Page 12 of The Song of Sunrise (The Prentice Teller #1)
The Library Cat
I am gasping for air by the time we get to the top of the narrow switchback stairs.
Two onyx doors three times my height stand solidly shut before me, linked together by the center peak of an engraved “W”.
Before Leaf finishes extending his arm to knock, a series of loud clanking sounds like a mixture between rock and metal comes from behind the door.
The notes echo tenfold across the quiet rocky landscape, bouncing the sound from one side of the ravine to the other and creating an eerie, erratic rhythm.
Leaf is first to go inside, Castor next. And I linger for a few moments.
Sun burn me, I cannot believe I’m doing this.
I try to swallow, but my tongue is too dry. I walk through the onyx doors into the castle.
The interior is made with the same bone white stone as the exterior. Smooth and unforgiving. Moonlight drifts through ceiling windows high above, illuminating the chamber of circular stone columns. In the center of the room is a dark oval pool, shallow and still.
Lanterns flicker throughout the expansive room along the wall between large tapestries.
The warm light contrasts with the rest of the cold, empty space.
I lean closer to lanterns, something off with the way the firelight flickers— oh!
Instead of flames, the lanterns are filled with small golden orbs, dancing within their cages like wild creatures.
Straight ahead, beyond the oval pool is a large, curving staircase.
Rounded stairs flare at the bottom and top, where it splits in two different directions for the mezzanine that circles the room from above.
The foyer is mostly empty of people beyond a few trailing blue cloaks fluttering about, up on the mezzanine, circling the columns, or walking up the stairs and disappearing.
I clasp my jaw shut—a recent embarrassing habit of mine, it seems.
“Classes resume tomorrow, so I’m sure everyone is at Anita’s celebrating their last night off,” Leaf says. “So…what do you think?”
“It’s nothing like what I pictured,” I say.
“Ha, I had the same expression when I came in here for the first time,” Leaf says as he starts up the staircase.
Castor and I follow. “I’m going to figure out your rooming situation and catch back up with you both later.
It’s nice having you here, Akemi.” He puts his hand lightly on my shoulder.
“With the amount of spooning we’ve done over the last few days, I consider you a dear friend. ”
I laugh as he skips away.
Castor and I climb the stairs. He doesn’t share much beyond that we are going to stop by the Elder Superior to recount the last few weeks of his travels and secure a Watcher spot for me.
We walk up the grand staircase and straight down a corridor. Velvet blue drapes line the walls each embroidered with an ornate sun, moon, or stars, all circling around a “W.” I hadn’t really noticed before how beautiful the Watcher crests were for each faction.
Castor leads us up another spiral staircase until we reach a circular room with seven wooden doors.
“This is the Elder Council corridor. They oversee the Watch, make sure we are properly trained, and act as delegates to the Governance.” He leads us to the door furthest to the right and knocks twice.
“Come in,” a man's voice calls from the other side.
“No matter what he says, I’m right here,” Castor whispers slowly to me.
We cross the threshold into the office. The sleek white walls curve behind a dark wooden desk. We must be inside one of the castle’s drum towers. Lanterns flare in contrast to the dark night sky through windows beyond.
“Hello Castor.” The man sitting at the desk leans backward into a wingback chair as he crosses his legs. Small streaks of gray glimmer through his muted brown hair. His lips purse together, and his brows express evidence of permanent furrowing.
“Elder Superior Markus.” Castor’s jaw flexes.
“You were to run one errand and were gone for weeks . Speak. Now.”
“There was another Underworld attack,” Castor stumbles out quickly.
It is odd to see Castor act this way, flustered and agitated. His jaw ticks, and he keeps stopping himself from rocking back and forth on his feet. Clearly, he is interested in getting the Hels out of this room. And I don’t blame him. The Elder Superior has a cruel energy about him.
“We were just finishing up our assessment of Ashwood,” Castor continues and hands the Elder Superior a small parchment from the inside of his cloak, “when a messenger arrived pleading for extra protection for a town festival in Goldenpine to the south. Given the decimation left from the Underlings in Ashwood, we figured it would be in the best interest of the Watch to add protections in Goldenpine. You will see in the note that Ashwood was left in poor condition; their infrastructure system was severely damaged. You’ll want to send a repair unit there right away. ”
“I do not take orders from you, son.” The Elder’s nostrils flare wide with anger as he rises to stand, slapping the desk beneath his palms.
