Page 80 of The Devouring Time

“A scribe, I assume.”

“But why would a scribe have this sort of thing lying around?” Her trunk strobes with excitement. “What if there’s an archive? Or a library? Do you think we can get access to it? We might find something that tells us what they’re up to. And what they’re doing with our bodies in our own times.”

I’ve been trying very hard not to think about that. What would I find if—when!—I returned to my own time? What could a creature as inhuman as the Swarm possibly get up to in my shape?

“We should ask the guards,” I say. “Or I will—they know I’ve been learning to read.”

Plan in mind, I go to the guard who’d brought us the writing supplies. Though the chitinous bodies of the Swarm had seemed all alike to me at first, over time the variations in color patterns and shell shape between individuals have become clear.

“Excuse me,” I say, and wonder just how my thoughts translate in its mind, “I’m curious—where did the paper and ink come from?”

“The archive,” it replies promptly.

Just as Bianca had suspected. “I want to learn more about your people. Can someone escort me there?”

It makes a low buzzing sound with its shell. “No. The archive is forbidden to you.”

I don’t want to do anything that might lead to restrictions on the few freedoms we have, so I retreat to Khephnes. Bianca joins me, and we tell him our conjectures.

“You said you’ve been given more freedoms since you’re stuck here,” I finish. “They might let you go into the archive, even if they won’t allow me.”

“I don’t see the point,” he says. “You’re going to forget it all anyway.” He looks at me. “But what else do I have to do?”

He isn’t gone long. “Apparently I’m not allowed to visit the archive either.” Khephnes taps his trunk thoughtfully against his torso. “I wonder why? Are they afraid we’ll destroy records or make some other kind of trouble?”

Bianca clicks her forelegs together. “Then we’re just going to have to break in somehow.”

53

It’s a daring suggestion, yet just the thought of carrying it out lifts my spirits.

I’ve spent my time here trying not to feel utterly helpless, not to give in to resignation and despair. Learning how to read and write the Swarm’s language offers me a small sense of control. But the guards clearly don’t care if I can read the signs or not.

This, though…this is the rebellion of prisoners against their captors.

During the war, I’d occasionally wonder what I’d do if taken prisoner by the Germans. Would I set to whatever work they put before me—harvesting fields, repairing roads, whatever required the strong backs they’d sent to the front? Or try to escape back to the bleak battlefields of France?

I couldn’t say, to be perfectly honest with myself. Here there’s no chance of escape, but breaking into an archive…

Well, I didn’t become a bookseller for nothing. “Bianca’s right. We need to see what’s in that archive.”

Khephnes withdraws, trunk flashing red and white. “They’ll lock you away for the rest of your time here. And if your bodies die, what then? Will you stay confined alone for decades? Longer, depending on how many seasons these bodies live?”

I don’t blame him for his caution. He’s truly trapped here, with no hope of ever leaving.

“So you’re content with being their pet?” Bianca demands, much less sympathetic than I. “Doing as you’re told out of fear?”

Khephnes turns his back on us. “Do as you wish, but I won’t be a part of it.”

“You aren’t being fair to him,” I tell Bianca. “Khephnes, of course we don’t want you to risk more than you’re able.”

Bianca gets the hint. “Of course. I’m sorry. I just…we have to do something. But Sterling and I don’t have to stay here forever.” She reaches out with her trunk, but doesn’t quite touch him. “I’d like to hear your ideas, if you have any. But you shouldn’t risk yourself.”

Khephnes seems only slightly mollified. “This is your scheme. Perhaps there is something I can do, however. Whether it will be helpful or not, I can’t say.”

“Anything would be appreciated,” she replies, relief in her mind-voice.

“I was tutored by the greatest magicians in Kemet, at the Fane of Nyarlathotep, where the god himself walked in the shape of a faceless man. I was still early in my studies when I was taken, but I will teach Sterling what I can.”