Compendium Read online

  “So how far back to do the books go?” she asked.

  “The oldest of the tomes in the Archives dates back thousands of cycles. There are precious few from that far back, though. Much was destroyed.”

  She looked at him quizzically. “Destroyed?”

  “My child, you really must sit in on the history lectures that we offer the acolytes.” He gave her a reproving look then sighed and continued. “Many hundreds of cycles ago, Lumin was thrown into chaos. Now all that’s left are the remnants of what was, and the Order was established more than five hundred cycles ago with the sacred duty to protect those remnants and learn from them what we can to restore our future.”

  Mia nodded and smiled. “I’ll be sure to sit in on some lectures then.”

  She had no intention of doing any such thing. Most acolyte study was individual. Each of them was allotted private study time that could be conducted in laboratories, reading rooms, the barracks, or the library. Alternatively each acolyte had the option to attend any number of subject lectures held by clerics for the benefit of the others. To date, Mia’s study time primarily had been composed of snooping around the Compound and listening carefully for the sounds of trees. As a benefit, her job in the Archives provided ample time to think through her present situation.

  She had questioned Cornelius extensively about his methods when he first had described the amber gourds to her, and her attention pleased him. He mistook Mia’s enthusiasm for deep interest in the archival process. Of course her fascination was derived entirely from the idea of modifying flora to suit her needs. She’d never before considered the possibility that she could modify the flora around her to accomplish such specific tasks. Most of her skill lay in repurposing existing roots for different ends, such as rerouting power from damaged roots to functional ones or encouraging them to grow in specific ways to establish hearths and the like. The idea of creating entirely new types of roots and gourds completely fascinated her.

  “Do the Archives contain books on modifying flora?” Mia asked Brother Cornelius.

  “Well, working this job, my child, you’ll quickly become familiar with where all the tomes are stored, but there’s no harm in showing you around now, I guess.”

  He ushered her through the vast number of shelves and alcoves, describing all the sections. Mia made note of ones to peruse on her own. All the brothers and sisters apparently referred to the acolytes as their children, regardless of age or prior station in life. The intent was harmless, but their tone and method of address sometimes set Mia’s teeth on edge. She overlooked such endearments from old Cornelius, though, because he seemed genuinely pleased to have someone to talk to during the day.

  No other acolytes were stationed at the Archives, and it appeared none had been for many cycles. He’d been left alone for decades to tend to the tomes. Mia suspected many clerics of the Order had little patience for his measured speech and economy of movement and thought. They preferred the bustle of the younger clerics, with their heated discussions, physicality, and generally zealous passions. That wasn’t Cornelius by a mile.

  Cornelius was no longer as sure of foot, however, and he had complained to the Taskmaster that spores were taking over the ancient tomes.

  “If I don’t receive some sort of assistance, I’ll die out of spite, and the Order will be left with no one who knows his or her way among the stacks,” he recounted to Mia.

  When she had come along unexpectedly, the Taskmaster had brushed aside her plaintive requests to be stationed with the engineering crew or even the maintenance crew and had assigned her here with Cornelius.

  “But I have ample experience repairing and maintaining conduits, as well as detailed knowledge of the types of shunts and methods of their insertion,” she had insisted. Sister Penelope would hear none of it, though. I should have told her I can hear them, but she’d have thought I was crazy. Mia tried to tell her father that once, and he had chucked it up to the wild imaginings of a child.

  That is utter poppycock! Mia imagined Sister Penelope’s high, squeaky voice. And for such a ridiculous lie, I’m changing your duties to emptying latrines and chamber pots. You’ll wish with your entire being that you had been stationed with kindly Brother Cornelius after two days of that job.

  Something in Mia’s gut told her to keep silent about the sounds of the roots. I’ll have time to prove my usefulness, or I’ll be gone from here. Either way, it was best that the Order knew as little about her as possible.

