Some Mod inspired fiction

[Maximius]

I've been working on this for a couple of weeks now here and there, its based around an idea of a character whom I think would be an interesting ally of the Thief's. Comments are welcome of course.

 

 

The Head Librarian squinted in the flickering candlelight, his ancient eyes barely able to discern the characters written in the book he had laid before him on his table. His spectacles were at hand but his head ached from wearing them for countless hours, poring over these tomes. He was exhausted, night after night spent digging into Brottelbees multi volume "A Faire And Objektiff Account of the Hunidian Spice Trade Treatisse" for the damned tables of the major currency exchange rates during the reign of the Grand Arch Duke Corellius V. Soon it would be dawn and he was no closer to his goal, his memory not being what it once was he could no longer recall the volume's number. The set had come with an Index of course...

 

Why, why had he left Index to the Brottelbees set at last convocation of Master Libriarians in the City? Why had he boasted of his finally complete set of Brottelbees books and why, thrice cursed to the Pit why did he leave it unguarded, trusting that illustrious company of adders to be above theft. He walked away for a minute to make a point to a colleague and returned to find his prize gone. That scurrilous rat Magby from the Western Free Hold Library had stolen it, no doubt, he'd gone out of his way to leer at the Head Librarian before slinking away guiltily. Drat the man! A fraud of a scholar, a sycophant who won his position by trickery and flattery, a cheat who stooped to base sorcery rather than read the texts himself....

 

"Bah!" He would get nothing more done today, best to sleep now. Get a fairly early start tomorrow. The Head Librarian creaked to his feet and pulled the knitted blanket closer around his frail frame. A sudden chill flushed through the room, had a window blow open? The autumn air was clean and crisp, he drew in a deep breath and yawned, stretched, and turned to the bedroom door.

 

A figure in black stood before him.

 

"GEEEYAH!" the old man shrieked and tumbled back into his chair. His heart was beating like a hammer, spots danced briefly before his eyes. He struggled to compose himself, obviously a thief, give him what he wants, oh dear, whatever he wants, sputtering

 

"Who, ah, who, please who are you and what do you wish with me? I have some coins and jewels, they are yours, please..."

 

The dark figure had not moved but to open his arms and hands wide and he now spoke in a low voice.

 

"Forgive my thoughtlessness Head Librarian Queltonne, I should have announced my arrival in some manner. I wish you no harm at all and want nothing of yours other than the use of your skills. Please take a moment to catch your breath and let me explain myself. I will get straight to the point of my visiting you at this odd hour sir.

 

The Head Librarian was still heaving in air but not as sharply now and he took a careful look at his guest. Hooded and masked, tools of the thieves trade secured around his waist, bow and dagger as well. "Please continue."

 

"I am a thief as you guessed. You are a highly respected scholar and librarian with knowledge of the Libraries deepest vaults. I've watched you for a few weeks now, noted your late hours and solitary study, habits we share in fact. I had another candidate but I've chosen you, I've read some of your letters in the Citys papers and something tells me you are worth the risk I'm taking. A man who thinks and speaks for himself in this current political climate is a man with enemies, and therefore has the need of friends. Resourceful friends who can help keep all manner of wolves at bay."

 

The Head Librarian started in spite of himself. "How.."

 

"Fear not sir, I have not been spying on you for long nor have I rifled through your diary. I deduced it from your sharp tounged political discourses, your senior rank at this esteemed Library, and the current climate in the City's leadership as they fancy themselves. All taken together, its almost guaranteed that you would have powerful foes. You stand alone and above them all and they cluster round your ankles, scratching and clawing. Eventually they may decide that words are not enough. This is where our interests intertwine, sir."

 

The Head Librarians lips twisted into an appraising smile. "An apt study of the situation, I salute your insightful gaze into human affairs. Please tell me more."

 

"My usual course is to steal what I want, but I cannot steal a lifetime dedicated to this Library and its collection, the ability to navigate through all these books and find what one needs in a timely manner. For that I need you. I have a question for you sir, or rather several of them about a single topic. I am interested in the history of a certain Church of the Builders, not an active church but, well, one that is active in another way. You see, its a fallen church, its been abandoned for about a three hundred and seventy years, and the Builders have yet to try to reclaim it. I have an interest in fallen churches and what lies within them."

 

"I was introduced to the existence of the church by accident, in a pile of old papers I came across. It was an old city watch account of an incident in an Old Southren district X. A fairly strange tale. The investigating officer wrote of a small riot on a mid-Fall night at about half past middle night. People spilling into the streets, in their nightclothes, crying out about a terrible dream, about fifty folk, and generally the stable city folk type not given to hysterics. The watch officers were able to quell the crowds anxiety with a few shouts of Order! The mob seemed confused and although none were actually harmed they were all terrified. Eventually the captain was able to interview them as a body and what I had found was his report to his superiors. He was a zealous officer of the watch and his account was detailed. It was a bit of strange reading, unique in my experience. And I've been to a few strange corners of the City."

 

The Head Librarian smiled grimly despite himself and muttered "Indeed." The thief continued.

 

"They spoke of a shared dream of some kind, of horrid organ music played as if by a madman with a hideous talent. More than the deafening noise, there was the echo, this was a repeated theme, an echo that gave one the sense of an organ being played in a void, an echo that seemed to stretch for countless leagues to the ear, its very size an assault upon the senses but one that at the same time transfixed the dreamers in place, paralyzed them for what seemed forever. The people interviewed were all in accord on these experiences, all had the same dream and the same reactions. Eventually they could take no more and awoke in a terror, all as a group it would seem. The watch noted that no one actually reported hearing an organ nor was there an organ known to be anywhere near the district."

