1.10 – The Library of Alexandria

“I don’t intend to kill you,” said Octavius. “All I ask is your cooperation.”

“And then what?” snarled the prisoner, a skinny black college kid. “I’ve heard about you striders. Any chronomancers who go into this school don’t come out. You know why? Because we’d tell everybody about your sick machines!”

Octavius sighed. “Amos, you make this needlessly difficult…”

“I heard about Indal!” howled Amos. “One of your students messed him up good, Octavius! You’ll never get any power from me, you hear? Not one spark!”

Amos was standing with both hands wrapped in strips of thin metal, secured by electrical tape up to his elbows. Cables ran out of the metal strips and fed into the machine that surrounded them. A testament to Octavius’s mechcanical genius: wires, conduits and dynamos sprawling in every direction. The room was lit with dim green light, but the room’s center was left dark. A spike like a stalactite hung from the ceiling there, but its function was hidden in the gloom.

Rayn stood nearby, his right hand also wrapped in metal and electrical tape, but not to the same extent as Amos. He looked bored. “Aw Amos,” he said, “shut up and do the experiment already.”

“No way!” said Amos, struggling to break his bonds. “You people kidnapped me and I wake up tied to this machine… you’ll probably kill me next!”

Octavius gazed at Amos, his eyes glittering in the half light. It made him look sickly and half-dead. “You will give us your power,” he said quietly. “Or else I will be forced to take drastic measures.” He raised his right hand, and green flames licked at his fingertips.

“Oh no you’re—” Amos broke off in a gasp. His head lashed and his back arched. He tried to scream, but all that came out was a scratchy whoosh of breath.

Octavius stared at him, unblinking, hand still outstretched. “Manipulating space is like molding clay,” he said. “You can stretch it and squeeze it, form it into any shape you please. You can blow it up like a balloon… and do you know what happens when I dilate the space between your spine and your lungs?”

Amos could not speak, but sweat trickled down his face as he stared back at Octavius.

“Pain,” said Octavius. “Intense, excruciating pain.” He lowered his hand, and the green flames vanished. Amos slumped forward and gasped for breath, whimpering. “Now,” said Octavius, “give us your power, or I will seperate each of your ligaments one at a time.”

Amos said nothing, but purple sparks erupted inside of the metal strips that encased his hands. Out in the machine’s center, the violet lightning arced around a central shaft.

“Rayn,” said Octavius.

Rayn nodded, and ignited the green fire. It, too, appeared around the central spire in the machine.

The spire, illuminated in the two colors of light, began to glow at its tip. It had a focusing crystal at the bottom of the shaft which was aimed at a prism. It looked like a sewing machine with fire and lightning encircling the needle.

Octavius ran to a control console and adjusted its dials. “More power!” he called.

Amos and Rayn obliged. The purple lightning and green fire brightened. The emitting and reciving crystals began to glow, and a miasma of light formed between them.

“More!” called Octavius.

The power increased, and the miasma slowly brightened to a greenish gold, burning like a tiny star between the crystals.

Octavius grinned and slammed down a lever. Lights sprang to life all around the room. Dynamos began to turn. A deep hum filled the air and caused the floor to vibrate. Amos and Rayn were sweating from the effort of keeping that much power going for so long, but Octavius didn’t care. “The Gold Light!” he yelled over the machine’s noise. “When Time and Space become one! Now it shall tear them apart!”

The machine’s hum crescendoed to a scream. The lightning and flames danced more and more frantically, and the golden light brightened until it was blinding. Then it shrank to nothing and vanished, as if sucked down a drain. The machine’s lights blew out and the dynamos screeched to a halt as sparks rained from the conduits. Then the room went completely dark.

“Did it work?” Rayn called in the sudden silence.

“Oh yes, it worked,” said Octavius’s voice. “The fate of all worlds is sealed now.”

A green light ignited, flickering on the ends of Octavius’s fingers. He waved it, and Rayn’s hand phased through its bindings. “Now,” Octavius said, “kindly escort Amos to the ACES for me.”

As Rayn led away the exhausted Amos, Dimetrius appeared out of the darkness. He gazed at the machine in contempt. “Congratulations,” he said to Octavius. “You’ve set in motion the first phase of the plan. Now, if we can only escalate the war within two weeks…”

“Why two weeks?” asked Octavius. “The storm requires at least that long for the reaction to stabilize.”