  She pulled another book from the shelf and checked it for spores. Although it didn’t seem to be badly damaged, she gave it a couple flashes with the wand just to be certain. It had been a fortnight since her arrival. Mia supposed that meant she was settling in, as much as one could settle in where one was not wanted, apparently not needed, and essentially ignored. Other than the occasional companionship of Cedar at meals and during their limited free time, none of the other acolytes spoke to her. A couple of times, she had caught Mallus, a young man with a boyish face and sandy-blond hair, looking at her when he thought she wasn’t aware. If she turned to look at him, though, he would avert his eyes and hunch his shoulders. Even Cedar’s interactions seemed hesitant and conflicted. When pressed, he had hemmed and hawed and finally admitted that Brother SainClair’s loud and continuing insistence that Mia was a fraud had put everyone off a bit.

  “Then why do you continue to associate with me?” she asked.

  “Well,” he replied, weighing his words carefully, “I feel some sense of obligation, I suppose. I kind of feel responsible for you. If I started ignoring you entirely now, what would that make me?”

  His response certainly didn’t quell Mia’s increasing loneliness. If her only companion maintained their acquaintance out of a sense of pity and obligation, she certainly had no confidants or friends among her. She reminded herself that she wasn’t here to make friends. Setting yet another book on the shelf, she moved to the next one, methodical in her actions.

  Her mind wandered to Father. She was here because he needed her here. She gritted her teeth. He might already be dead. Her throat felt dry and scratchy the way it did every time her thoughts turned in his direction. She had drafted a rather angry letter a couple of days after she’d arrived, but since post made its way to Hackberry by messenger, she had yet to find anyone willing to carry it to him.

  What if Dominus Nikola lied to me, and Father’s letter had asked no such task of me? What if Father’s scared for me? What if he thinks I abandoned him to his most hated enemy? Seeking an audience with the Dominus was significantly harder as an acolyte than as a message bearer. No good ever came of these thoughts. Her mind twisted and turned through the labyrinth of questions and potential answers, none of which gave her any peace. She squeezed her eyes shut and rubbed them hard, hoping to brush away the unpleasant thoughts and return to the task at hand.

  Mia had worked out quite a rhythm. She examined the binding first, read the title, and checked for signs of spores. If she saw any sign of contamination, she’d set the book out so that the pages were splayed then flash the exterior and interior of the book with the wand. Then she’d check again and replace the book in its spot. These older books were particularly susceptible, and all the books she’d encountered thus far had at least a little bit of spore contamination, although it varied by tome.

  She put back a burgundy book titled A Treatise on the Peoples of the North, which had been particularly full of spores, and proceeded to the next book on the shelf. It was a smallish brown leather volume with an intricate leafy design in faded gold on its binding and across the cover. Centered on the front was a large golden medallion of an open lotus flower with an owl crouched in the center, wings spread as if to take flight. That’s an odd combination of symbols. What is this? Mia looked at the binding, but it had no title or text of any kind engraved on it. She opened it and flipped through. On one of the pages, she saw a long list of names. She turned to the title page, and on it was written An Exhaustive Genealogy of
the Families of the Realm. The book was compact for an exhaustive genealogy.

  Something was off about this book. Mia skimmed it again but saw no sign of contamination on the outer binding or any of the pages within. This was the first book in the entire Archives to be entirely clean of contaminants. That wasn’t the only odd thing about it. The book felt warm to the touch, like a plant root that pulsed with energy under her hand. She put it up to her ear, but it didn’t hum. The warmth was subtle but constant.

  Although Mia had no great interest in the genealogies of the families of Lumin, she slipped the book into the large pocket formed by the folds of her sash, suddenly unwilling to part from it.

