Alfred’s footsteps lagged, came to a stumbling halt. He gazed about him in ever-increasing awe. Nothing more than a library, he’d said to himself. What a fool! This was the library. The Great Library of the Sartan. His people on Arianus had assumed it was lost in the Sundering. Alfred looked to another wall: The History of the Sartan, And, below that, much less extensive, though with numerous subcategories: The History of the Patryns.
Alfred sat down rather suddenly. Fortunately, a chair happened to be in the vicinity or he would have fallen to the floor. All thoughts of leaving vanished from his head. What wealth! What richness! What fabulous treasure! The story of a world he knew only in his dreams, a world that had been whole, then was wrenched violently apart. The story of his people and that of their enemy. Undoubtedly, the events that led up to the Sundering, Council meetings, discussions . . .
“I could spend days here,” Alfred said to himself, dazed and happy, happier than he could remember being in vast eons of time. “Days! Years!”
He felt moved to express his homage for this vault of knowledge, for those who had kept it safe, perhaps sacrificed objects precious to them personally to save what would be of immense value to future generations. Rising to his feet, he was about to perform a solemn dance (much to the dog’s amusement) when a voice, dry and brittle, shattered his euphoria.
“I might have known. What are you doing here?”
The dog leapt up, hackles bristling, began barking frantically at nothing.
Alfred, the very breath scared out of him, clutched weakly at a table and stared around him, eyes bulging.
“Who . . . who’s there? . . .” he gasped.
One figure, then two, materialized, in front of him.
“Samah!” Alfred heaved a sigh of relief, collapsed into a chair. “Ramu . . .” Removing a handkerchief from a shabby pocket, Alfred mopped his head.
The head of the Council and his son, faces grim and accusing, came to stand in front of Alfred.
“I repeat—what are you doing here?”
Alfred looked up, began to tremble in every limb. The sweat chilled on his body. Samah was obviously, dangerously, angry.
“I … I was looking for the way out . . .” replied Alfred, meekly.
“Yes, I imagine you were.” The Councillor’s tone was cold, biting. Alfred shrank away from it. “What else were you looking for?”
“N-nothing . . . I—”
“Then why come here, to the library? Shut that beast up!” Samah snapped.
Alfred reached out a shaking hand, grabbed hold of the dog by the scruff of its neck, and pulled it near. “It’s all right, boy,” he said in a low voice, though he wondered why the dog should believe him when he didn’t believe himself.
The dog quieted, at Alfred’s touch; its barking changed to a rumbling growl, deep in its chest. But it never took its eyes off Samah and, occasionally, when it thought it could get away with it, its lip curled, showing a fine set of sharp teeth.
“Why did you come to the library? What were you looking for?” Samah demanded again. He emphasized his words with a blow of his hand upon the table, causing both it and Alfred to shiver.
“It was an accident! I … I came here by accident. That is,” Alfred amended, withering beneath Samah’s burning gaze, “I came to this building on purpose. I was hot . . . you see . . . and the shade … I mean, I didn’t know it was a library . . . and I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to be here …”
“There are runes of prohibition on the door. Or at least there were, the last time I looked,” Samah stated. “Has something happened to them?”
“N-no,” Alfred admitted, gulping. “I saw them. I only meant to take a quick peep inside. Curiosity. It’s a terrible failing of mine. But . . . well … I tripped, you see, and fell through the door. Then the dog jumped on me and my feet must have . . . that is, I think I probably . . . I’m not sure how, but I guess I . . . kicked the door shut,” he finished miserably.