 

" Someone in the group spoke out about the small old church,bounded by tall walls and long sealed by the Builders with chains and wards, at the far end of an alley that ran through the district. It had once had an organ but it that was nearly three hundred years ago since anyone had stepped foot into it.. The mention of this church brought a fresh round of excitement and terror from the group as the captain chronicled. Many seemed rather unfamiliar with the existence of the church although this could simply be the fact that it was sealed and generally shunned and had simply fallen from memory. The story was not well remembered even by those aged folk who knew it best, one grandmother told of not remembering the story of the church or the existence of its ivy cloaked gate since she was a young girl. The name of the church is St. Clabherds and although the details were lacking it proved an unhappy story. Something about a catastrophe, a demonic event that claimed several lives and that shut the doors of the church to its own founders. No one could recall anything more than this and with the church obviously inactive the watch had no incentive to delve any further. The captain made a note to contact the local Cathedral to request information about St. Clabherds but there was nothing like a reply in the pile of papers. He also noted that the night of the mob the Moon was especially full and bright, a benefit for his investigations."

 

"This was a long time past but there are more current stories. I have a friend whom I pay to drink in that district close to where the church lies and keep an ear open. In the last two months he has heard more than once of a strange music that haunts the neighborhood. Something again of an organ, a huge pipe organ, stories of walking past the church on certain nights, always with a full moon, and hearing wild organ music, faint but definitely there and strangest of all it comes as if from under the ground. I myself have visited the end of that alley and looked upon the sealed gate, there is no unlocking those seals and brands nor the massive chains that loop the doors. Whomever sealed the church did so with a thoroughness."

 

"You wish for me to find all I can about the history and nature of this Saint Clabherd's? That is certainly possible but it could take days, weeks perhaps to search the Library for all the known sources. Its not a task I could hand to you at the moment."

 

"I understand this. I can make this worth the time and effort. I have skills of my own to offer. Here is my offer to you sir. As you see I need to learn all that is possible about Saint Clabherds past. Any scrap of information is important. If you can do this for me, I offer you a favor in return, my services at your disposal. No time limits to the offer, I need you now but I can arrange for you to find me when you need me. Consider it. I need an ally here and I can return that favor in kind. Will you think about it?"

 

The Head Librarian had by now come to his considerable senses. This was an opportunity of the purest gold for both himself and his library. His reply was sure.

 

"I have a number of requests to make of you sir, to be sure. First and foremost, you must forswear ever raiding this institution or its grounds. We treasure knowledge and as I'm sure a concerned individual such as yourself knows there are many rare and powerful manuscripts stored here. We have wizards on staff to maintain security on those fronts as well as some of the mechanical engines from the Inventors lodge upon the avenue."

 

The Head Librarian paused, wiped his spectacles against his blanket, and then frowned again at the dark figure.

 

"But something tells me those guardians would not necessarily be a hindrance to you. Be damned, my eyes are old but they are not so old as to account for my difficulty in seeing you clearly even here and now. You are no clumsy pinchpurse, I'll wager, not even a merely competent housebreaker. Whoever you are, your simple existence is a threat to this place. So I need your word, yes the word of a thief, that you will always come to me directly when you need the resources of this library and that you will never take what is not given to you. Can we be agreed upon this fundamentally?"

 

The Thief laughed quietly behind his mask.

 

"We are agreed sir. I will approach you for any thing I need directly. You have my word I will not leave with so much as a quill. The word of a Thief is good, as long as it to his advantage. This agreement will hold between us as long as you will assist me with this task. Afterwards, perhaps we can negotiate a longer term arrangement. What are your other demands?"

 

"I have lost a book, a most precious book, an Index to an enormous history of the Southren Regions, the key to the set. I was exhibiting it and it was stolen. Its loss not only hurts our efforts here, it was a long lost text and we had scribes prepared to copy it for distribution, a great boon to the schools and libraries in the City. Its a thick volume bound in dark blue dyed leather, with silver clasps,very distinctive, like those in the set on that shelf behind you but much smaller, more like this one."

 

The Head Librarian held up a random book from his desk.

 

"I believe it was stolen by another Librarian, one Magby at the Western Free Hold Library. Can you find it and return it? Only another Librarian, or someone informed of its value to a Librarian, would have taken it and my senses tell me Magby. Will you do this for me as well? And can you do it with all possible haste? My work languishes without that book!"

 

"I will do it and very soon. I am well acquainted with the Western Free Hold's grounds and it's interior. I will find Magby's office. I'll start on the assumption it will be kept close by or in a secure spot. I will find it if it is there."

 

"That is all I have for you sir. In return, I will dig deeply into the archives and gather whatever I can about this Saint Clabherd's church for you. Give me at least one week before you return. When you return, come here and lightly rap upon the shutters before entering, I will await you at midnight."

 

"We are agreed then, thank you sir. I will speak with you in one week."

 

The figure melted into the shadows and the shutters swung close behind him as he slipped out of the window. The Head Librarian settled back into his chair. What a morning! This was a most unusual occurence, unheard of. What Librarian had ever made such a devils wager as to work with a thief? His reputation would be shattered if it came to the light that he was cavorting with the criminal underground. The risks were terrible. He was sure of that. Equally sure was he that the possible favors far too toothsome to pass by. Well, it was too late for regrets, the bones had been cast and the bets laid. This would at least prove interesting, he felt sure of that as well.

