GardenOfPages[continued from Echoes of Fate] It waited patiently for Gillian in a sequestered corner of the upper library while she finished attending to her library duties. With oiled wood and brass fixtures, the dark door shimmered with an unforgiving aura of mystery. A single latch - resembling a dragon with an arching back - offered entrance; no lock evident. A thin line of daylight leaked out from under the door, the air scented with wild flowers. Yet no one that passed the door paid it any attention, remaining apparently ignorant of its existence. And now Gillian, thankfully alone, could simply reach out and open it. If she dared. "Dun-dum-dum-dum!" Ginger said in a creepy voice from the shadows. Gillian bounced one foot vertically and two feet horizontally. "Great jumping Jehosaphat, Ginger," she exclaimed, hand resting over her heart. "You're evil incarnate. Where have you been?" After glaring meaningfully at her familiar, Gillian stepped forward and opened the door. Atop a shelf, Ginger cleaned her paw with feline ennui. “I was hanging with Joaoza and Rainy. They’re much more attentive to my needs. “You not seriously going to open that door are. . .” The door swung open with an oily ease. Ginger sighed, “. . . and you just did.” Gillian caught her breath and stared. Beyond the portal lay a forested courtyard, dominated by giant wierwoods, shiny blueleafs, weeping willows, dusky pines, cherry trees, and other unusual trees. Beneath them are an even wider variety of flowers, bushes, ferns, and other plants. Stone paths loop through the flora maze, the forest broken up by arbors with shady benches and reflective pools. Here and there, wispy, feminine figures drifted from one flower bed to the other, apparently tending to the garden. The portal itself opened from a stone wall, the frame arched by lush ivy. The high wall ran in both directions, broken by cloisters and multistoried towers. "It's...beautiful..." Gillian intoned as she stepped through the door, looking all around with wide eyes. "Ginger, come on. You need to come too." “Are you utterly devoid of caution?” Ginger snapped. She leapt from her perch and quickly followed - leaving enough space between them to escape should something unpleasant occur. Once she entered the courtyard, however, she could not resist an impressed gasp. The spectral gardeners ignored them, dutifully tending to the flowers and trees. Twins suns made the air slightly warmer than the library, but their light was soft - like autumn at Feldane House. Splashing water drew them to a tranquil pond that dominated one end of the courtyard. Multicolored fish lazily circled beneath the manmade waterfall and vibrant lilies, sometimes disappearing into the emerald depths. A single stork lorded over the pond, sunning itself with regal stillness. But the statuary from which the waterfall flowed caught Gillian’s attention. Carved delicately from marble was her perfect twin - sitting naked, looking angelically upwards, a scrying bowl held before her. Water burbled from the bowl and splashed down over the rocks to the pond below. “Wow,” Ginger chimed at her feet. “Narcissus much?” "This must be the world I created. Cybele and I created, I mean," Gillian murmured, struggling to process it all. She blinked at the statue and her cheeks reddened. "But I didn't...I mean, I wouldn't..." She lowered her head. "Maybe with Seabhac's glamour, no one will recognize me..." Her hands suddenly flew to her mouth, then down the length of her body. "Gods, Ginger, the glamour. Is it still working?" “Sorry, kitten, but you actually look good for a change. Not as beautiful as me, of course. But then again, who is?” Ginger said, gazing into the pool for fish. “We must be back o’ beyond, if that thing isn’t working. Makes sense though. This places reeks of magick.” A clatter erupted behind them, startling birds from the trees and nearly launching Ginger into the pond. They discovered a timid young woman gathering up a handful of fallen scroll cases. She refused to meet Gillian’s gaze, keeping her head bowed in reverence. “Honored Minerva,” she stammered, “Please forgive me. I did not know you walked amongst us this day.” "Balls," Gillian intoned, staring at the woman with dismay. "Ginger, they think I'm the goddess of wisdom. How did...?" “… that happen?” Ginger finished. “How should I know? I’m fully aware that you’re dumb as a stump. Goddess of Poor Fashion Sense, perhaps. But wisdom? Hardly.” She scowled at her cat, then shook her head as if to clear it and bent down to help retrieve scroll cases. "I'm not Minerva," Gillian told the woman firmly. "I'm sorry for whatever subconscious desire I had to be Minerva that manifested in such a...blatant...display...of subconscious...desireness..." She made a flustered gesture with her hands. "But my name is Gillian. Not Minerva Gillian, not Gillian Minerva, just Gillian." She jerked her head back at the striped feline eyeing the koi. "And that's my familiar, Ginger. We're pleased to meet you. And you are...?" As Gillian assisted her, the girl blushed; her mouth hanging open in pure shock. “I. . . I. . . I am Molly, your Grace. Forgive me. But I do not understand your words. Is this a test, perhaps? So I might better understand the Mysteries?” Ginger stepped forward and coughed, “Yes! That’s exactly it, Molly. It’s a test. For I am Sekhmet. The One Who Is Powerful and Before Whom Evil Trembles. Mistress of Dread. And this is my daughter, Nefertem. The Slightly Dim Yet Beautiful in a Homely Way. She Who Constantly Babbles. Gillian rolled her eyes. “So, time to worship us and go get those fish from the pond. Chop, chop!” The