Compendium (20 page)

“Why bring that one?” Mia asked. “There are so many useful histories about Lumin here.”

“Memories,” Taryn said quickly, patting the book and smiling again.

Mia left her to finish her packing and went to see Brother Cornelius one last time. She searched for him in the Archives, but he wasn’t there. It wasn’t that late past dinner, so she expected him to still be about. From there she proceeded down the corridors that led to his laboratory; they were more silent than usual. Perhaps there was a late seminar of interest. Mia had been rather preoccupied with her own ventures of late. She tapped on the stone wall of the alcove that led up to Brother Cornelius’s laboratory, and the lights came on as always. She proceeded up the staircase and paused on the landing. It was her habit to knock against the wall of the alcove first then call his name to alert him to her presence.

“Brother Cornelius,” she called, “are you about?” There was no response. Mia proceeded in. The hearth was warm and cheery and the night sky clear and full of stars. The night lights streaked magnificent colors across the sky above the planters. Populating his desk was the usual disorderly shuffle of papers and beakers and tools of a person constantly in deep thought about some great idea, but she didn’t see Brother Cornelius. Mia stood and looked around the empty laboratory. The door leading off to his quarters was ajar, but she never entered there. She walked over to the door, rapped on the frame, and called out again, “Brother Cornelius, are you in?” The room’s silence was the only response.

“Alas,” she said, sad that she might never see him again.
Perhaps ’tis for the best
, she thought, not trusting herself to keep her emotions in check anyway. With that, she left to begin the tense wait.

25
Catacombs

Lumin Cycle 10152

Taryn
and Mia stood in the hallway
outside the barracks. They had timed their departure so there would be no chance the guard was changing when they arrived at the door to the Catacombs. They had just one order of business left, and that was Cedar. He stood with his hands thumbed through the belt around his waist, his head hanging, his dark hair brushing into his shrouded eyes.

“Well, I suppose this is good-bye,” he said. His voice sounded low and calm, but there was a slight crack on the last word.

“Give ’er a hug,” said Taryn, opening her arms to Cedar. He embraced her and patted her shoulder.

“Take care of yourself,” he said. Mia saw his eyes linger on the rose pin of Taryn’s cape, which was draped over her arm. Taryn pulled back from him and gave him a bright smile. “That I shall.”

It was Mia’s turn then, and her heart beat quickly. The calming effects of the Crater Grove had lasted with her most of the day, but the serene feeling was wearing off and the tension rising. She hoped she could get through this last trial without Cedar. Despite his disagreement with their entire—in his words, daft—scheme, he had helped them through the whole process. It was just these last few steps that they had to walk alone.

He gathered Mia into his arms for a hug, pressing her against him. “I hope you find what you’re looking for,” he whispered in her ear. “I hope you find what you need.” She squeezed him tightly and released him.

“You take care of Brother Cornelius,” Mia said, her voice hoarse. He nodded, although he had averted his eyes and was staring at his hands. “I’m serious. I think he’ll be devastated to lose an assistant, and I can’t bear to hurt him after all he’s done for me.”

Then don’t!
her inner voice yelled.
It’s not too late to call off this insanity.

But it was too late.
You’re just scared
.
Stop being a coward and get on with it
.

Cedar pulled her toward him again and planted a kiss on her forehead. “Take care, and write me, Melia,” he whispered. He smiled softly, but his eyes were still far away.

Mia gave his hand one last squeeze then released it. She and Taryn turned and walked down the corridor, leaving him standing there. Part of Mia wanted to look back, but the rest of her recognized that to do so would bring no comfort. They walked along silently, too nervous to engage in idle conversation and too worried about who might be up and about to talk seriously.

When they finally reached the pitch-black corridor where Cedar and Mia had hidden Compendium, she pulled out two gourds from her bag and handed one to Taryn. She had attached strings to them so they might be hung around their necks as a hands-free light source. Taryn took her green cloak from over her arm and fastened it around her neck, where it hung dashingly down her shoulders.

“You cut a striking figure,” Mia said softly, and Taryn grabbed her hand.

They walked slowly, hand in hand, toward the door. Taryn always moved with animal grace, but Mia held her natural clumsiness in check with marked concentration so as to proceed absolutely noiselessly down the dark corridor. For a long time, it looked as if they were heading into a black hole of nothing. Their hands gripped each other’s tightly, white-knuckled. They barely breathed. The sweat ran down Mia’s cheeks and her back, but she made no move to wipe her brow. Economy of movement and silence were tantamount.

When they finally reached the door, Mia gestured to Taryn to raise a gourd above her head, lighting a spot with which to work. The process for hooking up Compendium to send data to the door of the Catacombs was similar to the process for recording, but Mia had to find a particular set of vines. She was looking for a thick vine that ran down the side of the door, well hidden by the moss. It controlled the door’s inputs, whereas the ones she had tapped into previously merely received general information from the door. She picked through the moss carefully and silently until she located the proper one. It was heavy, and snipping it in half wouldn’t be possible. She took a very small, sharp knife from her tool kit and slipped it along the vine, pulling up a fibrous area and exposing a humming center. Careful not to disturb the connection, Mia retrieved a small flexible connector she had prepped with a very sticky paste perfected in Cornelius’s laboratory. His tools for making concoctions were superior, but Mia held her breath until she secured one side of the connector to the door and the other to the binding of Compendium.

As with the last time, the book lit up in blue along the metallic work on the cover for a short while before fading back to its normal gold. Mia and Taryn had prerecorded their voices into Compendium, and Mia had instructed it to automatically send their voices to the door once the book was connected. The voices would remain with the door only as long as Compendium was connected, but Mia could instruct the door to stay open for up to thirty seconds. Apparently this was one of the standard commands the clerics had encoded, likely so they could move items back and forth from the Catacombs.

