Faeth

Prologue

         Here was something new.  He reset the cameras, powering them off and waiting for the indicator lights to roll back green.  Leaning back into the chair as he waited, he allowed a smile to touch the corners of his lips.  He couldn't help but feel a tinge of excitement.  He knew enough to temper his elation.  It's some sort of pixel junk, he told himself, some random digital garbage on the screens. 
         He heard the whine of the restart protocols and held his breath.  Any moment now.  His throat was dry and his eyes scratchy as he blinked.  The indicators flashed red and then green.  The static on the screens was replaced by a flickering video that revealed the familiar valley outside.  And there - nearly hidden behind the Hand - it stood.  Thin and fragile it looked. 
         A stalk.  A weed, most likely.  It was topped with a bloom that appeared closed.
         He peered about the other formations, tabbing through the screens with a shaking finger: the Arm, the Face, the Knee, all of them.  The rocks held no secrets. 
         He sent a handand through his hair and leaned back again.  He scratched his beard with shaking fingers.  He wiped the sweat from his forehead along the legs of his stained cover-alls.
         Just to be sure, he reset the cameras again.
         The jittery flicker within his belly held as sharp as the black and white snow on the screens.  There it was again.  No mistaking it.  Paul ran his tongue along his lips.  The rumble of a sob twinged his lungs. 
         There had to be others, there couldn't just be one.  She would have to send some one to perform tests, to physically search out the area.  With any luck, he'd be suited up and treading the surface within days.  The Matron must be told.
         He pulled the com to his face, speaking before he thumbed the channel open.  "Eye 14 to Central."  He didn't care that his voice cracked as he spoke.  "I have Sign.  Repeat.  I have Sign." 
         The was a sudden explosive spark of chatter across the channel.


Chapter 1

"They turned our skeletons to wood and scattered matches underfoot.  We must walk carefully these days." - The World Without, A Fine Frenzy

          The house had been quiet when Faeth had awoken.  Her Father must've been up and out before First Bell.  It was odd.  Usually his movements within their small home would have awakened her:  bringing the embers back with breath and kindling, preparing breakfast and lunch, gathering his things into his pack.  She had clambered out of bed and stumbled, bleary eyed,  into the main room and found him gone.  He had left a plate of apples and goat cheese for her on the scarred surface of the table.  There was a note on the slate, his scrawl across it in bright chalk:  Council meetings all day! - Stay out of trouble and stay close! - Papa.  She had seized the moment.  Not bothering to comb the mats from her dark hair, she had gathered her own things and filled her pack.  She had run from the door, teeth gnawing fruit and shoes slipped over stockinged feet.
         The sky was dark but hazed at the edges with morning light.  There was a rime of ice on the grass below her feet and her breath came in visible plumes.  She darted around to the back making sure that no one caught sight of her, past the  garden plot where they had covered the winter plants with hay, and into the common land where their property backed up to others within the Village.  Right where the three closest plots met, the well stood.  It was a ring of simple stones.  Father and Grandpa Price had dug it when Father was still courting Mother.  That was a long time ago back when the Rains were heavier.  The path to the well was lined with more winter plants in tight rows: snap peas, walking onions, beets, carrots and parsnips.  All frost hardy and barely peeking from a layer of thin hay.  She could just make out the silhouette of the Wilson's and the Parham's homes in the rising light. 
         As quietly as she could, Faeth broke the ice from the bucket and slid the rope down into the darkness.  Her eyes were on the area around her, scanning and checking.  No one was about.    The rope held a frost on its wispy edges just like the grass.  The ground was warm enough that she didn't need to break any ice below and the water that she poured into her skins was clear and cold.
         The animals were beginning to move within the pens about her.  She could hear the shuffling clump of the bison, the occasional bleat of sheep, the cluck of a hen.  The wooden pickets were rambling rectangles that butted up to the backs of the silent houses.  There were only small, thin lines of smoke from the chimney's closest to her; one of the adults hadn't yet risen to bring life back to their coals.  She had time to be away before any could catch her and send her back in.  No one to shout her name from open shutters.  She shouldn't go alone, but Father was always away; an Elder of the Village Council had little time to spare for someone not yet a Teener.  She lowered the bucket back to the ground, stowed the skins within her pack and moved into the thick stand of brush that lay between the Village and the Wall. 
