Books

There were few rooms in The Clocktower that were off limits for Zane. His dad didn’t exactly care too much about what he did at home, especially since it was rare for anyone other than Merrin and Zane to be in The Clocktower. It was one of the downsides of having a Captain for a dad. He spent more time out at sea than he did at home, and the few times he was home there wasn’t a lot of ‘quality time’ spent together. So, Zane lapped up any attention he could get. Which is why he’d agreed to sort out the piles of shit in the old study. 

He’d never been in the study: the door to it remained locked whenever Zane went to try and peek inside. He could make out loose shapes through the keyhole, but over the years the build up of rust and thick cobwebs had made it more and more difficult. But today was different. Today he had explicit permission to go through anything and everything. Which seemed like an easy task at first. The only person who’d even used the study was his mother, and she’d hadn’t been home in almost ten years. Zane didn’t know if she was ever going to come home; he’d stopped hoping after the first winter passed without her. It had taken Merrin a little longer, but neither of them spoke about it with each other any more, just stuck on the silent agreement that if she did ever come back they wouldn’t be greeting her with open arms. Was it harsh? Probably. But when they’d been left with nothing and no one, it was hard to continue loving someone they didn’t even know anymore. 

It was also why Merrin had left at the first mention of the study. He didn’t care about her. If there was something in the study that explained her disappearance, then he’d let Zane find it first. That way, Zane had extra time to decipher any clues or figure it out so he could tell Merrin in simple terms. Sometimes Zane wished Merrin wouldn’t hold onto grudges with such ferocity. This wasn’t the first time, and he was sure it wouldn’t be the last.

When his dad, who Merrin barely even spoke to anyway, had asked the two of them at breakfast to help him clear the study, Merrin was on his feet and out the door before the sentence had even left his mouth. Zane could understand why; Merrin always had his reasons. He didn’t know the intricacies of what had happened, but he knew that his dad had let Merrin down one too many times. Either a broken promise or a forgotten event. Both would’ve led to Merrin’s display this morning. Zane didn’t even know where Merrin went. It wasn’t to Orlia as she’d been posted on the West Gate. It wasn’t to Danny, he was out of town with his mum speaking to someone with a potential brewery for them. It certainly wasn’t to Matty, it would’ve been lucky if Merrin could even find the erratic child. Wherever he was, Zane just hoped he was safe.

His own curiosity had outweighed the annoyance in Zane’s veins when his dad had asked for help. They were supposed to go to the forest today to gather some plants to make an alchemy garden, but that was just another thing forgotten. Zane had realised long ago that the less importance he placed on his own desires, the less likely he was to be disappointed when things didn’t happen the way they were supposed to. Pessimism suited him, he thought. But it didn’t mean he couldn’t find the positives in everything. Like now, for instance. Was he in the forest collecting ingredients? No. But he’d just do that with Merrin another day and not be rushed by someone who clearly didn’t care about his interests. Was he getting to spend time with someone he rarely saw? Yes. Not in the way he wanted, but it was time nonetheless. 

After they’d finished eating, Zane gathered up the wooden plates and set them beside the sink. He left Merrin’s half-eaten plate on the side for him to find later. When he turned around, his dad was standing with his arms crossed in the doorway. Caspian Contara was a frightening man even when he wasn’t trying to be. The vague sense of disappointment on his face was like a warhammer against Zane’s chest, but he did his best to ignore it. Zane shrugged his shoulders in a half answer to the unspoken question regarding Merrin’s food. Just because he didn’t eat it then, doesn’t mean he shouldn’t get to eat it later. It’s not like they could afford to waste food anyway, they both knew this. Maybe if Caspian was around more, then they could waste food here and there. But he wasn’t. So his thoughts on the matter were null.

