One Smile Away
Stories similar to this that you might like too.
The last time I had been here, a thousand years ago now it seemed—the time when I’d met my sister for the first and last time in this world—I was not alone. The other me, who lived in one timeline but not mine, accompanied me.
Now all that remained of her was memory and a little bit of dust in my head. It wasn’t much more than anyone else had left of them, either. We were all so young once. My sister had been barely out of adolescence, still learning her way.
She could have learned so many things she didn’t know. She might be here with me again today if we hadn’t made different choices at different times along our paths. But those are details for another day. Today I came back to visit the place where everything changed for us—a place called Kesh-e-Nooran.
It sits high on a hillside overlooking the sea. A few hundred years ago the locals built their homes near its base, but most of the buildings now are gone or crumbling down into piles of stones and dirt.
Only a few old ones remain standing, surrounded by gardens of flowers and trees and vegetables. Their walls look like they’ve seen better days. They don’t seem strong enough to withstand a good rainstorm or a stiff wind. There’s no sign of life around any of these places.
The people who used to live here died long ago or fled to some new place when the land changed, or just vanished without explanation.
A man in a dark robe sat cross-legged beside an ancient stone well outside his home, meditating and chanting aloud in a language I couldn’t understand. He looked up briefly as I approached.
“Welcome,” he said in halting Urdu, “to the house of light.” Then he returned his attention to the well.
His words struck me, as they always did. In this world, there are only two gods: Allah, the Great Lord, and His Light. That is what the man meant; perhaps I should have known better. But it never hurt to check.
“You’re sure about that?” I asked him, in my best imitation of a deep voice. “This isn’t your real name? This is what you call yourself? And if I come back tomorrow or next week, will the same thing happen to me as happened to you?”
He looked up, frowning at the sky overhead before turning back toward me. “Yes,” he said. “That’s how it works.”
“But why?” I pressed. “What does it mean to call a place like this ‘the house of light’? Does it make sense? Is this where Allah dwells, or His servants? How can a place be holy if everyone who lives here goes on dying anyway?”
“You’ll see.” He nodded at the doorway. “Come inside, child. You must tell others. The truth shall set you free.”
I entered the man’s home and looked around the room. It was small—no more than three meters square. Most of the floor space was occupied by a low table where a bowl of fruit and a jug of water sat waiting. The place smelled of incense and spice-filled pastries.
There were a few cushions strewn about the floor. I took one and settled myself down on it, leaning against the wall and staring at the doorway ahead where the man continued chanting while sitting on the floor. He was doing nothing; he was just making noises.
And then he stopped. “Enough,” he said finally, rising from the floor and walking toward the door. Before I had a chance to ask him what he wanted, he pushed the door open. “Let’s go.”
We stepped out onto a balcony looking over the sea far below. On clear nights the view would be beautiful and serene. Not tonight. Thick clouds obscured much of the moonlit sea, and even the stars were covered by a faint mist. The temperature was milder than usual, and the wind felt cool and damp as I turned to face the old man.
“Now?” I asked. “Do you want me to walk through that mist now, or do you have something else in mind? Do you think I’m crazy? Is this a test? If so, how much of a fool do you take me for?”
He looked at me carefully. “No tests,” he said. “There aren’t any tests.”
Then he turned away and walked down the stairs leading off the balcony to disappear into the night. I hesitated for a moment, listening to his footsteps recede into silence. Then I followed after him.
In the darkness, I heard my own heartbeat as I went down the steps behind him. I held my breath until he spoke again, calling out to me from somewhere ahead in the shadows. “The mist will hold you for a little while. Just breathe slowly.”
“How long?” I called back, hoping he wouldn’t answer. I didn’t need to know how long, just that there was time enough.
“Longer than you’d think. You don’t need to hurry.”