         There was no path to the Wall but she knew the best way.  The brush broke over the angled drop of a ravine that ran east and west along the edge of the Village.  A small stream used to run along its bottom, but they had dammed it up long ago for the trout pond in the Village center.  A solitary trickle still ran there when the rains came.  It was dry and the flinty soil held only dust.  Using her hands and knees, she slid down and clambered up and over the far side.  Something darted away into the leaves as she climbed.  She thought she caught sight of a white-tipped tail, bushy and long; a fox.  There were always little creatures in the brush, but none that she need be afraid of.  The Wall kept the big ones out. 
         There were a few larger trees now, bare, as winter approached.  She tried to lessen the loud crunch of her feet in the leaves by walking slowly, but it didn't help.  So she ran.  Better to make a lot of noise in a shorter span of time, she thought, and her feet knew the way.
         Over a small rise, the Wall loomed, a slash of darkness, high and over her head.  It was now merely a shaggy brown mess of ivy, dead leaves still visible from the thick,  ropey vines that hung over the tall palisades.  Gathering her hair and sending it in a disheveled mess over her shoulder, she began to climb.  She enjoyed the clattering fall of leaves.  She was far enough away to not be bothered by the sound.  She spun over the top and slipped down the far side.
         The Road stood, stretching ribbon-like before her, silent and following the curve of the Wall to the east and the south.  Faeth knelt and set her fingers upon the broken surface.  Tiny black stones flaked into her hand.  Rain-washed dirt covered most of it, but moving with the rise and fall of the land, she could still see it, marking the surface in wide swaths like jutting black bone.  The Cathedrals lay to the East below the rising sun where the Road went over the River and became metal.  The Cathedrals was what she called them.  The place where the sun shone through spires of twisted metal beams and broken glass and the metal wagons lay upturned and jumbled in long lines.  She would walk through the lanes and worship the gods who had lived there.  She would stand on the wide, shattered stone and feel the history of the place about her like an apple wine on her tongue,  a fine, glittering dust that settled on her shoulders that she would not brush away.
         She set off at a run and she would be back before the sun fell behind the mountains.  Her feet were a blur beneath her and her heart pounded.  Her breathing fell into a cold rhythm between her footfalls.  The trees were filled with black birds.  They broke into flight as she passed them, squawking at the sudden disturbance.  They wheeled in a mass of thrumming wings and air in the warming sky.  Faeth smiled.  She would take them as a good omen though the ladies of the Village would have said otherwise.  They landed back within the bare branches when they saw she was not a threat.
         The bones of the land rose upward into overgrown heaps as the Road moved further south leading her toward the valley edge.  The edge was the highest hill that gave her two different views:  the village behind her and the Cathedrals before and below.  On her left side were the Remnants of the Before Time.  Tall piles of stone - her father called it cement, but that was such a strange word - that were covered in ivy and weed leaned against each other or were held up by stout, gnarled trees.  There had been roads in the sky so that many of the metal wagons could move at once in all directions.  At least, that is what her father told her.  Some of the mounds were other pieces of forgotten detritus (another word her father used) that, over time, had been covered in dirt and forest.  Father said that they had dug and searched through most of the closer ones when they had settled the Village.  They had taken what they could salvage and left the rest to become dirt.  The blacksmith still had a pile of the stuff behind his forge. 
         A sound slowed her steps.  She dropped to her belly and rolled into the roots of a tree.  She tried to still her breathing and quiet the beating of her heart.  Sweat slicked her scalp and she blinked the drops from her eyes.  Again, the sound.  Footsteps within leaves?  Father would be proud.  "Stop, Drop and Listen."  His words were seared like a scar in her thoughts.  The footsteps were regular and close.  A small gait.  Not something large.  She caught sight of movement to her left, a glimpse of bright red.  She pushed herself up with shaking arms and sighed.  She would have smiled but anger held her face taut.
         "Euan."  The steps ceased at the sound of her voice. 
         Faeth could hear the shuffling attempt at continued silence and a sudden, shocked intake of breath.
         "Euan, I know it's you."
         "No you don't." The voice was a froggy squeak.
         She rose and brushed the dust from her leggings, "I told you not to follow me."
         A spiked mass of dark hair leaned out from behind a tree and shot back, "You said I could come with you."  The voice was young.
         Faeth shook her head, "I said when you were older that I would take you."
         "I am older than I was yesterday."
