Silas
Rast? The name was unfamiliar, but not without meaning. He had heard it before. He had claimed it in the past.
Silas could feel all of the blood drain from his face. It took everything in him to resist the urge to grab the man in front of him by the neck, and demand to know what he knew.
Instead, he glanced over at Eryn, and then back at the man. "It may be that we do. How do you know Aren?"
The man shook his head. "Not here," he said. "Come with me."
He led them to the east corner of the library, where there was a door. The door led down into a basement underneath the building. There was a large room where a dozen men leaned over books, reading from one and writing to another, their only light that of an oil lamp that hung close above their heads.
"This is where we scribe copies of the more popular texts," he said, leading them through the room. Nobody looked up.
Behind that was a short hallway, with a door on either side. The man took out a key, and unlocked the one on the left, pushing it open.
"This is where we burn the books they find that he doesn't approve of," he said. "Did you know he has people whose sole purpose is to track down such books?" The room had an oven in it, not currently lit. The walls were covered in ash. He closed the door and turned to the one on the right.
"This is my office," he said, unlocking it, opening the door, and entering. "Please, come in."
They filed in. The office was a simple affair, with a plain desk in the center, a stool, and hastily piled stacks of books behind it.
"My name is Markus," he said, closing the door behind them. "I'm the librarian."
"Markus," Silas said, "How did you know my son?"
Markus' eyes lifted, and his mouth opened. "You? You're supposed to be dead."
He made a move for the door. Before he had taken two steps, Silas produced a knife from his boot, and put it to the librarian's throat.
"Not a sound," he said. He held him for a tense moment. "Blink your eyes if I can let you go without you calling for help. I didn't come here to hurt you."
It took a few seconds, but Markus blinked his eyes.
Silas let him go.
"I do... do... don't understand," Markus said. "Why would you come to me, after all this time? After what you did to him?"
Murderer.
Silas fought against himself. "You know about that?"
"Of course I know," he said. "I know all about you. Talon Rast, General of the Northern Armies. So loyal to him, that you ordered the death of your own son."
He spat in Silas' face.
Silas could feel Eryn tense beside him, and she started to move forward to restrain the man. He put his hand up in front of her, causing her to stop. He closed his eyes, and let the spittle slide down his cheek. He tried to remember. General Talon Rast? He knew he had commanded men, but not his rank. Not even his real name. Not until now.
He opened his eyes, and slowly wiped away the spit.
"I deserve that and more," he said to Markus. "Although that name is no longer familiar to me. These days, I go by Silas Morningstar."
Markus looked confused. "The fugitive the Overlord is searching for?"
"The same. Whatever I was before, everything is different now. Please, Markus, tell me who you are, and how you knew Aren. Your anger is too violent to be anything but personal."
He could tell that Markus had expected to die. He stood shivering in front of them, his eyes defiant. At Silas' words, he began to cry.
"My daughter's name was Kaelyn," he said. "She was Aren's wife." He looked up at Silas, their eyes meeting. "The soldiers killed her, and their unborn child."
Murderer.
Silas' jaw tightened on its own. He had killed this man's daughter, his son's wife? He couldn't even remember when Aren had gotten married. Unborn child? It wasn't possible. Aren was Cursed.
He bowed his head to the man. "I'm sorry, Markus. For all of the pain I have cause you and your wife. For every day you have woken in anger and sorrow for the loss of your child, and your grandchild. I won't ask for your forgiveness, nor do I expect it, however; I have sworn to protect those who I have wronged, and I need to know whatever you can tell me about Aren, and about myself."
It was clear Markus didn't know how to react. "I... I... I don't understand."
"Markus," Eryn said, stepping forward. "We need to know what you know. Silas he... he has no memory. We believe he may have taken it. Or the Overlord may have taken it. We need to find out why."
"Taken it? How can someone take a memory?"
Silas got to his feet, tears in his eyes. "What do you know about the Cursed?"
"I know that he hunts them," Markus said. "I... I know other things too. The Mediators are Cursed. Aren told me that. He figured it out. He learned things. He said never to tell anyone, or they would come for me."
"Do you know about their power?" Eryn asked.
"Power? To try to talk the Cursed into coming with them? I know they promise to help them, and take care of them. It is all lies to get them to come quietly. I don't think they want to kill their families. Not always."
