Daughter of Moth by Daniel Arenson

Author:Daniel Arenson [Arenson, Daniel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy, Fiction
Publisher: Moonclipse
Published: 2014-05-14T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FIFTEEN:

SEEKING MAGIC

She walked through the library of Teel like a woman walking through a temple.

"Here is my temple," she whispered. "Here is my solitude, my peace, the wisdom I seek."

She took a deep breath and smiled. She stepped forward slowly, head tilted back, her fingers tingling at her sides.

Madori had spent many hours of her childhood in the library of Fairwool-by-Night, a hall cluttered with creaky shelves, dusty books, and piles of scrolls. That had been a place like a womb, warm, comfortable, worn in, the book spines smoothed by many fingers, the air rich with the scent of papyrus and parchment. But here . . . here in the great Teel Library she found a different world. This was no womb; it was a palace. Porphyry columns rose several stories tall, their capitols shaped as Mageria's buffaloes, the beasts supporting a vaulted ceiling painted with scenes of sunbursts, pink clouds, and birds of all kinds. Marble statues stood every few feet, depicting the ancient gods of Riyona, their nude bodies paragons of beauty. Oil paintings of landscapes and ancient battles—the canvases as large as sails—covered the walls. Giltwood tables and upholstered chairs, themselves masterpieces, supported silver counter-square boards with jeweled pieces.

But more than any painting or statue, the books filled Madori's heart with warmth like mulled wine.

Thousands of books stood upon the shelves—tens of thousands, maybe millions. Some books were great works of art, their spines jeweled, their leather covers engraved with landscapes. Some books had jeweled covers of silver and gold, others covers of olive wood engraved with animals. Other books were mere bundles of parchment tied together with string. Some were great codices, three feet tall; other books were so small Madori could have hid them in her pocket.

She walked around in wonder, her smile growing, her head tilted back to take it all in.

"Books," she whispered. Portals to other worlds. Keepers of secrets. Chests of wisdom. Madori had seen the stars of the night, the white towers of Kingswall, and the pagodas of Qaelin, but to her books were the greatest wonders in Moth. They were more than objects; they were magic. Simple pages, that was all—pages with ink—and yet each contained a life, an entire world, a wisdom from beyond the ages.

As she walked here between the shelves, suddenly her troubles outside—Lari's aggression, Atratus's hatred, her troubles with this or that spell—seemed trivial. Here she felt safe, a star floating in a sky of light.

She pulled down a great, heavy book as long as her arm; inside she found ancient drawings of healing herbs. She spent a while reading an ancient codex with a red leather cover—a bestiary detailing all the animals of the world, from the humble shrew to the mighty elephant. For an hour, she read stories of adventure, the old heroes of Riyona battling sea serpents, cyclops, and dragons. She read a small book of ancient poetry—words two thousand years old—and shed tears for a pair of lovers whose song echoed through the ages.

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