girl regarded the cat for a moment, as if considering doing just that. "Nefertem was male, you dolt," Gillian retorted, "and you don't look much like a lioness." She turned to Molly. "Ignore what the little cat requests. She has delusions of grandeur and always believes she's hungry. “‘Believes’? I ‘know’ I’m hungry,” Ginger snapped back. “I had to walk across the entire quad to find you. That used up all my reserves.” Molly covered her mouth to hide a giggle. "Do you have a Superior, Molly? A priest or priestess, maybe?" Gillian continued, guessing the girl was an adept of some sort, based on her manner and the things she'd said. "Can you take us to them?" Molly tilted her head and then gave a slight nod, “Our Pythia? Of course, I can take you to her.” She gripped her scrolls to her chest and smiled - eager to please this strange avatar of the goddess. She led them across the courtyard and into a tall portico that connected the main communal area and a large tower. Carved vines adorned the pillars, the craftsmanship so elegant that the stone appeared to be alive. Along the way, they passed several other clerics of various cultures and races - some extremely exotic in nature. They all bowed and curtsied as Gillian passed by. Gillian smiled back at them, albeit a bit nervously. “Huh. I could get used to this,” Ginger chimed. Unfortunately - for Gillian anyway - Molly passed by the entrance to the main library. "Ooooo, a library. Ginger, did you see...?" Ginger sighed, “Would you kindly focus?” Instead, [Molly] took them deeper into the structure and opened a duskwood door into a large, sunlit room. Workbenches stretched in every direction, each laden with a riot of tomes and scrolls in various stages of repair. The building’s binding room, presumably. A purple-skinned female with dark hair and elegant horns glanced up from her work. Before Molly could stutter an introduction, the woman rose and drifted across the room in a swirl of bright silks. “My lady. Welcome!” "Th-thank you, we're happy to be here, Mm..Pythia." Gillian said the woman's name awkwardly, almost slipping in a "Miss" instead of her given name. "My name is Gillian, and this is my familiar, Ginger. We're...just visiting. Is that all right? I don't want to disturb anyone. "Wh-what is this place? I mean, what is this place called?" “This is the Athenaeum,” Pythia replied, “Sanctuary for the Order of the Metis. And I assure you, your presence here is most welcome.” Gillian mouthed "Athenaeum" to herself and smiled. "I think I'm going to like it here." She turned to the other girl, “Molly, you may go for now. I am certain the Learned Mother will be waiting for those scrolls.” Molly nodded bashfully, “Yes, Pythia. It was a pleasure to meet you, Miner…uh… Gillian. And Ginger.” She pulled up her hem and hurried off. "Goodbye, Molly." Gillian smiled and waved as the girl scurried away. Pythia scratched Ginger’s head and chuckled, “I am sure you’ve caused quite a stir by now. But it is only to be expected.” "Oh? Oh. Oh?" Gillian clasped her hands together in front of her to keep them from nervously pulling at her skirts as she faced Pythia. "Um...You know I created this place," she said. "Well, not completely by myself, I had help of course, but from what I've seen it looks like a majority of the design...and titles...were pulled from my subconscious. And I was the one that physically went through the creation ritual and the...the...gravidness." She mimed having a very large belly. Ginger sighs, “Damn, I wish I could have seen that. And taken photos to relive the moment. Over and over. And laugh.” Gillian scowled at the cat before turning back to Pythia. "Um...so yeah...I...um...just have one request. No, two. Okay, one, I don't want to be worshiped. And as a corollary to that," Gillian pushed on before Ginger could speak, "neither does my familiar. "Two...I want to visit the library." Gillian smiled hopefully. “HEY! Speak for yourself, O’Benevolent One. I ain’t giving up on this goddess gig for nothing’,” Ginger whined. Pythia picked her up to stroke her back, hitting just the right nerve centers to send the feline into an uncommon silence. “Of course, Mistress. I shall inform the sisterhood that you are to be treated respectfully, but without unsightly veneration. Just remember that, although I know that you are one of the Blooded, the Order believes you are a living manifestation of knowledge. You may be forced to deal with the occasional touch or wide-eyed adoration.” Gillian blinked. Adoration? Her? Ginger under her arm, she headed for the door; her hooves clicking on the marble stone. “Now let us fulfill your second request, shall we? “Wherever you desire, you may access any portion of the Collection. And utilize it for as long as you wish. However, I would ask that you respect that others may require the tome for their studies." "Of course," Gillian replied, scampering to follow. "Um...what did you mean by 'one of the Blooded'?" “Although the Uninitiated believe that gods walk between the worlds, we of the Sisterhood recognize that these ‘gods’ are actually the Blooded - the Get of Oberon,” Pythia explained. “Although, I must admit, I have never encountered one until today. But I have read of the Great City on the Mountain.” Pythia thought she was the royal behind the creation ritual? Behind her Gillian stumbled, but caught herself and said nothing. She opened the door Gillian had seen previously. The first thing that struck her as she entered the library was its impossibility. Even considering the large size of the structure’s exterior, the sheer scope of its interior simply could not have