 

The Head Librarian rose, lifted the candle and turned towards his bedroom.

 

"Wait, must lock the shutters behind my new friend."

 

He turned again and went to the window. Then laughed and made his way to his bed. His new friend truly was skilled and apparently not completely inconsiderate of the old man. He had locked the bolt on the shutters on his way out. From the other side.

 

One Week Later:

The light tapping startled Head Librarian Queltonne from his nap. "My friend is here." he muttered and turned towards the shutters at the back of his study. The inky figure of the Thief formed out of the shadows and stopped at the edge of the sputtering circle of candlelight around the desk.

 

"Greetings Head Librarian, how does the weeks end find you?"

 

"Well, Thief, and you?"

 

"Quite well. I have the book you requested."

 

"Yes!" The Librarians heart leapt with joy, finally his work could move forward! Magby must be twisting with rage at this very moment! What happiness!

 

The Thief stepped forward into the light of the candles and placed the blue bound volume into the Librarians hands. Queltonne trembled with excitement as he leafed through it.

 

"No damage at first sight. What a happy day! This is an invaluable favor sir, you have advanced the good work of myself and countless other scholars. I am now truly in your debt."

 

"There is more. This book was also in the safe with the Index. I am not familiar with the language but its obviously very old, perhaps pre-City even? I inspected it for needles or other traps already."

 

The Thief handed the Librarian a small book bound in a strange glinting leather. Queltonne reached for the book, gasped at the glyphs worked into its cover, and turned instead to pick up a piece of parchment. He grasped the book inside the parchment as if avoiding its direct touch.

 

"This, this... do you have any idea what it is you have here?" he gaped at the Thief. He dropped the book onto his desktop, turned to burn the scrap of parchment in the candles flame, and leaned over to begin digging into an overflowing drawer at the desks base.

 

"None at all."

 

"This is...wait one moment please....oh good here...this is a sorcerers personal spellbook, a sort of magicians diary if you will." Queltonne sat upright pulling on a pair of slim leather gloves. "Did you handle the book without wearing your gloves?"

 

"No, I never handle anything without my gloves."

 

"Good, because that leather you see there is the skin of a Pit demon, I am not sure what one exactly, Ruther in the department of Supernatural History would know, but the touch of that skin can at minimum cause a horrendous rash to break out if one has not warded against it."

 

"Is it valuable? Or valuable for whats inside?"

 

"Both, both almost undoubtably. The skin alone is nearly a fortune, its impossible to work demon leather without harsh magics that injure the practictioner. Let me see what it contains....Oh my, yes, it's quite old, maybe not pre-City but early, early City when the Builders had but one cathedral. Its the personal spell book of one Mortrix Paleogisties Vernuum, a fairly well accomplished spell caster from the looks of these fragments and notes. I know a dozen sorcerers who would pay a hefty fee for this little volume. I wonder what that ribbon worm Magby was doing with it. It is better off in my hands than his, I can assure you sir. But are you sure you wish to give it to me?"

 

"Take it. I can always use a near fortune but I suspect working with you can yield more than one book ever could. Put it to good use or destroy it if it warrants it, it is yours to dispense with."

 

"Well, Thief, you have certainly lived up to and far above the grounds of our original bond. I pray my pursuits have turned up half as valuable a payment in return."

 

The Librarian paused, took a gulp from a cup of tea that was cooling by his elbow, then look questioningly up at his guest.

 

"Something to drink, Thief, I have hot tea and biscuits here."

 

"No, thank you though."

 

"With pleasure, let me begin. St. Clabherds has a quite interesting history. Its scattered but a rather chilling picture is taking shape. Would you care for a seat?" Queltonne waved towards a wooden chair which the Thief glided towards and took. The Librarian adjusted his seat towards his guest and laced his fingers together on his lap. He began to speak.

 

"St. Clabherds is quite old as well, not as old as this book but not much younger, maybe fifty or sixty years. Its exact date is lost, but I have crossed referenced it's existence in other texts from the period and it appears to have been consecrated roughly XXXX years ago. It was built during one of the first waves of Builder expansion after the local Pagan tribes had been brought under the hammer, so to speak. Like the first Cathedral, it was a fortress as well, albeit much smaller, and it had to hold off the occasional Pagan uprising or marauder band passing by. It did so successfully and held long enough for the City to grow to meet and incorporate it into itself fully, around one hundred years and some more on. No longer an outpost but now the holy meeting place for a new and growing district of a new and growing City. This is all from some very general early histories of the City, which have also provided me with a map to give to you that may prove interesting."

 

Queltonne slurped more tea from his cup.

 

"I then moved to the Libraries collection of Builder documents from the period. Nothing out of the ordinary or unusual in the archives up to that point about St. Clabherds. It was first a stout redoubt for the Builders as they moved to consolidate their hold over the settlements and small villages that would eventually marry with the City's growing core a few leagues away, now a district church with a strong and content flock. There were a succession of priests and assistants who lived and worked on the grounds but nothing is to be found beyond the mundane at the site. The high point of the reading was the account of the miller's wife who, having discovered her husband had a misstriss at his mill, and who overcame the pair as they were in a delicate state, bound them hand and foot and was proceeding to throw them into the mills great gears when the priest arrived and talked the stout woman out of such an outrage. That and some truly impressive ale house brawls were the worst of the early history of the Church and the district for that matter."

 

He paused.

