Partisan Saga, Chapter XII - Genesis

                 They followed her out onto the rooftop. Directly before them, the slums of Southwest Wissen. The dilapidated brick and concrete buildings, marked by boarded and broken windows, clambered precariously up from their foundations, fighting for purchase under a gray and apathetic sky. This mute coloring resulted from the great contribution of the factories throughout the district that still churned out gallon after gallon of smog in neat and steady streams. Against her white light, even accounting for the fact that it had been dimmed for the sake of normalcy above ground, the dirty gray of the city seemed even uglier.
                Such bleakness covered only one corner of Wissen. The tower had been positioned quite perfectly; central to this particular half of the city.  The boundary.            
                “Behold the southern reaches of the city,” she said. “The places have fallen into disrepair. The air is poisoned. The streets are broken.”
                “Yeah, it’s a little crummy,” Dorian replied.
                “You deny the truth before you,” she said.
                “When you look at it from up here, it is pretty messed up,” Kevin admitted.
                “I wouldn’t go that far,” Dorian countered. He took another look at the city while the pair of them scrutinized him instead.
                “Your pride is wounded,” she said. “You hold fast to such meaningless things, and as such, you yourself are bereft of meaning.”
                “Perhaps in your opinion.”
                “You see the city for yourself,” she told him. “Now see it for what it is. See the desolation of the people. This is what free will has wrought for mankind: their self-destruction.” She spread her fingers in a grand gesture over the southern district; in that moment, that graceful gesture surpassed everything Dorian’s home had to offer in regards to beauty.
                “Now, look upon the White places.” She led them around to the far side of the elevator’s outlet. The sojourn revealed a place far more sunny, wholesome, clean. Dorian told himself it was a matter of imagination.  “See the wealth, the comfort, the condition. The word of order ensures that all are fed and cared for.” She looked upon the clean and refined structures, and then peered intensely at Dorian.  “This is what you struggle against. How can you say that you have humanity in your heart if you will not do what is best for it?”
                Dorian looked at her, looking at him; past her, Kevin kept his eyes down. On the far side of the roof, the decrepit, all but abandoned areas of the city. “This isn’t the fault of freedom and individuality,” Dorian told them. “What’s best for one person may not be all that great for another.”
                “That is true only so far as the reality that each of us have our role to play in rectifying this world.”
                “No disagreement there.” Dorian stuffed his hands into his pockets and hopped up onto the edge of the rooftop.
                “Dor! What are you doing?”
                “The very existence of your sect says otherwise.”
                “You misunderstand the Black,” Dorian informed her, paying no mind to his Chaptermate. He began to pace, one foot in front of the other, in front of the other, and back again, the same motions reversed, his arms splayed out for balance.
                “The Black play no role in the service and safeguarding of the world. They care for personal pleasure, and some among them for wanton destruction.”
                “Dor,” Kevin pleaded. “Get down from there.”
                “And I contend that such a role is in fact crucial to the world.”
                “What does such senselessness do for the people?”
                Dorian paused, faced her, rocked heel to toe. “We lead by example, and by doing that, we encourage the spirits of the people.  You may claim to keep them alive, but it is we who allow them to truly  live.” Dorian began yet another circuit along the roof, still poised upon the edge as if to prove his point. The White Librarian and she followed him.
                “What you describe as life is merely struggling in the dirt, unable to accomplish all that one is truly capable of, potential stripped away by the unchecked rampage of desire.”
                “Sure, there’s some struggling,” Dorian admitted. “But there are things I am capable of that have no place in your machine, and only through freedom can I embody them.”
                She smiled. “It is folly to pretend the world, left to its own devices, can blossom. It is folly to assume its people can survive if only they are let alone. It is the letting alone that has caused every ill in society.”
                “So is that it?” Dorian asked. “You don’t think we puny humans can survive on our own without you always interfering?” He glanced to Kevin. “Do you feel that way too?”
                Kevin stared at him, and then back out at the slums. He met Dorian’s eyes again, but only for a second. “Well…look at it, Dor.”
                “Through our power, this world can flourish,” she told them. “No one need suffer, nor go without resources. If all serve in their places, salvation is possible.”
                “If all serve,” Dorian repeated. “So tell me. Who gets to decide who serves? Who is the person who hands out the roles for all of us happy little cogs to fill?”
                She ignored the jab, as she had with every jab. “The task of delegation belongs to those most qualified. Those who can see the world for what it is. Those who do not let their personal feelings cloud their judgment. “
                Dorian shrugged. “That’s a rather convenient and self-serving rhetoric.”
                “What you dismiss as convenience is a matter of necessity,” she disagreed. “And yet all that you worship as matters of necessity are merely convenience. What a very backwards creature you are.”
                “Right, right.” Dorian glanced out over the city, and then back to her. He hopped off the ledge. “So. Tell me your name.”
                “My name is irrelevant,” she told him.
                Dorian nodded, slow. “So you told me.”
                “So I will tell you every time you ask.”
                “You also told me that you and I weren’t so different.”
                “We are not.”
                “Then what is it that decides who is ruler and who is ruled? If we are alike?”
                “As I told you. The discernment to see a better future, and the will to lead humanity to it.”
                “And you don’t think us Blacks can do that?”
                “Look upon your city.”
                Dorian didn’t look. “So are we alike, or aren’t we? Because my discernment and my will are for humanity, and it says that you’re going in the wrong direction.”
                “Dor,” Kevin started.
