Crystal Doors #1 (13 page)

Gwen stopped her restless pacing and looked up at the young man from Irrakesh, smiling at him with a flicker of
interest. Vic raised his eyebrows. Did his cousin have a soft spot for Aladdin Jr? That might provide some good opportunities for teasing. Of course, then Gwen would tease him about Lyssandra. Or Tiaret. Maybe he’d better just keep his comments to himself….

Vic wasn’t sure how he felt about being stuck on Elantya. Was he surprised that the Pentumvirate had not immediately offered every resource at their disposal to help the two go home? Not particularly. Was he worried that he didn’t know when he might see his father again? Maybe. A bit. Was he intimidated by the prospect of attending a new school and risking spectacular failure even in this seemingly enchanted realm? More than a little.

Was he excited by the idea of having more time to explore this intriguing world? Absolutely! Was he bemused and enchanted by the petite interpreter with coppery curls, who seemed so bright and empathetic? Or was he more mesmerized by the lean, exotic, and beautiful girl from Afirik, whom he had helped rescue from terrible danger? He swallowed.

“Is your mind troubled, Viccus?” Lyssandra’s hand on his arm startled him out of his reverie.

Vic flushed, hoping that she had not chosen that moment to look into his thoughts and imagination. “Oh, I’m fine. I was just…”

“That’s Dr. Distracto for you,” Gwen said. “Daydreams at the drop of a hat.”

Lyssandra gave a puzzled frown. “I did not drop my hat.”

Gwen rolled her eyes and smiled. If Vic wanted optimism, she’d give it to him. “Focus for a minute, Taz. Let’s think
through this. We got here somehow. There has to be a way to get back. It’s only logical.”

“They use spells all the time to open crystal doors. Why can’t we just cast one of those to open our door again?” Vic asked. “Do we say ‘Open, Sesame’ or what?”

Sharif and Lyssandra looked at each other, both puzzled. “Is that a powerful spell in your world?”

“No, it’s from a story,” Gwen said.

“And a Disney animated movie. One of the good ones. Robin Williams is really funny.”

Rubicas looked out the window, as if impatient for Orpheon to return with the necessary materials. “Spells do not work so simply. They must be carefully crafted, written in meticulous calligraphy on a specially prepared scroll. The magic works, but only if one knows how to shape it.”

“Like writing down the right recipe,” Gwen said.

“I don’t use recipes when I cook,” Vic pointed out. “I go by instinct, and it usually turns out great.”

Gwen made an odd expression. “With a few spectacular exceptions. I seem to remember a tomato, mint, and pineapple soup… .”

“Well, I liked it.”

Rubicas picked up one of the singed scrolls and opened it to display the intricate embroidery of letters and words. “When special sounds and phrases are written in aja crystal ink, the magic is locked into the scroll. It is released by whoever speaks the words. Spells are most powerful when written in the ancient tongue, with star aja ink. Fortunately, most people cannot read the complicated language.”

Sharif crossed his arms. “It is the same in Irrakesh. Anyone can use small household spells written in the everyday language.”

Rubicas squinted at the parchment in his hand.
“This
spell, though, is a work of art. Only a highly trained sage can work it.”

“What does it do?”

“Hmm. I have had it for so long, I am not exactly sure….”

“Here’s the question,” Gwen said. “If magic really works in Elantya, then why don’t you just write a scroll that says ‘Make an invisible shield to keep out enemies,’ and be done with it?”

Rubicas explained patiently, “Magic is a great power, but of itself it has no knowledge. The words must shape the magic, tell it what to do. A short, simple spell in the vernacular language can work only small magic. But it takes intricate instructions in Ylijan, the powerful ancient tongue of the first sages, to perform more difficult functions.”

“Hey, I get it. Like a computer program,” Vic said. “The more you want it to do, the more complicated the program has to be. Some computer languages are simple, like Basic, and others are a lot tougher to learn but they can do more with fewer commands.”