  A gentle, deliberate cough came from behind her. Her body stiffened momentarily in surprise and fear. She turned her head to peer over her shoulder. One of the other acolytes was standing near the entrance. It was the acolyte with the bunk next to Mia’s. In two weeks they’d never spoken to each other; she kept to herself mostly. At first Mia thought perhaps she was just shy, but when Cedar confided that SainClair was warning the others about Mia, she assumed the other acolyte was avoiding her on that account. Still, here she stood at the doorway to the dusty, spore-ridden Archives, giving Mia a tight smile. Her short pale hair, peachy skin, and gold eyes emanated an ethereal glow. The acolyte’s robes added to the effect. Mia didn’t even hear her come up the stone steps or enter the room. Mia blinked her eyes a few times, clearing her mind of random cobwebs.

  “Can I assist you?” Mia said, trying to sound polite and not menacing. This is my chance to engage another acolyte.

  “I hope so,” she said in a soft, musical voice. “I was just telling Brother Cornelius that I had interest in some of the ancient texts. He told me we store all historical texts in the Archives up here, and I should come speak to you, as you can tell me which books are safe to take.” She smiled again, this time more naturally, and added, “He actually kind of lost me when he started showing me a strange long gourd that made flashes when he shook it.”

  Mia smiled back. Brother Cornelius was a horrible show-off. Well, those gourds were fantastic, so Mia would probably do the same. She held up a wand as she arched an eyebrow at the other acolyte.

  “They’re used to remove spores from the books,” Mia said.

  “Yes, I recall him saying something of the sort,” she said, looking around at the many shelves of faded volumes. “I’m Taryn Windbough, by the by. I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.”

  “Mia Jayne. I’ve been rather unpopular among the others.” She gave Taryn a wry smile. “Brother SainClair doesn’t appreciate my presence among you overmuch.”

  “Ah, yes, well, he’s always been one to stand on formality. One only joins the Order because one is called.” She gave Mia a knowing smile. It carved the edges of her lips, and her eyes sparkled. Mia didn’t think anyone had smiled at her this much since she’d arrived. “I don’t believe he’s much impressed with me either. He’s told me more than once that he finds my area of concentration useless to the betterment of the Order.”

  “Why would he say that?”

  Taryn glided closer to Mia on her noiseless slippers. Mia noticed that the pin on her sash bore a mature tree on it but one with no fruit. Taryn set down the load of books, parchment, and other accouterments she was carrying and turned one of the wooden chairs at the central reading table around to face where Mia sat on the ratty carpet at the base of the shelves. When it was situated to her liking, she dropped gracefully into a sitting position like a leaf falling from a tree. A slight tinge of jealousy niggled at the nape of Mia’s neck; she moved like a boar in the forest, crashing about. She could sneak, but it was never fluid, and she certainly hadn’t mastered Taryn’s economy of movement.

  “Well,” Taryn finally said, “as I spend more time with the Order, I’m finding that I’ve much interest in the history of our realm and the Order’s place in that history. I suppose Brother SainClair finds so much focus on what was to be useless.” She shrugged, apparently not bothered by his wrath. “It’s of no concern to me. I’m of the firm belief that history provides many of the clues we need to secure the future, like following a trail of gourds someone who has come before has left for us to follow and use. Besides,” she added, waving a hand at the Archives, “one of our tenets is the protection of the old ways. How can we protect something we don’t understand?”

  “That makes sense,” Mia said, although she could confess no great interest in history herself. She’d been dealing with these volumes for weeks, and although it was certainly interesting to think about history, it wasn’t always interesting to read about it. “Personally, though,” Mia continued, “I much prefer books that tell me how to do something practical.”

  Taryn raised a thin eyebrow at that comment. “Like what? Cooking instruction?”

  “No,” Mia said, “like those books that show you drawings of various types of plants so you can determine which ones can be used for light and how long, and whether they need to remain attached to the root or whether they’re portable, and whether they’re edible after their electrical function is concluded.”

  “Ah,” said Taryn, “you’re much like Brother Cornelius then.”

  “I suppose I am,” Mia said. “I get rather excited when he talks about his inventions, although his study is clearly focused on these volumes.” She gestured around. “He lights up like a firefly when he’s talking about book preservation and such. I think my interest is more electrochemical. I like to tinker with the trees and roots and augment hearths and such.”

