Keeping the Fire: Alone Among Many

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The smell of paper, crisp, calm, inviting, mixed with the damp reek of mildew and mold. There was also the hint of dust from the aging stone tunnels cut to shape by the hands of those that were dust five hundred years past. Elsewhere was burning candle wax from candelabras, fresh paint from the wood walls of the first floor, and ink from a team of young boys scribing new copies of old works for twelve hours a day. But in the heart of the Archives Polena had only paper and mold to smell, only wisdom and rot.

As she sat the librarian Iven silently watched her from his chair a few paces behind. There was nothing to watch. She had not slept that night after nearly being abducted, and no matter how incompetent the abductor had been it was no easier to brush the encounter off this morning. So it was that she looked up quickly on hearing footsteps. First only footsteps, then the light of a lantern, Tavya arrived by moments, and when she did, nodded a greeting to them both.

“Good evening Luminary, and to you as well Iven. Might I distract you a moment Polena, or are you absorbed in your work.”

“At the moment a distraction might be just what I need,” said Polena rubbing her eyes.”
“Ah, lovely,” said Tavya, taking a stool from under the table and sitting down on it with the careful ladylike grace necessitated by her garments. “You can leave us Iven, I'll see to it she doesn't read anything while you are gone.”

Iven looked as if he would protest but the lady had already broken eye contact as if that was the final word. He left with so little sound Polena had to looked back to see that he was really gone.

“You hold a lot of sway with him,” Polena said

“I am Minister of the Keepings. Certainly I am the last one involved in mischief, I could look to every book in this Archive if I wished, all save one.”

“One?”

“An old diary of a companion of the old King Edgar Mire. It's only for family, though I doubt much is left of a tome that old. How are we progressing at defeating Westa Proper? I should like to know that you will have something to influence the Fortress and you've only three days left.”

“In have enough.”

“Such as?” inquired Tavya, clearly not interested in being ignored.

“Well, its very scholarly, but I have three poems, all of which Djasho supposedly wrote on the summer that Fiedjan was discovered. One of them the Djaught read on his presentation and two others are clearly are from different authors. One of the three was writ almost two hundred years later I think.” she stifled a laugh and Tavya met it kindly.

“Could it be that Djasho lived two hundred years?” asked Tavya.

Polena started to laugh again, but her face fell when she realized that Tavya was serious.

“You have to understand Polena, that's the kind of question people will ask of you. Why the King's own history claims that Edgar Mire ruled for more than one hundred and eighty years himself. ?These people even the Eastern one's like our current king, may he keep the walls long and well, they truly believe that if a legend says something it happened.”

“I'll have to work harder then,” said Polena frustrated with herself for feeling disarmed. Tavya put a hand on Polena's in a halfhearted way. There was something about the dull light of the candles that harmonized with the Duchess's face. The light picked out the gold of her hair, sparckled gently in her blue eyes, and softened her face and smile, which were not hard but bore the refined angles of years of interbreeding. Polena felt her heart beat.

“There now, I'm sure you will come up with something. You should take a rest. You had an awful fright and its all the worse being so far from your home.”

“Thank you, I might. I thought I was prepared for this. They teach us to contemplate what would happen to the others around us were we to be lost and never returned.”

“It's a good thing to prepare for. With out allies like me Polena, you could simply disappear. They would never find you, and you would never go home to your family.”

Polena had to break eye contact with her, by she left her hand where Tavya held it.

“Are there many of them that are missing you Luminary?”

“No many, I was raised an orphan. I have a daughter at home, only nine winters.”

“Dreadful to have to be apart. All the more reason to solve this and get back to her. Does your husband care for your little one? My own is past into the Afterworld.”

“I'm sorry to hear of your loss,” Polena replied, one of the first phrases she had learned in Djashar and very formal in it's delivery. She felt a relief in the common speech. There seemed no game to this, no trap in it and talking to someone about her homesickness was a release. Especially one who looked so kindly in this light. “No, my little Denza is in the care of her godmother. My wife, she is... She is a soldier and, well, we don't live together right now.”

“Oh, your... wife,” said Tavya, as if the word confused her. Her hand left Polena's swiftly, but carefully. “Well then, probably for the best that she has someone to look after her.” Tavya was a practiced courtesan and gave only the barest hint of her true emotions, a subdued revultion like a person looking at a particularly large spider on the windowsill. Polena had known to expect this when she left the People's Alliance, but expectation can hardly prepare one for the reality of intolerance.

“I think I will retire,” Polena said, “this talk of home makes me wish a little comfort. Good night to you Minister Tavya.” She rose and made to leave the room. Tavya, ever seeking to avoid offense rose as well.

“Do take care on your return. Tell one of the guards I asked that you be escorted. They will walk with you.”

“I'll do that,” Polena said, trying to leave with a nod.

“And dear Luminary, do you write letters?”

Polena stopped, turned back with a feigned smile. “Once a week. Send them out in bundles when I can.”

“Well when next you do be certain not to use the Red Feathered Couriers. They read everything that is sent and give it all to the princess who rules over the Fiedjan faction of the Fortress.”

“My thanks, I'll be sure to find another.” Polena said, over her shoulder as she left. She felt her cheeks were flushed at her sudden flight and everything in her simply wished to gone. What Tavya had said was true, she was alone here. Alone in her knowledge and secrets, alone in her politics and friendship, and alone in love and desires. Sadly, that was not all to different from being at home either. For the Alliance is loath to lose any of it's People, but when the risk must be taken it was always certain to send those that would not be missed.

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