 Zane followed his dad up the stairs, taking them a lot slower than he normally did. Maybe it was the anxiety about going into the study for the first time. Maybe it was a quelled anger that he just couldn’t shift. Either way, Zane thought he would’ve preferred to do this if Merrin was here. But it was too late for that, he’d agreed to help. He tried to find positives in the situation. Going into the study might give him some clues about where his mother went. He might find out what it was she worked on all those years ago. Maybe he’d get something more physical out of it. Zane knew she’d never touched alchemy; otherwise they’d have an alchemy garden already and Zane wouldn’t have to make his own. But that didn’t mean she hadn’t dabbled in anything else. Maybe she’d made strange pacts with beasts from other realms. Maybe she’d been studying the effects of different water types on rocks. Okay, hopefully it was something a little more interesting than water and rocks.

They climbed to the very top of The Clocktower. Well, almost to the top. The Clocktower had six floors, seven including the basement Zane had never been in but knew Merrin had broken into on more than one occasion. The ground floor which had the kitchen and living room, and the hallway with stairs leading up to the first floor. The first floor was technically the first before the tower started, it had Merrin’s room and the strange room above the kitchen that could’ve been turned into a bedroom if it wasn’t for the strange way the roof was laid out. They’d ultimately used it as storage for the various boxes of materials Merrin managed to ‘acquire’ at work. And out of work. 

The second floor was Zane’s room, it was laid out in a similar fashion to Merrin’s, with his bedroom wrapping around the small centre area that was big enough for the spiral staircase. On the side of his room was the actual roof area above the storage extension. He had yet to find a proper use for it other than for boxes. He could’ve slept in there if he wanted to get water dripped on him in the slightest drizzle of rain. Instead, he was stuck with a bed they had to make fit around the centre staircase. The spiral stairs made privacy annoying, but Merrin and Zane didn’t care so much when it was just them. Merrin had come up with the idea of creating drapes over the small windows that were meant to help with the lack of light on the stairs. They did fuck all for the lighting, what did truly help with lighting was Merrin fixing sconces into the walls as it wound up the tower. Despite his apparent lack of brain half the time, Merrin did have good ideas.

The third floor was their parents’ room. Zane rarely ever went in there anymore. When he did, it was to find a new book to read. Unfortunately there was only a dozen or so actually stored on the bookshelves that filled the walls from floor to ceiling. All the other books that were on the shelves were either Captain’s log book courtesy of Caspian, or empty notebooks. Zane didn’t know why there were so many empty notebooks, but they filled shelf after shelf. When he’d asked about it, he was met with an annoyed ‘To use.’  with no further explanation. So, Zane stopped asking.

On the fourth floor was the study. The door to it was older than the rest of the doors in The Clocktower. Its lack of use meant that it never got worn down. It was dusty, rusted, and the hinges had most likely stuck from disuse, but other than that it looked fine. Above the study was the clock’s mechanisms. From where they’d stopped outside the study, Zane could hear the constant ticking as the pendulum swung to and fro above. That was the other floor Zane hadn’t been in. It wasn’t that they were banned from going to the very top, Merrin would go up there all the time. It was just that Zane didn’t see the point in going into a room filled with gears and stray roping that was never secured and could so easily kill him, when he could simply just stay in the rest of the much-less dangerous rooms. 

Zane waited on the wooden steps whilst his dad fiddled with the large ring of keys. Each one was a different shape and size. Some were simple, with only one or two teeth on it. Others were far more complicated. It wasn’t without reason, the easier ones were made for rooms that didn’t really need to be locked, and if they were it wasn’t a huge deal if someone broke in. Two of them were for Merrin and Zane’s room. They never locked their doors anyway, there was no use. They had a bolt on the inside so no one could get in if they wanted to be alone, or if Merrin felt like sneaking out his window without anyone knowing he’d actually left. Merrin’s key no longer worked on his door anyway. Apparently it was one of the many reasons Merrin hated Caspian’s company at the Clocktower. 

Two years ago they’d had an argument about one thing or another, it might’ve been about Zane but he couldn’t really remember. What he could remember was the fact that Caspian had locked Merrin in his room after locking all the windows. Zane knew it was overkill, but any argument he made got shot down before he could even finish voicing his opinion. What Caspian hadn’t anticipated was the fact that Merrin had learnt to lockpick. It took him a solid three minutes before he was back downstairs, all red-hot anger and teenage vengeance. Merrin had slept outside that night. Or at least he was meant to. Zane vividly remembered leaning out his window in the pissing rain and guiding Merrin up the side of the tower until he was close enough to haul up. He still didn’t sleep in his own bed, but he was warmer in Zane’s bed than he would’ve been on the mud.