         Exasperation was clear as she responded, "No...I meant much older..."  She sighed again, "Will you come out here, please?  I'd rather not have a conversation with a tree."
         She hadn't noticed but the sun had risen higher and now the outlines of the naked trees moved over her, shifting lines and scratches of shadow.  Small and wiry,  Euan Wilson emerged, head down and sheepish.  He was little for his age which was a year or so younger than Faeth.  His hair was a perpetual clump of black thatch that sprouted wildly above pearly black inset eyes.  With a severe face and lacking the definition of a chin, Euan was a rodent walking upright.  The other children of the Village had a nickname for him that, sadly, fit him very well.  They called him King Rat.  Euan pretended not to mind, but he did.  Often the skin about his eyes was red and mottled.  That was why Faeth never called him anything other than his given name.  She knew he cried when he was alone.
         "You can't come with me, Euan."  she said watching him rub the sweat from his palms on the dirty blue cover-alls he wore.
         He fought a tremble that flickered his lower lip, "Please.  I'll listen and obey."  He shrugged his red, corduroy backpack into a more comfortable position on his narrow shoulders, "You say stop and I'll do it.  Promise."  He sniffled, "Please?"
         "There are things in the streets sometimes."  She wasn't trying to frighten him.  She was just being truthful.
         His eyes brightened.  "Really?  What things?"  A shaking smile, "Things that are gross?"
         Faeth kneeled and slid her pack to the ground.  She fished out her water-skin and took a pull before answering, "Yeah."  She felt older as she spoke, experienced and adult.  She narrowed her eyes, "The shadows are deep enough."
         She stood and replaced her pack.  "Go home, Euan."
         He wasn't listening.  "I've got a lantern."
         "No."
         "I brought water for myself and some food too."
         "I said no."
         "You know that I'm fast.  I can run and hide better than anyone.  I've got rope."
         "Go Home!" Her voice was getting louder.
         He was shuffling his boots in the black pebbles.  "I'll just follow you anyway.  You know I will. "  If he had a chin to speak of it would have been jutted out to show his obstinacy. 
         She knew he was telling the truth.  "You are a trial."  At least, if he were with her, she could protect him if things went badly.  "Whatever."  She began to trot southward, "Stay close and pay attention.  And, I swear, one mistake and you are going home."
         A wide grin split his face.  "Okay."
         He stayed close to her side as they moved up the rise to the valley's edge.
         "If we find any mud, you're gonna have to dirty up that pack." she said, not looking at him, "That red is way too noticeable."
         "Okay." She could tell that the grin was still in place.

         When the Road broke over the crest of the hill, Euan let out a squeak of wonder.  Spread below them lay a wide river that cast glittering, jewel-like reflections into their eyes.  But beyond, passed the ruined bridge of metal and stone that arced over the water, the Cathedrals loomed; broken towers, shattered and leaning over straight black roads, some with thick coverings of ivy and forest that hung and swayed in the morning light.  It was a patchwork of colored stone and green growth; varying sizes of rectangles and squares, rooftops - some sagging, some still whole, reddish stone, white stone, sudden rounded angles.  The river ran on either side of the grand spires.  It looked like the Cathedrals themselves had been built upon a thin peninsula that was surrounded by the splitting of the currents.  It was as if the waters had worn down the earth and revealed the jutting remains of a leviathan; the towers were its ribcage, the broken piles that dipped and disappeared into the riverbed its fractured skull, the undergrowth and vines that covered all were what remained of its shaggy pelt.  It was a great, geometric and mouldering beast filled with dark shadows. 
         Faeth let the boy stare in wonder for a moment before speaking.  "At first, I thought I had to cross the bridge, but then I found something."
         Euan did not respond right away.  When he did, his voice was a whisper, "I had no idea it was so big.  Let alone so close."  He continued to walk forward, his feet shuffling, his mouth open.  Faeth grabbed his arm and stopped him.  A few steps further, the Road ended.  A breeze rose and moved their hair.  It smelled of damp and algae.
         "I think rains must have washed out the earth below the black stone here."  Faeth said.  "It must've happened a long time ago.  From below it looks like a hand just scooped the road and a big chunk of the hill away."
         She pulled him back from the edge.  "There's a way down over here."
         Euan's eyes were wide and misted.  "How can this place be bad?"  He was shaking his head, "It's so beautiful."
