The Beacon: Casus Belli (3)
Episode 21: "The Royal College"
Adon, Thesis, Mat, and Mia strode through the open gate of the Royal College at midmorning the next day. Set in a wide, tree-lined park on the Fourth Level, the College was housed in a three-story, red-brick building trimmed in white. Two-story wings spread north and south of the main building, and a few cottages dotted the park’s periphery. They walked on a wide road of red brick that matched the College’s facade.
On the main building’s front steps, a young scholar met them and ushered them inside, informing them that the Master awaited them in the school’s library. He led them along a wide central foyer to double doors at its far end. As soon as the young man opened the door for them, the scent of old books hit their nostrils, making Mat smile.
The sentimental feeling lasted none too long. He scowled, thinking the Royal College Library would be larger and grander. The room they entered, about the size of their house back in The Corner, failed to impress him. Dozens of dark-stained bookshelves lined the library’s walls, but many of them held just a few books. A handful of tables and chairs inhabited the room’s interior, but no one studied at them. Across their path into the room sat a blocky desk, behind which sat a forbidding librarian, an older man with droopy jowls and eyelids, frowning at their intrusion even after they all wished him a good morning.
Their guide beckoned them past the disapproving librarian to the room’s rear, where a tall, stoop-shouldered man, middle-aged and graying, stood behind a large table. Wearing a dark purple gown with gold trim and a gold chain of office around his neck, he was clearly the Master of the College. He gave them a forced, toothless smile as they approached.
“Good morning,” he said in a nasal, toneless voice. “Welcome to the Royal College Library.”
Having met the Master several times before, Adon ignored the scholar’s bland manner and introduced the Oldhams and his son. After giving the youths from The Corner a perfunctory greeting, the Master’s gaze lingered on Thesis, attempting perhaps to reconcile the favorable reports he had heard about the young man with the actual person. The younger Santinetta tried to hold a genial smile, but it began to wither when the Master’s scrutiny lasted for an uncomfortably long moment.
The captain came to his rescue. “So, Master, have you had the opportunity to examine any of the Oldham’s books? We lugged them across the western plain so you and your fellows could benefit from their ancient knowledge.”
Frowning, the Master swung his gaze off the younger Santinetta to his father. “Obviously, we’ve had time to do little more than peruse the titles and gauge their state of preservation. They are in remarkably fine condition for their age. Certainly, the oldest of them—allegedly bound before the Landing over a thousand years ago—should be cracking and crumbling to dust, but it shows few signs, if any, of deterioration.”
“My father said the ancients’ bookbinding craft far exceeds our own,” Mia interjected genially, “but he could not explain the difference.”
Stonefaced, the Master continued as if she had said nothing. “Of all their books, we—that is, this College, the Satelen Archive, and the Angevan Royal Library—currently possess copies of only a handful. In fact, this prestigious library contains only one volume in common with those in the trunk, and we will have to study the extent of their agreement. The vast majority of their books are unknown to us. It will take our scribes years to prepare copies of even the most critical historical works and years beyond that to translate the Old Tauranian texts into our modern Tauranian.”
“We can help with that,” Mat volunteered. “Mia and I can speak, read, and write Old Tauranian fluently. We spoke it around the house before our parents died.”
“The language has been dead for centuries!” the Master spat, his first display of any emotion. “Only a half-dozen scholars, after a lifetime of study, can be said to be fluent in it, and you untrained youths claim fluency? Preposterous!”
Stunned by his unwarranted vehemence, the four visitors took an involuntary step back. With her arms crossed and her eyes flinty, Mia said something in a tongue unintelligible to Adon and Thesis. Despite trying to maintain the proper decorum, Mat laughed, and Mia joined him.
At the same time, the Master’s face reddened, and he glared at the young woman, snapping, “How dare you!”
Still grinning, Mia curtsied and said, “My apologies, Master, but I think you now know that my brother and I truly can speak Old Tauranian.”
“Do you always speak it so crassly?” the Master asked with lowered brows and a stern gaze.
“Again, I apologize, sir,” Mia said as demurely as she could, “but I did not think ‘pompous, old donkey of a scholar’ was particularly crass. I could have said—”
“Mia,” Adon warned with a severe look, “that’s enough. You got your point across.”
“Yes, captain.”
Adon turned to the Master and bowed. “We sincerely apologize for this, Master. However, you should know that Mattan and Miandra were brought up to read and study these books from the time they could understand their parents’ speech. At night, they fell asleep to stories read from these books, and during the day, they were their school texts. Since their parents perished half a decade ago, the books have been their deep study. The Oldhams have had a unique education from these old books and perhaps know more than anyone else alive about not just Old Tauranian but also the history surrounding the Taurani migration to Osegra. I urge you not to underestimate their knowledge and intelligence.”
The Master listened in cold silence, which lasted well past the time Adon stopped speaking. Finally, he said curtly, “I will consider your words.”
In the wake of his pronouncement, the visitors stood beside the table, shifting their weight from one foot to another. The silence stretched again. Adon glowered at the Master, his temper rising by the second.
