The Name of Names

𝕋ℍℝ𝔼𝔼

"Galbatorix's entire reign was built on the notion that one man should control magic. Regulate it for eveyone." It was late, and most of the inn had cleared out, either to their own homes or to rooms in the inn. The man's companions were included in that, but he didn't seem concerned.

Ismira nodded slowly. The point of view from the opposite side had never fully been explained to her. Her parents had told stories of the war, yes. But they were of the mad king and the valiant dragon rider who killed him. They were not of this.

"Our group is called the Black Dragon, after Shruikan." The man pressed two fingers to the side of his neck, to the dragon tattoo. He snorted, dropping his hand. "We can't really accomplish anything, though. Those among us who are magic users are too weak to be of any good. None of us can do what the King planned to."

Ismira nodded, and silence fell upon the room. If she could... "The Kingkiller is my uncle." She didn't know what made her say it, but the man's knife was at her throat before she could flinch.

"Letta." Ismira snapped, and the man froze mid-thrust. A smile curved her lips. "You didn't let me finish." She leaned in, putting her mouth close to his ear. "I disagree with him." She leaned back, meeting his eyes. "Perhaps if the circumstances were... slightly different, I would join you." The spell broke, and he fell back into his chair.

"What is stopping you, then?" His hand rested on the table, still clenching the knife. Even though I just proved it's useless.

"Circumstances." She said shortly. "However, it would be interesting to see you again. Perhaps... we could find another meeting place, where I might reconsider."

"Where would you suggest?"

"Carvahall. It would be easy for me to get to."

The man snorted. "You want me to meet in Roran Stronghammer's village? He is one of the biggest supporters of the queen. One of the biggest war heroes from the other side." He tapped his blade on the table. "You're daft if you want to meet there."

"Fine. Therinsford. A fortnight from now."

The man hesitated, and for a moment the only sound was his blade tapping against the table. "Alright." He stood up, inclining his head before he strode out the door of the tavern.

~*~

The city of Gil'ead was much larger than Carvahall. Its walls soared far above her head with guards spaced along them. She approached the gate, carried along in the stream of people also entering the city.

"Next!" The guard snapped, and abruptly, it was Ismira's turn.

"Name, and your purpose here." He sounded bored, frankly.

"Ismira. Here to access Gil'ead's great library."

"Books." He gave her a blank stare.

She inclined her head, ready to reach out with her mind should he need... Persuasion. But after a brief moment, he shrugged, waving a hand at her. "You may go through."

Ismira quickly stepped past him, through the gates, and into the city. Streets were crowded, and venders sold their wares next to them. Jewelry, stones, and other trinkets that the merchants claimed she needed.

Ismira ignored them all, going straight for the tavern. The barkeep would know his way around the city, and she could listen for any news.

The sign above the tavern depicted a young chick, it's mouth open. Behind it was a mug of ale, overflowing with bubbles. Without even entering it, Ismira could hear the loud ambience coming from within. Pushing open the door, she entered, heading straight for the counter.

This barkeep kept to the stereotypes she had seen before. Tall, overweight, and a most definitely unsanitary, as Ismira noted the rag he carried. Stained with dirt. He was absently wiping it over the counter when Ismira cleared her throat slightly.

He looked up, smiling when he recognized a potential customer. "What can I do for you, miss? A meal, some ale?"

"I'm looking for the city library, actually."

Disappointment crossed his face, but he seemed to get over it quickly enough. "Down Rivel Avenue, take a left. It's slightly taller than the other buildings around it. If you need help, just knock on one of the houses. They should help you. Actually," He added, "Any of them will help you except the one covered with moss. They're all crabs in there, they are."

"Thank you." Ismira dropped a coin on the table, and turned around. After a quick scan of the room revealed nothing interesting, she left. A wooden sign guided her down Rivel Avenue, and an intersection took her left. The crowd thinned out in this part of the city, and Ismira kept alert for any would-be attackers.

None were there, or if there were, they decided it wasn't worth it. If they had, they would have found their prey become their predator. She walked briskly, with a hard expression. Her copper hair was let loose, floating around her like rusty blood and hands opened slightly, ready to be wreathed in magic.

She had no trouble locating the library, though. It was taller than the rest of the buildings, but looked much older. Someone had carved a sign with a picture of a book, and it rested against the building, clearly fallen from it's hanging awhile ago.

The door was solid oak, and the hinges squeaked as she pulled it open. Unlike the tavern, nothing greeted her here. No noise. The scent here was faint, hanging in the air like a spider in its web.

She kept her chin up, listening. Took another step inside. Let the door close behind her.

It took a second for her to search for magical traps. She didn't detect any, but that didn't relax her. Another second later, and she could feel the life force of one other person in the building. Apparently standing still—or sitting—somewhere near the back of the building.

Still walking slowly, Ismira turned down one of the aisles, slender fingers brushing the spines of the books. They all looked much, much older than she was, spines flaking away and pages brown with age.

She searched thoroughly and carefully through the aisles, her gaze sharp as it rested on each book. A few were of magic, but the content those held were familiar to her. Already learned, practiced, and mastered.

Frustration mounted as she got to the back of the library, where the librarian sat, reading a book. He didn't even glance up as she came into view, apparently absorbed. That, or he didn't care enough to talk to her.

The last aisle was searched, and nothing of interest showed. The day had slipped away, and nighttime approached. A low, quiet growl slipped past Ismira's teeth as she shoved a book back into the shelf. Beginner's magic. That's what this shelf contained.

"May I help you?" Ismira jerked around, jumping at the librarian standing right behind her.

"I'm..." She stopped herself from finishing I'm fine. She wasn't fine, she needed help. The librarian raised an eyebrow as he waited for her to finish. "I'm looking for books on magic. More advanced than these."

"Then that wouldn't be in this section of the building." He said in a flat voice, and Ismira resisted the urge to strangle him. "Follow me." He lead her to a small door in the side of he room. Using a key to unlock it, he pulled it open, entering. Ismira followed right behind him.

"Look around in here. Might be more useful." He sat down in a chair, and Ismira moved through the first aisle. These were more interesting. Not as advanced as she had hoped, but she guessed the books she really wanted had been burned by the queen. The books of dark magic.