         
         "See.  Look.  Someone else has been there before."
         Faeth stood at the water's edge.  They had slid down the ruined hillside on their haunches, following a dry wash that zig-zagged to where the Road began again and met the bridge below.  The lapping of the greenish river water sounded about them, striking the stone of the bridge's supports and rolling onto the muddy bank.  Her voice was hollow and echoed in the shadows of the arches.  A boat bucked up and down in the water.  It was moored to the closest pile.
         "Who did this?"  Euan asked.
         "I don't know.  But they made it so that they could easily return to either side.  Look."  She pointed to the sagging bit of rope that was strung from column to column along the length of the bridge.  "They made big nail-things with rings on the end and someone must've hammered them in and placed them."
         Euan's eyebrows  wrinkled, "How does it work?"
         "You just pull yourself along.  Theres a loop of rope that runs from the boat to the line just in case the current is strong enough to pull you away."  Faeth felt a burst of pride. "It's easy.  I've done it many times.  Come on,"  she was wading into the water, "get some of that mud on your pack and let's go."
         
         Above them, twisted and rusting cables hung.  They were coiled bits of metal wire that were bolted to the hulking bridge, like big snakes that were wider than her hands.  Some were complete and lay deep within the water below, others were uncoiled and cut.  The little boat was old and most of the paint had flaked off long ago.  Its timbers were swollen and brackish.  Rains had gathered in it and their boots were soaked.  Euan sat upon a little bench that split the boat in two and Faeth stood behind him, sliding her hand along the guide line and moving them slowly across the swift currents.  Her pack lay at her feet.
         Euan had slathered himself with mud, much more than she had anticipated.  The dark earth had dried on the back of his neck and slicked down his hair; some of it was even on his cheeks.
         "How many times have you been there?" he asked, his eyes on the bobbing mass on the far riverbank.
         "I dunno.  Five or six?  The first couple of times I was too scared to stay long."
         "What's the longest that you've stayed?"
         "About five hours."
         "Have you ever stayed overnight?"
         She nearly laughed outloud, "No."
         He turned and looked at her over his shoulder, "Why?"
         As they neared a column, she was gathering the boat-line into her hand, "There are things that live there.  Bad things."  Faeth unclipped the boat-line from the guide just before the iron loop and clipped it back on to the guide just after.  "I told you."
         "There are people, right?"  He was cleaning his nails with his teeth.
         They were moving back into the wide water between the columns.  She tried to sound reassuring, "I've never really seen them very close.  But I think so....yeah."
         "What do you do there?"  He was changing the subject.
         Her work was an enjoyable strain and the open stretches of moving current cheered her.  "I walk and look.  I imagine the streets filled with people during the Before Time.  The spires not broken but whole."  The broad water and fresh reflected sunshine made her tongue loose, "There are a few places I try to go everytime.  There's one that I think used to be a school or some sort of place for children.  There are pretty colors and things to climb.  Another place is a long set of wide stairs that end in a fountain.  There's nothing there now but dirt and grass but it gives a wonderful view."  She lowered her voice, oddly afraid that someone might overhear, "The best, though, is the Library.  I'll take you there.  It's beautiful, but it makes me sad too."
         Euan shrugged, "What's so special?  We have books."
         Faeth was excited for him, "Just wait."
         As they neared the far end of the bridge, their conversation hushed and fell to silence.  There was a scent that gathered as the spires came closer.  It seemed to be held within the mists and fog that still clutched to the lower, darker shadows.  It was a raw smell of stone, dust and static; of rain though the sky was clear and bright. 
         Euan pointed from his seat, "Rats."
         "Big ones."  Faeth was nodding.  She had seen them too; in the murk were the arches met the land again, fat with thick tails and nasty eyes.  In the Village, they ate them sometimes, but only the ones that Theodore raised.  The wild ones were often too sick.  "They'll leave us alone unless we blunder into a nest."
         "Which there is a good chance of doing..."
         "Not if we stay in the sun."
         The stones were bigger on this shore, square and substantial.  Some of them had either fallen or been moved to make a slip of land for the boat.  There were holes in the bridge above and the sunlight illuminated them in bright, slanting patches.  As they scampered up and out, they could hear the pulpy bodies and skittering claws of the rats beneath them, within the stones.
