The Wyrm's Curse Ch. 05

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In which Kara and Miri do some research.
4.8k words
4.63
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Part 5 of the 9 part series

Updated 06/09/2023
Created 08/10/2012
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Felix921
Felix921
255 Followers

It was midafternoon by the time Kara and Miri left Miri's home, bound for the city's one public library. The day was bright and warm. As they moved closer to the city's center, the sounds of horsecarts and market criers grew while the birdsong and insect droning faded. The two passed the time revisiting old memories and catching each other up on developments since last they spent time together.

They passed through a residential area, skirted a low hill topped with temple, garden, and graveyard, and entered the Southern business district. Had they been unfamiliar with Tollenville, it would have been easy enough to follow their noses to the Southern Open Market at the heart of the business district.

Cutting through dim side alleys, Kara noted several unsavory looking characters leaning in shadowed doorframes or crouched amidst refuse. She rested a ready hand on one of her knife hilts until Miri noticed and, smiling, dismissed her concern. While she had managed to pass herself off as merely an alchemist and healer, the rumor mill widely held that Miri was a witch or mage of some sort. The varying particulars of the rumor were apparently unpleasant enough to keep the riffraff from testing it's veracity.

On their way through the Open Market, Mirielle halted their progress once at a wine seller's stall. The small, mustachioed fellow specialized in small-batch house wines brought inland from cities along the coast. The wealthy upper class of the city would turn up it's collective nose at such 'common fare', Miri explained, but some of it was quite good.

"Ah, Buon-giorno Signora Collessa!" the mustachioed fellow exclaimed as the women approached his stall. He cast his arms out wide, with open hands, as if hoping to hug them both at once. Momentarily Kara decided the vast gesticulation and exessively excited welcome were just cultural habits. The little man spoke a random mix of common and Danielli, the language of the country of the same name which bordered Lesanne on the East.

"Amico Damiano, Buon-giorno!" Mirielle shouted back merrily. She leaned across the counter to allow Damiano to plant a chaste peck on either cheek.

"This is an old friend, Kara," she explained, glancing from Damiano to Kara, "Kara, meet Damiano."

"Ah, an-other bella ragazza!" Damiano beamed, reaching out to accept Kara's hand.

A bit surprised, Kara offered up her left hand. Damiano received it gently in both of his own and kissed her knuckle, further surprising her.

Mirielle, meanwhile, stage whispered, "He's being especially flattering now, calling us beautiful girls as opposed to ladies."

"Have you been sleeping with him?" Kara murmered back

"Tsss, hush," Miri hissed through a smile, "Not yet. We're here because my librarian friend happens to be partial to a particular coastal brineberry red which Damiano happens to carry."

"Ah." Kara nodded sagely.

While Mirielle good-naturedly haggled with Damiano, Kara stood by, glancing around at the other vendors and the milling ebb and flow of customers moving about the market. Tollenville had nothing like the size or trade traffic of Chevalia or Villette, but compared to Blanc Mar it was teeming. She had been out in the boonies too long, Kara reflected. Not to mention, she thought sourly, she probably wouldn't have ended up cursed by a dragon if she had been busy in a real city instead of lying about in Blanc Mar.

Kara's day-dreaming was cut short when Miri handed her a reed-woven bag weighted with three bottles. They waved, Miri a bit more enthusiastically, to Damiano, who vociferously bade them farewell and come again.

Kara slowed as they passed a fellow hawking scimitars – supposedly carried all the way from the Sultanates of the Desert of Endless Sands – but Miri dragged her along by an elbow.

"Come along. We're almost there."

"Awww, mu-um, was only looking," Kara affected a childish whine, "besides, I'd never buy anything so unwieldy."

The library, when they came to it, impressed Kara. Even sitting as it did in the oldest, middle section of the city, it seemed older than everything around it. The six great fluted limestone columns, the slab awning they suppoted and the wide marble steps beneath were all reminiscent of the architecture of the ancient coastal City-States far off to the North-East. The gargoyles leering from each corner and peak were very like those Kara had seen in the old sections of Heaven'sgate. The doors, on the other hand, were unlike anything Kara had seen. As Miri led her across the threshold, Kara paused to run a hand over the fantastical scenes carved into the oak panels of one door.

"This way." Mirielle started off down a side aisle between towering shelves of burnished ironwood laden with hundreds upon hundreds of volumes. Beyond being more accustomed to books than the average citizen, Miri clearly felt at home in the old library.