                Dorian glanced to his Chaptermate and grinned. He hurried over to Kevin, put an arm around him and pulled him close. “Look at us.”
                Kevin squirmed, but couldn’t break away from Dorian’s grip. “Dor, what are you doing?”
                “Look at us,” Dorian insisted. “Kev here and I are hardly alike. Two different people!”
                She looked back and forth between them. “Your point?”
                “My point?” Dorian looked at Kevin, then back to her. “My point is that you’re wrong when you say you’re like us. You look exactly like the other copies. All just figments of a person. You’re part of a set, but me and Kev? We’re our own people!” True for the moment anyway; Kevin’s expression brought Dorian no small measure of doubt. “So how can you, as facet of a person, claim to know what’s best for humanity over an individual who is a part of it? One with hopes and dreams and fears of their own?”
                “You misunderstand me,” she said. “You and I are nearly identical.”
                “How do you figure?”
                “You require a visual aid?” She  approached, offering her hand to Dorian. “Very well.”
                He stared at it.
                “If you wish to see the truth, take my hand, that I may prove it to you.”
                Dorian glanced to Kevin. The latter offered the weakest of shrugs, and nodded in her direction.
                “This is a lesson for us both, Dor.”
                “Wise you are,” she told him. Then, her eyes returned to Dorian. “That you will not take my hand says volumes of your precious character, Dorian of the Black.” The words were spoken straight, emotionless, and yet they boiled rather sourly from her immaculate lips.
                “It’s not what you think,” Dorian told her. He grabbed her hand firmly, after a moment more of hesitation.
                Nothing happened.
                She turned then, and moved away from Kevin, guiding Dorian alongside her. “You use my nature as Erdylor’s light to strip away my status as a person, but in truth, you are just the same as I. The only difference is in your mind—that inflated sense of self-importance.”
                “Well,” Dorian glanced back to Kevin. “There’s also the fact that I don’t look exactly like anyone else.”
                “Irrelevant.”
                “I also have a name. And, y’know, a unique identity.”
                “Again, irrelevant,” she insisted. “Unlike your Chaptermate, your nature as a Black Librarian renders any detail you may claim of import irrelevant, for in reality, such things do nothing for the world, and therefore, so little for your worth. You need only toe the line, with no illusions of greatness or self-significance. In this regard, our purpose in the grand scheme, which stands as the only measure of any true importance, you and I are precisely the same.”
                Silence settled upon the rooftop, save for the breeze that blew over it, colder now following her words.
                “So that’s what you mean.”
                “White Librarians like Kevin possess the potential to lead mankind. Your kind can hardly be called Librarians at all, just as it would be foolish to refer to me as such.”
                “So you don’t think terribly much of me and my brethren.” Dorian shrugged. “And that’s fine, I guess. But you disregarding us and our efforts doesn’t make us any less Librarians, and more importantly, any less human.” A faint black glimmer washed over Dorian then, and glossy feathers hovered just above his flesh. Kevin started forward to grab him, but he danced away.
                “Dor! What are you going to do?”
                “By trying to guide— I’m sorry, force— me into your mold, you would be taking away the very thing that makes me human,” Dorian told her.  “Librarians protect humanity.”
                “And we guide it,” She said.
                “But we don’t tell it what to do,” Dorian insisted. “Doing that isn’t protection- that’s just changing what humanity is- trying to make it perfect. But it’s not perfect. And so what?”
                “So you would have Librarians turn their backs upon the people, allow them to fester and make violence upon one another, to suffer and die needlessly?”
                “Not a chance. But I also won’t have any part in telling them their ‘place’ either. I want to save the people, but I don’t need to take away their freedom to do it.” Here, he glared with darkened eyes not at her, but Kevin. “That’s not what I signed up for.”
                “And yet you ‘signed up’ because of fate, because it suits the will and the path of this world. You think of yourself as having made a choice. The truth is, you’re being selfish. Thinking that your individuality is worth so much. No part is greater than the whole.”
                “And the whole is made better by the diversity of its parts!”
                “Diversity. Not free reign.”
                “Free reign is what makes humanity.”
                “And it will destroy humanity.”
                “It’s possible,” Dorian admitted. The formerly steady feathers of his Phenomena began to drift lazily about him. “But the ‘guidance’ you propose will tear it down even faster. I’m willing to tell them what they can’t do. But I’m not in it to say what they have to do.”
                “Then you are not fit to be a Librarian. But this we knew. Of you, and all of the so named ‘Black Library.’”
                “Yeah, you’ve said that before.” Dorian glanced up at the open sky, gray and tortured as it was. “Hey, Kev. You do what you want.”
                “Don’t do it, Dor!”
                Dorian ignored him. “Tell you what. You go ahead and try your way. But if you’ll excuse me, I’m not done trying mine yet. Either way, I’ve seen your ‘truth.’”
                “You have seen as much as you are willing and able to see,” she amended.
                Dorian shrugged. “Call it like you see it, I guess. Either way, mission accomplished. But then, if you and I aren’t so different, maybe one of these days, you’ll roll around.”
                “Or someday, you will aspire to reach true enlightenment.”
                Dorian grinned. He extended a hand to her.
                She stared at him for a long and cold moment.
                The instant she lifted her hand, he grabbed her by the wrist and hauled her close, glaring into her impassive eyes. “And if you and I are really alike,” he muttered, “then you have a name, and I’m going to find it.” Then, he turned, and threw himself from the rooftop.
                Out over the broken city, its rundown buildings and stale grey spaces rushing beneath him. Away from the gleaming and perfect tower that marked the space between her world and his.  The feathers of his manifestation spilled out around him and caught the wind, and he rolled through the sky as one might tumble over a grassy knoll. In seconds, the two of them were nothing more than specks atop the ivory; seconds more, a memory.

