Prince of Time

Chapter Thirteen - The Deeper Library

The corridor inside was narrow, just room enough for one person, and high-ceilinged. The air was stale and musty to smell, dry as old paper. The walls were great towering masses of books and scrolls, ancient codex on all matters.

“This place is a labyrinth,” Ane whispered, lifting the shuttered lamp from beside the door and lighting it. “They say you could wander in here forever and never find the exit if you didn’t know how it worked.”

“That’s reassuring,” Maple replied. “We can starve to death in a tomb of paper.”

“I’ll get us out,” Ane promised.

She began to walk down the corridor, shadows falling oddly from the lamp. Maple followed, nervous, glancing around. She distrusted this much paper, this much reading and knowledge piled up out of sight. It felt dangerous, as if an idea might explode and expand and destroy the world.

“This is all on healing,” Ane murmured. “Obviously, it would make sense to have that near the start. It is what most of us need to look for.”

“Will you find last root here?”

“Origen said herbology,” Ane kept walking. “We need to find herbology. Do you have a good memory?”

“Yes,” Maple said, blankly. “Usually.”

“Good. Then remember the route. Healing, unicorn lore…”

Maple tried to memorise the words Ane reeled out, apparently able to tell how everything was filed from one glance. From unicorn lore, they moved on to forestry, to royal ancestry, to law. Maple repeated them all back to herself, keeping track.

 The aisles all looked the same in this warren of silent words. Maple couldn’t imagine how much information was here. Perhaps, amongst this paper, were the answers to everything but nobody would ever have the time to search and find them.

“Magic,” Ane groaned. “We’ve come too far. We always keep magic furthest away from hapless wanderers.”

“Why?” Maple asked.  “So that they can’t get ideas?”

“So that ideas can’t get them,” Ane answered, seriously.

They tracked back as far as river geography and continued up a different aisle, Maple replacing the memorised sections as they went. It took time and much retracing in this catacomb but eventually Ane stopped.

“Herbology,” she sighed, tiredly. “At last.”

Maple looked around. “How do you find what we need?”

“Patience,” Ane chided. “Now, I need to read.”

“Read!” Maple cried. “But we don’t have time! Who knows how long we’ve been down here? We’re meant to be leaving today! We need to find answers fast!”

“Then let me read,” Ane said, simply.

“The lamp is burning low,” Maple grumbled.

“Sssh,” Ane hushed her. “I’m concentrating.”

Ane ran her fingers over spines of books, brushed aside scrolls, though Maple couldn’t imagine what she was looking for. Ane seemed to know, however, and opened books with zealous enthusiasm, seeming to throw her mind into them and forget the world.

 Maple let herself drift. She had learned patience during her training and she put it to good use. She wasn’t asleep. She was merely absent, ready to return in a split second, but otherwise navigating the vast oceans of the mind.

“Got it!”

Maple jerked out of her reverie.

“I’ve found something,” Ane announced. “About last root. It’s in this book: The Greater Herbs.”