Before following, Kara stopped to let her eyes wander and her ears atune to the odd, unguagable quality of sounds caused by the maze of shelves. Straight ahead ran a long, wide hemp rug which terminated at the foot of a raised dais. Atop the dais sat a high backed chair and upon the chair slumped a grey whiskered member of the City Guard, apparently fast asleep. He wore boiled leather armor, a rather old and tarnished half helm and a silk band on one arm bearing the city's colors. In his lap, unloaded, lay a small crossbow.

Kara was surprised that the city would allocate a guard specifically to defend a library, even such a ... ripe fellow as this. Perhaps the library held something of political value. Rare religious texts or some such.

Sparing a glance up at the ceiling, Kara shrugged and hurried to catch up with Mirielle. She caught up at an intersection of aisles and spoke up quietly.

"I didn't expect it to be so... grand. Or to have a resident representative of the City Guard."

"Ah, Wilfrous. He's just for show, and not much for that. The Guard assigns the post to their most decrepit member who hasn't yet retired or their freshest recruit, depending on the Captain's mood. It's really just a reminder that the City Council and the Magistrate share interest in the library. The latter and half of the former all moved here specifically to enjoy the written resources gathered here.

The story goes that Valen Lesanne, a great-great-grand nephew to the founder of this fine country, designed, funded and oversaw the construction of this library. He had been a traveling scholar and wanted a place where he could share his collected experiences and literary finds with others. After his death, the library, as well as Valen's considerable wealth and land holdings went to the City as per his will. The only catch was that they had to keep the library open and employ at least one caretaker to maintain it.

The library's reputation has long attracted scholars and researchers. The current Magistrate is by all accounts a pompous windbag, but he fancies himself a historian as well – and everyone knows it. Among the six City Council members are a linguist, a religious scholar and a former professor from Chevalia, all of whom are known to spend time here.

Magistrate Renald isn't as fond of hanging as his predecessor, but he is known to espouse creative maiming. As one might expect, the criminal element seems to have decided books aren't worth the risk."

Miri was still going on when they arrived at their destination. The two stopped in an open area before a massive desk. What could be seen of the desk was time worn, matching the burnished ironwood shelves that hemmed it in. An area about ten feet around it would have been open space, if not for the books. As if all the shelves weren't enough, stacks of volumes formed battlements around the desk, leaned against the ends of shelves and stood in dusty towers amidst what little empty floor was left.

Kara noticed an irregular scritching sound eminating from behind the stacks of books and parchments which lined the forward edge of the desk. She gave Miri a questioning look.

"Sylvie can become quite intent on her work." Miri offered.

Miri lifted a large leatherbound tome from the top of the wall of stacks and dropped it again. There was a heavy 'woomph' when the book landed, followed immediately by a surprised squeak from behind the stacks.

"Hello?" came a soft, uncertain voice.

"It's Mirielle, dear. Why don't you rest the quill for a bit and come say hello?"

There was a pause. There was more scritching, a sound like sand on parchment, silence. Then the sounds of someone manuevering out through a veritable warren of written works. What emerged was a small, mousy young woman with ink stained hands and thick, wire rimmed spectacles tucked up on top of her head. She rubbed surreptitiously at her eyes then blinked. She looked back and forth between Miri and Kara a few times.

"I already said hello." she ventured finally.

Kara, meanwhile, smiled faintly, taking in the mannerisms and attire of the stereotypical bookworm. Sylvie was perhaps five feet tall – with no adjustment for footwear necessary, as she stood in her stockinged feet. Like Miri, she was a bit on the pale side, though she nonetheless exhibited a dappling of freckles across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. Dark crescents below her big, red-rimmed brown eyes suggested long hours working by candlelight. The girl's right hand returned to a certain posture when at rest, as if it still held a quill, ready to write.

"Yes, but you were asking then," Miri replied amiably, "Besides, I'd like to introduce you to an old friend. This is Kara. Kara, Sylvie."

Kara extended a hand to shake. Sylvie leaned forward to take her hand rather than step closer. After breaking contact, Kara belatedly realized that in shrugging her cloak over her shoulder she had exposed half her knives and the little librarian's eyes were glued to them.

"We come bearing gifts." Miri added, hoping to break the spell. She nudged Kara.

"Oh. Aye, gifts." Kara lifted the woven bag with a clinking of bottles.

