AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I took his arm and we walked from the sitting room. His favourite room, he told me. It was where we first arrived in through the portal, with the stunning view over the city and down to the harbour. The one his portals always lead to, especially with newcomers in his company. All the better to impress them. No one could disagree that it was a striking first impression.
"How old is this place?" I asked.
"Older than me," he said with a dry smile. "I'm sure Tavian would classify it as ancient based on that alone."
I laughed. "He does like to tease."
"That he does," Ryze agreed. "However, the palace is considerably older than I am. The younger part is around a thousand years old." He waved his hand at the corridor around us.
"Younger part?" I echoed. I stopped to lightly touch one of the stones that formed the wall. How many Fae had walked past it during the last ten centuries? Thousands at least.
"Yes, younger." He seemed to be watching my hand and following my thoughts. "The lower sections, including the library, are at least two thousand years old. Probably a lot older than that. The records are unclear at best."
"How long do Fae live?" I turned my eyes from the wall, to him. He was looking at me as though trying to discern something.
"The oldest known was just over a thousand." We resumed walking. "The average is seven or eight hundred years. Less if some asshole starts a war."
"Does that happen often?" We learnt about wars at the temple, but seldom the details. Mostly, they mentioned minor altercations, usually over land.
"That depends on your definition of often," Ryze said slowly. "We haven't had a full-blown war in three or four hundred years. We have border squabbles every fifty years or so. They generally start over something ridiculous and escalate from there."
We started down the marble stairs, our footsteps echoing in the empty space.
"The library is in one of the older parts of the palace," he said. "In fact, it was built first and the rest of the palace was built around it, to protect the books and records inside. We Fae are possessive of our knowledge. We've spent a considerable time accruing it."
"Is that why it's so difficult to find?" I asked. "It's hidden so people can't find it?"
"Exactly," he said. "Something so precious shouldn't be too easy to locate and potentially destroy."
"How do people access the knowledge if they can't find it?" I asked. "Isn't that the point of knowledge? So it can be shared?"
"Of course," he agreed. "Lysarial has an extensive library accessible to everyone. The palace library, however, contains several thousand volumes of more sensitive knowledge. Perhapscontentiouswould be a better word. Arguments over the existence of the gods, for example. The last war started over that very thing. Some would insist on going to war with us if they knew we had it. People are particularly touchy when it comes to their gods."
"What do you believe?" I asked.
He smiled over at me. "Giving my opinion on the subject might start a war, so if you don't mind, I'll keep it to myself. Suffice to say, I approve of healthy curiosity and debate, and appreciate alternative points of view."
He led me down another set of stairs to the very lower level of the palace, and through a door that led out into a garden.
The air was perfumed with jasmine and roses, with a hint of autumn fruits and vegetables.
I frowned.
"It's strange, isn't it?" he remarked. "It should smell like autumn leaves slowly decaying. Instead, it smells like the height of summer."
He shrugged and led me over through a stand of trees. We stopped at a small building almost entirely obscured by vines. He swept them to one side to reveal a pair of doors made from wide slats of wood. Heavy handles in the shape of a snake swallowing its own tail, were set in the front.
"Is this the only way in?" I asked. "No wonder I couldn't find it."
"It's not the only way, but the library is warded against entry via portals, so through the front door it is."
He placed a hand on one of the handles and pushed the door open.
At first, all I saw was darkness. The air was still, the smell of yellowed paper and old binding heavy.
After a moment, lights started to pop on in the high ceiling. Row after row of chandeliers illuminated shelf after shelf covered with books and scrolls. The shelves continued until they were swallowed by a section still in darkness.
My gaze followed a shelf up to the ornately painted ceiling.
