainClair’s generation, two signed up for service, Thaddeus and his sister Jayne. They both served dutifully. Jayne married a cleric, Claude. He had no illustrious bloodline or family of his own, and he took Jayne’s family name and was welcomed as a son into their fold. The SainClair family had a sprawling estate in the Northlands that remained peaceful until the family started to divide itself over the increasing political tensions that rippled throughout Lumin.

  “What Father told me was true,” Mia said. “The Order had no intention of involving itself in political matters, and it made that position clear to the leaders of Willowslip.”

  Yes, replied Compendium. This official response created a fracture within the Order’s ranks. Some clerics agreed with the establishment that the Order should not involve itself in political disputes. Another faction in the Order did not believe that remaining neutral would serve the mission. They championed peace and lobbied the Order’s leadership to get involved. When the Dominus refused, this faction left and joined the war effort. Jayne and Claude SainClair left the Order, and Thaddeus SainClair remained. This rift tore apart an a
lready fragile family.

  Jayne and Claude were killed in the war. In addition, the SainClair estate was torched to the ground, killing the rest of the SainClair family. Thaddeus SainClair never learned who set the fire, but foul play was suspected. The family had been too vocal politically. Numerous bodies were found in the ashes, but all the remains were unidentifiable, burned beyond recognition.

  “How horrible.” The story almost made Mia sympathize with SainClair. Almost. He had lost all of his family and was the last in a line that stretched back thousands of cycles. It seemed she and SainClair had more in common than Mia initially had thought. Still, why take it out on me? She was just a nobody from Hackberry.

  The logical part of her brain said he was just being protective of the only family he had, the Order. I would do the same. I did do the same. It’s why I’m here. However, the emotional part of her said he could go jump off a cliff.

  Mia pressed her lips together in determination. The Order might be Brother SainClair’s family, but it wasn’t hers. She still had Father. He may not be perfect. He may even have sold me up the river for a long-shot cure for his spores, but he’s still my family.

  Her thoughts turned to the Shillelagh. If it really did exist, she could use it to visit Father. It wouldn’t really be leaving if she just popped in to make sure he was recovering then popped back. If it were capable of instantaneous travel, no one would even notice.

  She daydreamed about the forest. Instead of the quiet talking and occasional cough of the acolytes, the songs of birds rising from the resonant hum of the trees filled her ears. Instead of the smell of dusty books and sweat, the earthy smell of soil richening at the roots of the trees wafted into her nostrils. Instead of the lumpy bean mattress and flat pillow, the soft soil and grass padded her back as she lay on the ground and took in the visual gymnastics of the night lights rolling across the sky.

  She was suddenly so homesick that her breath caught in her chest. As she lay in her bunk, her feet warmed by the cake, her chest tightened, and it took every muscle in her body to keep herself from crying. All this drama and politics had nothing to do with her quiet life in Hackberry. Maybe Compendium could help her find her way back there.