MIDNIGHT FALCON by David Gemmell

The Library was huge and white, fifty massive pillars supporting two hundred rooms under a domed roof. Exquisite statues had been placed all around the building, and other equally magnificent carvings adorned the walls, and the many niches set within the columns. Banouin climbed the forty-two steps to the main doors and entered the Hall of Nature. Here, set on plinths, were scores of stuffed animals and birds of every kind. A huge elephant, covered in fur, stood at the far end, trunk lifted, caught in mid-cry. The tusks were more than ten feet long. There were crocodiles, turtles, several bears – one albino white – and other creatures from distant lands: a striped horse, a huge spotted lion, and an animal with an immensely long neck. This last was half rearing, its dead lips nibbling at an artificial tree set on the gallery of Level Two.

Banouin climbed the stairs to Level Three and the Antiquities section. Upon entering he was surprised to see four young men in the far corner, sitting huddled together. They looked up as he entered, scrutinized him, then returned to their whispers.

Taking a scroll from the Shelf of the Keltoi, Banouin moved to a small table set against the wall. Then he carefully opened the scroll and began to read. The author of the piece had been dead for two hundred years, and much of what he said concerning the Keltoi people was wildly inaccurate. In one section he talked of human sacrifices and the eating of human flesh, claiming it to be a fetish among the tribes. Banouin had never heard of human sacrifice being practised by any Keltoi. Irritated by the lack of scholarship in the scroll Banouin returned it, and drew another.

This dealt with – among other matters – the spiritual beliefs among tribesmen, and talked of tree worship. It also maintained, with great seriousness, that the Keltoi were a child-like race, incapable of serious intellectual thought, who believed thunderstorms to be the clashing shields of the gods. It pointed out, however, that, if treated with firm discipline, the Keltoi made good slaves.

Banouin returned this to its place. At the back of the shelf he saw a faded scroll that had slipped from its niche. Carefully he lifted it clear. It was bound with an old ribbon, frayed at the edges. It contained, in note form, a description of a Keltoi ritual, in which a druid blessed the land of a farmer, whose crops had been blighted since he built his farmhouse three years before. The druid maintained that a battle had been fought on this land a hundred years before, and the spirit had departed from it. In order to bring the spirit back the druid arranged for a wedding feast to be held on the land. Hundreds of Keltoi were invited, and they danced and sang, and made merry throughout the day and long into the night. The writer, a Stone merchant, had added a postscript to the scroll, saying that the following season the farmer enjoyed a successful crop.

The writing was crisp, authoritative and beguiling. There was no comment concerning the scenes witnessed, merely detailed observation. Banouin wanted to read on, but he became aware of a growing tension within the large room. It was flowing from the group of young men talking in the corner. Fear was present, and an immense sadness. Banouin pretended to read. He wished he could float from his body and listen to their conversation, but such separation was impossible here. For his spirit to soar Banouin had to be close to the willow.

He strained to hear what they were saying, but could make out no words. At last they stood to leave. Banouin returned to his studying, but glanced up as they passed. The last of them, a tall handsome young man with close-cropped black hair, paused at Banouin’s table. ‘You are Banouin the Healer?’ he asked.

Banouin’s heart sank. He had helped his tutor, Sencra, removing a huge abscess from his back, and twice now had been recommended by the old man to his friends. Banouin had masked the use of his power by first applying sweet-smelling poultices, filled with aromatic herbs, like mint or lavender. Having done this he would then close his eyes and heal the wound. With Sencra it had been an abscess, with both the other older men it had been inflammation of the joints caused by arthritis. Banouin wished he had never used the skill at all, for he did not want to stand out in Stone. He wanted peace and relative anonymity.

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