That was all right because I wasn’t rushing. At least not yet. After a pause in which I counted the seconds, I let loose with a sigh and exhaled hard into my lungs as he had told me. My vision blurred slightly, but when it cleared again, there were no more stairs in front of me. Only blackness.
And then the mist parted suddenly, revealing a narrow path winding down from above to a rocky shoreline where waves lapped against the rocks. We walked along it for several minutes before I could hear the faint rush of surf beyond it.
The man stopped abruptly and faced me. “Listen,” he said, and in a flash, he threw himself at me. He hit me across the chest and knocked us both forward off the path and onto the beach. I fell onto my knees and tried to catch my breath.
He knelt beside me. “I thought I’d warn you,” he muttered, and he laughed. The sound came from his chest, from deep within him. “It’s been a while since we last met.”
“Why?” I asked between breaths. “Did I offend someone? Did I do something wrong?”
“You did nothing wrong,” he assured me. “It’s just… it’s time, that’s all.”
I looked up at him, and for a moment he seemed taller than ever, looming over me as tall as the cliffs themselves. For an instant, he was gone and the wind was howling around us, and a great wave rose up and rolled toward us with a roar. And then he was back, and I could almost feel his presence filling the air all around me as if he were part of the wind.
“You must go,” he whispered in my ear. “Go now.” He reached out to touch me with his fingertips, but then drew back quickly. “But remember.”
He stood up and left me alone on the beach, and I sat there in the darkness waiting for his voice to return to tell me it was safe. But the tide had come in and covered the sand around me completely so that all I could see of him was the pale white moonlight reflected on his dark robe.
The wind blew harder, and soon the surf broke into a great roaring as though the sea itself were calling out to me.
The water surged over me as the next wave rose and washed away all traces of the land. When it retreated again, I found myself facing a cliff that climbed straight upward before plunging off into the depths below. There was nowhere else for me to go but up and over.
The mist had receded and I knew that I would find nothing here save the raging sea. As I stood and stared out over it, one hand on the cliff face and my head bent, I began to tremble uncontrollably. A moment later, I heard the voice again, as though it echoed in my heart.
“Remember.”
The waves were rising higher now, rolling toward me with a roar so loud I could hardly bear it. Then I saw the light, faint and pale, glowing from the top of the cliff like a torch being carried in the hands of some ancient explorer on the edge of a dark pit.
It grew stronger, and with it came the sound of voices – distant cries that sounded as though they were coming from inside the very stone itself. They were chanting, chanting softly as though their words were meant to be heard only by those who might happen to look up at this particular place on the edge of the world.
“Remember!” the voice repeated urgently, as I stepped forward and took the first step onto the rock that formed the ledge. I climbed up and around the edge and came out into the light of day. And as I did so, the voices died away, fading slowly into silence.
***
At first, I couldn’t see anything but the sky above me and a faint haze in the distance. The ground dropped sharply away before me and then fell away entirely; there was nothing to stand upon but a sheer drop of a hundred yards or more into the sea far below. I turned and followed the line of the cliff until its end came near where I thought it should be, and then began to climb once more.
The cliff was narrow, barely wide enough for a man to walk abreast, but steep as well so that I had to cling tightly with my arms and legs, letting them pull me up with each step. The farther I climbed, the less it seemed possible that I would ever reach the top.
The rock was slick beneath my fingers, and when I reached the point where the cliff narrowed and dipped down to form a small shelf of flat rock I slipped and nearly tumbled right over the edge.
“Watch yourself,” the voice warned me from behind. “If you fall here…” And suddenly I was back again on the edge of the cliff, looking down at the rushing waves breaking against the rocks far below.
“That way,” said the voice, pointing ahead of me towards a crack in the cliff wall that led deeper into the mountain. The crack widened as I watched, and soon I found myself stepping over it and climbing up into a tunnel that ran deep into the rock.
As I passed through the first cavern the light grew steadily brighter, and then I was passing a series of chambers cut directly into the rock, with walls so high they touched the ceiling and glowed white and blinding under the glow of the lamps set about.