Partisan Saga, Chapter XI - Revelation

            The sand that hit him was not sharp; in fact, each blunt impact spread more and more of the grains over his skin. Oddriser’s surprise quickly became understanding. Surely, Counsel had guessed that another volley of blades would do little good if he allowed Oddriser to perform self-separation, in whole or part. Now that the Selector had been immobilized, effectively petrified by layers of sand, the lethal blow —a final set of sharpened sand-swords—  could be delivered. He waited.

            It never came. The sand fell away in clods at first, then streams, until Oddriser found himself merely dusty, the majority of the dirt pooling harmless at his feet. Immediately before him, Counsel stood.

            “There is nothing more to be gained here,” Counsel announced. The crowd shivered with whispers of shock and indignation. Counsel lifted his good hand and silenced them.  “I have bested Oddriser in single combat, and as such, his life is mine to end.” The crowd roared. Counsel let them for a perfect second or so, and then glanced to Oddriser as he continued speaking. “Or, to spare.”
            The once pure and wild cheering muddled with murmurs of confusion, indignation; Oddriser definitely heard some calls for his head, amidst the others basking in the ‘victory’ of their champion.
             “I choose life,” Counsel finished.
            The groans and angry cries further punctuated the desert air, but Counsel silenced these as well.  “Oddriser and I agreed that this would settle things between our people, regardless of outcome. My good Collaborators, do not stain our honor by defying that to which we agreed.” He shuffled to the edge of the arena, where some of the Collaborators helped him down.
            Oddriser watched all of this in silence; he glanced to his Cagneidu, who appeared just as surprised.  To Counsel, Oddriser called “That’s it then?”
            Counsel turned back to the Selector, held his eyes for a moment, and then turned away. “My men cannot move the blocks until you descend, Oddriser.”

***

            The third of his conditions had been well met. Thinking about it, Oddriser realized that it did not matter, for he had one more piece of business that would thoroughly invalidate that mercy. As he watched the workers strip the canvas from the blocks and prepare to haul them away, he thought to offer assistance yet again— and then thought the better of it, considering the remainder of the crowd. No doubt to them, the best he could offer was his head, cleanly(and permanently) separated from his shoulders. This was not a gift he was willing to give.
            As such, he stood silent in the desert, ignoring Counsel, ignoring the Collaborator eyes upon him, ignoring the workers, who had begun the arduous task of moving the stones. That left him Cagneidu; the least of the evils. The look on his brother’s face indicated that he had formulated a similar assessment; however, his plans differed.
            “We shall depart at once,” he said. “While the Collaborators tend to their own.”
            “I cannot,” Oddriser replied. “I have business in the First City.”
            “What business remains in the Collaborator stronghold for you that does not involve the parting of your body?”
            “What indeed,” Oddriser mused with a wry grin.
            “Brothers Pelomect!” Counsel called. “You are welcome to return to the First City. We offer you a day’s worth of respite before your journey homeward.” Looking at his face, listening to his voice, one would not know that he had nearly fought to the death mere moments ago.
            “There you have it,” Oddriser assured his brother. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his garments and began walking toward the city.

