Hard Bound, page 9
“How long have you known Clara?” Fiona asked. She glanced at Gaili, but the faun was studying her dress intently. Probably to hide any facial expression about her old mentor.
“Oh, a few years now. She’s been a large contributor of knowledge to the various academies in Copper over time. I got to know her in my previous role, when I was overseeing much of the academies in the Glade region. She’s donated many clever items like her original pocket watch, a scope letting you observe things in the distance, and the like.”
“Did you suggest she come on board when Taliana announced retirement?”
“Er, no.” Dorin scratched his nose. “Taliana actually suggested Clara as her replacement. Assignment to the Order of Seven is usually through applications, and previous Order members choose the upcoming Seven for the next term. Faekin from all over apply from the main institute studies: geography, alchemy, astronomy, mathematics, anatomy, and engineering. We try to have a diverse group and cover each study, each region, and each level of society. Clara fit quite well in Taliana’s role.”
“So Clara has been on board for about six months.” The same amount of time since Gaili was inked, Fiona noted. Interesting.
“Yes, and she’s already given much to the Order of Seven and governing of Copper. She’s stubborn and sometimes temperamental, but what genius isn’t?” Dorin said.
Fiona glanced at Gaili, who was nodding along in agreement. She stifled a groan. Some people could get away with murder if they talked well enough. It only took a few times of being duped to see through the false veneer. Fiona felt like she was the only one who saw through Clara’s. All well. That wasn’t the case to solve.
“Besides her, Dragomir, and Bardo you’ve talked to all of the Seven. What do you think so far?” Dorin said after a short silence.
Fiona answered quickly lest Dorin get his hopes up: “That I know far too little to make a pronouncement of anything yet.” And that each member of the Seven is happy to hand over another member as a person of interest. “We’ve gotten much information this morning, but besides the Seven I’ll still want to talk to the staff and of course Orsa herself.”
“You’ll find Orsa at the Towers of Calistino. It is within the city but on the water’s edge and furthest away from our pagemark here. And of course, we use turn stoppers, as barbaric as that sounds. Although she is no turner, we placed her there in case one might want to assist her. The Summer Crowns are too valuable to let our only lead get away.”
Turning the page from a building or unsecured location like that was inviting turning into the gutter and possible death. Pagemarks were large, secured areas for a reason. But they always had to line up with somewhere safe; otherwise, you were asking to be in a bind. Breaking someone from a prison to another page had been tried over the last few centuries. It was a risk only those who needed to escape bad enough would take.
“If you don’t believe she did the crime, is there a need to be so cautious?” Fiona asked.
Dorin hurriedly closed the door behind them and sighed. “I can’t think just of my wishes for Orsa on this. Not until we retrieve the curiosities. If she does know where they are and another page turner could abscond with her, there’s no telling if we’ll ever see them again. We need to recover them as soon as we can. It’s one of the reasons I insisted we bring you on to help.”
If a page turner had them, they could be anywhere in the Book. Fiona could see why they wanted her to work quickly. They said their goodbyes and set off toward the Towers of Calistino.
As soon as they stepped away from the Pavilion and walked down the well-worn path, Fiona remarked casually, “So you’re amenable to staying here a few days? I thought I’d have to bribe you.”
Gaili laughed. “Perhaps you still should. But I thought about how much ground we could cover if we didn’t have to pop back home all the time or at least had a place to lay our lace…”
“And?”
“And I thought how nice it would be to continue visiting with Matteo. When I left, I was Clara’s star pupil. Now she’s a Keeper and I’ve returned as a shop owner without a proper—well, anything.”
“Surely your friends and family are proud of you. You’ve started your own business, Gaili, and struck out to do something with your talents.”
“I-I haven’t told them about the shop actually.”
“You haven’t what?”
“In my letters I…don’t mention it. I talk about the research I’ve done, the studies. Things that I would’ve kept doing under Clara. I don’t want them to worry about me not having enough to eat or a roof over my head.”
