David Cook - Beyong the Moons

“Perhaps he will be curious about me, sir.”

“I don’t think the word ‘curious’ applies to Astinus. He probably already knows about you. They say Astinus knows everything and spends all his time writing it down. Supposedly, he wrote all the books in the Great Library.” Teldin shook his head in wonder at the thought. “Not the kind of life I’d want."

“Nor I, sir,” Gomja added. “No fighting. Maybe he will take pity on you, sir.”

“Not likely. The cold fish didn’t lift a hand to help the armies during the war,” Teldin answered with scorn. "He stayed in his library the whole time, writing. You’d think he could have put what he knows to good use.”

Gomja pursed his lips, which were barely noticeable on his heavy jowls. “Bribe?” he finally suggested.

Teldin shook his head. “The Order of Aesthetics, which surrounds him, provides all he needs. We don’t even have enough to bribe the gatekeeper.”

Gomja kept silent, leaving Teldin to his musing, and the two said nothing more until they reached the Great Library. Entering the grounds, they passed through a small park, rich with the growth of late summer. Couples, strolling through the gardens, stopped and gawked at the strange and filthy pair. Teldin paid them no mind; he bore little love for the citizens of Palanthas. He recalled how they had cowered behind their walls while far better men, many his friends, had died defending the city from the dragonarmies. He returned to the problem at hand and headed directly for the main building.

Like nearly all the buildings of the city, the Great Library was a monument of gleaming white marble. It consisted of three wings, long halls whose colonnaded walls were pierced by small windows. Although it stood three stories tall, the library gave the impression of being a low, squat structure. Perhaps this was caused by the broad roof, or possibly the building’s plain front. Save for the columns that graced the entrance there was none of the fanciful ornamentation of which the Palanthians were so fond.

Teldin led the way past a small, unimpressive entrance to the public section of the library and took Gomja to the next door down. This was a grand facade with a curving marble stair and pillared portico. Reaching the top, Teldin took a deep breath, then pounded on the glass-paned door.

For several moments nothing happened, but just as Teldin was about to knock again, the door swung open.

“What do you seek of the Order of Aesthetics?” asked a young man standing in the doorway. Of average height and somewhat plump from a sedentary life, the man wore simple, plain robes. His dark hair was neatly trimmed and his clean-scrubbed face made no attempt to hide the disdain he obviously felt for the grubby vagabond who stood before him.

“My friend and I-” Teldin motioned for Gomja to come forward- “seek an audience with the great sage Astinus.” Teldin kept his voice low and respectful, being genuinely awed by the presence of so much obvious power. Gomja, on his best behavior, stood behind Teldin, his own head rising over the human’s. As the two had agreed beforehand, Gomja pulled back the blanket covering his head. Teldin hoped this would intrigue the monk, and not terrify the man out of his wits. The giff wiggled his ears and even smiled, revealing the gaping extent of his mouth.

The doorman’s eyes widened. The look of scorn vanished and was replaced by dumbfounded amazement. "Wait here,” he squeaked, then scuttled away into the huilding’s dark depths. In his baste, he left the door open.

Just as Teldin was considering slipping through the doorway, the pudgy doorkeeper returned. The man, perhaps guessing Teldin’s intent, officiously blocked the entrance. The doorkeeper gulped but met the giff's glower. “Well- he will not see you,” the Aesthetic pompously answered. His head twitched slightly with a nervous tic.

Teldin looked incredulously at the man. “He’s got to see me. I’ve come a long way and he can’t just turn me away now!” Gomja stepped closer to the door, reasserting Teldin’s words.

The chubby Aesthetic stood firm, momentarily regaining his composure. “Astinus does not have to see anyone, the doorkeeper answered, raising his voice with every word. “In fact, he has only had visitors once, as far as I know.”

“He can’t just turn me away!” Teldin insisted. “What about my friend here? He needs to see Astinus so he can get home.” Teldin laid a hand on Gomja’s arm. The giff stepped just a little closer, stooping to bring himself down to the Aesthetic’s level.

Looking up at the giff, the monk’s nervous tic returned. Still, even with his head jerking slightly, the doorkeeper adamantly refused. “Astinus has given orders not to he disturbed,” he said in a forced voice.

“We could force our way in, sir,” Gomja whispered into Teldin’s ear. The human quickly vetoed the suggestion with a curt shake of his head. While the farmer had little doubt that they could easily overpower the soft, pampered monk, he knew that would not win them an audience with Astinus and would more likely gain them one with the constables of Palanthas. They needed a more persuasive argument that would appeal to the library’s learned monks.

“Books!” Teldin suddenly said, though not too loudly. “Gomja, do you still have those books, those charts we found in the chest?”

“Yes, sir,” the giff answered slowly, not grasping Teldin’s intention. “I think I still have them. . right here.” The last was said with understanding. Gomja hurriedly pawed through his gear and finally produced one slim volume. ‘This is all I have left, sir. I left the others in the mountains last night.” The giff held out the lone folio, a somewhat apologetic look on his face.

Teldin was relieved to see they still had even one of the books. “Don’t worry, Gomja,” he assured. Teldin held the book out to the doorkeeper. “Perhaps the donation of this rare tome would help?”

The doorkeeper, a curious expression on his face, took the slender volume, turned it over in his hands, and carefully opened the covers. A brief glance at the text obviously intrigued him; it was like none he had ever seen. His pudgy hands turned the pages with growing interest. “Wait here. I will check,” the monk finally offered. With that, he hurried away again.

It seemed that the monk was gone for hours, but Teldin did not worry. The monk’s reaction to the book had given him confidence. When the Aesthetic finally returned, Teldin’s patience was rewarded. The man’s manner had changed, for he now was solicitous and slightly amazed by the strange pair at the library’s door. “Astinus says he will give you a brief audience.” Teldin noted the monk’s words, but figured that getting in at all was an accomplishment.

The nervous monk ushered the pair through the door, and they found themselves in a marble corridor that ran along the front of the building. The white stone, age-worn and smooth, gleamed in the morning light, which poured through a bank of windows. Teldin had expected the library to be a dim and gloomy place, and the brightly lit reality was surprising.

The three walked the length of the corridor without encountering a soul. The route was away from the public halls and into the unvisited depths of the building. It made sense to Teldin that Astinus, famed for his privacy, would be found far from the open sections of the Great Library. The way took them past many doors, some closed, others open. At each, Teldin glanced in, not really knowing what he was looking for. Most rooms ontained books, shelved neatly and covered in layers of dust. Teldin marveled at the number of volumes in the library. A single room held more books than he had ever seen, and here there was room after room of musty albums.