“Exactly,” said Dimetrius. “Time is what we cannot control, and precisely what our enemies excel in. Have you located the Strider of Chronos yet?”

“He has not yet revealed himself with the Gold Light,” said Octavius. “But when he does, we’ll have him.”

“Yes,” said Dimetrius, looking thoughtful. “It won’t be long.”

Carda, Xironi, and Sera stood beside the roadster as the sun peeked over the eastern horizon. The morning air was a little chilly, and Xironi wore a sweater. Carda was dressed in his usual jeans and t-shirt, and Seraphim wore a white dress with a blue vest. “We’re sure to stand out in a crowd,” remarked Xironi, looking at them. “Who knows what they wear a world over?”

“So we’ll change,” Carda shrugged. “Is Esca almost done?”

“Another few minutes.” She was hovering over Xironi’s shoulder, the lights around her rim flashing as she worked the calculations. “You don’t want to open a portal into a black hole or something.”

Sera looked inside the roadster. “Ben’s in there again.”

“Leave him,” said Carda. “I’ve tried to catch the little brat a million times already. He just rewinds time and gets away. He’s determined to come with us.”

They waited, shivering a little. Esca’s lights continued to flash. Finally she announced, “All done!”

“Good,” said Xironi, holding out her right hand. “Carda, if you don’t mind…”

Carda placed his hand under hers, noting how cold her skin felt. He let the green flames ignite in his palm, and felt them ripple up into Xironi’s hand. Xironi’s own fire combined with his and flowed into Esca.

Esca’s lights brightened to lime green, and a long, thin beam of light, like a laser, shone from her center to trace a circle around them and the car.

The world turned gray and darkened in the places where it had been light—the sky turned black, and so did Sera’s dress and the whites of everyone’s eyes. Only Esca and the line she had drawn remained in full color, shimmering in the darkness.

Then color and light flooded back, and they were standing on a wooden dock, surrounded by crates and barrels.

“Excellent hiding place for the car,” said Esca.

“Right,” said Carda. He grabbed a nearby tarp and pulled it over the roadster, concealing its shiny red paint. As he dusted off his hands, he discovered Ben on his shoulder. Carda glared at him. “Hello, pest.”

“Shiny?” said Ben.

“Fine. But you’d better not wander off.”

Sera had found a narrow passage between crates. They filed through it, and emerged on the busy docks of Alexandria, Egypt.

They need not have worried about blending in. The people were dressed in pants and shirts similar to their offworld visitors’, and the women swished about in long skirts. Ships of all shapes and sizes filled the harbor: freighters piled with cargo, huge, brightly-painted passenger ships, and hundreds of small fishing boats. All of them sported steampipes that puffed clouds of steam into the air. It smelled of fish, tar, and unwashed people.

They pushed their way through the milling crowd until they found a road with a sign marked, “The Library.”

Sera peered up and down the road. “Cars,” she announced. “Let’s stay to the side.” No sooner had she spoken than an extremely odd-looking vehicle roared by. They glimpsed a square wooden cab with a massive metal thing on the back that chugged out clouds of steam, like a miniature locomotive. They watched as it puffed away toward the city.

“Interesting direction technology has taken in this world,” remarked Xironi.

The group set out walking toward the Library, wondering superstitiously whether the mist that hung in the air came from other steam-powered vehicles, or from something more sinister.

It was about half a mile of open road before they reached the city proper. They could see it in the distance, walled with yellow stone, arches and domes rising above it, gleaming in the hot desert sun. It was not until they stepped through the gate that they realized the size of the library.

The city WAS the Library.

They came to a wooden signpost with signs pointing off in various directions. “To History,” said one that pointed south. “To Technology,” read one that pointed east. “To Science,” read another that pointed west. “To Biographies,” read still another, pointing at a giant building in the center of town. It sported the domes they had seen from a distance.

“Let’s try Biographies,” said Carda. “We’re looking for a journal, after all.”

The entire city had a high-tech, yet somewhat Victorian, look to it. Steam rose in great plumes from almost every building, and mechanical gizmos of every nature and purpose zipped about, performing whatever duties they were created to accomplish.

Esca hovered to and fro, humming with excitement. Xironi merely gaped at the technology. “It’s so archaic, and yet so futuristic at the same time. Esca, are you sure this is the right place?”

