Of Truth and Beasts

Circle, for Spirit and Metaology, indicated works on metaphysics, philosophy, religion, and folklore. Triangle, for Fire and Cathology—Wynn’s own order—marked history and the organization of knowledge and information. The square of Air and Sentiology was for politics, law, government, economics, and so on. A hexagon for Water designated works of Conamology, including mathematics and applied sciences. The last was the octagon for Earth and Naturology, with its emphasis in natural and earth sciences, as well as prominent trades and crafts.

“I will start over here,” Chane answered, heading off to the left.

Wynn passed him the spare cold lamp crystal before she took off the other way with Shade. She fingered along casement ends, scanning their etched symbols, but she found only octagons alone or as the top symbol in pairs and trios. Works about earth sciences and crafts wouldn’t include what she sought. She wandered between the shelves, twice spotting Chane doing the same on the room’s far side.

Most guild archives were much larger than what was placed in their common libraries. She’d heard that the one in the Suman branch dwarfed those of the Lhoin’na and Numan. Still, one could get lost wandering the dark catacombs of her own branch. This place appeared considerably too small, and all the casements so far held only works of various subdivisions under Naturology.

It made no sense. Where were the texts for the other emphases of the guild?

Wynn stumbled upon a narrow, steep stairway in the room’s rear-right corner. Sparked with hope, she climbed into an even smaller room. Making her way through its maze of casements, she found its single central table. But all shelves along the way were marked with a leading octagon, though the columns of symbols were now three, four, or even five deep.

Wynn grew anxious. Something was wrong here. Shade huffed twice, and not from nearby. When Wynn turned about, she couldn’t spot the dog.

“Shade?” she called out, and the dog barked. She followed the sound and found Shade at the top of the narrow stairs.

“Wynn, where are you?”

Chane’s soft rasp carried from below, and Wynn hurried down the stairs.

“Chane?”

“Here.”

She followed his voice around the end of a casement to where he stood scanning the shelves and slowly shaking his head.

“I have found only octagons as lead symbols,” he said. “The only triangles are lower symbols in the columns. I have seen no circles at all.”

Wynn’s worry increased. How was this even possible? The elven archives couldn’t be entirely devoted to the order of Naturology.

“We’ve missed something,” she whispered.

“Perhaps there is another level farther up. We might—”

Chane stopped so suddenly that Wynn looked around in alarm. Then she heard the voices grow louder.

“I swear, Domin, the books were on my desk!” one said in Elvish.

Another voice, crackling with age, replied, “New acquisitions do not just get up to shelve themselves.”

“I unwrapped them with my own hands,” the first returned. “It is not often that the Suman branch sends anything our way. When I saw how old they were, I locked my chamber and came for you.”

“Yet no one else knows of a delivery,” the old one said sharply. “And your desk is bare of even the wrapping paper. Someone has been—”

“Where is she?” demanded a third voice.

Wynn shivered in the following pause. The newcomer’s voice, filled with such cold disdain, was familiar. She covered Chane’s hand, closing his fingers over his crystal as she smothered her own.

“Premin?” the old one replied. “For whom are you asking?”

Wynn scurried silently between the casements toward the light she’d seen upon first entering. When she peeked around the last shelves into the open space of tables ...

Premin Gyâr stood inside the entrance, and a pair of gray-robed elven sages faced him, their backs to Wynn. In the open door behind Gyâr stood two shé’ith that Wynn had never seen. Just how many of the patrollers had the premin requisitioned?

She pulled back to find Chane behind her, his hand on his sword. In the half darkness, he mouthed something at her.

Another way out?

She shook her head and leaned close to whisper, “Let me do the talking.”

Chane’s eyes widened as he grabbed her arm.

“You, look to the next level!” Gyâr commanded. “And, you, start searching in here.”

Chane began to pull Wynn away, but she shook her head at him. There was no way to escape. The longer they dragged this out, the worse it would end. Gyâr had come so urgently—and yet late. That meant he hadn’t been the one to draft the letter to bait her. Otherwise, he’d have been waiting and watching to catch her before she got in.

Someone else had sent her the pass.

Wynn barely finished that thought when she stepped into the open, feigning bafflement as best as she could. She never got out any falsely innocent question as to what was going on.

“You are under arrest!” Gyâr spat immediately, his tight features breaking into a mask of rage. “Shé’ith, here ... take them!”