Compendium Page 6

  Five cycles? Her heart fluttered again, but she continued to walk resolutely. “How long have you been in service?”

  “I’m approaching the anniversary of my second cycle. I’m in the final stage as an acolyte,” he added with a smile. “You can tell by my pin.” He gestured to the metal pin on his sash. It had an elder tree carved in it, and the tree was heavy with fruit. An illegible symbol was engraved on the trunk.

  Mia would never get all these details straight, but she nodded anyway. Although the panic was still with her, like a shadow cast behind each step, she tried her best to remain composed.

  “Where are the conduits?” she asked, changing the subject. There was plenty of time to learn the rest of the distressing details of her new position later. “Some mighty elders must be powering this place. I’ve never seen so much energy consumption. I didn’t even know it was possible.”

  A look, relief perhaps, flickered across Cedar’s aristocratic face. “The Compound has a central arboretum that houses our elders,” he said. He kept glancing over at her as they walked, probably making sure she wasn’t going to keel over. His large, dark eyes met hers, and he smiled reassuringly.

  Suddenly self-conscious at her distress, her face, her everything, she slid her gaze away.

  “How do they stay alive underground?” she asked.

  “Well, they’re a hardy bunch, to be sure. I’ve ne’er been to the central arboretum myself, as acolytes are strictly prohibited there. When Brother Quintus is in his cups, he gets really chatty, though. He described to me a large central cavern carved from the core of the mountain with tunnels leading up to the surface in all directions. These tunnels capture the light as the sun crosses the mountain. Some of the branches of the elders are rumored to actually grow up into the tunnels, so when you look at the mountain, some of the trees you see are outgrowths of our elders. Some rooms even have branches traversing them.”

  “What about the hearthroots? Acolytes have to be able to access hearthroots, or there would be cold baths and no ability to cook.”

  “Well, the warmth from the hearthroots is harnessed and distributed to the underground bathing springs as well as the kitchens.”

  The impotence and fear Mia had felt only moments before turned to excitement and curiosity. She’d never heard of such a complex power system. For the first time since she’d arrived the day before, something piqued her interest about this wretched Compound. Such a system would be magnificent to behold.

  “Who maintains the elders?” she asked, trying to sound casual.

  Cedar scratched his chin as he thought. They had passed a number of tunnels on their straight shot from the barracks, but now they were approaching a stairway on the left, and he gestured that they should descend.

  “A select group of clerics is responsible for maintaining the system. We, as members of the Order, are charged with protecting this Compound and the systems and remnants within, so the clerics take the maintenance and enhancement of the elders very, very seriously.”

  What could possibly be worth protecting in this dusty ball of rock? Honestly, though, her knowledge of the Order was quite limited. Father had given little in the way of actual explanation during his spasmodic fits of oaths sworn against the clerics. He had called them fiends and cowards who only cared about their own necks and were willing to let society hang to preserve their sanctum. It didn’t seem much like a sanctum from where she stood.

  Despite her reservations and perhaps partly because of Cedar’s speculation, she was extremely curious about the workings of the elders and the Compound. Although her chest tightened at the thought of Hackberry and her hearthroot, she nodded politely.

  The supplier, Sister Valencia, outfitted Mia with three pairs of light pants, three taupe undershirts, two heavy taupe robes, one rope belt, and one sash. She also handed her a dull metal pin adorned with a tiny plant with one leaf engraved on the face.

  “’Tis a sapling,” she said amiably, as if she had cast the pin herself.

  Mia thought about it for a moment and supposed she very well could have cast the pin herself. She smiled grimly. “Many thanks, Sister.”

  “That is not all,” she said in a businesslike tone that seemed to contrast with the lilt in her voice. “We also have slippers, boots, a cold-weather outrobe, hose, smallclothes, quill, ink, parchment, soap, gourds, brush, comb, and what else?” she said, as she pulled items from various shelves.

  She appeared to be speaking to herself, so Mia didn’t answer.