***

            Cagneidu did not think it wise to return to the city, but his brother’s choices had left him with very few of his own. He accompanied his brother, and the pair of them saw Counsel to the First City’s infirmary; the guard accepted their own, of course, and Cagneidu readily enough, but the halberds crossed firmly before Oddriser.  Cagneidu paused, and Counsel stopped as well.
            “Guards—” Counsel began.
            “See to our cousin, Brother,” Oddriser interrupted. “I shall see myself to the prison,” He turned on his heel and sauntered off the way a drunk might, down the road and singing to himself.
            “Brother!” Cagneidu called.
            Oddriser kept walking, waving his brother off. Cagneidu sighed.
            “He will come to no harm,” Counsel assured the Selector.
            “Will he do no harm?” Cagneidu wondered aloud; a glance to his friend’s arm brought him focus. “I apologize. Let us tend to your wounds.”
            They proceeded originally toward a room deep within the facility, but Counsel declined the more secure stations therein, opting instead for a common chamber. Those in the halls did not care for the Selector in their midst, but Cagneidu, at Counsel’s insistence, was allowed to accompany the Collaborator into the room he had chosen. Cagneidu set himself to strolling back and forth on the far side of the space by the window while the medics tended to Counsel’s various injuries.  This occurred in silence for a time.
            Finally, Cagneidu halted in his pacing. “You spared my brother’s life today,” he told Counsel, bowing deep. “And you did such in spite of the wrongs he committed against you and your people. For this kindness, I thank you.”
            Counsel looked up from the progress on his arm and smiled. “Perhaps it is I who should be thanking you, Cagneidu. I am of the mind that some of your temperance has begun to rub off on your brother.”
            “Perhaps so,” Cagneidu replied. “Nonetheless, he has a long way to go- a path that you could have cut short, had you wished.”
            “And yet you know that I would never wish such,” Counsel reminded him. “And even if I had, it is not so simple.” The warmth had left his eyes, his stare frigid in spite of the late day sweltering air. “I am thoroughly aware that Lord Pelomect Oddriser could have slain me.”
            Cagneidu looked away, out the window, but only for a moment. “I forbade the use of his most dangerous ability.”
            “I suspected that was the case. Why would you hamstring your own brother?”
            “The loss of life in a duel no one truly wanted would serve no purpose.”
            “And, assuming a life had to be sacrificed, you would preserve mine over that of Oddriser’s?”
            “Under the circumstances we have found ourselves in, I would not hesitate to make such a call.”
            Counsel nodded. “Fortunate for me, I suppose.”

            A lack of Oddriser’s interference upon Counsel allowed the Collaborator’s ability to expedite his recovery; as such, the medics managed to make the wrapping Counsel’s mangled arm a relatively quick process. Now, they slung it across his chest, and as soon as they did, he pulled himself from the cot.
            “My thanks,” he told them.
            “Lord Counsel, you should rest—” the first began.
            “You musn’t overtax your body,” the second added.
            “I am fine,” he assured them. “I must speak to Ewstob and give him an account of all that has occurred.” He glanced to Cagneidu. “Thank you for seeing this through. As I said earlier, you and your brother are welcome to remain here for another day, but I implore you move on by then for your own safety.”