Here and there were little alcoves where figures were moving silently in the gloom. Each one wore a hooded cloak, and even in their shadowy forms, I could hear their whispered words ringing out.
And everywhere in their midst was a strange figure whose features were hidden by a white mask that matched the color of the rock floor. This figure stood motionless among them all, a dark and ominous presence.
At last, I came to an archway that opened into a chamber lit brightly by several lamps, and standing beside it was another cloaked figure wearing a dark purple robe. When he spoke, his voice was soft and musical as though no other sound on earth could be heard except for the echoes of his own.
“Welcome, Brother. You have come far indeed.” His voice brought a sense of peace to me, and I bowed before him in silence.
“I must speak with you privately,” he said, and after we had entered the inner sanctum and were seated by the fire in the center of the room, he told me why.
“You are a wanderer, as am I.” He paused for a moment. “It is difficult to explain the things which have been revealed to us these past years.”
“There will be time enough for that later. Tell me what has happened since I left this place.”
He sighed deeply, and for a while, the only sound was the crackling of the flames. “This is a sad tale, and I warn you before I begin that it may be hard for you to believe.”
“Do not think that you can frighten me.” For a long time, I sat silent as he told me how the people of the mountain had come to know the truth.
After two days on the ship we sailed straight across the Sea of Silt without sighting a single island, nor did I get any sleep during that time for fear of missing my landfall. We made landfall at midday in a place called Keshar-Bai, and when we landed on the beach the men began to unload our cargo of wine.
They’d brought it from Koshan-Nagri in the south, and it was quite fresh.
As soon as they saw me waiting at the foot of the gangplank, however, they hurried up into the town and brought down a keg of brandy instead – the very best from the mountains of Keshian-Dhahab. With it, we celebrated our safe arrival ashore and made plans for the following morning’s journey to Keshian-Ghevish.
When I woke early in the morning and stretched myself out on my pallet bed I felt almost content for a moment until I looked beyond the doorway and saw my father lying still asleep in his chair.
Then my heart sank into my boots for I knew that if he was awake he would be asking awkward questions about the state of the fleet. I dressed quickly and went outside just as the sun broke over the horizon.
A chill wind blew along the beach and the sand seemed to swirl around my feet, so I took off my shoes and walked barefoot down the shoreline toward the ships, leaving them to follow in silence.
We gathered together in the main deckhouse, a huge structure that housed the crew and passengers and gave access to all parts of the ship. It had once belonged to the governor of the city when he lived aboard it as a member of our family.
Now it held only a few small cabins, but there was a great central space where the cook and others could gather and where there were tables laid for our feast.
As the day wore on I was forced to admit to myself that something was wrong. I had never seen such a collection of grim faces. They didn’t laugh or talk much and they hardly drank anything except water.
Most of them spent their time sitting in groups, staring out to sea, as though they couldn’t bear to look away from the endless expanse of nothingness. The captain, a short man with a bald head who seldom smiled, kept close to his cabin door, refusing to take part in the general conversation. There was tension in the air.
Then, in midmorning, when we were all seated on benches eating a simple meal of roast lamb, the captain himself came out onto the deck. The breeze was cool, bringing a whiff of salt spray from the water and a faint perfume of jasmine flowers.
I looked up suddenly from my food. I’d felt an odd sense of dread since we’d arrived, but now I knew it was true: this ship was sailing straight into danger.
“Listen to me!” The captain’s voice rang through the decks like a bell; every eye turned to face him as though his words should not be ignored. “The gods must be appeased. They have sent me word that one of us must sacrifice himself.
One must go down into the deeps and find what lies within it and bring it back.” He paused for a moment and then continued more quietly. “Brother will do it. That is your duty. When you reach the bottom, he will guide you. Go down with him.”