Preoccupied, Rubicas looked down at the scroll in his hand and began to read. Vic had never heard a language like it, rich and deep and almost musical; he could feel the power in the words. When the sage finished reading, he lowered the scroll, closed his eyes, and whispered, “S’ibah.”

“See-Baa?” Vic said. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” Lyssandra answered in a quiet voice, “’As it has been spoken, thus let it be done.’”

“All that in two syllables?”

The copper-haired girl shrugged. “As the master sage told you, the Ylijan language is filled with power. Much can be said with fewer words.”

Vic and Gwen looked at each other, then glanced around the laboratory room. “But, uh, what did it just do?” Vic asked.

“It fizzled,” Gwen said.

“Hmm, I doubt that. It is a very good spell, and I always intended to try it. Go take a look outside.”

Sharif was the first to the tower window, with Vic close behind. With a crackling rustle, fingers of plants were crawling up the whitewashed wall. Vines stretched out of the rocky soil at the base of the tower, winding around the stones with woody brown stems and green clusters of leaves.

Rubicas peered over their shoulders. “Grapevines, I believe. I hope they do not grow too high — no one will want to pick the clusters if they are too far off the ground, and I would hate to see birds eat them all.”

From the window, they saw Orpheon hurrying up the steep flagstoned path in the afternoon sunlight. He wore a frown on his handsome face as he looked at the vines, then shook his head in disapproval. Vic wondered why the assistant always seemed like such a killjoy.

Entering the tower, Orpheon set a heavy sack on the work-table. “I see you are playing with children, Sage Rubicas, and entertaining them with frivolous spells. Have you finished working on Elantya’s defenses against a merlon attack?” His voice held a reproving tone.

Suitably chided, Rubicas moved away from the window,
which was now fringed with leaves. “Of course, of course. We had better get to work on that right away.” The old sage looked at Vic and Gwen. “Sadly, my notes and the scroll I was using when you arrived were burned beyond use, so if you wish to learn more about the kind of magic you need, I suggest you visit the Cogitary.”

“Sure,” Vic said. “Uh, exactly what is a Cogitary?”

“A repository of scrolls, of spells and knowledge gathered from the worlds connected by the crystal doors.”

“In other words, a library,” Gwen said.

“A Cogitary. A place to think and learn.”

Lyssandra said, “I can show you where it is.”

“I will fly to the Hall of Healers. The sages wanted to inspect Tiaret’s wounds again and urge her to rest,” Sharif said. “I feel an obligation to see to these things, since I rescued her.”

“Yup,
we
did.” Despite a twinge of jealousy, Vic got the distinct impression that Sharif was trying to avoid spending hours digging through dusty scrolls in a library. Vic couldn’t blame him. He would rather be flying on a carpet himself, but he
did
want to make sure he could see his father again.

Gwen had already gone from being a stick-in-the-mud to leading the charge. She was the first to the door. “As long as we’re doing research, the Cogitary’s as good a place as any to get started. The sooner we gather all the information we need, the sooner we can go home.”

THE IMPOSING COGITARY WAS one of the largest buildings in the Citadel complex. Built of polished white stone that shone with flecks of gold, the repository of scrolls consisted of five concentric pentagons which, from outermost to innermost, grew progressively smaller in diameter but taller.

Lyssandra seemed very proud of the structure. “Each of the chambers encloses exactly the same amount of space.”

With a soundless whistle, Vic tilted his head back to look at the high ceiling. Five-sided skylights alternated with sun crystals so the Cogitary would be well-lit at any time of day or night. “The number five must mean something special to Elantyans.”

Beside him, Gwen gave a soft snort. “Brilliant deduction, Holmes. Our medallions have five sides, too, and I still can’t help thinking that our mothers must have had some connection with this place.”

“If my dad was trying to open a crystal door, then I bet he thought coming here would help him find Mom.” Vic blew out a long sigh. “There’s so much they never told us — but I plan to ask him as soon as we get back.”