Finally, Mat took a deep breath. “If it helps, we included a collection of our translations of various passages into modern Tauranian. They were part of the exercises our parents made us do as we got old enough to understand the texts. We continued doing them after their deaths to maintain our routine. Those books are the family’s legacy.”
The Master nodded, but his severe expression remained. “Yes, the king’s note to me said you claim descent from—what is the name? Penthor?—Penthor’s kings. The name is not unknown to us as it appears in our most ancient books, mostly in lists of those who took to the ships from the old continent. What was its name?”
Mat knew he was testing them. “Enwyl,” he answered immediately. “The word declined among our ancestors into ‘Enwol’ by the time the migration began. In modern Tauranian, it would likely be ‘Newel,’ if it were more widely known.”
“And where is Enwyl?” he asked, his challenging eyes piercing Mat’s. Another test.
“A book we included in the trunk is a copy of the Penthori ship’s logbook,” Mat replied. “Unfortunately, the original was not as durable as many of the other books, so it had to be copied a few hundred years ago. But our copy says that, several days into the voyage, a storm blew the ships off course, making the fleet’s location vague. Most believe, however, that Enwyl is east-southeast of Delphino by perhaps as much as a thousand leagues.”
“And what would keep us from sending our ships there today?” the scholar pressed.
Smiling, Mat lifted his hands. “I don’t know. I have no knowledge of current seafaring abilities. It’s a question better asked of Captain Santinetta. But the ancient captain of the Penthori ship noted in his log that the ocean they sailed was ‘particularly tempestuous,’ calling it ‘an angry sea, vehemently driving all vessels away or breaking them into matchsticks under its towering waves.’ If that is its normal state, it might prove difficult to retrace the route.”
“Before the Conquest,” Thesis said, one side of his mouth upturned, “Margonne considered attempting a voyage to the old country, but both Qadira and his mentor, Nestor Andromacles, dissuaded him. Nestor brought up the argument of its unknown location and the route’s perilous nature. Qadira, it is said, simply said she had no time for such foolishness, so she would not accompany him. He immediately dropped the notion.”
Mia giggled. “She knew how to handle him!”
“She certainly kept him focused on the Leitan problem,” Thesis replied, smiling. “If she hadn’t, who knows if the kingdom would even exist?”
“We are drifting far afield,” the Master said bluntly before anyone else could speak. He cleared his throat. “Yesterday afternoon, the king asked my opinion on the existence of elves. Are such mythical beings also mentioned in your book hoard?”
“Of course,” Mat said evenly before Mia could retort. “My sister told the king yesterday morning that the second king of Penthor, Gilgal, married what a few of our books call an ‘elven’ lady. They imply elves are a separate race of beings, distinct from humans like us. We do not know if this understanding is correct. It may be a quirk of the language that we misunderstand. All we can say with certainty is that the books use the term ‘elf.’”
The Master sniffed, his lip curled. “It sounds like you have been fooled into taking as history what are actually legendary tales, folklore, the unreal!” He stared at them with fiery eyes, unwilling to consider there might be things outside his knowledge. “Nothing of the sort has ever been found in the real world, outside of children’s tales. You children lack the learning and experience to judge the matter.”
Mat put his hand on his sister’s arm, silently urging her to say nothing. “We only tell you what is written the books. Since we live millennia after the events they describe, interpretations of their content will vary depending on the reader’s perspective. Determining the truth will be more elusive.”
“I will not be lectured by a country boy not yet twenty!” the Master snapped back. “If you had any sense, you would refrain your tongue in the presence of your elders. I recommend you scamper back to the Spruce Hills and leave scholarship to us.”
Mia could no longer restrain herself. “If we scamper back to The Corner,” she said with equal venom, “we’re taking our books back with us! You can study them there after you put in a morning’s work in the fields!” She turned on her heel and left the room. With a quick look at Adon, who did not react, the two young men followed her without giving the Master his courtesies.
Adon’s eyes bore into the Master’s. He stepped toward the scholar and growled, “You are a disgrace to Margonne! The king will hear of your arrogance, Master.” He said the title with sneering condescension. “I’d rejoice if you lost that title in the coming days. Perhaps I can make it happen.”
The captain turned and walked toward the doors. Before he reached the librarian’s desk, he turned back. “You know, since the books have so little value to you, I think my agency will hire a few good scribes to copy them. Expect my agents to pick up the trunk with all its books this afternoon.” He deliberately touched the whip hanging at his hip. “If any are missing, I will come back myself to retrieve what you failed to return.”
“You wouldn’t dare!” the Master sputtered.
Adon shrugged. “Just keep a book and find out.”
A note:
Mat and Mia were indeed the most fluent speakers of Old Tauranian on the continent. Their library contained far more books written in the ancient language than the combined libraries of all the leading Taurani nations. And because they spoke it frequently at home as, in many ways, their first language, the Oldhams knew it colloquially and could understand far more of its idioms and peculiarities than Taurani scholars could ever hope to figure out. So, offending the Oldhams as he did, the pompous Master did himself and Taurani scholarship no favors.
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