It was the moment of truth. Mia tried to keep her voice from wavering as she said clearly into the dark corridor, “What do you say we head in then?”

“That sounds like a fabulous idea,” Taryn replied. There was some mild tension in her voice, but it still sounded like her. The door slid open at the sound of their voices. Mia breathed a heavy sigh of relief and stooped to Compendium.

“Door, please remain open for thirty ticks,” she said. With that, she quickly removed the sticky vine from Compendium’s binding and used some of the paste to tack down the split part of the vine then tucked it back into position behind the moss. They had just enough time to step through the door before it closed to their backs. They smiled at each other tenuously, but there was no time to celebrate. If Compendium was wrong, someone already would be alerted to their unauthorized presence. The Catacombs were dimly lit by a series of almost extinguished orangey gourds. Mia motioned to tuck theirs into their robes. This wasn’t the time to draw attention to themselves with additional light.

She grabbed Taryn’s hand again, and they proceeded forward. They’d both memorized the path from the door to where the Shillelagh resided. With her hopeless sense of direction, however, Mia tended to let Taryn lead the way. The corridors were dark and enclosed, and mixed in with the dirt and stone of the walls were massive woody roots writhing within. These were the roots of the Crater Grove, and each was larger than the trunk of one of the trees in Hackberry. They hummed with thunder that could wake the dead. Ironic, since this was where the Order stored its “dead” items. They continued to thread their way around the massive roots along the memorized path, the noise growing louder around them. Although there was no sign of the clerics on the watch, the numerous alcoves created by the roots entering the earth frayed Mia’s nerves. She had a miniature attack every time she and Taryn turned a blind corner, and she struggled to keep her heart rate under control.

When they finally reached the junction, her hand was shaking in Taryn’s. Given Taryn’s excitable nature, Mia was surprised that hers wasn’t as well; on the contrary it was strong and reassuring. Mia pulled her gourd out of her bag and shone it directly on the spot where the Shillelagh should be. She held her breath, hoping Compendium hadn’t led her astray. The roots were thick in this spot, bending back in on one another, almost like those trees that dropped roots down to the earth. Mia took her time examining each root in turn, looking for the hidden artifact. Taryn’s calm began to crack a little, and she shuffled her feet quietly. Mia’s own calm was fading quickly as well. Each root examined wasted a little time and caused her heart to push higher into her throat with the failure.

When she finally found what she was looking for, she sighed in relief and motioned for Taryn to come closer. Taryn bent down and peered at the spot where she pointed, squinting. Mia gestured with her finger to where the Shillelagh was connected, and Taryn’s eyes widened. She hadn’t even seen it. In truth, neither had Mia. She had gone by sound and touch. That whole clump of root sounded differently, and as she explored each one, she finally had found the Shillelagh when her rapping knuckles cracked against the hard wood rather than a wet root. It blended perfectly into the many roots, though; it was a nondescript brown stick with a knob near the top. Careful not to break any connections, Mia outlined it with her finger. She motioned for Taryn to hand her the package containing their facsimile. Taryn gingerly passed Mia the cloth-wrapped root extraction, and she set it on the ground, opening the flaps of cloth to reveal the root, which was covered in a thick, conductive goo. Mia had engaged in some educated guessing when she had formulated the paste, so she wasn’t entirely sure it would work. Still, she hoped it would give them enough time to make a clean retreat. She grimaced, though, because visually, it was a far cry from the aged wood staff that currently was nestled in the roots. It wouldn’t fool anyone looking upon it. There was nothing to be done, though.

Mia gestured for Taryn to pick up the substitute and hold it precisely where she was pointing. Then, biting her lip in concentration, sweat running down her brow, she inserted her small knife along the top of the connection and pried the knob of the Shillelagh out of its burrow. It made a terrible cracking noise, and her heart hammered against her rib cage until she realized it was just the sound of the old connections being severed. The Shillelagh briefly glowed blue along its wood grain in the same way Compendium’s cover had glowed when it was connected to the Catacomb doors. She quickly handed the Shillelagh to Taryn and took from her the substitute, immediately pressing it into the hole left by the artifact. She nestled it tightly into the recently vacated space and made sure there was enough goo between the fake staff and the connectors. Once she was sure it was the best she could do, she wiped her brow and let out a ragged breath. They had it.

Mia turned to Taryn so she might get a better look at it. Taryn had stepped back from her and was still holding the Shillelagh tightly. A look of sheer joy lit her face, and her eyes were almost wild with emotion. She held the Shillelagh gently, almost reverently.

“Finally,” Taryn whispered. “I finally have you.”

“Taryn,” Mia said, trying to rouse her from her reverie, “we have to go now. There isn’t any time.”

She looked up from the staff and took another step away from Mia. “I’m sorry,” she said softly.

“What for?” Mia asked, standing to her full height and advancing a step.

“For what I’m about to do,” she said. “This should explain everything.” She tossed something at Mia, who caught it in her sticky hand and peered at it, confused. It was a small stone. On the stone was carved a rose. In the center of the rose was an open eye.

“Halt!” a gravelly voice called from behind Mia. “Halt right there.”

“You’re too late,” Taryn said, laughing gleefully. She held the Shillelagh up in her right hand and yelled, “Take me to Rosewater.” She banged the staff on the hard earthen floor of the Catacombs twice.

Then the world exploded. A tremendous flash of light issued around them, like a lightning bolt striking the earth itself. The force picked Mia up from the ground and hurled her backward, and the impact of her return to earth knocked the breath out of her. She coughed as a hail of dirt and root bits rained down around her, her limbs incapable of moving to shield herself. The voices behind her were silenced. The last thing she saw before she slipped into unconsciousness was an empty place where Taryn and the Shillelagh had just stood, dirt and debris still swirling in the air.