Castor casts his head downward immediately.
“Sorry, Father. I spoke out of turn.”
Father?
The Elder Superior is Castor’s dad?
It all clicks into place. The Shadow Pass guard stepping aside when they saw Castor, Leaf’s quips about his family, and Castor’s own confidence in getting me a spot at the Academy… it all starts to make sense. I swallow at the realization but end up choking on my spit.
Elder Superior Markus takes notice of me for the first time, his black eyes flicking in my direction. “Who is she?” He directs his question back at Castor.
“She”—he steps aside—“is Akemi Nox, a Prentice Teller from Goldenpine. She was there during the attack and can corroborate my account of what happened.” He pulls another note from his cloak but this time doesn’t hand it to his father, instead flicking it down to the desk.
“She was also with us when we passed the Dead Twins. We visited the WatchTower and there were no signs of recent Watchers stationed. The nomads said rations have been skipped for months. It’s getting worse, Father.
We need more supplies, more Watchers!” At this point, Castor’s voice is raised as he slams the third piece of paper onto the desk.
“As you very well know, the Fetchers are doing their best to recruit new talent. It’s been… challenging to keep numbers up.” Markus doesn’t seem to mind his son’s sudden defiance and simmering rage. Perhaps this is how they best communicate.
“Akemi wishes to enroll in the Watch,” Castor states, and my heart practically jumps through my throat.
Markus laughs and wipes his chin once he notices us standing still, awaiting his approval. “A Teller is meant for entertaining people with their hopeless fairy tales, not for rigorous training, fights, and battlefields.”
Maybe it is my rage at his pompous statement that causes my mouth to fly open in defense before thinking.
“Tellers are highly regarded historians of the Lus’Civitas.
Another equal faction of the Governance along with the Watch, mind you.
” I square my shoulders and look straight at the Elder.
“Without us, humans would not know our own histories, the facts, the battles that you so promptly referenced. They aren’t fairy tales; they are legacies put to words so that we do not repeat our same flippant mistakes in a century from now.
The same mistakes that nearly ended this earth.
When the ancient relics of the Old World fade, who will remember?
Tellers are the real guardians. The guardians of truth, of purpose, of loss, of hope.
We are the keepers of ancient war strategies.
Living, breathing anthologies when towns like Ashwood are decimated. Who remembers then?”
My pulse is screaming, and my chest heaves up and down. I catch my breath and raise my chin slowly to meet those beady black eyes once more. Eyes so unlike Castor’s. “Learning to fight seems simple compared to memorizing thousands of stories.”
The only reaction Markus gives is the slight up tilt of an eyebrow as he walks around the desk, stopping only inches in front of me.
He peels off a leather glove. I flinch as he extends a ruined hand toward my face.
He places a finger in the gap between my clavicle bones at the base of my neck.
A shudder of disgust travels down my spine.
“You may stay,” he says before rounding back to his seat.
“Thank you, Father,” Castor says.
“Never again speak to me in such a manner, Akemi”—Elder Superior Markus glares at me—“or your story will end much more abruptly than you anticipate.”
His threat is pungent and dark, like oil on my skin. I feel the need to wash myself raw to erase the memory of his touch. Castor turns and guides me out of the office. Only when we are back in a large main black and white tiled corridor does Castor finally let go of my lower back.
“So… the Elder Superior is your father?” I ask awkwardly.
Castor looks at me and shrugs. “If I could pick another family, I would.”
“I don’t even know mine,” I hear myself faintly say before I can stop myself. Castor’s head tilts to the side slightly as if he is about to say something when Leaf jogs into sight with another smaller figure trailing behind.
“Hey! How did it go?” Leaf asks, his sunny disposition already warming my mood.
“About as good as it usually goes. But… Akemi’s in!” Castor puts his arm around my shoulders and pulls me close.
“I was hoping you’d say that, because I found her official roommate.
” Leaf hops to the side to reveal a short, beautiful woman, with gorgeous dark, curly hair that parts in the middle for bangs, tapering eventually to her shoulders.
Her pixie-like features, big green eyes and blushing round cheeks, contrast with her olive skin and all black attire, including platform boots and looped ring in the center of her small, upturned nose.