Modern Magick

Royalty and Ruin: 13

The library of Mandridore is to die for.

I mean that almost literally. I'm sure I felt my heart stop when we walked in.

Tall people need a tall library, yes? This one soared up and up and up, to such a height there were wisps of cloud drifting near the ceiling. If there was a ceiling. No word of a lie, there really were, though I don't suppose they ever took it upon themselves to rain. Every inch of every wall was covered in shelves housing perfectly-ordered rows of books. I looked for the traditional long ladders winding up the bookcases, but of these there was no sign. I did, however, spot a large tome floating at a leisurely pace down from a distant shelf. At Mandridore, one did not travel to the books; the books travelled to you.

I could get used to such a place.

'When I die,' I heard Mauf say from inside my satchel, 'bury me here.'

I hoped he was busy soaking up whatever he could get his filthy book-mitts upon.

A dash of magick kept the light levels on the muted side, the better to protect the collections. This lent the library's several chambers a peaceful, serene air which could not but please. I'd walked in and felt immediately at ease.

Unfortunately, things did not go nearly so well as this auspicious beginning suggested.

While Jay wandered off to browse, drawn like a magnet to a floor-level shelf crowded with enormous leather-bound volumes, I went with Alban to the grand mahogany desk behind which sat the librarian on duty. A large, handsome woman of middle age, she became flustered at Alban's approach, and dropped a brief curtsey. Some subtle change to Alban's expression told me he did not welcome this deference.

'Dame Hellenna, I wonder if you could help us,' he said, with an approximation of his usual smile. 'We are interested in anything you can find on the topic of Torvaston the Second. Periods of particular interest include directly before, and any time after, the fall of Farringale.'

I did not at all see why, but something about this request made Dame Hellenna nervous. She glanced uncertainly at me, then made for the bookshelves with the air of a woman running away.

A slight frown creased Alban's brow.

The jumpy librarian soon returned. 'I— I'm afraid there are no books available on those topics, sir,' she said, not meeting his eye.

'None?' repeated Alban blankly.

Dame Hellenna shook her head.

'How can that be? King Torvaston founded this Court!'

The librarian began to look most unhappy. 'I quite see your point, sir, but nonetheless...'

'You're telling me,' said Alban with forced calm, 'that no one has written of Mandridore's founders in nearly four centuries?'

'If they have, sir, their books are not kept here.'

'That is impossible. There must be something.'

I laid a hand on Alban's arm, for he seemed to be working himself into a froth. 'Forgive me,' I said to Dame Hellenna, 'but were there any books on those topics, at any time in the past?'

Her eyes got a bit shifty. 'I... couldn't say, madam.'

Uh huh.

Alban was all over that like a rash. 'So there aren't now but that hasn't always been the case. When were they removed, and by whose order?'

'They— I don't— I don't precisely know, sir, but...' She glanced about, as though she might be overheard, though no one was nearby save for myself. 'I know of no specific removal of those books, but there are records of a general purge undertaken some years ago, by order of your highness's mother's esteemed father.'