For a moment no one moved. Some of us were shocked at the order, for we knew that there must be other ways to appease the gods. But there was an edge in Captain Ghesha’s voice that none of us dared disobey. His eyes stared at the horizon as though he might see whatever lay hidden behind that veil, but it wasn’t easy to make out his expression in the bright sunlight.
And finally, I said, “What does it matter whether Brother comes back? If something is down there waiting for me, why waste my time with the search?”
They were all quiet again and no one spoke until a tall man in a dark green shirt approached the bench beside mine. He was lean and wiry, like a wild animal.
“You’ll do it because you’re the strongest,” he said.
I shrugged and reached out my hand to shake his. He slapped it hard with the flat of his palm.
“It’s no good trying to fool yourself,” he muttered. “This will save your life and ours if we are to reach Keshian-Ghevish safely.” And then he sat down next to me and began to eat while his gaze fixed on the distant land.
After that, there was a long pause before anyone else spoke. The rest of us ate slowly, taking our time. The cook brought us another dish of mutton stew and some wine – but no one tasted it. The wind whipped past the ship, sending us little waves across the deck and raising clouds of spray high above the sea. In places, they caught fire and burned red and orange against the blue sky.
The sun set as we sailed on, leaving us alone in the darkness. We watched the stars come out and the moon rises, filling the night with its pale light.
“Do you think Brother will return?” someone asked.
A girl named Shirena was among the first to volunteer when we were summoned to the captain’s cabin later in the night. She went off looking nervous; she did everything slowly and methodically so that it was obvious how anxious she was about this journey into the unknown.
She took her time over the preparations and even made sure that the knife had been sharpened and the rope tied tight and that we were each equipped with a lamp. She checked with Captain Ghesha, who nodded at last as she walked back along the deck. At least the task would be quick if all went well, or slow if it failed.
When Shirena returned with her torch-lantern we found Brother in the shadows near the stern. It was difficult for us to tell what kind of face he had beneath his cowl. He didn’t seem to notice any of us.
Only Shirena spoke with him, giving instructions: “Take one of these torches, but make sure you don’t leave us here without light.” She was still talking when we all stood by the hatchway leading below and listened to the muffled thud of wood scraping against wood.
We followed Shirena down the narrow steps, but I could hardly look away from Brother. I tried to keep my mind on my own tasks, but I couldn’t stop thinking that this was my duty now.
The tunnel led downward into a wide cavern where a stream ran between stone blocks. We crossed under it and climbed the bank on the far side, following the path until it ended at a door. There were no locks or hinges; only a single bolt held it closed.
There were five keys, all of them small enough that only Shirena could hold onto them and turn them easily. She passed one to me, but I hesitated when I saw that it had been carved from bone. She told me to take it anyway.
Brother took up two others and put one around each of our necks.
“You can use those to unlock the door,” he whispered, “but do nothing else unless the others need help.”
His tone brooked no argument, and so we stepped forward together and turned the keys.
As soon as the lock clicked open we heard voices ahead. They were coming closer and we all tensed, knowing that whoever it was would find us quickly after such an unusual noise. But they kept going straight ahead.
Shirena handed me her torch, but I didn’t know what to do with it. “Give it to me,” said Shirena, “or we’ll be seen right away.” So I lifted it high and held it in front of me. Then I waited, staring at the wall in front of me.
I knew this was a test, and I felt myself sweating with fear as my hands trembled. I looked over at Brother. His eyes seemed calm and steady. I wished I could say the same. My throat was dry and my stomach cramped. It wasn’t a bad hiding place, but it would have been better not to see anyone.
After a moment Shirena gave me a shove, saying, “Go on – hurry!” So I stepped toward the light. We’d barely gone ten paces when we came upon a group of men dressed in gray robes. They were gathered in a circle, their heads bowed as if in prayer.
“What do you want?” asked one of them, and as he spoke his voice echoed strangely in the confined space. There was something about him that made me feel uneasy; he reminded me of those soldiers who had tried to capture us at Keshian-Ghevish. They were all wearing the same black cowls and masks as him.