***

            It was easy to determine the cell in which Oddriser resided; none of the others within the prison had armed guards posted outside the chamber. Cagneidu was not sure of whose protection they had been placed for. They cast him almost neutral gazes, if a little cold, or perhaps almost cold gazes, were it not for the neutrality. Whatever their sentiments, they moved off some distance when he asked for privacy, and they did so without comment.
            “Brother,” Cagneidu said again. “We should depart immediately.”
            “What’s your hurry, Cagneidu?” Oddriser’s voice came muffled beyond the stone door. “You have heard Counsel. We have been invited to stay a day’s time.”
            Cagneidu spied the Collaborators, spied them spying him and his brother. “Not all that is offered is offered freely.”
            Oddriser followed his brother’s eyes with his own, and though he could not see through the wall of his cell, he addressed his brother with feigned wonder, confusion. “You and Counsel are friends.”
            “And thus I shall not impose upon him if it can be avoided. Especially given current circumstances.”
            “Well, no one is keeping you here, Brother.”
            “You are.”
            “Well then, by my leave, you are welcome to depart at any time of your choosing, dear Brother,” Oddriser assured him.
            “I think not,” Cagneidu disagreed. “This ordeal has shown me that I cannot leave you alone with Collaborators—for their safety, and your own.”
            “You make much of little, Brother,” Oddriser protested. “Mistakes were made.”
            “By you. Why did you insist upon returning?”
            Silence. Then from within the cell: “You would have let him kill me, Cagneidu.”
            Cagneidu peered through the slit in the door. His brother, slouched against one wall, did not stir for his gazing.
             “Yes, Oddriser, I would have. But only because it was necessary.”
            Oddriser pulled his chin in thought. “Troubling.”
            “Oddriser, do not misunderstand me. Your life is not one that I would carelessly part with, for we are of the same blood. However-”
            “Do not misunderstand me, Cagneidu. I know well the reasons you would allow me slain, and that gives me no trouble. What troubles me is that you feel the need to give me such excuses. Perhaps even more troubling,” the Selector went on, “is that you know I could have killed him. You know that fact as well as I do.”
            “Precisely why I forbade-”
            “Yes, Brother, my Anima-Bkyes. But even without the root, there are numerous methods to kill a man.”
            “I am more concerned for the preservation of the soul,” Cagneidu replied.
            “Precious matter, the soul,” Oddriser agreed. “But there are other precious things in this world, Brother. How much do you know, Cagneidu, about what happened here?”
            “I know that you did not follow the ledger. I know that your man attacked the Collaborators.”
            “You are right, and you are wrong, dear Brother. I told you; I asked for nothing more than what I presented to you. It was Counsel who refused us the ledger.”
            “And I told you, the Almanac was never upon the list. Had it been, I would have denied you.”
            “And yet I had your blessing. For the Almanac as well as the others.”
            “That is not the case.”
            Oddriser stared at the wall, and then finally at Cagneidu, and found similarity, familiarity. At last, he said: “As for Counsel, our battle was no decision, nor will of mine. Counsel challenged me, surely knowing some measure of the things I am capable of.”
            “Oddriser—”
            “Cagneidu. Counsel.” Rather suddenly, he shot to his feet, eye to eye with his brother, only the stony slab between them. “The true difference between the two of you and I is not at all our desires, but our decisions. It has nothing to do with our motives, but our methods.”
            Cagneidu retreated from the door and gestured to the guard. They approached and released their Selector prisoner.
            Oddriser strode from the cell, ignoring all three of them.
            “Oddriser,” Cagneidu implored. “Why did you return to the cell of all places?”
            His brother turned. “I don’t know. Perhaps I’ve grown fond of it. Call me sentimental.” He stretched—and winced, but completed the motion nonetheless. “Now if you’ll excuse me…”

***

            It was not enough to languish in the cell of an enemy. It was not enough to spare a rival’s life, once, or twice, or ten times over. It would do no good to aid his people, nor destroy him, nor hobble through their streets in plain view of all of them- but according to the least offensive of such options, Oddriser proceeded.
            He could have gone in the darkness, concealed. But people feared what they could not see. Were he more versatile in his art, he could perhaps complete his aim remotely. But people feared what they did not understand. Instead, he limped down the street, taking great care to avoid tripping over the cobblestones en route to the First Library. Perhaps more than the fear of the unknown, fear of the different, fear of the diametrically opposed, the fear of an entity whose mind could not be read. Word had traveled quickly that Lord Pelomect Oddriser was on the warpath to the First Library for the second time in nearly as few days.
            Before him on the grand stairs stood line after line of halberdiers , weapons leveled in his direction. Behind them nearest the door, spellcasters with incantations at the ready, and higher still upon the balconies and the roof of the First Library, scores upon scores of archers, arrows drawn full bent upon their longbows.
            Oddriser kept his eyes low, focused upon the stones in the road. His senses told him of the opposition, and even if those bowmen had claimed his eyes with their arrows, he would still be able to recount each and every enemy.

            The city seemed more quiet than it had ever been.

            Oddriser thought about it. Beyond the physical, he could feel the fear, the indignation, the hatred in their souls, well before it pooled as poison in their tightening muscles and burned its way out from their glaring eyes.

            “Selector!” One of them called. By his gaudy armor, gleaming and plumed, a captain of some sort. “You will not approach the First Library!”

            Grand, really. All of their might. Their armaments, polished, honed, undoubtedly lethal. But Oddriser didn’t need his eyes to see their shivering, nor his ears to know how their hearts hammered merciless in their chests. But he could feel something else as well, something vying for control on the surface of their psyches.

            “Turn back, or by all the knowledge at our disposal, we will cut you down!”

            Curious, Oddriser took a step.

            The strained muscles strained further; the pikes shifted, waiting for the order.

            He could kill them. He could kill them all and they wouldn’t even realize that they’d died.

            “Turn back!” The captain repeated.

