Hour of Mischief (25 page)

“I
know
my alibi thank you,” I grumbled.

“Well then, start acting like you know it,” Itazura said. “Little human, if I’m going to trust you to convince the wisdom twins to help us spread the word, I have to trust you with blending in. It’s a basic quality of the mischievous. Doing questionable things while looking innocent.”

“You don’t look innocent when you do mischievous things.” I pointed out.

“Yes but I am a god and therefore I can do whatever I want,” Itazura countered.

“Except for convincing other gods to side with you,” I muttered under my breath.

“What was that, little human?”

“Nothing.”

The White Library was placed near the very center of Fortuna, where the buildings stretched several stories high and took all manners of strange shapes. That’s one of the best ways I can describe the center ring. Strangely shaped. The walls of buildings often ended up zigzagging or curving rather than just going straight up like any
normal
wall and the windows were nearly always triangles, circles or a strange combination of both.

I suppose
square
windows weren’t eccentric enough for the rich residents. Even the clothing of those surrounding us took on a strange forms. Peculiar skirts jutting out in triangular figures, corsets shaped like steel hourglasses. How could this place exist in the same realm as the slums I had grown up in? In the slums, everyone valued practicality. This place strayed as far away from practical as possible.

“I hate this place,” I muttered. “Hate the buildings. Hate the people. I’ll probably hate this stupid library.”

“Well, I’d keep that to yourself if you meet the Wisdom twins,” Itazura said as we turned the corner. “But you can decide for yourself what you think of it.” He nodded ahead of us.

I followed his gaze. And my jaw unhinged.

The White Library itself stood before us, gleaming like a pearl amid gaudy jewelry. I had never seen such an extraordinary building in my life. The structure had elegance without being flashy and overstated. It may have been the simplest in structure in the entire center-ring. Its walls were straight and its roof was a typical pyramid shape.

White columns made of marble stretched several stories high in the air, making me feel miniscule in comparison. Gold trimmed each wall and hundreds of figures and scenes were chiseled into the marble all over the building, at the top just under the roof, on the sides, on the columns themselves. I wasn’t even sure where to look. It was in no way boring. The door, two stories high and carved of ebony wood, still gave off a distinct scent, fresh as the forest to which it once belonged. It, too, was etched with scenes, but these seemed to be of people. Fifteen people in fact.

“The Clockmaker is at the top.” Itazura pointed to the old man holding up a pocket watch. “Then Mother and Father below him. Then the rest of the twelve clockwork gods. See, they organize it just as we do, splitting us into three groups.” He pointed them out “The superior four, the semi-involved four and the involved four. Nice isn’t it?”

“That’s the best word you can think of to describe it? Nice?” I asked, craning my neck to better see the designs. “It’s amazing.”

“I guess if you’re into knowledge.” Itazura shrugged.

“You don’t have to be into knowledge.
I’m
not. But I’ve never seen anything like this building. I mean, I’ve seen it during the nighttime but never clearly. It just looked like a huge building. But
this
is . . . it’s. . . .”

“Well, well,” Itazura said. “It appears the little human is for once at a loss for words.”

“If only that could happen to you,” I retorted.

“No. I’m afraid you’re stuck with the beautiful sound of my voice.”

“Joy.”

The library, being so massive, had many levels and halls to it. Honestly, the place seemed like a maze. The possibilities for exploration were endless. Up the stairs to the right, to the left, to the front, to the basement or just down the dozens of hallways branching off from the main room.

“It’s said some people can spend all day in here and never reach the center,” Itazura said. “That’s how they designed the building. It’s easy to find your way to the exit but difficult to find the center where the wisdom twins often stay. Those who want to seek their council have to find the path.”

“I hate mazes,” I muttered.

“Ah, don’t worry little human,” Itazura said. “You have me to guide you. I have quite a bit of experience with mazes, and I know all the shortcuts.”

We descended into the maze via one of the halls to the left. Books crammed every shelf, but as we weaved our way further into the labyrinth, the contents began to change. Slowly, clean, fancy new books became dustier and the paper seemed more fragile, as if they had been stained brown by whisky. Slowly but surely, cobwebs began to appear on the shelves and dust piled up to the point that if I accidentally brushed the book a cloud of earth sprang up, sending me into a coughing fit.

“Figuring out the secret yet?” Itazura asked.

“I think so,” I said. “The older the books get, the closer we are to the center. It’s harder for most people to find the center, so they don’t touch the older books. The dust keeps on building.”

“Exactly,” Itazura said. “The wisdom twins believe in the knowledge of all ages. Many people enter this library and only search for the newer content. Most of the rich care only for what is new so they never even attempt to look for older things.” Itazura shrugged. “The way Viden and Kaval see it, if a human can’t recognize the wisdom of the old
and
the new, then they probably aren’t worth talking to anyway.”

“That and they have to figure out the way in,” I said. “How long did it take you to find your way to the center?”

“Not long,” Itazura said. “The mischievous may not be strictly book smart like those who favor knowledge but they are crafty. Logic and practical knowledge count as much as what you can read in a book.”

“Good,” I said. “That’s what I’m counting on.”

At this point, the contents of the shelves varied much more in shape and size. There were hardly any regular books now. Instead, scrolls, stone tablets, and carvings stocked the shelves. Art pieces from ancient times, dusty journals, laws of the old worlds. Everything was there. Even a picture of a giant, dog-like creature ripping out the throat of a man.

“A rare document from Cambiare,” Itazura explained. “Most likely painted by a survivor. It’s quite a priceless piece of knowledge now.”