 

"But that would change, drastically. After about another fifty years, a new priest came to St. Clabherds, a priest with a troubled background according to the accounts. This one Philatine Touren Veldemere, the son of a wealthy and powerful family who would play an influential and decidedly negative role in the history of the City in the century that followed this time, had become a Builder priest apparently to rid himself of a sordid past. Philatine had dabbled in the darker of the arcane arts and had been punished harshly by the authorities but spared death due to his families influence. After torture, he had originally been slated to remain a bond slave to the Builders for his crimes, living as a house servant within the walls of a holy site for the remainder of his days, boiling the bed linens and tilling the gardens. A shameful fate for the scion of an early City aristocractic clan."

 

"But history would prove a stronger force than the will of the Builders judges. A zombie plague struck the City a few years after Philitine's drudgery had started. Hundreds of people died on a monthly turn, a steady drain on the population and the Builders were not spared. The undead began to squirm up in patches around the City and it would only be a matter of time before its newly established limits would be shattered and forced back due to the spreading anarchy. The Church, desperate for bodies to take up the hammer, began to offer the office of priest to almost anyone who would listen to their pitch for long enough. It was not a desirable task, it meant either battling revenants in the streets or cleansing the cemetaries and paupers pits to try to stem the outbreak. But for a disgraced noblemans son, it meant opportunity. And Philitine took it."

 

"After swearing a number of heinous oaths and purging his body with rituals and trials, he was permitted to enter training at the Cathedral. He was a powerful fighter by all accounts, well read and eloquent to spare and his masters at the Cathedral noted his numerous proficiencies. He completed the training for priesthood, much shorter and less academically intensive in those grim days, and was ordained about three months after he had presented himself."

 

The Head Librarian stopped for another sip of tea.

 

"And something else besides all that that you may find of great interest. Philitine was apparently an organist of the first mark, trained by the City's musical elites."

 

The Thief's eyes narrowed at this but he said nothing.

 

"He must have adapted quickly to his new station and seized whatever chances Fortune placed before him, as he did quite well as a priest. He rose in power and favor quickly, as the archivist noted though there were whispers of family money influencing that ascendancy. It would not be unlike that particular family to first abandon their darkling child to the Church in a show of obediance then to reestablish ties with him when he had turned the situation towards his own advantage. Whatever the case, it seems Philitines dark past was soon washed aside in minds of the Church's fathers as his current value was well apparent and direly needed. The archivist is emphatic when he notes that this was to be a regretable decision on their part."

 

"The zombies were eventually suppressed. The City's had held together but the equally daunting task of rebuilding and reorganizing their lives loomed. Philitine had earned great honor and note during the fight. He fought like a beast from the Pit according to his comrades, showing no fear of the undead even when facing superior numbers. On more than one occasion he had rallied his brothers and sisters back from the edge of overwhelming defeat with cries and shouts and a near manic joy for the battle. Some called him an avatar of the Builder but this was never officially sanctioned. But those with authority did not forget his deeds either, his superiors declared him purged, cleansed, and a beloved son. As a mark of their favor and no doubt with a need to fill vacant positions, they presented him with a prize normally reserved for priests much more senior."

 

"Saint Clabherds?"

 

"Correct. This would prove a horrendous error on their part. The old archivist noted that the first few months of his tenure as the priest were almost without incident. But five months after Philitine took the vows and assumed his role, something happened in the church, something apparently horrible, an obscenity that afterwards the Church authorities would not allow those involved to speak of under heavy oaths. Several residents of the district, whole families, had been in attendance, but no one could account for their whereabouts. Only one person who had actually been in the church while these sad events took place made it into the light of day, it was the caretaker of St. Clabherds. After fleeing whatever horrors had unfolded in there, he had fled to the bell tower and screaming and tolling the bells he warned the common folk away and demanded they alert the Builders to send forces into the church. What they found in there and what the caretaker saw were completely suppressed by the Church fathers but the archivist noted in a personal aside that he had heard drinking stories during his long time of service in the Church that spoke of two interesting points."

 

"One was that preceeding the caretakers alarums, a hideous blaring organ music was heard throughout the neighborhood. As you know, St. Clabherds sits back a bit from the main intercourse but this noise was apparently somehow louder than the normal sounds made during service, for several folk came forward to testify to the terrible music. They were held then by the Church and warned in the direst tones of talking about the events with others. This is a fairly standard practice throughout the Church's history."

 

"The second was something that was overheard from the caretaker who had come down from the tower after the alarm had gone out and made his way into the walled street that served as a kind of courtyard for the church. He was pale and wide eyed with terror the accounts go and was croaking something over and over, something about the "mountain of snakes and lights" and the "floor ate them, ate them all." He was quickly taken into the charge of the Church and whisked away, never to be seen or heard of again as far as I can see. This information is probably available at one of the larger Church libraries but getting past the security would be the easy part. Finding the information would take months at best."

 

"This is all I have for you right now, Thief, come again next week and I'll have more I hope. Perhaps the picture can be drawn even clearer. In any event, my services are most humbly at your disposal."

 

"Thank you for your labors, Head Librarian, you have given me some answers and many many more questions, but that is surely the nature of these things. Please do continue your searches, I feel that this task could prove most challenging and I need any scrap of an advantage I can muster. Good morn to you sir."

 

"With diligence, Thief, with diligence. And good morn as well... Oh, and one more moment of your valuable time sir. Do you, umm, ever, in your travels, come across, ahh, old books? Even the scrap of paper that led you to St. Clabherds are tiny pieces of a bigger puzzle, that of the Citys past. We revel in solving such puzzles here. As a librarian, such a resource and the means to collect it, namely you, are nearly priceless. If you can, please consider keeping an eye alert for the odd bit of parchment or dusty scroll. I in turn can keep you appraised of information that passes through my hands that you may find useful. We not only deal in the past but we record the present and even forsee the future in our way. All that lies at your command in return for your labors for myself and my library."