"Oh. Um, here, lend a hand," Sylvie began shifting stacks from the edge of the desk to add them to existing piles on the floor, "These can go... here. And those... yes, that's fine. Careful."

When a sizeable portion of desktop was clear, Sylvie hazarded the depths of a desk drawer that Kara suspected she might fit inside and emerged with three glazed clay mugs, a cast iron corkscrew, and a waxed paper bundle tied loosely with twine. The bundle, untied and unfolded, yielded half a boule, an end of smoked sausage, a block of sharp Gedevari cheese the size of Kara's fist and a small paring knife.

By the time they all had a mug of Sylvie's favorite wine in them, the little librarian had relaxed visibly. She chatted with Miri about recent news and rumors, described the translating project she was working on, listened to Miri's vague explanation of history with Kara.

"So... is there a particular reason... for your visit? Need a special history or map or something? My favorite wine usually comes with a request."

"Actually, Kara came to me hoping to find a translation. When I couldn't help, I naturally brought her here." Miri replied.

"Well... I am an excellent translater." Sylvie nodded, cracking a shy smile. Turning to Kara she asked, "What do you need translated?"

Kara fished in a pouch, drew out the copper scroll and handed it over. She said nothing, curious to see what Sylvie would make of the graven runes.

Sylvie drew the spectacles from her head down onto her nose before inspecting the scroll. She peered at it, turned it over more than once, ran her fingers slowly over the engravings. Lost in thought, she held the sheet inches from her face in one hand, worrying her lower lip with the thumb and forefinger of the other. Two solid minutes passed.

Miri cleared her throat.

Sylvie blinked then turned her head slowly, as if the scroll were exerting a physical pull that she had to work against. Miri ignored the comical effect of Sylvie's already big brown eyes as seen through thick magnifying lenses.

"What do you think?"

"It does look much like Dwarven runescript at a glance," Sylvie began, eyes sliding back to the text in question, "I recognize a couple characters. It could be some sort of dialect I've never seen. But it could just be a coincidence. Where did you find this?"

"Brought it back from a Dwarven mountain settlement, as it so happens." Kara replied smoothly.

"Oh."

"Thanks, all the same, for taking a look at it. Maybe I'll try the University in Chevalia next."

Sylvie's brow furrowed.

"Oh, no. I'm not done," she explained, allowing the scroll to roll back up and gently placing it on the table behind her, "I just need a few books."

Finding herself again in familiar territory, Sylvie took on a business-like demeanor. At her instruction the three gathered books on language, ancient cultures, tablet carving, metalwork, engraving and, of course, Dwarves. The wine bottles were set aside, atop a relatively stable stack and the food was wrapped and returned to the vault-like drawer. The new load of books served to re-erect the wall which had hidden Sylvie from sight upon their arrival.

"I'll go tell old Mister Wil to go ahead home and I'll lock up. This may take some time... You can come back tomorrow, or you're welcome to stay in my room tonight. It's in the back – Miri knows." Sylvie was already out of sight before she finished explaining.

Kara wiped a string of cobweb from one hand onto the front of her cloak. She fixed Miri with a look.

"So... that's progress, then." Miri offered.

"Her room doesn't look like her desk, does it?"

"Well, not last I saw it. Actually, it was on the sparse side. She doesn't spend a lot of time in it. Falls asleep out here as often as not, if I had to guess."

Kara grunted noncommitally.

"Should have brought a whetstone." she muttered, ruefully eyeing the new stacks lining the edge of the desk.

"Um, yes, well... when she says it might take 'a while'... she might mean days." Mirielle studied the worn toes of her traveling boots as she spoke.

Before Kara could process this and respond, Sylvie reappeared, twirling a heavy iron key on a leather thong. She handed the key to Miri before picking her way back behind the desk.

"That'll release the locking mechanisms that hold the bolt on the doors – and you remember – there's a counterweight that lets you lift it out of the brackets. In case you want out." Sylvie's disembodied voice addressed Miri.

While Kara wandered about, giving herself an aimless tour, Miri spent the next few hours helping Sylvie leaf through books. When she thought she had memorized the maze of shelves, Kara made her way back to Sylvie's room to stow her cloak and boots.

The furnishings in the room were indeed sparse. There was a low bed against the far wall with a hardwood nightstand next to it. On the stand was a copper wash basin, a clay jug, a cotton rag and a stub of candle. Against the left wall stood a rough pine chest of drawers. Built seemlessly into the right wall, the back wall of the entire building, was a large fireplace carved in the likeness of a roaring lions head. It seemed out of place, or rather, made everything else in the room seem so.