         The stones gave way to earth and grass . The tall, heavy stalks rose over their heads.  The ground sloped upward to a flat area with more of the tiny, broken black pebbles.  There were big ferns at their feet; broad-leafed and wide angled clumps of drooping fronds.  The light was clear and sharp and the air felt chilled.  The breeze had shifted and was blowing from behind, tugging at their clothes.  The closer buildings were just metal frames.  A few still held squares of rusted tin that waved in the wind.
         "I think lots of boats came here." Faeth said.  "It's about half a league to where the towers get taller.  These are just low, wide ones."  She set off through the ferns.  The pebbles crunched under her feet, the leaves swinging back with a moist rustle.  Euan followed at her heels.
         They walked in silence for a while.  The Road here was narrow and bordered by many two story buildings; streets and streets of empty rectangular box-like ruins.  Pools of stagnant water lay on either side of them, their surfaces shimmering with whirling rainbows of color.  Euan nearly stepped into one, but Faeth pulled him short.  "It will eat through the soles of your boots." she said.  Hanging over them were long wires, each with heavy ivy dangling down; some were so low that they had to part them like curtains.  Everywhere were upended wagons and molded slick sheeting.  The sheeting was black and glossy where the rains might have washed it.    It rattled in the wind and covered shattered glass.  They consistently had to thread their way through mounds of disturbed earth and stone.  Always they kept to the Road, as straight as it would allow.  At one point, Euan heard the sound of flowing water.  Below them, through a ragged crack that ran across the Road, a torrent flowed.  Euan raised questioning eyes to Faeth.  "Yeah, there are round tubes under everything here.  And there is water everywhere."
         Just as the sun began to lower past noon, the towers came closer.  They had broken from the lower buildings and found a gradual growth of height about them; two stories became three, three became four until they had been hidden from the sun by the cooler gray light of the towers.  The wind was colder within the shade.  The road had become less straight and more crisp, cutting in grid-like patterns through the pillar bases of the Cathedrals.  There were long metal pipes that were fixed into the stone at each corner.  They couldn't make out what the faded green signs said.  Euan's eyes were above more than at his feet and he stumbled often.
         The towers were huge and were littered with more windows than they could count.  They were surrounded by them.  They were a ring of sacred stones jutting from the earth and the windows were the all-seeing eyes that their followers feared.  They were not safe, but they were astounding.  Most leaned like piles of toy blocks against each other.  Others were sheared off and missing outer walls.  Their guts were of metal and dust.
         With something like awe in her voice, Faeth said, "We'll soon be in the center.  The Library is close."
         There was a clearing in the center of the Cathedrals.  The road cut a wide square about a clump of trees and grass.  In the very middle of the depression,  there was a fountain.  No water flowed there, but water lilies and thick, viscous algea bobbed on the surface of a pool.  There was a small herd of deer grazing in the lush green.  They lifted their heads and scattered with thrumming hooves as the two approached.  The sunlight colored the clearing with warm yellow.           "I should have brought my bow." Euan smiled. 
         Faeth shook her head, "But you're a terrible shot."
         "True.  But this would be like target practice."  He shrugged.  "The grass here isn't that tall."
         "I think lots of grazers come here and keep it clipped short."
         They felt shy as they spoke, not wishing to disturb the calm.
         Faeth sat on the fountain's lower edge and slid her pack from her back.  She fished inside and pulled a tied cloth and her waterskin free.  Euan perched beside her and did the same.  She cautioned him against breaking too much of the mud free as he began to tug at the buttons.  The cloth in her lap was filled with what her father called 'Corndodgers'.  They were her favorite; balls of cornmeal fried in bacon grease.  Crispy on the outside and still slightly gooey on the inside.  They would keep forever and one could fill a grown man's stomach for several hours. 
         "Through the trees behind us is the Library." she said.
         Euan's mouth was full of dried meat, "Do we have enough time?"
         She sent her gaze to the sun, her hand shading her eyes, "What is it?  Two or Two-Thirty?"  She lowered them and took another bite, "Yeah.  We can make it back in plenty of time if we only stay an hour or so.  We just need to keep an eye on the length of the shadows while we're inside.  It's easy to lose track of time."
          
         At the top of a long, wide flight of stone stairs, were the doors to the Library.  They were open and darkness seemed to flow from them.  Euan had used his flint to light his lantern.  They stood at the entrance.  Faeth held a wavering candle, black smoke rising from the tallow.