 

The Thief paused in his departure and half turned back to the older man. "You may rest assured that what I find, if I can return it safely and without undermining my own goals, will make its way into your hands. In return, you will become my eyes and ears both here and in the past. We are well met indeed sir. In one week then."

 

And then he vanished like a wisp of smoke in a breeze.

 

The Head Librarian turned at once and snatched up his prizes with the appetite of a child at a sweetshop counter. And paused for a moment to savor the thought of Magby's rage, his furious rage. That alone was worth the time spent reading for the Thief. That alone and then all this! He giggled madly to himself and raced to the safe in the floor. His treasures secured, he pinched the candle and groped his way to his bed. Within a few minutes, he slept as soundly as he had in years.

Three Days Later:

The Head Librarian finished with his morning relief, secured his cane, and shuffled absently down the hallway of his quarters towards the main hall and breakfast. As he entered the hall, young librarians and old called out greetings and wishes of good health as the library went about readying itself for another day of work. He responded with nods and waves and fatherly advice.

 

"Yes children, good morn, yes, how are your studies Luddvick? Little Neena, have you finished your book on indexing as of yet? Master Instructor tells me you have some work to do, dearheart. Exams approach like a fast, cold wind for all of you, be prepared! Enjoy your studies and work hard, good morn!"

 

The crowd parted around the aged but wiry figure of the Head Librarian. Novices carried food to the tables in squads, ate their plates empty, cleaned them in turns and scrubbed the mess afterwards. Senior librarians of various middling ranks directed these operations and then packed all off to the classrooms. The Library's Council, composed of the oldest Librarians, moved off towards their various projects. The Head Librarian glided past the din and into the kitchen proper, where the Library's only hired laborer, the Cook, sat poring over a recipie book and stuffing his mouth with steaming, heaping bites of flat iron cakes soaked in honey and butter. The Cooks fat, leering face was absorbed in the book and the food in equal measure, leaving no room for the Head Librarian. Intermittently he slurped down hot gulps of kafi, scented with some unfamiliar sweet spice undoubtably supplied by one of Cook's unsavory sources in the local produce supply network. He waited until the cook had engulfed a particularly large bite of a cake before snapping.

 

"I hope you've spared a few of those cakes for me from your ravages!"

 

The Cook started, his eyes bulging froglike for a second as the particularly large bite barely squeaked down his throat, and he turned and rose to his ponderous feet, his white apron billowing about him like the sail of a ship, and affected an elaborate if slow bow.

 

"Oh most exulted one, stalwart lighthouse against the storms of ignorance, your mornings sustenance awaits you in the oven. Piping hot, your worship, piping hot! Allow your humble servant to retrieve baked paradise for your grace."

 

The Head Librarian slid onto the bench opposite the Cooks seat. The Cook slid a healthy pile of cakes onto a dish and placed it in front of him with a puffy hand. Cutlery and hot kafi, minus the exotic scent, appeared a moment later.

 

"You greedy ape, think you can save all the new treats for yourself? Make with the spices, you miser."

 

The Cook's obsequiously happy face suddenly hardened.

 

"Bah, I truly did not think your withered senses could detect that delicate smell. I paid a pretty pile of coins for this smattering of Pithian dessert spice, I don't mind mentioning, from my own pocket."

 

He stooped and added a rich syrup to the Head Librarians cup, then stirred it. His ponderous weight settled back down onto the opposite bench, eyes stabbing into the book while fork stabbed an entire quadrant of a flat cake and raised it into his maw.

 

For his part, the Head Librarian barely looked up from his plate for a minute or so, except to sip the wonderfully fragrant kafi. Finally he spoke.

 

"Delicious, as always. Have you seen the morning papers as of yet? I want to get them read before I go into my study for the day."

 

"Here it is. Nothing of particular interest on the front sheet. Well, the bank down the end of the block was robbed last night, seems there was a real fracas, two guards seriously wounded and supposedly the thief took an arrow but still managed to slip away. With his haul, I should add. Rather exciting read."

 

The Head Librarian nodded absently over his food, then suddenly a thought hit him.

 

"I wonder..."

 

"Wonder what, oh guardian of Truth?"

 

"Err, nothing, umm, I'll finish this in my study in fact, I take it along, no bother, Ill let you get back to your next culinary debauch."

 

The Head Librarian gather his food and drink onto a handy serving tray, tossed the mornings broadsheets in a roll onto the tray as well, and headed back towards his quarters. He mused to himself along the way.

 

"Could it be him? I wonder, I wonder."

 

The door shut behind him, he deposited the tray on his desk and walked over to the shutters to let in the morning light. As he pulled them open, he noticed a bright drop of fresh blood on the floor at the base of the window. He froze, then realized he was not alone.

 

"My friend, its ok, I know you are here. I can help."

 

From behind him in the shadow of a bookcase, the Thief spoke.

 

"Please, then, lock your door so I may rest assured no one will disturb us."

 

The Head Librarian moved swiftly to do so. When the latch was thrown, the Thief materialized out of the darkness and stumbled towards a nearby chair. The Head Librarian realized that the broken shaft of an arrow was sticking from his left side at a shallow angle of penetration.

 

"Blast it man, it was you. Be still for one moment."

 

The Head Librarian quickly gathered some clean rags, a flask of raw alcohol, and a pitcher and washbasin. He gingerly inspected the wound.