“Positive,” said Esca. “I triple-checked all of my calculations. This is three worlds distant from Earth.” She paused, then said, “I like it here a lot. Can we come back and just visit sometime? There are other robots here I could get to know.”

An unfamiliar voice from behind made them jump. “Hey, Jack, you ever seen a model like this before?” The group turned to see two teenagers staring at Esca from a short distance away. One was shorter than the other, and both wore suits with waistcoats and derby hats. The taller boy wore a duster, unbuttoned and apparently just one size too big for him.

Jack, the taller of the two, glanced Esca over with an appraising eye. “Can’t say I have, Jim. What I’d like to know is, where’s its engine? Can’t nothin’ mechanical run on anything but steam, can it?”

“Not as far as I know, Jack. Wouldn’t mind takin’ it apart to see how it works…”

“Miss Xironi!” Esca yelped, zipping behind Xironi’s head. “They said they want to take me apart!”

“It t-t-talks?” Jim stammered. “I never seen a machine that could talk before!”

Xironi raised an eyebrow at the boys. “Maybe you two can help us out.”

“Sure, anything you say, miss,” Jack gulped, still staring at Esca.

“Would you happen to know where we could find a journal?”

“You’d have to talk to Ol’ Jonas about that, sir,” Jack replied. “He’s the Head Librarian, although I don’t know why.”

“Well, maybe he’s in charge of all the books here,” Xironi offered.

“I doubt that, miss. He may know where you can find any book in the city, but he’s not exactly the type to do any paperwork or take a look at your library card, if you catch my meaning.”

“Not quite sure I do,” Carda responded, puzzled.

“Well, sir, Ol’ Jonas is blind.”

“We can take you to where he lives,” Jim offered. “It’s in the back of the Biographies, kind of easy to miss.”

Carda, Sera, and Xironi exchanged glances, shrugged in unison, and turned back to the pair. “Lead the way,” said Xironi.

Jim and Jack walked down the cobblestone street. Carda and his crew followed, trying not to stare at their surroundings like obvious tourists. The buildings were all composed of stone, adorned with Egyptian hieroglyphics and Greek numerals. A boy flew overhead on a steam-powered jetpack. Xironi, Carda, Sera, and Esca stared, all but the latter open-mouthed.

“I want one of those,” said Xironi.

Jack heard them and doubled back. “Oh, those aren’t for sale. The postal service manufactures them specially.”

“In other words, you’d have to go postal first,” Carda murmured in Xironi’s ear, and she giggled with her hand over her mouth.

They walked on, looking in the windows of the little shops and marvelling at how many types of books there were. They ranged from leather-bound volumes to scrolls to stacks of clay tablets covered in cuneiform. The street corners were decorated with gleaming marble statues of famous men and women with flowing robes and fantastic hair. It was like London with a million more books.

Carda was so absorbed in looking at things that he didn’t notice when a dirty little boy brushed against him and darted up a side street. He DID notice when a woman across the street shrieked, “There he is! He stole my pocket watch!” and pointed directly at HIM.

Carda halted and looked at his group in bewilderment, then stared as three thugs appeared out of nowhere and advanced on them. “I don’t have anything!” he exclaimed, reaching into his pocket.

And pulling out a gold pocket watch.

He looked at it for a split second, then set it on the ground, hoping against hope that those thugs would stop advancing. They only grinned and began rolling up their sleeves.

Xironi grabbed Carda’s arm. “RUN!”

They sprinted down a road toward History, ducking through the people who dodged out of their way. Sera sidestepped and vanished into the crowd.

“If I EVER see that little weasel again I’m gonna KILL him,” Carda growled as he and Xironi sprinted around a corner, the goons hot on their heels.

“I don’t get it. You dropped the watch. Why are they still following us?” Xironi panted beside him.

“Because just the fact that I supposedly took it is enough to warrant a beating,” Carda griped in reply. He used his spatial power to compress the space in front of them, increasing their speed tenfold.

“Everyone must think we’re track stars or something,” Xironi remarked.

“I only wish I were,” Carda gasped. He was starting to slow down.

“There’s gotta be someplace we can hide,” Xironi pondered. She looked at Carda, who looked like he was about to collapse now. “Wait, I know!” She grabbed Carda and yanked him into a side alley.

The goons rushed up to the mouth of the alley, saw no sign of their quarry, and continued running down the street.