         "There are holes in the floor within the first room.  Hug the left wall and follow me.  There is light in the big room."
         Euan nodded.  As good as a promise, Faeth thought.  "The ceiling is glass and most of it is broken.  There's sunlight everywhere.  Don't worry.  It's only dark at the beginning."
         Another nod, not as certain this time.
         "Take my hand."
         His fingers were cold and the palm of his hand were wet.
         She couldn't help herself, "I promise.  It's okay."
         "Okay."  His response was a whisper.
         The darkness of the door enveloped them; complete and filled with the scent of mold.  She felt his fingers tighten on hers.  Faeth moved slowly with the wall on her left, sliding along her shoulder.  "Stay right behind me here."  she warned.  The floor at her feet was sagging and creaked.  She knew that the doorway into the main chamber was close.  It wouldn't stay open.  She had tried to prop it with brick and trash, but always it was closed.  Perhaps others came here, she thought, others who didn't appreciate her intrusion.  She shook her head.  No, she thought.  She was chastising herself.  Don't do that.  They don't read.  They don't care about books. 
         The lantern that Euan held didn't seem to provide much light and her candle was useless.  The light from the doors blinded them and made the darkness stronger.  Her foot met with something solid.  Oaken doors?  She sent her free hand out, feeling along the surface.  There it was; a knob.  She gave it a twist and a push.  Light flooded their eyes.
         "See?" Her words were quick, "I told you."
         They moved into a large chamber.  They stood upon a balcony.  Above, through shattered panes of dirtied glass, sunlight fell in dust-filled beams.  The motes were as large as insects.  There had been a dome of colored glass in the Before Time; flecks of the reds, blues, greens and yellows were still visible in the wire frames.  The room below was in disarray, but it seemed tempered - almost purposeful - somehow.  Paper lay everywhere.  Most blown in drifts in the corners, molding and slicked with water.  There were shelves, some upended, some fallen, some splintered with large sections of wood missing - pulled from the walls or tipped -  at various places on the floor.  Euan let another stifled squeak fall from his lips.  The sheer amount of books was astounding.  Again, Faeth gave him a moment.  She knew his awe.
         "It's too many.  I can't take it in."
         "I've got a way down over here."
         There were stairs at the far end of the balcony.  The wood was swollen and they could see the rusted ends of nails jutting from the grain.  Another set matched these on the other side, but they had fallen.
          She cautioned with a whisper, "Stay to the left."
         Euan moved slowly behind her, testing each step.  "Okay."           The floor seemed much more solid though it did creak as they settled their weight upon it.
         Faeth always expected standing water but there was none.  A distant sodden trickle made her nod.  She remembered now.  There were rooms below - she had explored enough to find their descending and black throat-like stairs behind metal doors - but she would not venture any further in than this.  She had propped some of the heavier shelves against them. 
         The colored glass sent sparks of unexpected tint along the piles of paper and floor.  The books that lay at their feet were bloated and distended where the rainwater had stolen over them.  The ink had run off of the pages or the mold had rendered them unreadable.  Euan picked through a few, lifting them and trying to thumb through the pages.
         "Come back here." Faeth was saying.  "I've made a little path."
         Euan held his lantern above his head.  The leaning bookshelves darkened the shadows. 
         "I've stowed some of the books that were in better condition...the ones I want to read anyway." She continued, moving between the stacks that she had piled on either side.  "I dare not take them home...Father would ask where they had come from."  There was a slight clearing with the stumps of used candles everywhere.  She set her small flame to their wicks and soon a bright and cheering light filled the small corner.  "I've arranged a few books in the shelves here.  I chose to do it by the author's last name."  She was proud.  "Alphabetically." 
         Euan began to move along the shelves.  His lips were mouthing the words as he read, "Battlefield Earth.  Raising Arizona the screenplay...what's a screenplay?"  His voice rose as he asked the question.  At Faeth's shrug, he continued, "Ill Met in Lankhamar.  The Lord of the Rings.  The Complete Chronicles of Thomas Covenant the Unbeliever.  King Conan.  Oprah's Book Club East of Eden.  Have you read any of these?"
         Faeth was sitting on a pile of paperbacks, shifting her weight and attempting to find a comfortable seat, "Only one so far.  It's called Otto of the Silver Hand.  It was short and I didn't understand it all that well."
         They stayed within the paper walls for some time, feeling the warmth of the candles' flames.