 

"A bit of luck, if it was a degree or two more this way it would have speared you like a fish. I can remove this but it will hurt."

 

"Do what you can."

 

The Head Librarian glanced around the back of the wound and saw the arrow head had punch through cleanly.

 

"I can pull it through, then I must apply pressure. Are you ready?"

 

"Yes, do it." The Thief carefully shifted onto his good side.

 

The Head Librarian swiftly pulled the arrow through the wound and clamped down clean rags onto the holes. The Thief flinched, growled in pain, and then placed his hands over the rags to hold them in place. The Head Librarian gestured to him

 

"I must secure that bandage, come, here follow me. Lay on my bed here, hold on.

 

He quickly worked a bandage around the Thiefs midsection, securing the rags over the wounds.

 

"Lay down, let me put a pillow under your side here, good. Dear dear my boy, what did you get into there at that bank?"

 

"News... news travels fast I see. I found a young country guard with a fast bow arm. I'll warrant he won't be that fast now though."

 

The Head Librarian paused at this grim statement, then continued his ministrations. He started to speak when a loud knock came from the door. He started up, called out for patience, helped the Thief to his feet and then faced a decision.

 

"Damnit, there is no other way. Follow me Thief, I have to show you a secret of our fair Library. If my predecessor saw me revealing this to the likes of you he would bludgeon me with his dissertation."

 

The Head Librarian dashed to the fireplace, pressed on two small stones on either side of the chimney, and behind the Thief by the bedside a small panel door opened in the wall.

 

"In you go, follow the small stairs up to the garret. Its cramped but there are chairs and such. Avoid lighting a fire until I give the all clear. Take this water to quench yourself, I'll bring more and food as well. Now go, go, I must see whats afoot."

 

The Thief paused as if to speak, then turned and limped through the doorway. It clicked shut behind him. The knock at the door rose in frequency and urgency.

 

"Coming damn it all, coming!" the Head Librarian shouted to the door and ripped it open to find Novice Neena in a terrible state.

 

"Master, the City Watch are here, they say they are searching for a thief and that he is thought to still be hiding in the neighborhood. The thief who robbed the bank!"

 

"I'll come in one second, child, tell them I'm coming, now run!"

 

The novice disappeared and the Head Librarian spun around and started looking wildly around the room. Not too many blood drops, he grabbed a rag and wiped those he found. His hands were trembling as he worked, for behind him he heard the tramp of booted feet. There, that looked like that was it, nothing more to see...

 

"Open in the name of the Baron!" the cry came now with the pounding of an armored fist.

 

The Head Librarian steeled his heart, tossed the rag into the fireplace, and strode to his chamber door. He swung it open to reveal a squad of City Watchmen and an officer, overmuscled, excited, flush with the chase. A pack of cubs. Queltonne quickly assumed a patrician air and bearing, locked eyes with the gangs leader, and demanded in a clear voice:

 

"Good morn, young captain, what brings you to interrupt our most peaceful studies!?"

 

End of Part 1.

[Crispy]

This is cool, I read the older draft when you posted it before.

[Maximius]

Thanks Crispy, I intend to keep it going for a bit. Its a fun break to write this stuff, never really tried before.

 

Edit: Damn, I thought I had canceled that first posting a week back, I wasn't ready yet. Oh well.

Edited October 2, 2007 by Maximius

[sparhawk]

Sorry but I hadn't read it yet. Actually I think this quite strange myself. I like to read a lot. I even read while I'm walking on the street. But somehow I can't bring myself to read long pages on the computer, unless I have o for some reason. Another strange thing is that I don't mind reading a lot of forum postings, so one might think that it shouldn't matter wether you read six average postings or one really long one. But for such a read I have to print it out and read it at leisure.

 

Don't want to mess up your thread though. I guess I go and print it right now.

[Maximius]

Sorry but I hadn't read it yet. Actually I think this quite strange myself. I like to read a lot. I even read while I'm walking on the street. But somehow I can't bring myself to read long pages on the computer, unless I have o for some reason. Another strange thing is that I don't mind reading a lot of forum postings, so one might think that it shouldn't matter wether you read six average postings or one really long one. But for such a read I have to print it out and read it at leisure.

 

Don't want to mess up your thread though. I guess I go and print it right now.

 

 

I'm no fan of reading on the computer screen, which I have had to do a lot this class due to all the fat journal articles I don't feel like paying five bucks to print off. But nothing, nothing at all is worse than trying to read on a moving vehicle for me. If I even read someone else's newspaper headline on the train or a bus, I get a little sick. If I actually try to read, I'm nauseous for about an hour afterwards. I had a friend I was so jealous of, he could have read on a sinking ship if he wanted. I would actually get sick watching him read when we were traveling.

[sparhawk]

LOL! I can read practically everywhere. When we go for the weekly shopping I also often take a book with me. After we are finished my wife usually goes to the other shop while I put all our stuff into the car, and then I sit there and read, because it takes her bloody long, once she enters a shop with clothing. Seems to be a female thing.

I heard that Stephen King also reads while he walking on the street. Never have seen anybody doing this, but I think there might be more poeple. Apparently it's not widespread though, because me and King are the only persons I know of doing this, and I never have seen anybody doing it either.

[Unstoppable]

Wall of Text. Pretty good read 8D.

[Hewer]

I heard that Stephen King also reads while he walking on the street. Never have seen anybody doing this, but I think there might be more poeple. Apparently it's not widespread though, because me and King are the only persons I know of doing this, and I never have seen anybody doing it either.

