Crystal Doors #1 (14 page)

The skrit’s imitation of Helassa fixed him with an imperious gaze. “I require three spell scrolls without delay: one for boiling large quantities of oil, one for a flame catapult, and one for healing burns. Do not keep me waiting. Sage Polup is assisting me with weapons. This is a matter of utmost urgency.” The skrit put its arms down at its sides. “Repeat?”

“No, thank you,” Zotas replied. “You may revert now.”

The little figure shimmered and became a female figure five inches high, clad only in wings and a pair of tiny, transparent slippers. “Reply?”

Zotas raised a hand and made a circular motion twice in the air. “No need. Helassa does not want conversation from me. She just wants her scrolls.” Two more skrits appeared and landed on his palm beside the first.

Lyssandra explained to the cousins, “Skrits are able to lift more than their own weight, but three scrolls are too heavy. They will each take one.”

Zotas tapped the first skrit on the head. “A boiling oil spell to Helassa.”

“A boiling oil spell to Helassa,” she repeated, and zipped away with hummingbird speed.

Looking concerned, Gwen asked, “Helassa said it was urgent — are we under attack?”

Zotas pinched the bridge of his nose. “With Helassa, all matters are urgent.”

As the other two skrits went to fulfill their assignments, Zotas continued the tour. In each of the pentoria, the marble floors were inlaid with mosaics depicting various subjects of the scrolls stored in that area — scenes of history, science,
agriculture, magic. Polished stone benches ran down the center of each gallery.

The central pentorium was Vic’s favorite. Like the other levels, the perimeter was lined with shelves of scrolls, but the upper third of the innermost chamber was made entirely of glass, rising into the air like a perfect five-sided crystal letting in sunlight. Carved reading benches and small trees encircled multitiered trickling fountains. Tiny crystals of sun aja dangled in the trees to provide light to readers after dark. Plump cushions strewn on the floor offered younger visitors a comfortable place to sit. A dozen novs, apprentices, and sages worked silently at tables, poring over scrolls and taking notes.

Gwen looked at all the other people in the chamber. “Do you have to be a wizard to use the spells on the scrolls?”

“You need only the ability to read.” The Cogitarian smiled.

“We learned how to read before kindergarten,” Vic said. “Both of us.”

Gwen punched him lightly in the arm. “When did you learn how to read
Elantyan?
Just because Lyssandra helped us speak the language doesn’t mean you can make out those symbols. They look like hieroglyphics to me, with a little Japanese and Arabic thrown in.”

“Oh. Good point,” said Vic, crestfallen. “We’ll never be able to figure it out.” Then he turned hopefully to the copper-haired girl. “Can you teach us to read Elantyan, like you taught us to speak it?”

Lyssandra shook her head. “Alas, Viccus, some things truly must be learned.”

“Great,” Vic said with a groan. “Looks like it’s back to school again.”

“The courses at our Citadel are enlightening, gratifying, and often entertaining.” Lyssandra intentionally touched Vic’s arm, though she didn’t have to. “I would enjoy taking a discovery or a praktik with you, Viccus.” She blushed and glanced at Gwen. “With both of you.”

“Uh, maybe if this spell experiment doesn’t work,” Vic said, embarrassed by the attention. “All right?”

Meanwhile, the Cogitarian brought them an imposing rolled scroll. “This is in the ancient language, bound to the scroll with aja ink. As you see, it is much more complex than simple Elantyan.”

“Now
that
looks like hieroglyphics,” Vic said.

“Each time a scroll is used, some of its magic is released, and the ink becomes fainter. The power of the spell determines the number of uses before the scroll goes completely blank. Once a scroll is used up, it is returned here to be inscribed with a new spell.” Zotas scanned the shelves, as if reorganizing them in his mind. “Common everyday spells — such as those for skrit summoning and heating stoves — are mass-produced from etched xyridium plates on a printing press overseen by sages in the Citadel, and they are written in simple Elantyan. A few are printed with phonetic icons, so that even children can access them.”