been contained within. Cyclopean stacks disappeared into the vast space above, faint lights flickering above like distant stars. Metallic staircases and catwalks connected them in a labyrinth of bronze and polished wood. Everywhere, the spectral creatures she’d witnessed outside drifted from row to row, refilling or removing selections from the acres of books and scroll cases. Centralized desks allowed the ghosts to deliver their armloads to the lines of waiting students. Gillian stopped, rooted to the floor, and stared upward. She opened her mouth to exclaim, but nothing came out. “Unicorn Preserve us,” Ginger groaned. “I’ll never get her out of this place.” “We are in the middle of an expansion at the moment,” Pythia stated humbly. “So, within a month or so, we should have a superior collection to offer you.” "Ex-ex-pansion?" Gillian managed to squeak. "Wh-what...um...how did...?" She paused and smiled at Pythia hopefully. "Can I check out reference materials?" “It is your library, Gillian,” Pythia chuckled. “You may access whatever you desire.” Gillian let out a small squee and clapped her hands over her mouth. "Um...I mean, thank you." Ginger groaned, “Oh GAHD.” She led Gillian over to one of the reference desks, setting Ginger down on the ebony wood. A spectral woman flickered into existence, her features eerily like Shiva’s. She cupped her hands together and bowed her head. “What information do you seek, Mistress?” Ginger licked her paw, "How about a book on ambition, 'cause this one's utterly lacking thereof." Gillian looked at Ginger out of the corner of her eye. "Be nice, kitty, or you'll get your own fish heads for the next month." There was an edge in her voice that Ginger hadn't heard before. Ginger raised a furry brow and hrmed. She turned her attention back to the library assistant. Bob had referred to her and her friends as "this batch," so perhaps there were others before them that had written about their experiences in the Dark Hour. "I wish to research texts regarding Dworkin, father of Oberon, and search for keywords 'contract', 'blue room', and..." Gillian paused, then dared to say the name. "Suhuy." Nearby, the oil lamps guttered as if touched by an ethereal breath. Pythia and the assistant did not appear to notice. “Of course, madame,” the specter said. “Accessing…” Its nebulous eyes flashed in rapid sequence. Books and scroll cases began to pop into existence on the countertop, casting off a hint of ozone. Most were genuine tomes from a variety of authors, including a biography about Dworkin penned by Prince Corwin. Gillian caught her breath. Her heart fluttered as she watched all the library materials appear so...so effortlessly. A strange gleam came to her eye, born both of her compulsive desire to know, and of speculations as to what one could do with all that knowing... Somewhere in the darkness, an Amberite smiled. Something caught her eye in the growing pile of books. One beaten notebook appeared out of place. (Assuming she opens it) It would be a disappointment for Gillian, however. Although she could glean that it was some form of lab book, all the entries were written in code. In the center of the book, a velvety piece of leather had been tucked away. A complex pattern of some sort had been inked in cobalt blue upon it. The other side looked pinkish. . . and sinewy. It was about then she realized she held a tanned strip of human skin in her hands. A knee-jerk wave of revulsion washed over her, quickly overwhelmed by a tide of academic interest and curiosity in the cobalt blue pattern/symbols. Could this be the cipher for the code in the book? She looked at it more closely. After a moment’s scrutiny, Gillian realized the pattern did not possess the qualities attributable to a cipher. It appeared more like a labyrinth or knot-maze. As her fingers traced the design, the tattoo ink appeared to darken and the skin warmed to its human temperature. Her head began to ache - a rich, penetrating pain that wormed its way deeper and deeper into her skull. But as the pain intensified, so too did her desire to finish tracing the pattern. She soon lacked the compulsion to look away, despite her agony. A trickle of blood ran out of her nose. ~Look away, girl~ the severity of Cybelle’s voice cutting through the pattern’s hypnotic call. ~It is a sketch of the Primal Pattern. Put it down. NOW.” Gillian tried to obey, but perhaps a part of her was too fascinated to comply. Just...another...moment...and she'd be done... Cybelle grew more panicked. ~Are you completely daft?!~ She may have been yelling, but the voice sounded distant and indistinct. The pattern continued to draw Gillian’s attention. Soon, the pain became pleasure - the two indistinguishable. The world around her began to fade, her entire focus remaining on the smooth, scintillating pattern in her hands. She could sense Mysteries behind it. Power. Infinite power. All she needed to do was complete the twisting maze and it would be hers. Just a little longer. The claw struck her hand between the index finger and thumb, slicing into the flesh with shocking intensity. This new pain wrenched her away for an instant. But that’s all Gillian’s body needed to recognize how far gone she truly was. Blood painted the front of her dress, her arms, and the floor. Her blood. She felt arms around her waist, supporting her as the world dropped out from under her numb feet. Distantly, she could hear Ginger yowling in terror. "Red...not my best color," she mumbled. "Pretty lights..." Gillian's eyes rolled back into her head and slipped into blissful unconsciousness. [continued in Emerging Patterns] |