 

 

I used to do this all the time when I was in school. I had a friend who would do it, too. It was fun to watch people out of the corner of your eye- they think you're going to trip any minute. So it was fun to walk up to things like you're going to run into it, only to swerve around at the last second to give those people a little thrill. I used to practice reading while walking on only the curb.

I commute by bicycle when I can, and car when I have to nowadays, so I'm really out of practice.

 

I believe Stephen King was reading as he walked when he was hit by that van. Whether he was reading or not probably wouldn't have changed anything, though.

[sparhawk]

I think he wasn't reading at that time. Seem to remember reading something that he said something like he was glad that he hadn't had read as usual.

[Hewer]

I just finished reading your story, Maximius. That was a fun little read. I'm looking forward to more as you finish it. The whole thief/librarian cooperation thing seems like a great answer to the Keepers from Thief. It would make a great concept for a set of missions at any rate.

[Komag]

I read all my books on my laptop and on my PDA (I keep the same book synced on both). Right now I'm reading "A Deepness in the Sky". But I didn't read this story yet, sorry

[Maximius]

Thanks all for your comments, I'm pleased you folks enjoyed it. As I'm rereading it I'm seeing some minor plot gaffs that need fixing. I will have some more coming soon.

 

Hewer you have some tantalizing ideas there. It does seem like a natural kind of relationship somehow, no? Perhaps the Thief will go on a historical expedition to map an ancient temple or copy down bits of manuscripts from forbidden libraries, research on the sly with of course some collateral looting. It seems its a natural way to develop a story as well, a series of texts thats reveals a grim secret, blah blah blah while building up a rich historical background for depth.

 

I hope you guys enjoyed the Cook too, he will be back at points as well. He's going to be the Library's link to the back streets and underground markets and so forth. I think he could be the basis for some fun missions, imagine the Thief having to break into the City's elite cooking school and filch some rare ingredient or recipe, a kind of fun spirited cooking themed mission with appropriate puns and bon mots etc. All as airy and light right now as a well whipped meringue but its fun to dream.

Edited October 4, 2007 by Maximius

[sparhawk]

I just printed it out and started to read it. I'm where the librarian tesll the thief about the city's origin after he gave him this speelbook he found when stealing the tome from Magby. I must say I love it.

 

Really! I have read worse in books I paid money for, and this is definitely quite well written. Could use some proofreading, but the atmosphere and everything is really well done.

 

My only nitpick is that the thief is way to friendly and curteous to my taste. I think he could be a little bit rougher.

I also see a great potential for turning it into missions. The first objective could already fill one or even two mission, where the Thief has to recover that book from Magby. Maybe not finding it immediately because Magby passed it on or something, or getting additional information, which leads to the discovery of that spellbook that he gives to the librarian.

 

I hope I find the time to continue reading it soon, because I definitely like it much more than the book I'm currently reading.

[Hewer]

I read all my books on my laptop and on my PDA (I keep the same book synced on both). Right now I'm reading "A Deepness in the Sky". But I didn't read this story yet, sorry

 

You still use a PDA? I thought they went the way of all the earth. I used to read ebooks on mine before it broke, and I would love it if I could read them on my ipod. I love audio books, but they can be pretty expensive.

 

 

@Maximius & Sparhawk:

I rather liked the 'gentleman thief' persona in the story. It makes me wonder if he's actually a noble somewhere- or is he putting on airs to impress the dignified librarian? It's a really interesting take on what a thief of this kind of prodigious skill is. I'm interested in how/why he was educated. And even though I think there was only one offhand mention of machinery, the story has a real steampunk feel for me. I think it's the mixture of the mideval setting with the more edwardian turn of the century-ish language.

 

 

I imagine when TDM is released, lacking Garrett, that people will start making their own protagonists with their own back stories, and the better, more interesting, more thought out ones will start getting a following having their story arc expanded with missions. I think the circumstances in this story would be a great genesis for a character to make missions around. Maybe another popular group of missions would center around a more rough-hewn character.

[Maximius]

I just printed it out and started to read it. I'm where the librarian tesll the thief about the city's origin after he gave him this speelbook he found when stealing the tome from Magby. I must say I love it.

 

Really! I have read worse in books I paid money for, and this is definitely quite well written. Could use some proofreading, but the atmosphere and everything is really well done.

 

My only nitpick is that the thief is way to friendly and curteous to my taste. I think he could be a little bit rougher.

I also see a great potential for turning it into missions. The first objective could already fill one or even two mission, where the Thief has to recover that book from Magby. Maybe not finding it immediately because Magby passed it on or something, or getting additional information, which leads to the discovery of that spellbook that he gives to the librarian.

 

I hope I find the time to continue reading it soon, because I definitely like it much more than the book I'm currently reading.

 

High praise, O Grand Geometer! Many thanks! I have an idea for a story right now, I may plunk the outline down in a minute.

 

The Thief is a bit too nice and courteous, Im trying to strike the proper balance between this hardened professional criminal who realizes the advantages of diplomacy and the "light touch" when its to his advantage, and who is trying to win over the older man before the guy freaks or changes his mind, and the Librarian, who, although a generally "good" character, is no angel either and who is ready to bend or even break his principles in order to utilize the Thief's skills and quench his lust for rare books and manuscripts.

 

Also, the Thief is no idiot, he's not some back alley thug, he's decently well read, stays abreast of current events in the City's life, and can put 2 and 2 together into 4. I'm going to develop the themes of education and research a bit more too, I think its almost necessary given the City's size and technology and social structures.