Fiona often forgot, to her embarrassment, that not all page turners were treated the same by their pages. She rarely moved in circles outside of her miniscule one until recently with meeting Soots and Rockcruncher. She had been traveling along, turning page after page, without really learning anything. “I didn’t…” She paused, looking for a way to support her friend without making it about herself. “They’ll love to hear about you, in any situation.” She smirked. “But a visiting dignitary’s house isn’t a bad way to show off. Tell Matteo what you’re really up to. Let your family know all the creative things you’re accomplishing that are keeping you afloat.”
Gaili fiddled with the ribbon of her sleeve. There was silence as they walked over the stone footbridge into a deeper part of the city, the only sound the rushing water of the canal beneath them. Then with a small sigh, Gaili said, “I do hope it’ll make them happy. It would comfort me to know they aren’t disappointed about Keeper Clara.”
“No one who has any sense could be disappointed in you.” Fiona grinned at the faun and then quirked an eyebrow. “Now Clara is another story. Who wouldn’t be disappointed in that woman? She’s dreadful.” Fiona put up her hand, laughing. “I know what you’re going to say, but let me have my snide comments where I may. I’ll need to be on my best behavior while we’re here.”
Gaili inclined her head but kept her own counsel. They walked in companionable silence through the towering homes that edged the path toward their destination. More and more faekin traveling to and fro around them, gradually eclipsing them as they mingled in with the life of the city. Though some looked at the two, they acknowledged Gaili as a guide and carried on. All the while Fiona chewed on the information they had gathered. She only had basic knowledge of the Court of Copper from training and gossip. She’d need to understand much more if she was going to figure out who had the most motive to steal from the Order of Seven. Including if it truly was Orsa.
“Now that we’re away from the fray, tell me, what should I know about the Circle of Seasons? I feel like there’s more there than I can rightfully understand as an outsider,” she said, mimicking Cascade’s voice.
Pulling down a browning leaf from a passing tree, Gaili twirled it in her fingers. “The Seasons were, are, fae inheritors of the spring, summer, autumn, and winter spirits. You know, like how nymphs are inheritors of nature elements and fauns of the woodlands and forests.”
“You’re a spirit?”
“In an essence, yes. It is our belief that the spirit continues reincarnating itself lifetime after lifetime to experience all it can.”
Fiona had never heard Gaili talk with such wistful tones before. Though spirits meant quite a different thing to her human mind, she set the comparison aside and urged her on. “And so the Seasons are always the four?”
“Yes, they were. I think. I mean, there could only ever be four at a time. And as the fae were the inheritors and our creators, they ruled over the entire world as deities.”
Fiona stopped again. “Fae created you?”
“Well, not created me directly, Fi,” Gaili said, as if it was rather obvious. “Our species. Each born by the ruling fae from the beginning of time.” She laughed lightly. “What did you think faekin meant?”
“But”—Fiona looked around at the diverse groups, including fae among them—“they don’t seem to be the sort.”
“I’m getting to that bit,” Gaili said, laughter bubbling out of her.
Fiona imagined Gaili liked pressing her impatient buttons when she could. It made her slow down to linger in her friend’s enjoyment, but only a little. “Okay, so then legend has it the Seasons disappeared at the start of the Inking?”
“Oh yes. It’s not legend really. There have been no more Seasons since they went away and Larrakane pronounced herself. For some faekin it was deity replaced by deity.”
Resisting the urge to get into the curious philosophical debate about the chicken or egg, Fiona said, “Your seasons, your actual weather, continued?”
Gaili nodded. “Archives show that after the first year, when nothing much changed but the rulers and the ruling class, the Order of Seven was formed.”
“Remarkable. Were they good rulers? These Seasons?”