The Cogitarian gave each of them a small, lightweight scroll, little more than a scrap of curled paper. “These are the easiest spells we have. They are for summoning skrits, and you
can tell them which scrolls you would like from the shelves around here.” He showed them how to interpret the easy icons, and then retrieved other simple spells from a shelf. “And these are translators. When you invoke the symbols, you will comprehend the concepts in the scrolls you are studying. You cannot access the magic itself, but you will understand what you are reading. Translator spells are designed for research.”

“That’s exactly what we need,” Gwen said.

Pressing his fingertips together, Zotas said, “Please let me know if you have any questions.” With a small bow, he left them.

After the cousins found an open table and seats, Lyssandra took her leave of them. “Now that you can be self-sufficient, I must see to my other duties. I have been neglecting my apprenticeship in Translation and Diplomacy.” With that, she left the Cogitary.

Anxious to get started, Gwen unrolled her children’s version of the skrit-summoning scroll and spoke the three sounds printed there, as the Cogitarian had explained. Nothing happened. She looked disappointed and was about to call Zotas back. “I know I read it just the way he told us, and I’m sure I got the sounds right.”

“Sheesh, Doc! You try for two seconds and you’re giving up already? Did you remember to say the magic word?”

“Oh, right!
S’ibah.”
Before she could draw another breath, a skrit hovered before her. “Aren’t you cute! I need to see spell scrolls that have to do with opening crystal doors. Could you please get them for me?”

“Make as many trips as you need to,” Vic added to the flitting creature.

Time and again, skrits delivered histories, essays, and treatises relating to crystal doors. Invoking the comprehension spells, the cousins scanned document after document, searching for ideas.

The door-opening spells had several variations, and thanks to the help of the skrits in the Cogitary, they “read” enough crystal door spells to understand the patterns and components a Key needed to use. Even Vic didn’t get bogged down in all the studying. They both used up every bit of the skrit-summoning magic in their scrolls, but it was worth the effort.

While the skrits flew back and forth putting away scrolls they had used, Vic restlessly perused the lower shelves in the central pentorium. Suddenly, his heart skipped a beat. There, hand-drawn on the edge of a stone shelf that held a heavy scroll, was the symbol.
The
symbol. The one from the medallions their mothers had given them. He waved Gwen over and showed it to her.

She grew excited, too. “Maybe it’s an omen? Let’s read the scroll.”

Reading the heavy parchment with the help of a comprehension spell, they discovered what none of the skrits had been able to find all day: a single pre-Closure theory for opening a new crystal door. It used water, prisms, and crystals in a complicated model. The angles for the array were exact, the separation distances perfectly specified and measured, the prisms tilted to magnify and reflect the crystal energies. Vic thought it was worth a try. It was their only lead.

Many hours later, when Vic’s stomach was growling for an evening meal and darkness had begun to fall over the island,
they found Zotas again and questioned him about the symbol on the shelf. With great surprise, he said he had never noticed it before and could offer them no explanation. Vic had suspected as much.

“May we take these with us to our rooms at the Citadel?” Gwen asked, holding up several scrolls.

The Cogitarian smiled. “Our skrits always remember who has a scroll. I’ll let them know about this last one you found. When you are finished with a parchment, ask anyone to summon a skrit, and it will return the scroll to its proper shelf.”

“Great,” Vic said. “Now all we need is five star aja crystals to start our experiment. And while we’re at it, maybe we should wish for a few million bucks and world peace.”

Zotas cocked his head to one side. “Do you need the star aja temporarily or permanently? How long will your research take?”

“It’ll be temporary — if this works,” Gwen said. “A few days at most.”

“In that case,” Zotas said, “I know where you might borrow some.”