 

And with the Librarian's adversarial politics new mission ideas are available, heres a quick bit:

 

Imagine three assassins closing in on the sleeping Librarian's tower from across the rooftops, whispering and scuttling to the window, the lock is being worked while two look out...

 

"Click!" the window swings open and a whizzing broadshaft splits the back of the skull of the assassin slipping into the window. As his body slides back out and off the lip of the ledge on which the trio had stood and pinwheels into the inky space below...

 

"Pamf!" an explosion of light sears the eyes of the remaining killers. Both instantly reach behind them and loop their arms into the window and around the frame as an anchor against the spinning blindness. The assassin on the left lunges suddenly to the right, seizes his comrade in his powerful arm right arm and yanks her in front of him in time to...

 

"Urgh!" catch the second broadshaft square in her chest. As she pitches forward the remaining killer whips snakelike through the window with a jerk of his left arm. He slaps his body onto the floor, quickly rolling with his momentum and coming to a high crouch and squints up, still semi dazzled, to..

 

"Donk!" a heavy brass vase swinging down in an arc in the hands of the Head Librarian, wiry old body pressed to the side of the window casement, across the left of his skull. The assassin crumples like a rag doll knocked aside by a disinterested tot. In the window case a shadow swirls into the Thief and he and the older man quickly hog-tie the unconscious assassin with rags and belts. A few minutes later later, the two men stand from over the now aware killer, his mask torn aside and used to gag his mouth so that he can only mumble his answers, his answers to the to the twisted, cracked fingers and bent nails the Thief had administered, and to the one question demanded over and over...

 

"Who?!" Finally, the man gave, the Head Librarians heart skipped at the name, the name they both already knew but the name that chilled his bones mightily to hear aloud regardless. Powerful foes indeed to send high order killers such as these had been, thought the Head Librarian, although his friend had efficiently annihilated two of them and he himself, old tyger!, had captured this one, and turned to the prostate man to...

 

"Tcch!" the Thief's dagger spikes the heart of the bound man whose eyes flash white and somehow innocent for a brief moment before dulling. The Head Librarian stops short and locks gazes with the Thief for a moment, then turns and secures a light shoulder satchel across his back. The Thief unbinds the dead man, drags the corpse to the window, and with some effort feeds it out the window where it tumbles, hangs for a second, then slips free towards the cobblestones far, far below. As it speeds towards its destination it is met with a cry from below..

 

"Murder!!" The Thief spins to the older man and pulls five thin bottles from his kit. The Head Librarian instantly recognizes a small fortune in health potions and takes them from the Thief's hands with a questioning look...

 

"Drink." And so the Head Librarian does in rapid succession. Instantly new vigor swells through his body, a golden tingling, joints loosening, grip strengthening, legs stretching, a brief respite from winter, a gift that will pass in too short a time...

 

"Now." The Thief pulls himself out the window and with a weird strength the Head Librarian follows, albeit with some trepidation.

 

"Hop." the Thief commands towards the slightly lower rooftop only four feet across an abyss from the Library's tower. The older man pauses than does so, falling forward gently to catch himself and scuttling out of the way. The Thief tenses to follow then thinks again for one second, turns to the window, primes the catch, gently swings it shut, and then the lock picks reseal it behind the pair with a...

 

"Click!"

[Komag]

You still use a PDA? I thought they went the way of all the earth. I used to read ebooks on mine before it broke, and I would love it if I could read them on my ipod. I love audio books, but they can be pretty expensive.

 

I have a decent little iPaq from around 2003 or so with a 320x240 screen. My wife has a nice Dell Axim with a high res 640x480 screen, it's unbelievable how sharp the text is on hers! I often enjoy hanging out on the couch with my sunflower seeds and PDA reading a good book. I mostly just read on my laptop when I'm sitting at my desk at work eating dinner or snacks.

[sparhawk]

High praise, O Grand Geometer! Many thanks! I have an idea for a story right now, I may plunk the outline down in a minute.

 

Don't hurry. Better well writen then hurried.

 

The Thief is a bit too nice and courteous, Im trying to strike the proper balance between this hardened professional criminal who realizes the advantages of diplomacy and the "light touch" when its to his advantage,

 

Yes. I understand that. But as Hewer said, I was also wondering wether the thief was some upper class raised, and thus his manners.

 

who, although a generally "good" character, is no angel either and who is ready to bend or even break his principles in order to utilize the Thief's skills and quench his lust for rare books and manuscripts.

 

Yes, that's why I liked his character. Makes him a bit more real, then just the average "crazy professor" type of guy.

 

Also, the Thief is no idiot, he's not some back alley thug, he's decently well read, stays abreast of current events in the City's life, and can put 2 and 2 together into 4.

 

That's indicated by his manner.

 

And with the Librarian's adversarial politics new mission ideas are available, heres a quick bit:

 

I wont read it right now. I print it and read it then. I was quite surprised about the length though. The first post, I printed two sides per page, and it were still about 7 pages.

 

Imagine three assassins closing in on the sleeping Librarian's tower from across the rooftops, whispering and scuttling to the window, the lock is being worked while two look out...

 

Hey! What about the guards captain where you left off?

 

BTW: I really liked that bit, when the professor wanted to close the window, and the thief had it already locked. Quite neat.

[Maximius]

Hey! What about the guards captain where you left off?

 

BTW: I really liked that bit, when the professor wanted to close the window, and the thief had it already locked. Quite neat.

 

That assassin bit was a taste of the future, more contemporary action to follow. I'm glad you caught the window latch bit, its the small details that add piquancy.