  “Do we have any spare mattresses or pillows stuffed with anything but escule?” Cedar asked.

  “Ah.” The sister stopped, looking thoughtful. “I canna say we have any mattresses at this time, young man.” She turned to Mia. “I can put ye on the list for one and when one comes up see what I can do.” She kept rummaging. “Does look as if we have a piller, though.”

  She handed Mia an only slightly dilapidated pillow. It didn’t rival her pillows back in Hackberry, but it also wasn’t stuffed with escule. As she sighed with content at the feel of it, Sister Valencia smiled knowingly.

  “While we’re at it, ye may want a proper blanket. The standard issue is naught but a sheet in me opinion.” Sister Valencia pulled down a woolen blanket.

  It was colorless and rough to the touch, but Mia was grateful for something more substantial.

  Sister Valencia gave another look to Mia’s light clothes and pulled down another blanket. “’Ere, perhaps ye could use two then?”

  Mia accepted the second blanket gratefully. With a nod, Sister Valencia looked her over. Mia’s arms were now laden with newly acquired necessities, and Sister Valencia dismissed them with a cheerful wave.

  “Best be off then, m’dears. Ye both must have duties to be attendin’ to. I know I do.”

  “You’d best change into those,” Cedar said, gesturing to the robes. “I can show you how prepare the sash, but hop to it. Lunch waits for no one!”

  Upon their return, Mia surveyed the barracks. They were the only ones in the large room. “Where do the acolytes change?” she asked.

  “What do you mean by ‘where’?” he said after a moment’s thought.

  “Don’t we have a designated changing room? What about relieving ourselves?” She was mildly scandalized by the thought of conducting her business with an audience. Even in the close quarters of their hearthtree, she and Father had made provisions for privacy.

  “You should see your face,” Cedar said, and laughed heartily. “We have a lavatory for relieving ourselves. It’s the room right across the hall. I don’t think anyone sees the point in privacy for changing clothing. It’s not something we haven’t all seen. Not sure I would want my billowing robes dragging around the floor of the lavatory anyway,” he muttered, wrinkling his nose.

  “All right. Whatever,” she replied, feeling exasperated. “Will you at least turn your back?”

  Cedar shrugged and complied. Mia removed her light tropics clothing and carefully folded each item, placing it in a neat pile on the bean-filled lump of a mattress. She pulled on the undershirt and loose pants. Although the cloth looked rough, it was surprisingly soft to the touch. They’ve probably been worn by a hundred people, she thought.

  “Is there any special trick to this robe?” she asked.

  Cedar turned and leaned against the wall. “Just pull it on over your shoulders, with the open side to the front, and wrap the right side around your waist and then the left side. Then secure it with the belt.”

  She tried to follow his verbal instructions.

  “No, no, knot it like this. See?” He brushed her hands away and proceeded to reknot the belt in an overly complicated fashion.

  His proximity disconcerted her, and she slapped away his hand.

  “That’s quite enough. What about the sash?”

  “That you drape around your person, starting with one edge against the left shoulder. Sling the sash under your right arm, around your back, over your left shoulder, and pin it just
so.”

  Again, Mia was having trouble following his verbal instructions, so Cedar intervened to rearrange the sash and set the pin.

  “You’ll quickly become accustomed to the process,” he reassured her.

  How many times has he said that in the last hour?

  “Yes, then. I’m positively famished,” she responded.

  The dining room was one of those rooms with large branches traversing its middle. The faint hum was familiar when Mia entered the hall, and it brought a warm feeling of comfort with it. Her ears had pricked here and there at the occasional hum as she and Cedar had made their way along the tunnels and staircases, but this was the first sustained sound of the forest she had encountered since her arrival yesterday.

  Her muscles relaxed a little at the sound, and even that slight reduction in stress was a welcome feeling. In the large branch at the center of the room stood a carved hearth that warmed the space and heated a sizable iron cauldron of something that smelled of meat and spices. The fragrance wafting from the center of the room drew her toward it—a harmony in concert with the humming tree.

