Chapter 11

The village Roka had grown up in had a handful of books, mostly in her father’s personal possession. It had taken him years and a lot of complicated bartering to amass ten worn-out tomes. Roka knew from a young age that such a collection paled in comparison to what the imperial library offered, but she had never considered the possibility that there might exist a shelf of books so tall and full that she would need a ladder to reach half of them.

Roka resolved to never leave Topto again, even if she failed to be appointed Keeper. The knowledge the library was there would be enough to sustain her.

Then again, where the keeper would be allowed constant access to the library, a regular Sentinel might not be given such privileges. Roka doubly resolved to prove her worthiness for the position.

“Is there time to peruse?” Roka asked. She noticed Elise King giving her a side-eyed look that spoke to her previous vision of Roka as a “young flower,” but the sheer weight of the potential written word bearing down on Roka forced her to ignore the implications of being thought of as a country bumpkin.

“Of course,” Talit said. “We have one stop scheduled before the choral ball tonight, but we aren’t in a rush.” He paused. “I assumed you wished to attend the ball?”

“Indeed,” Yusubru said. “I have been looking forward to it.”

Roka hadn’t known there was going to be a choral ball, but the prospect of a glamorous party at the heart of a citadel sounded delightful. It would probably be stuffy and awkward with so many royal courtiers and Ensigns in attendance, but she could find delight in that absurdity as well.

“I would love to attend,” Roka said. But first, books… She didn’t intend to take anything with her, but she wanted to know what lurked in the collection that might excite her.

“Let’s take an hour, then?” Talit suggested, and everyone assented. Elise King seemed somewhat annoyed and unimpressed with the entire display, but she did not outwardly complain. She had probably seen the library many times. Perhaps she knew much larger and more glamorous libraries where she came from.

The variety of subjects available staggered Roka, but the general organization of the library split between pre-Ensign contact and post-Ensign contact. Within those two categories were histories, novels, religious treatises, academic works, travel chronicles, and endless other topics that Roka could spend years just trying to break into. Most of the post-Ensign contact collection had been penned by Ensign writers and scholars, books in the Ensign language brought from over the sea and implanted within the library.

Roka’s mastery of the language was limited. She knew a few words and phrases, but most Ensigns came to the Ninzam Empire with the ability to speak conversationally in the local language, or they learned to do so quickly. Other books contained languages besides her own and the Ensign tongue. Some she didn’t recognize at all, the inky characters of the language’s alphabet entirely unfamiliar to her.

She also came across books that she knew very well. The Story of Al’Unaga, written a hundred or more years before Roka’s birth, was the first book her father had read to her. It recounted and dramatized an old war between pre-imperial Ninzam and the now dissolved Shuibid Faith-state, setting up the hero Al’Unaga as the focal point of the story. Roka read the book a dozen times before leaving her home village and almost every other village or town in the empire had at least one copy of the book, even if it could only be found waiting under rotting floorboards in an abandoned hut. The library contained five copies of the book, stacked neatly next to each other. Roka touched the covers fondly as she passed on, looking for something new.

Talit approached her after an indeterminate amount of time—Roka hadn’t been keeping track—and she expected him to inform her it was time to move on to the next point in the tour.

Talit read her concern. “We still have a few minutes if you’re not done looking.” His eyes landed on the book Roka had just picked out. “Oh, Ketomi Haknag’t. That’s an interesting one.”

“Very interesting,” Roka agreed. “Interesting” was the most flattering word she could see fit to use. It was a rather dry tome about the various kings that had ruled Zhozai before the nation had been engulfed by the empire. “I found a copy two years ago in Nyamanfukoka. I felt I needed to refresh my memory. Have you read it?” It seemed like the kind of text that would be good research for an up-and-coming emperor.

“Not all of it,” Talit said. “I stopped after King Gudoharu. Her story was the peak of the book, if not the most enjoyable story I’ve ever read. Everything else after that was a little too boring for my taste. I felt like I got enough of a picture of what Zhozai was all about, which is to say, a better place after the empire changed some things for them.”

Roka had also enjoyed the story of King Gudoharu, a woman who had changed her name and hidden her sex so that she could take the throne in a nation that would only accept male kings. It had gone well for a while. The people had loved their king regardless of what was between her legs and Gudoharu had made a lot of progress in improving the kingdom. That abruptly changed when one of Gudoharu’s advisors discovered who she really was.

The author of Ketomi Haknag’t had gone to great lengths to describe the excruciating torture and execution that had followed. His bias had been clear. A woman should not have taken so much power.

“I think it is telling,” Roka said, “that the leader who ultimately gave Zhozai independence from the empire 200 years later was a woman.”

“Cathartic, right?” Talit said with a grin, and Roka had to agree. He was quiet for a moment while she replaced the book on its shelf. Then he said, “I should warn you, I’ve also done some reading when it comes to your travels.”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

Roka furrowed her brow. She hadn’t expected Talit to broach this subject directly after avoiding it the night before.

“Abdukku is one of my favorite authors,” he continued. “I’ve read everything he put in this library, and quite a lot of that is about you and ugu-Yusubru.”

“Ah,” Roka said, not sure if she wanted to engage on this topic.

Talit put up his hands. “I know it’s a sore subject with you. Ugu-Yusubru frequently made it clear to me that he did not appreciate Abdukku’s unsanctioned biographical novels, and that was when uncle was the only subject. Now that you are also a subject, I’m sure you don’t appreciate it either.”

“I can’t say I have ever been pleased to hear about anything Abudukku has printed,” Roka said.