Caspian changed the locks after that.

Zane watched as a large ornate key with more teeth than Zane could count from where he stood was put into the study’s keyhole. It opened with a sickening crunch, the lock so [opposed] to being used that it was audibly groaning at the thought of unlocking. After some jiggling, and a solid kick to the bottom left corner of the door, it opened. 

A barrage of dust and old webs drifted out in the sudden disturbance. Zane bit back a smile as his dad coughed and waved a hand to try and clear the dust out his way. He must’ve forgotten to try hard enough, as Caspian shot him a dirty look  and rolled his eyes at Zane’s lack of empathy. Not that Zane was particularly worried about being empathetic at that moment, he was more concerned about the stacks and stacks of stuff he could see in the study. Old worn tarps were draped over various piles around the room. 

‘Well?’ Zane said as he drummed his fingers against his arm. ‘Are we sorting the study or just looking?’

Without saying anything, Caspian walked into the study, disappearing around the other side to where Zane couldn’t see him. Zane followed in after, but stopped just beyond the threshold. 

Dust had piled up on the floor, Caspian’s boots making heavy footprints in the otherwise undisturbed layer. Cobwebs hung from the sconces lining the inner walls. Tall bookshelves that were more web than wood lined the outer walls. Some of them curved over what must’ve been windows at some point, the wood carefully carved into arches above the stained glass. In the summer, you could just about make out the shapes of wildflowers in the stained glass. He didn’t know what colour they were, just the solid black outline of the shapes made by careful hands. The tarps were all different colours, most likely old blankets used to preserve whatever was underneath. Neither Merrin nor Zane had done so, so he had to guess that it was Caspian’s doing.

Zane could hear the man in question rummaging around on the other side of the room out of sight, but Zane didn’t particularly care what he was up to. He could sort his own section, and Zane could do his. As Zane stepped further into the room, the door slammed close behind him with a deafening bang. He winced at the sound, expecting a harsh voice to boom from the other side. But it never came. Instead there was silence. So, Zane shook it off, and reached for the closest tarp.

He pulled the blanket off carefully, trying his best to not disturb the dust clinging to the fabric. As he did so, he could see all the different things hidden beneath. Though he’d expected there to be books in the study, he wasn’t expecting to be met with enough to rival the old library downtown. Underneath the tarp was pile after pile of books. He could barely make out the words written on the spines of most of them. All of them were written in common, all of them scratched beyond belief. If the titles were in common then it gave Zane some hope that the words inside were also in common.

 He only had a few books of his own, and no one else in Ashenport really enjoyed reading. It’s what happened in working towns, people didn’t have time to sit and read books. Barely any of them had time to sit down and learn to read in the first place; they put so much effort in making sure their children could be put to work immediately that they didn’t care if they could read. The only reason Zane could was because of his mother, and even then she supplied him with the bare minimum and a pile of children’s books to teach himself. Merrin wasn’t as lucky, their father placing more emphasis on getting Merrin ready for working out at sea than actually reading. It didn’t make much sense, surely Merrin would need to read too, even if he was at sea. Not that it ultimately mattered. Merrin had no plans on ever going to sea, and Zane didn’t exactly blame him. What their parents hadn’t accounted for was Zane teaching Merrin everything he’d learnt. It wasn’t as effective, Merrin could barely spell and his handwriting was atrocious, but he could read and write. 

At the top of one of the piles was a thin book with a dark green leather cover. Across the centre was an embossed picture of a creature Zane didn’t recognise. It looked to be like a wolf, but something about it wasn’t quite right. Something Zane couldn’t quite put his finger on. Zane opened the cover, the writing inside was in black ink. It’s blocked writing suggested that it was a print. On the first page was an illustration of a wolf wielding a sword, the title above reading The Legend of Ectale Wulfe. It wasn’t anything Zane had heard of before, but it felt so familiar. The rest of the books on the piles were similar, strange fables and tales of forgotten legends that he’d never read or ever heard a whisper of. Maybe they weren’t from Ashenport? Or maybe they weren’t even from Aedria. 