Carda and Xironi were in fact standing in the middle of the alley. Xironi had one arm wrapped around Carda with her right hand held up. Green fire cascaded down their bodies, phasing them out of reality just enough to hide them completely from view.

“Have I ever mentioned how incredible you are at quick thinking?” Carda grinned.

“I try,” Xironi smiled back.

“I love how your eyes sparkle when we’re this close, too.”

Xironi was suddenly aware of just how close that was, and of his warmth, and how tightly she was gripping his waist. She flinched away from him, and the fire flickered out. They became visible again.

A shadow fell over them, and Sera dropped into the alley, folding her wings. “We’ve got a problem,” she said, looking hot and very cross.

“What’s wrong?” Xironi asked, just as she looked around and noticed that Esca and Ben were missing.

“It’s Esca. She just got stolen.”

“WHAT?” Xironi cried.

Sera pointed up the street in the opposite direction. “Yeah, when those guys came after you, Esca was floating behind you, and these two guys ran up and threw a bag over her. I would have said something, but you two ran for it.”

“Oh heck,” said Carda, running a hand through his hair. “That must have been why that kid set me up like that. And where did Ben go?”

“I was wondering the same thing,” said Xironi. “Maybe he stuck close to Esca because she’s shiny?”

“We can only hope,” said Carda.

The bag turned upside down, and Esca fell out. She caught herself and hovered in midair, lights blinking questioningly. She was in a nondescript warehouse, with lots of mechanical equipment and far too much scrap and salvage laying about for her comfort.

“Never seen a model like this before,” a voice said from behind her.

She spun around to see a big burly man looking her over appraisingly. “Where did you say you found this one?”

“Tourists,” a thinner man off to one side replied. “Just had the thing following them around like a puppy. One little distraction and we were able to swipe it. Too dang easy.” His accomplice next to him nodded with a weasel-like grin on his face.

Is THAT why they framed Mister Carda? Esca thought. To get ME? What do they want with ME?

“It’s intriguing, I’ll give you that. No steam engine, and yet it’s running just the same. Very interesting. Can’t wait to get my hands on it and tear it apart to see what makes it tick.”

“NOW JUST HOLD ON A MINUTE!” Esca cried. “I am getting sick and tired of people wanting to take me apart! I have feelings too, you know!”

The three men stared at her for a moment, mouths agape. Then the big man smiled. “Well, I don’t believe I’ve ever heard a mechanical talk before. Now I REALLY have to see what’s underneath that exterior.” He took a step forward menacingly, brandishing a huge wrench.

“You want to see what’s inside? Take a look!”

The last thing the man saw before he was knocked unconscious was the form of a spinning mechanical frisbee flying straight at his face.

Jim and Jack were standing on the sidewalk looking amused when Carda, Xironi, and Sera ran up, panting and flushed. “They stole my robot!” Xironi gasped, clutching a stitch in her side.

“Yeah, we saw,” said Jim, shoving his hat back on his head. “Those guys are part of a local chop-shop ring. They steal robots and sell their parts.”

Xironi went white.

“They hide out down on Delta Street,” said Jack. “That way.”

Carda compressed space like an accordion and yanked them all to Delta Street. Jim and Jack lost their balance and sprawled in the road, but the other three kept their feet. Looking around, they found themselves down at the waterfront again, surrounded by warehouses with people hauling stuff in and out. “See anybody suspicious?” panted Sera.

“Yeah, him,” said Carda, pointing.

A small black lizard-creature was scampering toward them on all fours, panting, “Shiny! Shiny! Shiny!” He leaped at Carda, swarmed up his pant leg and shirt, arrived on his shoulder, and sat shaking his feet as if the hot pavement had burned him. “Shiny!” he proclaimed, pointing at the nearest warehouse.

They all hurried toward it. As they reached the door, it opened, and a green frisbee floated out. Xironi saw that its paint was flaked and scratched around the edges.

“Hi guys,” said Esca.

Xironi snatched the robot out of midair and hugged her to her chest. “You okay?”

“I’m fine, Miss Xironi. Sorry to make you worry.”

“Well, that’s more than can be said for these guys,” Carda quipped, indicating the pile of unconscious bodies inside the warehouse.

Xironi let go of Esca to get a better look, and the robot resumed hovering over her left shoulder. Jim and Jack merely gaped, trying to figure out what the heck was going on.

Sera stood back, keeping an eye out for hostile reinforcements. “Where did Esca learn to fight like that?”