THE NEXT DAY, ARMED with a diagram, some scrolls, and notes about several variations on the door-opening spell scrolls, Gwen and Vic spent hours going from sage to sage, classroom to laboratory in the complex of buildings and rooms that formed the Citadel learning center. They collected a basin, prisms, measuring devices, and the crystals. Zotas had pointed them in the right direction — as, Gwen suspected, Cogitarians were supposed to do.

Questas, the blue-robed Vir of Learning, used star aja crystals to increase memory retention and to compose remarkable, self-playing musical pieces. “I am afraid my crystals are quite small, and not nearly as powerful as the ones Sage Rubicas lost,” the kindly Questas said, showing them the fist-sized clusters with an apologetic smile. “Star aja crystals are as rare and valuable as the learning experience. When he spoke to the
Pentumvirate, Rubicas told us that he believes you two are valuable, as well. You came from another world through a crystal door we did not even know existed. I am pleased to assist you in your attempts to reopen that portal, by lending you these crystals. Perhaps someday we can have an interchange of students and ideas between our worlds.” With that, the Vir gravely handed over his treasure.

“Tell me — do you have music in your world?” the sage asked before they could go.

“All kinds,” Gwen said. “I’ve got quite a collection of CDs and electronic files — that’s how we play music. Vic likes harder stuff than I do.”

“It gets better if you play it loud,” her cousin said.

Though they were anxious to leave, Questas asked them about the kinds of music they liked. Since he had been generous enough to loan them the crystals they needed, Gwen felt obligated to tell him everything she knew, from classical pieces to hymns to Top 40 hits to loud heavy-metal songs. The cousins even sang or hummed to demonstrate the different styles.

“If you do manage to go back to your world and then return to us,” the blue-robed Vir said, “I would love to hear some of this music.”

“You bet,” Vic said. “I can bring all of my ‘desert island’ music.”

“Desert island music?” Questas arched his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“If I were stranded on an island, that’s the music I would take to keep me company.”

“We
are
stranded on an island, Taz,” Gwen pointed out.
“Unless we can find a spell that works.” She indicated the equipment they had collected. They thanked Questas again, then went back to Rubicas’s laboratory.

THE RESEARCH BUILDING WAS as chaotic as ever. Rubicas was completely preoccupied with scraps and drafts of spells while Orpheon assisted him. With a wary look, the apprentice watched the two enter with their scrolls and crystals.

“Where did you get those star aja crystals?” Orpheon demanded. “Give them to me before you damage them.”

“Vir Questas loaned them to us. We need them for our project.”

“Well, there is no room in the laboratory for you to set up a whole new array.” The assistant indicated the clutter of scrolls and glistening jars filled with aja crystal ink. “We are busy here on important work for the Pentumvirate.”

Vic, ever the optimist, looked toward the spiral staircase. “We’ll do all the work ourselves. How about the tower platform? There’s plenty of room up there.”

“Very well” Rubicas said. “It is good to see you so ambitious.”

“We have a few questions first, though.” Gwen rattled off a list, asking about how Rubicas’s original array had been set up, why he and Orpheon had decided to use star aja, which versions of the door-opening spell they had tried, and what their chances of success were.

The bearded sage began to answer, but after a few minutes Orpheon interrupted. “Master Rubicas, you cannot allow these children to distract you from your urgent work.”

Rubicas gave Gwen and Vic an apologetic look. “Do what you can. Perhaps I will find time to check in on your work later.”

Orpheon’s mouth was set in a disapproving frown. “At least they will be out of our way.”

Gwen and Vic borrowed the last of the items they needed, and climbed the stairs to the tower. On the platform, they found a spot to spread their notes and the old magic scrolls.

“See, plenty of room to work,” Vic said.

“Let me check. These distances and angles have to be very precise. According to the scroll, the prisms and lenses need to be exactly aligned.” Gwen used a measuring rod to make sure there was enough free floor space to arrange the crystals according to the old diagram.

Hunkered on the platform, Vic shuffled through the scrolls they had borrowed. “Sure seems simple enough.”

“Simple? We’re trying to open a doorway between worlds. Don’t expect it to be easy.”