I was shaking too much to answer.
One of the masked figures stepped forward. He pulled down his cowl and revealed his face as one of our own people.
“It’s good to see you,” I managed to reply.
He stared at me, then laughed nervously. “So this is where you’ve been hiding.”
“I wanted to get back home,” I said, “and so I did – just like you.”
The man glanced back over his shoulder. “Come inside, please,” he urged. “No reason to frighten the children.”
We followed him through the door, past the other masked men, who stood watching silently until we were beyond their sight. They didn’t speak again until we reached a long hall where there were rows of doors.
The air smelled of sweat and old leather. A few candles flickered along the walls, but otherwise, we were left in complete darkness. I thought we might walk down forever until he finally stopped beside a wooden door with the sign of the Cross etched into its surface.
He turned the key in the lock and unlocked it with a flick of his hand. As soon as he released the latch a lamp lit up. It was suspended by a chain from the ceiling, and I was surprised to see that it was burning with oil rather than wax.
The man took off his mask and wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his robe. When he looked at us, though, his voice remained low and cautious. “Where are the others?”
Brother and I exchanged glances.
“Here and there,” he explained, “wherever we were sent.”
“And now?”
“Now I’m here.”
The man looked at me closely. “Why have you come? Have you been betrayed?”
“No.”
He nodded, then turned to Brother, saying, “Who is this person?”
Brother stepped forward. “My name is Brother.”
The man nodded. “You are welcome to stay, Brother.” Then he motioned for us to go inside the room and shut the door behind us.
Once we were alone, I found myself feeling more nervous than ever. The smell of smoke filled the place. There was a bed against the wall and shelves stacked with books; a table was covered with a cloth that shaded the lamp above it, and a narrow window overlooked the city below.
Brother took his sword from his belt and laid it on top of the nearest shelf. I noticed how carefully he handled the weapon and I guessed that this was the first time he had touched it since we met it at Breston’s gate.
He sat on the floor while I went around examining the books. There were two of them, and each was bound in dark leather and embossed with silver lettering. One was called The Book of the Law; another, The Book of Lost Names.
I knew I’d never understood either book and so I put them aside without opening them. They weren’t what I needed. I picked up a slim volume instead. It was small enough to fit in my pocket, and although its pages were yellow and brittle I knew exactly which one to take out.
“What is that?” Brother whispered when he saw me pick it up.
“It’s only an herb,” I replied quickly.
The door rattled as someone pushed it open. A man peered around the corner and then hurried into the room before shutting the door once more. His face was pale and thin and he wore a long, loose robe.
He carried a staff across his shoulders and his hair was white and wiry, almost like the fur of some animal. But despite the fact that he looked frail, he moved with a strange confidence that made him seem very powerful indeed.
The man smiled briefly at Brother, then said, “I am Brother, too.” He pointed to himself with his thumb. “And this is the boy.” He indicated me with a sweep of his arm.
Brother nodded respectfully to the stranger. “Good to meet you.”
As soon as they had shaken hands, the man said, “I hope you will forgive my intrusion, but I heard voices outside. We should not be talking.”
“There aren’t any more guards,” I said quickly. “I told them I’d keep them away.”
The man nodded as if he understood perfectly well what I was trying to do. He walked over to a chair opposite Brother and sat down. For a moment I thought he might want to sit beside him, but instead, he turned toward me and spoke quietly.
“You must promise me that you’ll stay hidden. You’re safe here as long as your face is concealed, but if anyone sees through the disguise you won’t live out the day. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir,” I agreed. “But why—”
The man held up one finger, silencing me with a smile. “This man’s name is Brother, and I think you can guess that he is the last of his order. He’s spent many years studying The Book of Lost Names, but now he wants to know more about the other book, The Book of the Law.
And he has found me, and I have agreed to help him in exchange for certain information. I need both volumes for myself. If he dies, I die with him.”