            He almost smiled. He almost cried. He almost clenched his fists and thrashed about. Between their threats and their hearts, their aim and the sight of them, Oddriser could not reconcile which would be most appropriate, or what it was he felt in the first place.

            “MEN. STOW YOUR ARMS.” Counsel. Not shouting, yet somehow his voice covered everything. Confusion crossed the faces of the formation. The weapons and spells wavered.
            Counsel moved to stand between the First Library and the Selector, and perhaps more importantly, the Collaborators defending it. “Oddriser, where is your brother?”
            Oddriser stared at Counsel. “He will arrive quickly enough, I assume.” He pushed past Counsel. The weapons that had relaxed now tracked his motions again- but after another step, he crumpled to the street.
            Counsel reached down with his good arm to grab the Selector, but Oddriser pushed him off.        “This is where I need to be, cousin.”
            “It is not safe here.”
            “Not for me.” Oddriser ran his fingertips over the stones; immaculate, sparkling- except for a particular blackened patch, where several empty craters lie.
            “Yes.”
            “I understand the peril.”
            “I don’t believe you do.”
            “Counsel,” Oddriser lifted his left hand, palm up, and then swept his right index finger across it. Selector blood sprayed into the street immediately. “Why didn’t you kill me when you had the chance?”
            Counsel’s eyes followed the crimson streak that first spilled along the road, his face expressionless as the blood began to congeal and trickle toward the gemless sockets. “I do not understand the question.”
            “You had the opportunity to remove me from this world,” Oddriser continued, paying him no mind. “But you chose not to.”
            The blood dribbled into the blackened holes and began to gleam.
            “I did not kill you for the same reason that I had the opportunity to do so.”
            Now Oddriser glanced over his shoulder. “I am not sure I understand.”
            Counsel shifted his injured arm. “When we fought, and you tore apart my arm, you compared your powers to mine and your Brother’s. But the truth is, you do not understand my ability as well as you think you do.”
            Oddriser turned back to the street. Now, his blood and swelled and hardened within the gaps.
            “Had I chosen to slay you in the arena, I would forsake the blessings I have received.” Counsel followed Oddriser’s gaze to the mock gems he had driven into the path. “The question is, why didn’t you kill me?”
            Oddriser shrugged and pulled himself to unsteady feet. “Killing you would not end well for anyone. It would cause the strife we sought so desperately do avoid.”
            Counsel was looking at him again. Oddriser met his eyes for a time, and then turned his attention to his hand; the flesh had begun to seal itself, the wound now a blackened and ugly line across his palm. “You and Cagneidu think so little of me because of who I am and what I can do.”
            “A partial truth, Oddriser,” Counsel amended. “You pair me with your brother so often, but remember, that he, like you, is a Selector, and I am a Collaborator. That is indication enough of our differences.”
            Oddriser looked at him again. “And where does that leave the commonality between you and I?”
            “I think you know, a little,” Counsel assured him. “As do I. And that shared understanding is one reason, among many, that I could not have possibly killed you.”
            “Oddriser!” Cagneidu tumbled around the corner, flushed, breathless, and anything but pleased.
            Oddriser turned. “Brother. Shall we go?”
           

Partisan Saga, Chapter X - Mourning of the Nightmare: A Reality

            He looked at them with the smile customary of a child who knew he had received something good, but had not quite yet decided the benefit of such; his eager grin revealed too shiny, too white teeth, and to Dorian, it gave the impression that he had not decided whether to use them or to eat them. A glance to Kev suggested he pondered the same thoughts.
            “So rigid, boys!” he crowed. “Relax! We’re all buds here.” Here, he flicked a sharp nailed finger in Kev’s direction. “Even you, little buddy! What’s your name?”
            Kev stiffened.
            “That would be Kevin, milord,” Dor interjected. “He’s my Chaptermate.”
            His eyes tracked to Dorian, and a scowl flickered across his face, but both came and left with the haste of the dim light that sputtered much the same.  Dorian took the hint.
            “Ah, so you’re Dory’s pal, huh?” the smile brightened; so did the light. “Welcome, good sir, my fine gentleman!”
            “Thank you, lord…?” Kevin broke off.
            “Me?” He sat up, almost startled; the light was flickering again. He pointed one finger at himself. “Oh, me.” He cut his eyes at Dorian again. “Dory, why didn’t you tell this good fellow my name?”
            Dorian replied, calm and dry as he could muster. “Milord, you did not seem interested in my introductions.”
            “I see.”
            A moment of silence passed. Silence, save for the rough sound of hewn wood, as their superior carved aimlessly into his desk with the nail on his pinky finger.
            “This is Lord Eddachte,” Dorian said finally.
            Eddachte sprang to life immediately after, the picture of joviality. “Right-o, Dory.” To Kevin, he added: “Again, welcome. So very good of you to come. Call me Edd.”
            “Thank you, Lord Eddachte,” Kevin dipped his head. Dorian could see him trembling, and didn’t blame him at all.
            “You aren’t staying though!”
            “I-I’m sorry?”
            “Dory, word in the halls is you took Kevvy here through.” His eyes narrowed.
            Dorian nodded. “I thought it wise to—”
            “Wise? Brilliant!” The lights flared, then flickered as Eddachte’s nails thundered upon the desk. Both Black and White flinched. “We could use a little intersexing,” He cackled.
            Dorian and Kevin glanced at each other.
            “Word is, you’ve also been in a Sermon, right Dory?”
            Dorian nodded, not trusting himself to speak.
            “Don’t be shy, Dory. There’s no harm.”
            “Yes,” Dorian replied. “I attended a Sermon.”
            “There it is!” Eddachte clapped like a child, clumsy and excited. The look in his eyes betrayed him.  “You two are great, really.”
            “Milord, the mission?”
            The dead eyes remained. “Have Kevvy take you to see Erdylor. Best behavior.”
            Dorian bowed, deep. “And for you, milord?”
            “For me? You shouldn’t have!”
            Dorian and Kevin exchanged a second glance.
            “I was asking if we had any other task to perform for you.”
            In disbelief, Eddachte sat up and drove all ten nails into the desk. “I told you what to do, didn’t I?”