  “Do they actually cook meals here?” she asked Cedar.

  “Oh, no, this hearth is much too weak for that. I expect it’s pretty far from the elder roots. We use it to keep the meals warm for serving, though. Someone always brings the provisions up from the kitchen. Only certain trusted clerics even know where the kitchen is located.” He gave her a wicked grin. “I expect they want to prevent midnight snacking among the acolytes. Some of us are still growing boys, you know?”

  Mia ignored his joke. “Who assigns the duties?”

  “Well, the Taskmaster does,” he said with a shrug and made his way toward the hearth.

  She raised an eyebrow. “They actually have a position called the Taskmaster?”

  “What’s so odd about that?” he asked.

  Mia shook her head, brushing off his remark. “What are your duties then? It doesn’t appear as if you do anything but travel off the grounds on special business and act as a tour guide for wretched new recruits.” Mia tried to prevent it, but the last word came out sounding sardonic.

  “Yes, well, I was the only one who volunteered to show you the ropes, so I got a reprieve from my normal duties,” he replied. “I’m usually assigned to an engineering team.”

  When they reached the center of the room, Cedar grabbed a bowl and spoon from a table to the left of the hearth. He swirled a wooden serving spoon in the cauldron then ladled himself a hearty portion of a brown stew. He topped the stew with a scoop of rice from a wide carved bowl atop a separate table on the right side of the hearth. Mia followed suit.

  “I thought you said you didn’t know firsthand the exact location of the elder trees,” she pressed, as she ladled herself heaping servings.

  “I don’t,” he replied.

  Cedar picked out a spot at a table nearby. They sat alone. It didn’t appear as if the clerics and acolytes took the midday meal simultaneously, as many of the tables were empty. Mia spotted a small gathering of faces she recognized at a table across from the hearth, all acolytes. They whispered among themselves and averted their eyes when they saw her watching. Mia turned her head and saw Brother SainClair on the other side of the room, taking his meal with some of the other clerics. He sneered derisively when he caught her looking in his direction. She turned her attention back to Cedar.

  “So how is it that you work in engineering?” she asked.

  “Oh, well, there are many access levels in engineering. I focus on the tunnels primarily. Along our walking corridors, we have a parallel network of tunnels where the roots run. Given the delicacy of stretching the roots as far as we do, they’re often in need of repair or support. It’s only grown harder to maintain, as our numbers have dwindled and our elders aged.”

  “I see,” Mia said through a mouthful of stew.

  “Well, at least you like the food,” Cedar said, and chuckled.

  “’Tis not half bad,” Mia said reluctantly. “And I didn’t even have to cook it.”

  “Well, you might have to yet. You’ll have to see where the Taskmaster assigns you.”

  9 End & Begin

  Lumin Cycle 9551

  Melia Kannon massaged her knuckles against the hard wood of the chair’s armrest in an attempt to alleviate the stiffness in her fingers. The Compound of the Order was cold, and time hadn’t been kind to her joints. She sat for a long while, looking at the volumes in the Archives, the dim light of the portable gourd throwing the table it sat on into stark relief. The room was a silent refuge from the bustle of the busy Compound. Over the past fifty cycles, Melia had painstakingly collected books from the rubble and decay of Lumin’s civilization. From forays into the cities fraught with danger, to ventures far and wide, each book had been excavated carefully and protected from the Druids in a battle for knowledge. Other volumes had come to Melia from the personal collections of the great families and lineages, scraps gleaned from the splendor that once had been her glowing planet, cherished beyond measure.

  The Druids had expanded their limited mission of restoring the Network to an entire belief system, one that had them at odds with the Order on more than just the Network. The Druids now styled themselves as preservers of the old ways, keepers of Lumin, and restorers of peace and prosperity. The tune sounded similar to Melia. The Order had equivalent mandates for its membership. Thus, the constant tussle over knowledge, whether in the form of books or in relics of pre-Fall Lumin. It amazed her how cycles of bad blood had further divided those that strived toward the same goal.