On the bright side, Kara thought to herself, with that fireplace and more material then they could burn in a week, they wouldn't be cold at night. Leaving her cloak and boots next to the chest of drawers, Kara padded back to check on the bookworms.

The light was fading and Miri had cast a minor spell to aid in their efforts. A glow eminated from a point just above the ladies' heads, like a high burning oil lamp but for the fact it never flickered or dimmed. As she approached, Kara heard a familiar scritching coming from the magically lit alcove. Miri sat on one corner of the desk, half turned to watch Sylvie at work. At Kara's arrival she slid back off the desk, careful not to disturb the stacks.

"She's found something," she tipped her head in Sylvie's direction, "working on what might be your translation now."

"Well, that probably calls for a celebration, yes? Where's that wine?" Kara asked.

Miri smiled, stepping closer.

"Maybe you've already forgotten the hangover you woke up with?" she chided.

Kara rolled her eyes.

"But mu-um..." they both broke into hushed laughter, leaning in to embrace.

Kara put her arms around her friend's waist, pulling them together at the hips and Miri hooked one arm over Kara's shoulder, resting her other hand gently along the line of Kara's jaw. Holding eye contact, Miri slowly ran the pad of her thumb lingeringly along Kara's lower lip. There was a frozen moment that lasted until Kara shivered.

She blinked and the next moment she was up on her tiptoes, crushing her mouth to Miri's. Miri was caught off guard by her friend's sudden intensity and was just parting her lips when Kara's tongue pushed wetly between them. Miri moaned into the kiss as their tongues met, pressing slickly along and against each other.

Kara's urgency soon mellowed to a smoldering heat. Regaining her wits somewhat, she drew back, playfully pulling at Miri's lower lip with her front teeth before breaking contact. It was a long moment before Miri opened her eyes and closed her mouth. When their eyes met, Miri arched an eyebrow.

"Kara, love, are those your knives, or are you just impossibly excited?"

Kara rolled her eyes again and stepped back, sliding her hands back around to again rest on Miri's hips.

"Oh," Miri made a show of noticing Kara's knives, "just the knives, then."

"Clever. Maybe you could come back to the bedroom and help me take them off?"

"Hmmm." Mirielle feigned mulling the idea over.

"Hello?"

Kara locked eyes with Miri. Biting her own lower lip, Miri pressed a hand over Kara's mouth to stifle her laughter.

"Yes, Sylvianna dear?" she called back.

"I've just... run out of ink. I... think I've a correct translation from the original into modern Dwarven runescript. I know spoken Dwarven, but... my reading and writing is spotty. Translating to Lesanni will probably take an hour or so. Of course, if I was wrong about the first translation... well, the Lesanni will be gibberish."

"That's wonderful, but can you do that without ink?" Miri asked.

"I meant to say... There's another inkwell in the bottom drawer of the chest of drawers in my room. If you could-"

"Of course. I'll retrieve it for you directly." Miri interrupted. She slipped away from Kara with a shrug. "Sorry, I've been conscripted."

Kara helped herself to a modest celebratory swallow of wine while Miri retrieved the ink and passed it over the stacks to the sequestered Sylvie.

"Syvlie dear, Kara and I are going to retire to your room and attempt to get some sleep. If you get tired, just come roll us out of bed."

Miri took one of Kara's hands and started off toward the bedroom, towing her friend along by an index finger.

"We're going to sleep?" Kara asked incredulously.

"I said 'attempt.' Is it my fault if something comes up?"

"I think maybe, a bit, yes." Kara replied.

"I'll take that as a compliment." Miri smiled, turning to face Kara and pull her into the bedroom and another kiss.

The two moved slowly across the room, kissing, groping and leaving a trail of discarded clothing from the doorway to the bed. Oblivious to her surroundings, Miri backed into the bed and tumbled backward, carrying Kara with her. Laughing, they rolled onto the bed, wriggling about until Miri lay on her back with Kara kneeling between her spread legs.

Leaning forward, Kara plucked away Miri's glasses to turn about and place them on the floor at the foot of the bed. Turning back she found Miri pulling her knees up to present her still booted feet. Kara arched an eyebrow, then, lowering her gaze, she flashed an evil grin.

Felix921
Felix921
255 Followers
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