Aedria had always been somewhat disconnected from the mainland, people over there didn’t see Aedrians as anything other than lesser creatures. People simply came from the mainland to retrieve resources that could only be found on Aedria: flowers that like the cold, damp air; trees that needed the nutrient-rich soil; ores and gemstones that were like nothing the mainland could ever think of finding in their mines. Most people hated those sorts of visitors. They were greedy, and barely ever paid well. The only people that Zane had seen retrieve even a mildly-warm welcome were researchers. Alchemists, mages, sorcerers, all the types of people who were more than happy to make their own little place outside of the town in order to research in peace. Zane liked those people. Now and then when no one was looking, he’d sneak out of Ashenport in order to visit those who housed themselves a little closer. It’s where he’d gotten a few of his books from. One mage by the name of Percius had been more than happy to provide Zane with whatever it was he wanted. Books, parchment, ink, ingredients, bottles, anything Zane could think of, Percius would give. More than once he’d asked Zane about becoming an apprentice. More than once Zane thought about taking him up on that offer. He was exactly sure what was stopping him. He wasn’t overly attached to Ashenport, and Percius’ hut was close enough that Zane could simply walk there every morning. Merrin didn’t particularly mind Zane’s obsession with all things magic, in fact he wanted Zane to pursue it — though Zane guessed that was mostly because he’d seen Merrin tamper with the darker side of magic a couple times. In fact, the only thing that Zane could think would stop him was Caspian. But if he wasn’t there…

Zane tried to shake the thought from his head. So, he turned his attention back to the pile of books in front of him. He could see more piled behind the current stack. Columns and columns of them simply waiting to be read. Zane wasn’t sure why exactly they were on the floor and not on the bookshelves behind, but there must’ve been a reason. He took off the rest of the covers from the other piles, leaving them in a lump on the floor. He flipped one of them, so the dusty side was facing the floor, and used the clean side as something to sit on; dropping it in the middle of the stacks of books. 

He sat down, the piles towering over him. His elbow caught the edge of the tallest, the pile teetering. Zane held a hand against the tower, if not to keep it upright then to stop it from falling on him. It rocked this way and that, threatening to fall. After a few fear-filled seconds, the tower stilled. Zane sighed a breath of relief, bringing his arms closer to himself to  avoid knocking any of the other stacks. Carefully, he split each of the larger stacks in two, creating several more piles but he was hoping that they were now short enough to not topple at the slightest tap. Of course, they would still fall if knocked, but this way he could avoid knocking himself out with a stack of books and most likely getting yelled at for making a mess. It wasn’t like Zane was trying to mess things up, but sometimes it couldn’t be helped.

Keeping the stacks with their other halves, Zane methodically worked his way through the closest pile. If the books were in a particular order, Zane wanted to keep them in the right order. It didn’t matter if his mother wasn’t going to be coming back any time soon, it was more of the fact that Zane didn’t want to have to spend significant amounts of time re-sorting out piles and piles of books in order to put them back on the shelves. 

It took several titles that Zane hadn’t heard of for him to realise he didn’t actually know what he was meant to be doing. All his dad had said was that he wanted to sort the study. Zane didn’t know if that meant putting stuff back the way it was or getting rid of it all. He took a deep breath before speaking.

‘What am I supposed to be doing again?’ Zane tried to say confidently, but instead his voice came out a wavering mess.

He heard Caspian slam whatever he was doing down before he came around the corner. ‘Want to try that again?’ he asked Zane in a mocking question.

Zane avoided looking at Caspian, instead opting to look at the book in his hand. Its cloth cover was frayed at the edges, the glue having peeled up in other areas to create bubbles under the fabric. The paint on the spine and across the front hadn’t stayed. The slightest touch was causing whatever was left smeared across the front to flake off onto his hands.

‘What am I doing?’ he managed to ask, just loud enough for Caspian to hear.

‘You’re sorting this shit out.’ 

Zane could practically hear his eyes rolling at such a stupid question.

‘Yeah, but how?’