“I sure didn’t program her with any combat knowledge,” Xironi replied.

“Self-preservation instincts, most likely,” Carda said.

“Can a robot have instincts?” asked Sera.

“I don’t stink!” said Esca, insulted.

Jim and Jack sidled up to Sera and bombarded her with questions. “Who ARE you people?” “Where did you come from?” “How come it doesn’t run on steam?” “What makes it light up and talk?”

Xironi returned as Sera was holding up her hands and shaking her head to ward off the onslaught. “Can you boys keep a secret?” she asked conspiratorially. The boys nodded, eyes the size of dinner plates. “Well, we’re magicians from a place far away. Esca here runs on magic, and that’s also how we travel around. Now you’ve got to make sure you don’t tell anyone, okay?”

The pair nodded again, still wide-eyed.

“Good. Now come on. You promised to show us where this Jonas was, right?”

The group made it across town without further incident. With the guidance of their new friends, they caught a ride halfway there on a contraption something like a zepplin suspended from cables, which shuttled people to and fro along routes denoted by yellow paint on the cobblestones.

The Biography section was enormous and splendid. Three golden domes rose above it, supported by arches on marble pillars. The domes gleamed in the sunlight, and the pillars were so polished that they reflected the street.

“Jonas lives in HERE?” whispered Carda as the group climbed the thirty-six steps to the temple entryway. A robed guard stood at the entrance holding a ceremonial spear. As they neared the door, he smiled and held it open for them, which diminished his frightening looks.

Inside was a marble-floored lobby the size of a train station. Light filtered in through windows in the dome. A small sign announced in English, Greek, and Egyptian that the west wing housed the library, while the east wing housed classrooms and lecture halls. It seemed that this library-city also tripled as a university.

As Jim and Jack led them into the west wing, they entered another room just as vast as the first one, but here the walls consisted of bookcases that extended to the ceiling. The shelves were made of dark, polished wood, and three ladders on rollers stood here and there among them. It smelled of dust, ink, and ancient paper.

“Just call him and he’ll come,” said Jack. “It was nice meeting you!”

He and his friend departed, leaving the offworlders in the dusty, padded silence of the library.

“Mr. Jonas?” Carda invoked in hushed tones.

A door opened in the bookcase, and they saw that the door had shelves on it, complete with books, rendering it completely invisible when closed. A man in a simple monk’s cowl stepped in. He was barefoot, his head was shaved, and he wore a black blindfold over his eyes. He walked toward them, raising a hand in welcome. “What can I do for you?” he asked.

A password. Wasn’t there a password? Carda dug into his pocket, pulled out Joseph’s journal, and quickly thumbed through it. Yes, to access the first hidden journal…

“I’m looking for a book,” he said after a moment.

“A book. I see. We’ll you’ve certainly come to the right place,” Jonas replied with a bemused (and slightly sarcastic) smile.

“Better the right place than the left,” Carda quipped in return.

A pause. Jonas hadn’t expected that response. “There are those who would say that the left is better.”

“But without the right there would be no left, and without the left there would be no right. They rely on each other.”

“What you say is true… But if that is so, then why is there debate?”

“Pride,” Carda answered simply.

“Too true,” Jonas replied in kind, sounding suddenly overcome. Without warning he stepped forward and embraced Carda, a move which made the young Strider mildly uncomfortable, but he returned the gesture. After a long moment the old scribe stepped back and held Carda at arm’s length, as if studying him with his sightless eyes under the blindfold. “Who sent you, boy?”

“I came myself. I have Joseph Planarre’s journal, and I… need the medallion.”

“To unmask your true power,” said Jonas, smiling. “Of course. At long last, a new Strider of Chronos has arrived. Joseph would be proud.”

Jonas turned and stepped to a certain bookcase. He ran his fingers across one of the shelves, counting books as he went, until he came to a book which they saw looked much newer than the rest. He gently pulled back on the book and let it slide back into place, and with a rumble of ancient machinery, the entire bookshelf dropped into the floor.

In the space behind the bookcase, a single book rested on a stand. Jonas picked it up and returned to where Carda stood. “Here you are, lad. Read it carefully. It will lead you to the next journal.”

“I will, sir; and thank you,” Carda replied. Jonas bowed his head and returned to his study. Both bookcase-doors slid back into place, and the room was silent once more.