I swallowed hard. “How did he find you?”
Brother shook his head sadly. “It’s a sad thing to tell a child, but you’re young enough that you don’t fully remember your home, and so I think you can trust me.”
The old man stared at me for a few moments longer before asking, “Is it true that no one lives anymore in the great city?”
“No,” I answered. “We all died—except those who are hiding somewhere in the mountains.”
“Ah, yes…” Brother sighed and seemed to forget that we were supposed to be talking about him for a moment. “It is very difficult being trapped inside The City, and yet I cannot leave until I’ve discovered the truth about The Law, or else my work would be lost forever.”
He looked suddenly troubled as he continued speaking. “I have always believed that I was sent here because something terrible had happened to my order. The Book of Lost Names tells us that there came a time when a new power emerged and tried to destroy our faith.
Our scriptures explain that The Lord God brought us out of slavery under the Old Ones to show us how to serve Him, but then a new race arose and began to call themselves gods, and their worship led them to believe they could use the same powers that He had used. That is why they were defeated: The Lord God destroyed them by using His own power.”
Brother stopped abruptly as if he had said everything that mattered. “When I was younger, I wondered what it meant that the world had been changed in such a way and that we were saved. It seems foolish now.
Perhaps we were never really saved at all—perhaps we just became enslaved again.” He leaned forward as if to emphasize his point. “Do you see what I mean? This is a dark book.”
I was beginning to understand a little more about Brother and his obsession with the Book of Lost Names. Even at the end of my life, my family was still fighting against the Old One, but they weren’t the only ones; there were others, men who had learned how to fight the enemy, and so I had left the house on the hill and joined their cause.
Now I was learning more about Brother himself and his history.
“I think I do,” I said slowly. “So you want to learn how to use those powers?”
“If we are ever to be freed from this bondage,” Brother replied with a shrug, “we will need the power.” He glanced up quickly at the entrance to the room where we stood. The man was gone, and Brother was staring absently back at the empty doorway.
Then he returned his attention to me. “What I want most is a map. There are places scattered across the world where someone has written the words ‘here the law lies hidden.’ In The City, there are two passages, one on each side of the gate. But the maps I have seen have been very confusing, and there are hundreds of places that seem to correspond to no real location.”
“Why didn’t you ask the Order to give you a map?”
Brother shrugged. “That is a strange question indeed! We don’t make maps. The Order has always believed that there is danger in making a permanent record of things. I’ve already heard of men who have made copies of the maps, and they have disappeared.
No one knows what happened to them. The Old Ones, perhaps. I’ve also read accounts of men who have followed the directions on a map and found nothing. They say that the place described on the map is simply an illusion created by some powerful mind.”
“I think the people who live in the mountain cities are called the Old Ones,” I said slowly.
“They are not the same as us—they are like shadows of our past, cast back upon the world after they had become too corrupt to survive.” Brother was silent for a long time, and his gaze became distant as he pondered aloud, “Perhaps I am wrong… Perhaps they are more than shadows—perhaps they are the remnants of a dead race once thought to be gods themselves.”
“And what makes you think so?”
Brother’s eyes were bright as he spoke again. “It doesn’t matter now, since they are gone. And even if we were to meet other people, I would have to believe that they would share our beliefs about the dangers of making a permanent record of anything, and that would be reason enough not to trust them.
But you must understand something, my dear before I go any further. There is much that I wish to teach you, and so I will speak very plainly. You are a child who has no idea what I am saying. What matters is that there are things which must not be written down.”
I nodded slowly and said nothing. I had already begun to realize that Brother had a strange, almost mystical knowledge and a way of putting thoughts together that was unlike anyone else’s. He had been trained in the art of reading words, but he had never learned how to use them as weapons, and that was why I had felt it important to find someone more experienced to train me.
