The Horns of Ruin Read Free Page A

halt, wide-eyed.
    We were on a broad terrace that was, itself, part of a
cavernous space of books and dappled light. This single room was a gash that
ran the height of the building, steep walls that stepped outward in terraces
and narrow walkways, polished wooden railings and trestles arching across the
gap, their paths illuminated by warm frictionlight and, amazingly, the natural
sun in delicate patterns. I followed the thin light up to the ceiling. Several
of the domes that we had seen outside yawned over this grand chasm, their
chipped black paint letting in a bright constellation of sunlight. And
everywhere I looked, the walls, the rooms that opened onto the cavern, the
walkways that wound treacherously across, all of them were lined with
bookcases. They seemed to burst organically from the wood and stone, like
strata of musty intellect crushed into gilded pages by the weight of the
building.
    The servitor hurried to a cabinet by the edge of the
terrace. It was a dark wooden contraption with many tiny doors, each one
cryptically marked with letters of the Alexians' secret language. The bald man
ran a finger along the cabinet, then snapped open one of the doors and drew out
a long wooden dowel, jangling with loops of chain. He looked up and saw us in
rapt distraction.
    "The Grand Library. Surely there are records of this
place in your monastery?"
    "The godking had our records burned when his Cult took
over the prison a century ago," Barnabas whispered, then looked at the
servitor. "He didn't trust his brother's church to hold the secrets."
    "Trusting his brother Amon led to Morgan's downfall,
eh?" the servitor said tersely. "Perhaps Alexander did not wish to
make the same mistake."
    I stepped to the bald man and placed a hand on his
shoulder. "You should watch your words in the presence of people like
me."
    "You should watch your hands on the body of your
godking's servant, woman."
    The Fratriarch placed his staff between us, and we parted.
I went to stand by the railing. This guy was getting on my nerves more than he
should. Something in the air of this place made me uncomfortable, like a battle
shifting under your feet before you can do anything about it. I put my elbows
on the railing and stared down into the shelved chasm.
    The floor of the library was dark and far away. A bristling
forest of frictionlamps cast a ring of dim light around the perimeter, but the
center of the floor was a slippery shadow of darkness. That void seemed to
writhe with shivering currents. I struggled to focus on that strange expanse.
Suddenly there was a disturbance and something smooth and gray rose from the
floor. It slid quietly to the edge of the darkness, casting out ripples. I saw
a pier, then, and tiny figures casting lines. A depthship, surfacing from the
water.
    "They have access to the lakeway?" I asked.
    "No, no. There are wards. The lake is there for our
use." The servitor shook his head. "They could no more travel it than
they could fly out that window. Settle down."
    The city of Ash was unique in the world, in that it floated
on a great lake. Ironically, the many fabulous machines, each as large as a
country town, that churned and lifted and stabilized the city were the design
of Amon the Scholar. In this he had not betrayed his brothers, for those
engines still kept the city afloat all these centuries later. But as much of the
city lay below water as above it. This submarine section was linked by long
passages of steel and stone, known collectively as the lakeway, navigable only
by depthships. In places it emerged in underwater chambers, or let out into the
black deeps of the lake itself. To have an open passage to this network in the
middle of a prison ... well. I found it strange.
    "I don't care if you've nailed their tongues to the
floor, Baldie. I don't care about your chain tricks or the fact that these
bloody bookworms probably can't even swim. The second we're out of here I'm
filing a motion with the Council to have that