Despite being a character in several of his books, Roka had never met the writer Abudukku. She knew what he looked like only by virtue of the illustrated portrait in the back of many of his works. He followed Roka and her master, always a town or two behind, picking up the stories they left in their wake and publishing them with extensive embellishments for the empire to enjoy.

It disturbed Roka to see her accomplishments turned into entertainment. She could only console herself in the knowledge that Abudukku didn’t possess a detailed physical description of her—only her pox marks and general features—and that he retained enough sense not to use her or Yusubru’s real name. Otherwise, she and her master would be hounded in every town by those who read the stories or heard them by word of mouth. Talit only knew she was the character in the books because of his close personal connection with her master.

“I only bring it up,” Talit said, “because I want to assure you that I don’t make any judgments about you based on what I have read in Abdukku’s works. That was always what ugu-Yusubru complained about.” He looked Roka directly in her eyes. “Please know, I do not presume to understand you.”

It sounded to Roka like he was presuming to understand her at that very moment. Her first instinct was to tell him so and shut down any future conversations about Abdukku’s work, but that might offend Talit’s ego. Normally, Roka wouldn’t worry about that, but he might have some influence on whether or not Roka was given the position of keeper. It galled her to keep her mind unspoken, but small sacrifices might be necessary to get what she wanted, and Talit seemed sincere. He cared about her perception of him, and she didn’t mind making him feel at ease.

“I appreciate that,” Roka said. “Like my master, I prefer not to acknowledge that the books exist.”

“Then when I am in your presence, they do not exist for me either.” He gave her a slight bow. “Anyway, I shall leave you to your perusal. Please join us at the library entrance in ten minutes. Everyone else should be gathered there. In fact, I don’t think Ms. King has moved from the door. Um, anyway. Goodbye.” He turned to complete his exit, but then stopped. He raised a finger. “It occurs to me,” he said without looking at Roka. “I may have just done what I most did not want to do.”

He turned back around slowly to face her. Roka raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“I made an assumption about you just now, based on what I know of ugu-Yusubru and your character in the books. Abdukku makes it quite clear that you are not the kind of person who he believes would enjoy being written about. I apologize.”

“No offense was taken,” Roka said. “And while yes, you did make an assumption, it was not incorrect. Your apology is accepted.”

“I will endeavor to do better,” Talit said. “And I look forward to getting to know you on a personal level.” He looked around awkwardly. “Anyway, ten minutes. Er, more like nine now.”

He walked away and around a wide shelf, disappearing from Roka’s sight. She looked after him, glad she had allowed him the opportunity to rectify his own mistake. He was a good boy, smart and aware of himself and others. They had both saved themselves some embarrassment.

Nine minutes later, Roka met the others at the library entrance. She carried no books but kept a list of interesting options in her mind for future visits. Elise King—who had truly not strayed an inch from the double doors—assumed the mantle of tour guide, allowing Talit to take a break. She took them outside the citadel walls and deeper into the city.

As they left, they passed by the exterior corner of the citadel proper where Roka and her master had spent the night. A small group of Ninzamian men and women were on the other side of the street from the citadel wall. They gathered at the open door to a two-story home built in the old style before the Ensigns influenced imperial architecture. Roka could see another dozen or so people through the windows of the home.

The scene was oddly quiet, with the group on the outside murmuring quietly among themselves and occasionally trying to get a peek inside. Roka remembered Talit and Elise King discussing some sort of disturbance outside the walls. Perhaps this was related, though it seemed less like the aftermath of a disturbance and more like the mourning prelude to a funeral celebration. Roka did not have time to speculate further as Elise King led her and the others on to their next destination. Talit gave the scene a concerned look as they went by, but if he wanted to investigate, there wasn’t time.

“Ms. King,” Roka asked, “where are we going?”

“Somewhere the emperor thought you would find most intriguing,” Elise King said. “Do you know of my people’s efforts towards educating the citizens of this city?”

“No,” Roka said, shaking her head and surreptitiously checking her master’s expression. Ensigns involved in the education of imperial citizens would surely pique his interest. He glanced at Elise King as they walked but said nothing.

“It has been a special project of mine for the last few years,” Elise King continued. “As the emperor told you, my position in the Many Ensigns of Donpar is Mistress of Trade. Obviously, that covers goods and agreements of exchange.” She looked back at Talit. “Most recently, I have hoped to create an exchange of your nation’s special iron deposits.”

“A matter you will need to bring up with my father when he feels the time is right,” Talit waved her off easily.

If his statement displeased Elise King, she did not show it. “Of course, I abide by his majesty’s prudence on the subject. It was merely an example. But I also believe the trade and exchange of ideas is just as important as that of physical goods. The people of Donpar know many things that the people of the Ninzam Empire do not. We are quite eager to teach you those things, along with our own methods for efficient education.”

Roka did not doubt that the Ensigns had much knowledge to pass on. When they first appeared on the shores of the continent, they had come on boats that were larger and more seaworthy than anything built by Ninzamian hands. When the Ninzam Empire had gone to war with the Ensigns, Ninzamian battle leaders quickly discovered their own ability to wage war to be inferior to the ability of the enemy.

Luckily, the Ensigns had proved lacking in other points of knowledge and development, enough that the empire had been able to fight the invading forces to a stalemate that ultimately resolved itself to be a victory. Elise King’s interest in Ninzamian “special iron” was proof of her people’s inability to conquer the empire.

“As such,” Elise King went on, “I have seen to it that several Donparsh style schools have been set up within Topto. They follow a philosophy of education with children that you will probably find to be unfamiliar, but I assure you they are quite effective in their instruction. We are on our way to visit one now.”

“School?” Roka asked, stopping. “Do you mean a calling academy?”

“I do not,” Elise King said. “We include even the very young here.” She waved Roka on. “You will see.”