But by far the most impressive of the old carvings was a huge limestone slab engraved with the symbols of the gods. They were each simple in design, all made up of a series of spiraling shapes. Fortuna, and most of Memoria, had a thing for art involving spirals. It represented the eternity of the clock. These types of shapes made up the symbols of each and every god.

At the top lay the clockmaker’s key, just like the one around my neck. The symbols of the Mother and the Father were carved just below it. If you split the Clockmaker’s key in half, you got the symbols for Mother and Father.

Below them, however, were symbols I did not recognize. Four of them, all made out of spirals like the other symbols, but with a box drawn around them, cutting them off from the rest of the mural.

“The symbols of the elder gods,” Itazura said when he noticed me staring at them. “The four spirals with ends trailing off represent the searing hot sun. That’s summer. The swirling cloud is the sign of spring. Like a storm cloud.” He pointed to each of the symbols. “Winter is the stack of spirals that get smaller as they go down. It’s supposed to be an icicle I believe.”

“And Autumn’s symbol?” I asked, observing a series of four spirals swirling in every direction. “They don’t seem to depict much of anything.”

“It’s the sign of chaotic winds,” Itazura said. “The wildest of the signs, because Autumn was the wildest of the Elder Gods.” He pointed out the box. “That represents their containment. And you see the symbols of the Clockwork gods below. And see down there?” He pointed to a huge group of smaller symbols at the bottom. “Minor god symbols. Bet you don’t know any of those.”

“Probably not.” I said. Something else on the slab caught my eye. Another carving of a key, just above the signs of the clockwork gods. It looked just like the Clockmaker’s Key, except a tiny ruby dotted its center. “What’s this?” I asked.

“That . . . oh, just the key,” Itazura said.

“Then why does it have a ruby?” I asked, looking up at him.

He rubbed a hand behind his head and shrugged. “Don’t know. Decoration probably. Maybe we should keep going, little human. Can’t stand around reading all day.”

“Right,” I said, following after him. I got a funny feeling he was hiding something, but now wasn’t the best time to bring it up.

A few turns later, we reached the vast center. The heart of the white library was cylindrical in shape, bordered on all sides by shelves of books, new and old, stretching several meters to the very top of the building where a skylight let in rays of radiant, natural light. In here, the white walls of the library seemed to absolutely glow under the kiss of the sun’s rays. In the center of the makeshift spotlight sat a series of small tables, layered with a thin sheet of papers, scrolls, and other tools of knowledge. The area wasn’t very tidy, but I guessed those who favored knowledge didn’t care much about being neat while reading. I could only read a little myself, but if I had gone to school, this place would be heaven.

“I’m going to disappear,” Itazura murmured, staying in the shadows of the hall we had just passed through. “In order to find Viden and Kaval, you’re going to have to get through one of their pupils.
Really
smart people, they are. You’ll have to impress them to gain an audience.”

“Finding my way to the center isn’t enough?” I asked, glancing back at him over my shoulder.

Itazura shook his head. “I said you didn’t know what you were getting yourself into.” He winked. “Good luck.”

Then he disappeared down the hall and I found myself alone in the belly of the great White Library.

I took a few, nervous steps into the center. My arm gleamed beneath the sun’s rays and I could see every speck of dust drifting through the air. I slipped my fingers through the air, pushing aside the floating particles of dust. The tiny bits spiraled about my finger, making little patterns in the air. I smiled and looked around.

“Hello?”

Even when soft, my voice still echoed about the room. I waited for an answer but none came.

I sighed, “Not much learning going on today I guess.” I stuck my hands in my pockets. “This is going to require
patience
isn’t it?”

The echo of my own voice answered me and I shook my head, “Why am I talking to myself?”

The bookshelves chose not to answer that question so instead I went to the tables in the center of the room, flipping open a random book. Upon trying to read the contents, my heart sank. I didn’t get this stuff. Some documents were written entirely in numbers, some in ancient languages, and some with so many big words they might as well have been in a foreign language. I could read, but only the basics. There were probably ten-year olds who could read better than I could. My mother couldn’t afford to send me to school and school for slum dwellers focused on learning practical tasks anyway. Sewing and manual labor and other such activities. They didn’t teach the skills you needed for stealing though, so what did I need it for? Sid taught me how to read. If he had been born to a middle-class family, he would have been an excellent student. And even without the education, he was a great teacher. He barely had to speak a lot when he taught me. He was just that good.

“This is going to be bad,” I muttered, all of my previous confidence suddenly fading away. “I don’t know any of this stuff.” I sighed and ducked my head.

“Is someone there?” a voice called.

My head shot up and jumped away from the papers, spinning around to see a young man entering the center. He was clean and well dressed, not nearly as eccentric as most rich residents, but still clearly an upper class citizen. His skin was a rich brown color and he had his hair cropped nicely and slicked back out of his eyes. A watch chain hung from a loop on his fancy jacket, most definitely made of gold. He had three old books and a scroll tucked securely under his arm and despite the cloud of dust they emitted whenever he moved, he somehow didn’t look dirty. Unlike me.

“Hmm.” The young man looked me up and down, seeming surprised. “You found your way to the center?”

I didn’t like the tone his voice took on when he spoke to me. As if he had decided I was no good. Sure, my clothes weren’t particularly nice and my hair wasn’t as silky and shiny as his, but I hadn’t even spoken to him yet and he had made his judgments.

“It wasn’t hard,” I said evenly. “Follow the trail of cobwebs and you find your way here relatively easily.”

“How long did it take you to figure it out?” the man asked.

“Not long. How long did it take you?” I asked. I probably wasn’t starting this meeting off on the right foot, what with my voice already taking on a snarky tone, but I didn’t care. I just wasn’t cut out for respect, especially when it came to stuck-up boys only a few years older than me.