Lyssandra spread her hands. “How would you like to begin your research?”

Gwen glanced around the huge angular library, then turned her violet eyes upward, as she often did when she was thinking. “First, I suppose we should find the crystal doors section and do some research.”

“Always begin with the obvious.” Vic put on a mock serious expression, pursed his lips, and nodded. “And then… ?”

“And second, we find out more about those aja crystals Rubicas used. He said they were rare. Your dad had crystals in the solarium, too. I wonder what kind they were.”

“And twelfth?”

“Third,
we gather the supplies we need based on what we learn. And fourth,” she plowed on before Vic could interrupt her list, “we build an array like the one your dad and Rubicas were both using, then test it. If everything goes well… fifth, we go home. What could be easier?”

“Ah, five simple steps — that magic number again. And all so… conveniently vague.” Vic stroked his chin with a thumb and forefinger now in a caricature of one of his father’s curator friends from the museum. “Tell me again how we start doing number one — the research, was it?” He knew she hated it when he goaded her like this, but he just couldn’t help himself. “I doubt there’s any kind of Elantyan search engine or online card catalog.” He looked at Lyssandra for help.

A tinge of pink crept into Gwen’s cheeks. “Well, we ask someone, of course. There’s got to be a librarian —”

She turned, ready to start looking — only to bump into a stocky older gentleman with a round, kindly face. His intelligent eyes were set above a doughy lump of a nose. “Actually, we call ourselves Cogitarians. How may I help you?”

Gwen’s cheeks turned pink again. “I didn’t know anyone was behind me.”

The man folded his pudgy fingers in front of him. “I could not help but notice that you have been here for several minutes and have not selected a scroll.”

“We’ve never been here before,” Vic said. “We were just trying to get our bearings.”

“Cogitarian Zotas will be glad to help you,” Lyssandra said. “He has often helped me in the past.”

The man’s eyes sparkled. “One of the greatest pleasures of my work here is to introduce newcomers to our Cogitary. I am here solely to assist others in their searches. Please allow me to show you around. Once you understand our system, you will be able to find anything you need. Is this a project for the Citadel? Or a personal interest?”

Gwen cleared her throat. “Personal, but very important.”

Lyssandra added, “My friends seek information about opening crystal doors.”

Vic whispered to his cousin, “I think
that
was step one.”

Zotas spent the next hour sharing the wonders of the scroll repository with Vic and Gwen. Each of the five-sided sections of the Cogitary was called a pentorium. With the exception of the arched doorways, the walls were lined floor
to ceiling with shelves and cubbyholes, all stuffed with preserved scrolls.

The lower shelves, the ones most easily reached, held the thickest scrolls, documenting a wide variety of topics from history to health, philosophy, magic theory, and science. The higher shelves held more delicate spell scrolls, all of them written with powerful aja ink.

As Zotas led them through an archway into the next pentorium, something small and dark flitted through the air and darted down to hover in front of the plump Cogitarian. Vic thought it must be a giant flying beetle, but its movements were too precise and delicate. More like a hummingbird.

Gwen gasped. “Is that a fairy? A real one?”

Vic looked at the hovering creature and saw that it did indeed appear to be vaguely human-shaped, but quite different from the ethereal Piri inside Sharif’s glowing crystal sphere.

Zotas held out his palm, and the little winged thing lit on his hand. Vic saw that the flitting creature looked exactly like the Protective Vir Helassa, whom they had seen while Tiaret told her story. The figure wore a vaguely Grecian-looking scarlet gown that began on her left shoulder and swept in flowing folds across her bodice; it was clasped with a glittering broach at her right hip, revealing a good deal of midriff and navel before flowing into a skirt that hung low on her hips and reached to her ankles in a fluttering crenellated hem.

“Wow,” Vic said. “The amazing shrinking woman?”

Without looking up, the Cogitarian said with a chuckle, “Not Helassa herself, merely a skrit with a message from her.” He spoke to the creature on his palm. “Message, please.”