“I think that depends upon our definition of good. The first few Circles and the fae in general bore more power than the rest of the world combined with the season spirits. And some fought against them, like the nymphs and fairies. After that the next few Circles seemed to usher in some peace, although history shows it ranged from forced peace to barely contained turmoil. So were they good leaders? I don’t know. I’m sure some of them tried.”
“You’re right. I guess it can’t always be as clear cut as one would like.” Fiona couldn’t help thinking of her own responsibilities to her Queen and power therein. “Which Circle of Seasons made the Summer Crowns?”
“The lost one. After the hag eradication—”
“Hag eradication?” Fiona exclaimed. “I thought those were myths! Shape-changing witches who stole children and cooked them, as my mother liked to scare me with. Saying they’d turn from Copper to Rise, pretend to be her just to get me since I was such a bad child. Kept me up almost half the night on more than one occasion. They existed?”
“Your mother used to tell you that?” Gaili said, frowning. “That’s awful.”
Fiona’s cheeks burned, thankful with her brown skin her feelings on the matter were nearly invisible, and kept on: “They were actually real though? And then eradicated?”
“Yes, but no stolen or cooked children. But many were advisors to the Seasons and ruling fae. Fairly small in number compared to the other species. Anyways, they were unfortunately…removed. Or sent off to the Wilds. Not a bright spot in our history. But we were punished for it with the plague.”
“Now the plague I know about,” Fiona said. It was the only thing in Copper history that was also taught to children on Rise. The plague happened before the inking in Copper. With thorough study, the Copper page eradicated it before the Book opened up. Once it was discovered that, consequently, it was the same plague happening in Rise, Copper shared the treatments, as part of negotiations between the pages. Rise would always be in debt for that, though humans tended to forget quickly.
“So many had died that the willingness to open minds with everyone, determine how to stop the plague, and more united all the faekin with the final Circle of Seasons. The Seasons, to push forward the goodwill, created many things for the various regions. The Summer Crowns may have been one of those items. Old families, local governments, and the like still have artifacts from that goodwill push, but they stopped working after a fashion. What was in that chest are the only things I’ve heard of that still had any power left from the Seasons.”
“So they would be valuable to any number of people for a variety of reasons.”
“Yes, inside and outside the page. I can imagine alchemists and inventors from across the Book looking to distill what the crowns can do or replicate them, as Sofia is already trying to do. It’s so rare we come across items that don’t work here because it’s from another page.”
“For you maybe,” Fiona said as they walked over another half-wall foot bridge, “but even what Cascade can do naturally is more than any human is able to imagine. I’m finding the Book more fantastical every day. And as long as that fantastical isn’t attacking me, I’m loving every minute of it.”
“I’m glad. For me, every new discovery is something to be excited about, and when you find the Summer Crowns, my only hope is to get to touch them just once.”
Fiona smiled. “When we find them, it’ll be a priority.”
Gaili blushed and nodded her head. They entered a large open square with several buildings that surrounded it in a semicircle. Little snaking paths darted between the buildings leading farther away and deeper into another residential area. In the center of the square was a sizeable pale-pink marble well decorated with laurel leaves, like a central talking piece. Indeed there were many faekin around it, filling pails and pots underneath the iron spigots that shot water directly from the cistern beneath. Chatter in the faekin language crowded around them as Fiona and Gaili continued on past the working people and to the towers situated on each side of the square.
The towers seemed to touch the sky. Open slitted windows marked each level of the buildings, and a linked bridge high up sat in between them. It was shockingly well lit within the tower. Soft glowing lamps and rays of amber sunlight streamed through the window slits. Though the stone walls were cracked and dark, they seemed quite cleaner than Fiona had expected. The prisons of Rise were already dank but fell even further into dreadfulness in comparison to this.
Scents of warmed linen and soap wafted down the hall as a warden strutted toward them, alerted by some unseen signal. Keys jangled on one side of a blue cloth belt tied around her waist while a small book swayed back and forth on the other. “Hello. Do you need assistance?”
