The De'Nauguath Chronicles - Book 1: The Summoner's Daughter

Chapter 18: Glimpses

I hadn't understood what a "wing" was before I'd seen this place.

One wall in the library had generous windows. Some places had stained glass panels. I'd never seen such large ones. I'd assumed it wasn't possible. It cast funny light in the room, but I liked it somehow.

There were a few stands scattered around that propped up especially large or heavy books that were open to certain pages. There were two large and open areas with about ten tables spaced out. It had looked interesting in twilight, but it was downright comfortable in the day.

Devna had scattered books out on three of the larger tables and a few of the smaller ones, as if he could somehow remember his thread of thought at each one if he left things open as they'd occurred to him. He was scribbling on paper and comparing two books to each other. There was something pure about someone working so hard at such a peaceful task. I almost pitied him. He was nothing like a Krócian. I wondered how much of it was natural habit and how much had been the monks' doing.

I hovered by a distant shelf. It was a shame to break someone's rhythm. But he spotted me and waved a hand in the air. "Well come in, if you're coming in."

Crankiness. I hadn't expected it.

I picked up a book from a table and opened it to a random page so it would look like I was reading. "Have you made sense of their language? I haven't heard anyone else use it. It e'nt foreign to me, but I can't really catch what they say."

He grunted. "I don't know it much, either. It feels different, like I've known it all along and have to remember it instead of learn it. I wish there was a primer for more than one dialect so I could work my way up to these." He jabbed at a book as thick as his arm.

I shrugged. "Reckon they don't have a lot of use for it. E'nt children here."

"It's a big place. They're likely to be hiding somewhere. I'm still not sure about the lay of the land."

I thought hard. "I haven't seen a single child here yet. No one looks younger than us. Most look far older. Don't you think that's –"

He scrawled more notes on a paper scrap. "They might've come here to die, or they might not be interested in children. Childbirth can be a dangerous business. And anyway, didn't Michen say that most of these people were his family? They might be worried about inbreeding."

"I've seen healthy children come from first cousins."

He stopped writing. His brow rose along with his gaze.

I shrugged. "E'nt that impossible, that's all. Really desperate souls find a way with their own siblings. Krócia doesn't guard that kind of secret very well."

He wavered for awhile. He nodded. "It might be a little strange. I'll ask them."

I poked at an air bubble in the spine of the book I held. The cover had seven diamond-shaped pictures arranged in a circle – elements or some such things, each different. I watched Devna again. "Michen said you were a healer."

"I lanced a few boils and cleaned a few wounds in my day."

"He seemed to think you could do a bit more than that. He said you came here for information – so you could study something."

"I was. Charnel air is a disease. Like anything else, there has to be a cure somewhere. It's a matter of having enough time and looking for it in the right ways."

I blinked. "Charnel air?"

"They suffer from it worse than most down Clare way."

I nodded. "Did you find what you wanted?"