***

            They shuffled from the office into the halls of the Black. Only with the safety of more than a few corridors between themselves and Eddachte did Dorian speak.
            “How are you feeling, Kev?”
            “Never better, ‘Dory’.”
            “Are you mad?”
            “No, Dor, not at all.” He even let the silence hang in the air for half a second. “How could I be? Who wouldn’t want to be dragged before the Superiors of another sect, lambasted, questioned…”
            “Lambasted?” Dorian shook his head. “It wasn’t that bad, Kev.”
            “Wasn’t that bad?” Kevin protested. “You saw the look on his face! He’s got a few screws loose for sure!”
            “Yeah, he does,” Dorian admitted. “But it’s complicated.”
            “Seems pretty straightforward to me,” Kevin disagreed. “See, this is why the Whites take issue. Even your leaders are nuts.”
            Dorian thought a moment. “Almonds or cashews?”
            “What does that have to do with anything?!”
            “That’s the whole point, Kev. You don’t think there are nuts in the White?”
            “Name one.”
            “Fucus.”
            “You’re off your rocker.”
            “You can’t see it. Like I said, Kev. Almonds, cashews.”

            A return to White halls did Dorian no favors; he found himself feeling almost as uncomfortable as Kevin had looked in Black. The stern gazes they received from his Chaptermate’s brethren did not help matters, though Dorian thought he saw some unease on Kev’s part as well. Did they think poorly of him as well, in light of recent events?
            It didn’t matter. They had business now in the White, and anyone who had a problem with it would end up talking about such with the council, one way or another. This suited Dorian just fine; until he noticed that Kev remained in that discontented, discomforted state, even among his own halls. As the pair neared the office district, and the corridors, once broad and open, narrowed to signify such, the reasons for Kev’s mood became more apparent.
            “Erdylor…” Dorian sounded it out. “That’s an odd name.”
            Kevin shrugged.
            “Is he anything like Eddy?”
            “She,” Kev corrected. “And anything but.”
            Dorian nodded. “We’ll see.”
            “You will.”

            The reached the office, and as Kevin lifted his hand to knock upon the door, it drifted open. On the other side stood a beautiful luminescent creature. Her wide and bright blue eyes shone with a gentle warmth, and her smile erased any misgiving Dorian might have had. In fact, he found himself smiling back at her in spite of himself.
            “Welcome,” she beamed in a sweet and soothing voice.
            “Thank you.” Kevin dipped his head some. “We’ve been given orders to see Erdylor.”
            Dorian stiffened.
            “Is she in?”
            “Of course, Kevin of the White,” the woman beamed again, then turned to Dorian with the most adorable tilt of her head, and in a perfectly musical voice, asked: “And who are you, good sir?”
            “Dorian of the Black.”
            For half a second, he thought he saw something else then; but then the beautiful attendant was before him, directing them forward with a perfect smile and immaculate posture.