  “Why are you here in the Archives then?” Taryn asked thoughtfully.

  “I suppose I’m needed more here. Brother Cornelius has no one to assist him.” No need for her to know how hard I lobbied with the Taskmaster. It’s embarrassing enough remembering it. “I like it well enough,” Mia added.

  “Well, it’s certainly peaceful up here,” Taryn said, and sighed. “I should visit more often so I can get some reading done. My duties fall to assisting Brother Valentine, the Ledgermaster. It’s detailed work, which I don’t mind, but it can numb the mind. I find being surrounded by these old volumes refreshing. How did I not think to come up here before?”

  Mia smiled again, even though Taryn was clearly daft for wanting to spend her time up in the stuffy Archives. “What changed your mind?” she asked.

  “Ah.” She frowned and slid her eyes away from Mia’s. “I suppose I’ve exhausted all other available resources.”

  “Well, I’m glad I could be your last resort then.”

  Taryn’s cheeks pinked, so Mia quickly switched to librarian mode. “I’m still removing spores from the volumes up here, but I’m through with all the volumes up to this point.” She gestured to her point of demarcation. “Everything from here back has been worked through and should be fine for research. You’ll be glad to know the books are in chronological order, so the oldest volumes have been tended to. I’ve been working as quickly as possible, but if you see something you really must check out, and I haven’t gotten to it yet, just let me know, and I can check it for you so you can take it from the Archives.”

  Taryn stood from the chair in one light, graceful motion. “Excellent,” she said. “You don’t mind if I get to it while you work?”

  “Not at all. I’ll be glad for the company, even if it’s quiet.” And this was the truth. Mia was glad for Taryn’s company just then, conversation or not. It was nice just to be regarded and considered rather than ignored.

  11 A Friend

  Lumin Cycle 10152

  “Hey.” A melodious voice floated over the short wall separating Mia Jayne’s bunk from Taryn Windbough’s.

  Mia was staring at the ceiling of the barracks, her thoughts jumping around in her head. She frowned slightly at the interruption.

  “Hey,” the voice repeated.

  “Yeah?” Mia asked after a moment.

  Blond hair and a pair of gold eyes peeked up over the wall. “Are you busy?” />
  Mia sighed as she leaned up on an elbow. “What if I am?”

  “I’m bored.”

  Mia yawned in response and flopped back on what supposedly passed for a mattress. “Blast it, this thing is so uncomfortable.”

  A gold eyebrow arched upward, and a smirk lifted up the corner of Taryn’s mouth.

  “What?” Mia said.

  “If you entertain me, I’ll let you do it from the comfort of my feather mattress.”

  Mia shot into a sitting position and stared straight into Taryn’s eyes.

  “If you’re lying…” she said in a menacing tone.

  “I’m not. Come see for yourself.”

  Three seconds later, Mia decided that she’d died and was reposing in bliss. “Where did you get this? I need, need, need one.”

  Taryn surveyed Mia’s recumbent form from the chair at her desk. “I brought it from home.”

  “Figures,” Mia said. “Everyone here joined up voluntarily. I’m going to be sleeping on rocks for the foreseeable future.”

  “What do you mean voluntarily? Did you not hear the calling?” Her voice was tart and hinted at sarcasm.

  Mia chuckled and stretched her back as she settled into the mattress. “Ah, no. I didn’t. I thought everyone knew my story already. I figured with gossip and all that.”

  Taryn shrugged and put her feet up on the bed, leaning back in the chair. “I suppose I’m not the most popular acolyte myself.”

  “Well, in that case,” Mia said, then told her about her meeting with the Dominus.

  “So you just walked right in and demanded to see Dominus Nikola?” she asked.

  “Yep.”

  Taryn gave her a funny look.

  “You know, Cedar thought it was odd too, when I met him on the ship.”

  “Wait,” Taryn said, her eyes glittering. “You met Cedar outside the Compound?”