Caspian cursed under his breath. ‘Are you dense?’

He didn’t wait for Zane to answer, instead going back around to whatever it was he was doing. Maybe if Zane could’ve seen him then he’d know what he was being expected to do. But he couldn’t, so he didn’t. It was one of those moments that Zane got a lot when Caspian finally decided to grace their home with his presence. If Merrin were here it definitely would’ve escalated to an argument that would end in someone storming out. Zane always wished that it was Caspian, even if he never said it out loud. Without proper instruction, Zane had to trust himself. 

Sort them.

Sort as in organise? Sort as in put them on the shelves? Or another kind of sort? 

Zane deliberated his options, tracing the bubbles around the cover with his fingers as he did so. Surely he couldn’t put them on the shelves, they’d need to be cleaned first. But then organising them opened a whole new realm of possibilities. Books could be organised in a whole manner of ways, even his few books had been organised in several different ways. Sometimes they were put into piles depending on their contents. If two books talked about the same location, it was easy to organise. Some of his books were parts of a series, but were about different types of flowers. So, sometimes they’d be organised into whichever series they were a part of. Other times they were organised by the type of flower inside. Sometimes Zane put similar authors together. Not ‘the same’ authors, as it was difficult to tell if some were actually written by the same author or not. 

No, similar authors meant those with similar writing styles or structure. It happened a lot in the books Percius had given him. There was no name linked to the several different leather bound copies of the books about different minerals and their alchemical properties, but it was clear that the same person didn’t write them. One author put illustrations on full pages with the page opposite detailing every single property. In the pages following, they would go on about how the mineral was discovered and the various places it can be found. The other had their book organised by locations and what can be found there, then groups of properties, then at last a chapter of illustrations, organised in alphabetical order. Zane had always preferred the first, it just made sense for everything about the mineral to be grouped together. If he wanted to know what was in a certain location, then he would find a book that spoke exclusively about what could be found in certain places. 

But the only reason he could change the ways his books were organised was because he knew exactly what was in each one. Zane had practically memorised the contents of each book, so that way he could know which book would be useful for which experiment. It was similar to having a summary of each one, but instead of the summary it was a long detailed synopsis. Zane couldn’t do that with these books. Even if he decided to skim read them, there were possibly a hundred books in just the piles he’d seen, not including all the ones that were still hidden underneath the tarps. A job like this would take him weeks, perhaps even moons. He wouldn’t complain about having to read them all, but it wasn’t something that he was willing to rush. If it was going to take him a while then he would savour every moment. Apparently it no longer mattered that today was supposed to be a way for him and his dad to finally spend time together after he’d spent several months at sea. If it did, then they’d actually be doing this together, not on opposite sides of the room to one another. He didn’t know what his dad was doing, and he found himself not caring in the slightest. If he couldn’t be bothered to tell Zane how he wanted it sorted — or even why he wanted it sorted — then Zane was going to try and enjoy the time by himself. Maybe he’d get Merrin in on it later. He knew Merrin wouldn’t stay out forever: as soon as the sun set and his dad decided that seeing the men he’d just spent the last few months with was more important than spending time with his children, then Merrin would come home. Merrin wouldn’t help Zane read the books, but he’d be better company.

Zane opened the book he was holding, its spine cracking as he did so. The pages had sealed together at the edges. Laying the book flat on the floor, Zane flexed the wad of pages until he heard it begin to crackle. He ran a nail across the hard edges, carefully trying to pry them from one another. He was relying on the pressure of the book itself more than whatever he was doing. That way, he could minimise the damage done. Part of him worried about the rest of the books. This book was on the top of the pile, the only force it felt was that of the tarp, and maybe the odd spider skittering across it. The others had the pressure of a whole stack of books, especially those at the bottom of the pile. Maybe his little task was going to take longer than he’d thought.