That was part of why I had come here, into the mountains. I was curious about Brother and wanted to know more about him. I was sure he could help me learn more about myself and about magic. If he truly knew so much about what he said then surely I couldn’t fail to benefit from his training.
But there was more—the man had a strange obsession with the Book of Lost Names, and there might be something to that. I began to wonder about his story, and how it differed from what I knew. I tried to imagine a world in which a man could become a god-like being, and then I shook my head slowly and looked up sharply at Brother.
“Who did you say your father was?” I asked suddenly.
Brother frowned. “Why do you ask?”
“He was a magician who taught me some of the ways of the world. Did he tell you about his teacher?”
Brother seemed surprised to hear that Father had been teaching magic and I could see his eyes narrow as if thinking. “The Master of the Academy told me only that my father had been the most famous of magicians in all the worlds until he had died.
My own studies began when I was old enough to remember. I was raised among other magicians; I learned how to read books and write scrolls; I spent many nights studying in great libraries.” His eyes narrowed as he stared off into the distance.
“My mother… She died soon after I was born.” His voice trailed away, and I saw him swallow hard before continuing, “When she did die, I went home to The City—to find him… but he had already gone away. I never saw him again.”
“Where is the Order? Why don’t they know?” I asked.
Brother turned his eyes toward me and gave a small chuckle. “Oh, my dear, they know exactly where they’re going. All we need to do is follow their trail—we should be able to find their camp easily since they will have marked the place with signs, as the Master instructed us.”
“So why aren’t they there?”
“They are moving around. We can’t be sure of their destination or the route they will take. And besides—there may be others ahead of us. It was foolish of them not to bring more men and horses with them. The Master says they are fools—”
I was silent then. I had known Father for several years, and although I had only seen him once since he had left us, I remembered his eyes and the way he had spoken about the Order and those who were loyal to the Great Ones.
“Father was very wise…” I said softly.
Brother nodded slowly, his face serious. “His memory lives on, you know; that is how the Order survived the fall of the Empire.” He smiled briefly at that and fell silent again as he studied me. “What made you so curious about this book?”
“You mean The Book of Lost Names? Well, I’m just thinking about its significance.” I shrugged. “It’s an ancient work, and I’ve been wondering what it means. Is it truly the key to all the lost names of the gods, as it claims?”
Brother sighed, but I could tell that he was pleased by the question. “There are many books, my dear, which are important because of their age. But the Book of Lost Names is important, I think, because of what it does. When you look into its pages, it speaks to you.”
I shivered at the thought. “How can a book talk to you? How can it be alive?”
“We are like that too, my dear,” he replied, smiling wryly. “The Book is older than any of us, but it talks to each of us differently. It tells you things about yourself if you listen closely enough.”
“If it’s so powerful, then why is it lost?”
Brother smiled and shook his head. “Because no one knows how to read it—that is where the true power lies. The Great One himself would be unable to read it; he doesn’t have the ability. Only a few ever learn its secrets.”
“I don’t understand why anyone would want to keep such knowledge hidden from people when it could be so useful,” I whispered, looking over to my friend. He didn’t answer for a long time and then, suddenly, he seemed to be deep in thought.
“Perhaps they did not intend the book to be kept secret,” he said finally. “Maybe someone took it to hide it away… but maybe it became lost.”
“But surely Father knew how to read it?”
Brother shrugged. “Perhaps. Maybe he found something else that was even more valuable to him. Or perhaps there was another reason. If Father was a traitor to the Great One, then perhaps that is the truth behind his death.”
I was stunned and looked over at my friend. There was nothing but silence between us and neither of us moved for a moment, while the shadows swallowed up our faces. Finally, I broke the tension.
“Who killed him?” I asked quietly.
“Why—because of The Book—of course.” Brother was quiet for a while longer and then he spoke softly as if telling me something I didn’t want to hear. “He had been working on some kind of plan for some time now, which involved getting The Book to the Master’s hands without having the whole world know it. That was why he was here with us, rather than returning to The City as a teacher.”
