A Librarian’s Knowledge

Yavanna pulled open the heavy door of the library and shifted nervously as the scent of old books assaulted her senses. She no longer felt any comfort in the building and only felt like a trapped animal awaiting a hunter to come and free her from the trap only to slaughter her.

Bracing herself she pushed off and entered the stuffy, warm building. The cozy atmosphere was nothing but a facade; once the fire blew out, it was as cold and dark as winter.

"Good morning, your majesty. I apologize for not being there at your coronation. But I had my duties to attend to." Yavanna tracked her eyes along the shelves until they landed on Douglas. She nodded, her confusion from their last conversation returning.

"Her majesty's throat is sore, good sir. So she will be communicating with quill and parchment." Christa explained.

His brows rose for a second before retiring to their place, "Ah, did the ceremony tucker you out?"

She shook her head and walked to the desk to write what she needed. She wanted to be out of there. Christa continued talking to him about something with him and when she came back they were discussing all of the nobles and royals that had made it to the ceremony.

They both turned their attention to her when she stopped next to them, "Can I help you, your majesty?" The old librarian asked kindly.

She nodded and handed him the parchment. On it, she had detailed the information she needed; witches, magic, and strange creatures of Nothad mythology.

Douglas hummed as he perused the words, "I'm afraid that I have no script that contains this knowledge that is written in any of Viland's tongue."

She nodded, having it translated should be no problem. A little voice in the back of her head whispered that it would be easier to deceive her if she could not be sure of the knowledge herself. She sighed and immediately regretted it when her throat burned in agony and a pitiful wheeze left her lips instead of a sigh.

Both persons' attention turned to her and Christa rushed to get water. Water would do nothing but cause her to swallow and that hurt all the more. She shifted her gaze from her lady in waiting to the librarian, who was watching her curiously. She began to feel transparent under his gaze and viciously fought not to fidget.

"Tell me… where did you get that bruise, your majesty?" He asked, his voice civil but his eyes probing for answers to his seemingly burning questions. She straightened stiffly and wrote down a short answer that she hoped would give him a hint.

But he did not take the hint, or accept it at any rate. "You don't know? Did you dream of having something injure your eye?"

Her hand raised to her nearly healed black eye and shook her head. It had been real. On the other hand… she'd had a dream, a vivid one, where she'd been in the library and cut on her leg. And that cut had appeared in her waking life. She knew, or believed—she still wasn't sure—that she'd had a horrible nightmare about the library. Or in the library.

Douglas' voice interrupted her confused thoughts, "Have you been having… strange dreams as of late, your majesty?"

She blinked and reared back. Christa reappeared and handed her the goblet. Yavanna could only hold the wooden vessel as she stared at the man's piercing eyes. What did he know?

Her eyes darted to Christa and back to Douglas. She needed to know, but she needed to find an answer to the mystery of the night before the coronation. She swallowed and drank the water carefully. Writing down her request, she handed it to her lady in waiting and her brown eyes widened before she nodded and left the building.

She wrote down her question and handed it to the librarian; "What do you know of it?"

He chuckled as he read it and caught her off-guard. "Your majesty, I simply ask because those who are surrounded by the cursed bloodline of King Kieran tend to develop strange dreams and strange injuries."

A cold feeling swept over her body and she wrote, "Why?" Down.

He took it and shook his head, "I do not know. The cursed are always mysterious. Tell me, how did you lose your voice? If I may ask, that is, your majesty?"

She regarded him; she wouldn't tell him. She still didn't know him, much less trust him. She had trusted the king with the information because he has power and influence and could hopefully help her. But she honestly had no one to trust. Save her brother; but telling Maxwell would likely cause a war.

She wheezed out a sigh and asked Douglas to send Christa back in. He did so without complaint and then gathered the books and tomes she had asked for.

Christa and her sat down on the couch and the lady began to read the first book; On Magic And Witches. Christa had said.

Yavanna could tell that it was difficult for Christa to translate the book into Viel for her. She was now more determined than ever to learn the native language of her kingdom. It was a must.

"The…" Christa paused to read ahead, "Magic of witches is different from that of other races. Witches' magic revolves around nature. A witch's magic is only as strong as her connection with the environment. The witches of Viland are the most prominent and well-known; but there are quite a few rumoured to live in the forests of Gortlin and the caves of Tralkin."

She paused and Yavanna ruminated on what she had narrated. She knew for a fact that it was impossible for any member of the royal family of Viland to have magic. Their ancestor had rid the land of witches and sworn that no one with the blood of a witch would intermarry into the family. And through the generations, the kings and princes had upheld this oath.