Humming to himself, Zane began to separate any of the pages still stuck together. He slipped a finger under each page, checking for any more sticking. After meticulously inspecting each page, Zane flicked through the now loose pages. The print inside was slightly different to the very first book he picked up. Instead of the letters being blocky, this one was a lot smoother. It wasn’t the cursive he could see in some of the handwritten books he had, but it wasn’t a traditional printed book either. Zane tried to think about the reason for the change. He’d only seen one type of print in books before, but all of those books were printed in Fairhollow. Apparently Ashenport wasn’t important enough to get its own print, or even a mage who could use magic to copy hundreds of words a minute as a scribe. Zane checked where Fairhollow usually stamped all their books. It was a single page at the back that was used as an official seal: he knew it was a way to stop false copies, but it didn’t make much sense when no one on Aedria was particularly phased about trying to make another print in another town. Especially one that was meant for anyone outside of their own town. Nagovia had one, but it was exclusively meant for residents of Nagovia. 

Zane pried the last page from where it was sealed against the back cover. If it was printed in Fairhollow, then the fox print should’ve been a stark black mark against the white paper. But it wasn’t. In place of the fox was a rat. The writing beneath that should’ve read ‘Fairhollow Press’ instead read ‘The Rat Boys’. It didn’t make sense. There was no location printed, no map, no address, nothing. All that was scribbled at the bottom was a sketch of a rat paw. Was this a new press? Had someone finally decided to try and rival Fairhollow? If they had, then why hadn’t he heard about it? 

Sure, Ashenport didn’t house many book enthusiasts, but surely a shipment or two would’ve passed through. Something like this sounded like it was right up Merrin’s street if a group called ‘The Rat Boys’ had decided to start shipping books. It didn’t sound like it was just someone hand-copying, then surely there would be a name and nothing else. 

Zane flicked back to the front of the book, trying to find a title page. Luckily, that wasn’t stuck anymore. But that was as far as Zane’s luck seemed to go. Across the title page was a large dark stain, what looked to be ink. It had bled through to the other side, and four more pages after that. Any pages that could’ve given Zane even the slightest amount of information had been ruined. Zane shut the book and moved it to one side. He grabbed another book from the pile and peeled open the back page. He wasn’t worried about what the books said anymore. Something about ‘The Rat Boys’ had piqued his interest. Was there a competitor to Fairhollow? 

Just as he’d expected, when he peeled the pages apart, the small rat symbol reared its head. Zane placed it on the pile with the first, not even bothering to peel the other pages apart. One book after another, he checked the back page. All of the frayed cloth bounds were signed with the same rat print and adjoining ‘The Rat Boys’ title. All of them had unreadable spines with flakey gold lettering. 

Half-way through the second pile, he heard the study door open and close. He didn’t even notice Caspian get up. He didn’t care either. Right now all Zane was concerned about was the elusive Rat Boys printing company. He thought that maybe Fairhollow went by a different name, but there were still an array of books that had Fairhollow’s stamp. Zane had sorted the stack he was on into two piles: one from The Rat Boys, and one from Fairhollow. He thought doing the rest was going to be as easy as the others had been. But one book was enough to derail everything he’d planned to do.

Black stained leather was going to be the cause of his insanity. He flipped the book over in his hands, the silver letters on the front spelling ‘Confessions of The Beginning’. On the back was a straight carving of a dragon skull. Zane expected it to be just another fable. The edge of the pages had been coated with silver and it gleamed in the dim light of the setting sun through the dust covered windows. Just as he’d done with the first book, Zane separated the pages until he could easily read the front and back. The front page was a repeating of the title, this time in simple black ink. Beneath was a sketch of the dragon that was on the back. At the very bottom of the page in smudged writing was the words ‘a tale of woe for curious eyes’. It was a strange tagline. And the book felt off in his hands. Maybe he was thinking too much about it. Maybe he was thinking too much about all of this.

But he was too far in now, there was no stopping him.

Zane flicked to the back, expecting to see The Rat Boys snarling rat. But there, in dark red ink, was something else. Staring back at him were the eyes of something like he’d never seen before. It’s head was mutilated and warped, twisting this way and that. Its teeth came out of everywhere but its gaping hole of a mouth. Its eyes were pulled down into stretched tear drops. It was revolting. Zane looked elsewhere on the page, trying to find anything other than that creature. Then he saw it, in tiny writing barely bigger than a flower stem. 

Wethien.