"No, their real power," Eryn said.
Markus shook his head. "No, I... Aren knew more, but he wouldn't tell me. He said it wasn't safe for me to know."
"The Cursed have the power to make someone forget. Or make someone drink to forget," Eryn said.
"I've never heard anything like that," Markus replied.
Silas watched Eryn close her eyes. He watched the rise and fall of her chest as her breathing evened out. "Opire," she whispered. The door swung back open.
Markus turned white again, while Silas pushed the door closed. "You're Cursed," he said to Eryn. A small run of blood was pooling below her eye.
"The Mediators are also Cursed," Silas said. "They come to speak to the Cursed. They determine if their power is strong enough to try to enlist them or to just kill them." He remembered the black haired Mediator he had killed. "You are right that they don't always seem happy about it."
"Why? How? It... It doesn't make sense."
"We don't know," Eryn said. "We're trying to find out."
"Markus, are you sure your daughter was with child?" Silas asked.
Markus nodded.
"Are you sure it was Aren's child?"
"What are you suggesting?" he asked, his face turning red.
Silas put up his hand. "Aren was Cursed. The Cursed cannot have children."
"She was with no other, I would swear my life on it. She loved your son more than anything."
Silas decided not to push. "You saw Eryn looking at the history books. That was when you asked us if we knew Aren. Why?"
Markus went over and sat on his stool. "I met your boy when he was sixteen," he said. "From what I know, he had just left home. He came to the library, and asked me if he could apprentice with me. He said he loved books, and learning. He was so enthusiastic. He reminded me of myself at his age. I took him on.
"Everything went well for the first four months. He even started courting my daughter. I was so happy at the prospect. They were married two months later."
"Was I there?" Silas asked.
"No. Your wife, I'm sorry but I don't remember her name."
"Alyssa."
"Alyssa was there. She said you were off in Neder, and wouldn't be back for some time. She gave your son her wedding ring, to give to Kaelyn. She said you would never notice it was gone."
Silas tried to remember, to picture himself in the northern province, across the Small Sea. He came up empty. At least now he knew how the ring had gotten into Aren's hands.
"Then, soon after that, he came to me and started asking me questions about history. About him. About the books we were supposed to burn, and if I had ever read any of them. I told him that it wasn't permitted, and besides most of the books weren't written in our alphabet. He confessed to me that he had taken one. He said it was in an old language, and he was still trying to figure out what it meant, but it had made him begin to question why everything is the way it is."
"Books in another alphabet?" Eryn asked.
"Yes. He insists that we burn any book that came before his rule, under penalty of hanging. The Overlord says that such books are dangerous, and he does it to protect us."
"From what?"
"I don't know," he replied. "That is what Aren was trying to learn. Anyway, he came to me soon after and said he no longer wished to be a librarian or a scholar. He was taking Kaelyn to Addletown and they were going to become farmers. You can imagine my shock and surprise, but he said that Kaelyn was expecting, and he needed to distance himself from his empire as much as he could."
"That still doesn't answer the question of why you asked us about him?" Eryn said.
"The last thing he said to me before he left was to keep an eye out for those who were seeking a history of the Empire. Not just browsing, but truly seeking. He said to ask them if they knew him, and to tell them where he could be found, that he had things to share. He wouldn't tell me what. He said it wasn't safe. He said even Kaelyn didn't know everything."
Silas sat silent for a long time, forcing Eryn and Markus to sit quietly as well. He searched his mind for the memories of all he had been told, for any connection he could find. How did this all fit with the Overlord being so desperate to have him killed? Did it have anything to do with him at all? How could Aren have been Cursed, and have a child? What had he learned that caused him to leave the city?
"Thank you, Markus," Silas said at last. "You've been more helpful than I could have imagined." He backed up and reached for the door.
"Silas?" Markus asked.
"Yes?"
"What are you going to do?"
"We're going to learn the truth."
"What about my daughter?"
The words were hard for him to say, but he knew it was what Markus needed to hear. "I can't bring her back, Markus. I wish that I could. Her death, and the death of our grandchild is on my conscience, and I will end my life knowing that I murdered them all. Until then, I will live to avenge them from the tyrant that set us all on this course."
There was a moment of silence, and then Markus spoke.
"See that you do."