A cold feeling began to form inside me. Father was gone and my mind was racing with questions. Who was responsible for my father’s death? What was the purpose of The Book of Lost Names? Had my family been working against the Great One all these years? Perhaps Father had discovered the truth and had tried to use it… but what good would that have done anyway?
The more I thought about the situation, the more certain I felt that Father had not betrayed The Order. I was sure he had never known the truth behind the book—or perhaps he had, and had decided to conceal it rather than risk it falling into enemy hands.
“Is it possible?” I whispered, suddenly remembering what Father had told us in our last conversation. “That we’re descended from those who fought against the Empire? From the people who followed the Great One instead of the Emperor? Could Father have been right after all?”
Brother looked back to me, his expression grave. “Yes, it is possible,” he said, “but I doubt very much whether Father would have been able to prove that, even if he wanted to.”
“But if the book is truly what he believed it to be, then we might be descended from the rebels…” My voice trailed off into a whisper because what I’d almost said out loud struck me as being too absurd to believe.
My mind was filled with questions and I was beginning to feel uneasy. “Did he say anything else?”
Brother stared at me for a long time, looking into my eyes before he responded. “No, he only mentioned once that he was planning to travel to the city to see this old man named Sarn. I assumed he meant Professor Sarn. I didn’t think much more about it at the time, although I did wonder who he was and why he should have a relationship with your father.”
I frowned and looked down. I couldn’t shake off the fear that my friend had not yet heard everything—that there were other parts of Father’s story that my brother had missed.
“And what did you do, when Father went away?” I asked him.
“Nothing, really,” Brother replied with a shrug. “Your father left a note in case I got worried or needed to contact him urgently, saying that he would return within three days’ time and that he would come straight to The Hall after that. When I received it, I waited and then I came back to The Hall as he said he would.”
I looked over at him, trying hard not to ask him the question I knew he wouldn’t want to answer. After a moment, he continued: “He never returned—no letter arrived. It happened a year ago, so I thought nothing of it until Father was dead… and now I begin to wonder if something may have happened to him.
He didn’t take any money from here; the only thing he said to me was that he was leaving me an inheritance of some sort…”
“An inheritance?” I repeated. “What kind of inheritance?”
Brother hesitated briefly before responding. “It wasn’t a huge amount and it certainly wasn’t anything that would cause me to worry. All I remember is that it was enough to make a difference and that he didn’t like to be seen accepting it publicly. I assume he intended to tell you himself since you’ve always been close.”
Something was stirring inside me and I was beginning to feel nervous. Was it possible that Father was hiding something? That he had taken some great secret from his life in The City and hidden it somewhere on the ship… something which we could discover if we searched the vessel thoroughly?
And yet, if he had been murdered by someone who sought to protect that secret, then it was likely that whoever had killed him had also destroyed The Book of Lost Names, which meant that we would have no way of discovering its secrets either.
“We must leave,” I said slowly, standing up abruptly. “There may be a connection between this inheritance and my father’s death.”
Brother nodded. “You’re right.”
As we walked toward the door, I turned back to the library and remembered something I hadn’t thought of in quite some time. “Brother—” I stopped and turned back, my voice suddenly serious and strained. “Are you free to speak freely?”
“Of course,” he answered without hesitation. “I’m a priest—there’s nobody here who can overhear us.”
I drew a breath, my heart pounding, and then plunged ahead before he could protest: “When Father died, he left me his most precious possession. It is a journal of sorts—a journal which contains all his personal notes on the history of our order, as well as other historical information that Father deemed particularly important.”
Brother gave a start and looked at me sharply. “Really? What was it called?”
I looked away, unable to meet his gaze. “The Great One’s Gift.”
For an instant, Brother’s face was stricken with horror. Then, just as quickly, he began to smile, shaking his head sadly and muttering, “Well, that explains it…”
The End