“We’re here to speak to Orsa? She arrived last week.”
“Oh, yes. Poor thing. And who are you? For the record.” The warden pulled up her attached book, its chain wrapping around her tattooed arm as she consulted it.
Fiona chewed on her lip, briefly hesitating. If she gave a false name here it could be confusing should the Seven check. “Fiona Thorne.”
Gaili gave her name, and the warden jotted it down. She tutted, closing her book. “I don’t know if she’ll be up for a visit, but we can see.”
“Did something happen?” said Gaili.
“Well, it’s not my place to talk about others.” The warden glanced around as if remembering herself. “You can ask her yourself. Just…be gentle with her. She’s been fairly quiet since she came here. Very polite and whatnot.” She crooked her finger and led them back through the narrow halls and up a wide ramp that circled round the tower.
They passed several levels of small landings, each with a short row of three or four doors. Not many people were kept in the tower, it seemed. The landing floors were covered in exquisite rugs of geometric patterns and deep colors. The halls illuminated as below with soft candles.
“Who maintains this tower?” Fiona asked.
“Why, the prisoners of course. Mind you, this tower houses more political criminals than murderers or thieves. They have plenty of paper to spend on their expenses here, if their fortune wasn’t taken from them.”
“So they pay for the upkeep?”
“And the servants who clean it. Better than some homes in the country, if I say so myself.” Her voice sounded warm with pride. “I’m sure most country folk wouldn’t mind a bed in one of my rooms.”
“But they are still prisoners, yes? No matter how nice the accommodations are,” Fiona said.
The warden sniffed. “We do the best we can to blend the distinction.”
Fiona thought that no amount of paper in the Book would make her forget she was caught in one place for any length of time.
They finally stopped after a while. Fiona glanced out the window, resting from the walk up. She could see a good portion of the square, the road back to Calistino, the canals buffeting each of its side. There was the tip of the massive domed temple to Larrakane at the city center, and even in the far distance she could make out the outline of mountains. They were high up indeed.
The warden put a key in the lock and twisted it for the wooden door to pop open. Inside Fiona could see a small sitting area with a settee, table, and throw rug. Light came in from another narrow window. Toward the back of the half-moon room was an iron door.
“If you’ll make yourself comfortable, I’ll check on Orsa and let her know she has visitors.”
“Thank you.” Gaili inclined her head in a show of appreciation.
The warden smiled at her, ignored Fiona, and sauntered to the iron door, unlocking it. She darted inside quicker than her looks indicated she could and shut the door.
“I think we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot,” Fiona said, motioning to the warden.
“She takes pride in her work,” Gaili said quietly. “I’m sure she has to deal with quite a few upper-echelon people visiting here. Whether they want to or not. That’s no easy task to balance.”
“True,” Fiona said.
“Besides, I do agree with you. A gussied-up prison is still a prison. Some turners say that’s how they feel in Spine. Cursed to go everywhere and yet stay nowhere.”
Often turners fell into the two camps: those who saw it as a blessing, or as a curse. But Fiona couldn’t see how the freedom to move about the Book could ever be outweighed by the supposed burden of having to come back to Spine.
“Would you rather not be inked?”
Gaili shook her head. “I will always prefer it. But getting so sick you can hardly stand just for being someplace else too long—I’ll never understand why it’s part of the package.”
Fiona nodded. “Nor I. Perhaps we’ll have the frightful luck to ask Larrakane ourselves one day.” She winked at Gaili. “Although I doubt she’d be ecstatic that’s our first question.”
The iron door opened, shifting Fiona’s thoughts, and they turned at once to the sound. A faun, almost as tall as the doorframe with large dark eyes like mud puddles, shuffled out, her furry hooves and pale golden hands bound by the manacles known as turn stoppers. They were often used to keep skips and rippers, errant page turners, from being able to move between pages. Though they were in use, there weren’t very many that existed.