  If she had anything to say about it, and a glance at the wrinkled, gnarled hands resting on her armrests signaled that perhaps she didn’t, Lumin would rise again. Melia had done all she could to protect its future. There was just one thing left. She reached into the sash of her robes, her aching hands fumbling. She pushed aside her white braid of hair and pulled the ornate leather volume from her sash. She gently rubbed a rigid thumb over the medallion on the cover, which was bright as the day Minister SainClair had first thrust the book into her much younger hands.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered to the dead. Hans was certainly spinning in his alcove in the Catacombs. “I know this isn’t what you want, but I can’t, even after fifty cycles, shake the feeling that this is the best place for it. I know you will forgive me.”

  Melia struggled to her feet, holding on to the table for stability. Everything and everyone she loved was long gone—and with it the oaths she had sworn. She had outlived them all. But this was just the beginning. Lumin had a much longer journey ahead, and all histories started somewhere. She tottered over to the shelves of the Archives and slipped the ornate book into a space between two others. Its binding held no title, and the small tome instantly disappeared among the other volumes, blending into the body of words surrounding it. With that addition, the Archives now held the collected knowledge of pre-Fall Lumin. She leaned over the table and fetched the gourd from its center. With cane in one hand and gourd in the other, she foraged her way to the stairs and gave the dim room a sigh and one backward glance before proceeding back down the narrow stone steps, disappearing into history with the Archives itself.

  10 The Archives

  Lumin Cycle 10152

  Of all the jobs. Mia Jayne looked around the massive, dim room with endless rows of shelves that led back into the darkness and up to the ceiling. Cedar hadn’t exaggerated when he’d described the Archives. It was huge. And this chamber was only the ancient texts chamber. The main chamber was down a set of stone steps behind her.

  The main chamber was better lit, but the dull amber of the special orange gourds that Brother Cornelius, the Archivemaster, specially cultivated for the Archives was engineered to minimize light damage to the old volumes contained in this room. Mia had been surprised by the agility of the old brother’s mind, despite his decrepit body. He looked at first glance to be so frail that a strong breeze could break his leg. His hands were bony, a
lmost claw-like. His beard was long and shaggy and a mottled mix of gray, white and yellow. His hair was long and unruly but tied back with a leather strap. But these trappings of age fell away instantaneously when Brother Cornelius engaged Mia with his hazel eyes that oscillated from gray to green, even if they did so behind delicate silver spectacles slung low on his nose, and infectious enthusiasm for his special inventions.

  Brother Cornelius instructed Mia to remove all the spore growth afflicting the ancient texts. The amber gourds did well in preserving the old volumes’ paper and ink, but the benefit it provided the tomes was equally advantageous to a low-light spore that conducted itself through the air ducts and settled on the books. Brother Cornelius taught her the laborious process required to kill the spores. She had to remove each book from its shelf, scan the binding and pages for signs of spores, and administer a flash of light from a special gourd. This particular gourd was long and thin and emitted twice the brightness of standard lighting gourds, but it produced a bright light only for a moment when shaken. As soon as the shaking stopped, the light did as well.

  “How does this work?” Mia asked him, amazed at the old man’s ingenuity.

  “’Tis a simple matter of the agitation that causes a chemical reaction,” he said simply. “Nodes of separate chemicals are clustered inside each gourd, and the shaking makes them bounce together and release the chemicals, which when mixed, cause the flash of light we see. I created it through a system of iterative breeding. I call them wands.”

  Awestruck, Mia nodded. “You’ll have to show me your garden,” she said, giving the wand a shake to produce the sparkling flash of light.

  “I don’t keep a garden, my child,” he said, and chuckled amiably. “I keep a laboratory. When you complete the delicate task of ridding our most treasured historical tomes of the spore infestation, I’ll take you to it and show you all my secrets.”

  His eyes sparkled, and Mia smiled for the first time since arriving at the Order. Savoring the happy thought, she proceeded with him toward the back of the dark room.