            The office was bigger than it looked from the outside,apparently bisected by a thick curtain that obscured the space beyond. Richly decorated with crimson and gold furnishings. Plush chairs, silken ribbons and drapes, and the framed works of art all forced an air of luxury; it was not quite to Dorian’s taste, but he could appreciate the thought. Less tolerable, the presence of a second attendant, every bit as pure and pretty as the first. Dorian’s blood froze for the second time.
            “What is it, Dor?” Kevin asked.
            “Are you not seeing this?!” Dorian whispered. He twitched his head back toward the door lady, and then the attendant before them. She tilted her head some, and the smile dipped.
            Kevin shrugged. “We shouldn’t keep her waiting.”
            She led them forward with a smile and no words, though the Black Librarian might not have moved without prompting from his White companion.
            They proceeded into the following chamber, which had been designed with a more conservative luxury in the form of deep brown and mahogany furnishings. As with the previous chamber, the only jarring feature involved additional attendants; four in this case. One for each of the corners, their gleaming presence bringing an otherworldly feel to the otherwise mundane atmosphere.
            A heavy desk took the center of the space, nearly as flawless as the beings they had thusfar encountered. The woman behind the desk, however, did not shine with such luminance. She was beautiful, to be sure, but she did not radiate perfection; in fact, the deadness in her eyes and the muted expression upon her face reminded Dorian of a different leader among the Libraries. She met his eyes, and as she did so, Dorian could feel rather than see a disturbance in the entities that graced the room; their light paled for half a second, and there might have been frowns upon their faces.
            “You must be Dorian,” she said.
            Dorian dipped his head. “That is correct.”
            She lost interest. “Kevin. You accompanied Dorian into the Black Library? Into the Southern Lights?”
            “Well,” Kevin’s confidence had apparently failed to pass through the curtain with them; he kept his eyes on the floor. “I did not enter the lights myself, Ma’am. But I did witness them.”
            Now, her gaze shifted to Dorian once again, though she continued directing her words to her subordinate. “And what did you make of such a place?”
            If she were looking for some sort of reaction from Dorian, he did not intend to give it. He kept his eyes on hers, his face straight, blank.
            “I’m not sure, if I am being honest,” Kev admitted.
            “Be honest,” she told him. “Tell me your thoughts. No harm will come to you, regardless of your opinion.”
            “Well,” Kevin glanced to Dorian; the Black, facing forward, did not meet his eyes. “It was strange. Beautiful, but strange. It looked to me to be a mess of beautiful things over black smoke.”
            If she were upset with him, it didn’t show. If she were satisfied, it didn’t show. Dorian did his best to match her unconcern.
            “Forgive me for speaking out of turn,” he said. “You are Erdylor?”
            “I am,” she told him. Her gaze returned to Kevin. “And I have heard from Fucus that you did take Dorian to a sermon of his.”
            “I did.”
            She did not ask Dorian what he thought, as he had half expected. It smelt funny. “Kevin, you are not the first White to see the Southern Lights, nor the first to bring a Black into one of our assemblies. However, your willingness to do these things is proof of your humility, your compassion, and most importantly, your potential as a Librarian.”
            “Thank you for the kind words,” Kevin dipped his head.
            “Now more than ever, you need direction.” Here, she glanced to Dorian. “Since you are so fortunate to be his Chaptermate, you shall accompany him in this regard.”
            “If you think I am ready,” Dorian replied.
            Erdylor’s eyes narrowed the slightest bit. “It is inevitable that those of the Black fall short of what this world truly needs. However, in special cases where one among you can find grace in our sermons, or has the presence of mind to parade their customs upon the White, we find some use. Properly groomed by Kevin here, you will make something of yourself.”
            Getting a rise out of the White had not been nearly as enjoyable as Dorian had expected. Now he bit his tongue; he told himself it was less about being beaten, and more out of respect for his Chaptermate, who glanced back and forth between them in the wake of the exchange. When Dorian made nothing of the challenge, Erdylor continued.
            “Rejoice, the both of you. Today you will be taken among the highest points in the city, and from there, the true mission of any who would call themselves Librarians will be made clear to you. You will understand why we call upon you to use your talents, and in whichever manner best suited to your capacity.”

***

            They followed another of Erdylor’s attendants through the halls of the White until they reached a lift that would take them aboveground. Unlike many of the other elevators and secret passages Dorian had used to enter or exit the Library, this particular elevator had actually seen use by mundanes, made apparent by the buttons for various floors- far too many for any building entirely below the surface.
            “This lift, and the skyscraper that housing it belongs to the White Library,” she said, as if reading his thoughts.
            Dorian nodded, stroking his chin in thought. Finally: “Do you have your own mind?”
            “Dor!” Kevin prostested.
            “What?” Dorian asked. It’s an honest question.” He turned to the attendant. “You aren’t offended, are you?”
            She addressed Kevin first with a gentle smile. “Do not be alarmed. It is a fair question. Then, She stared at Dorian; the joyful countenance that had been borne by the others did not appear to exist with this one. “We are Erdylor, and we are not,” she said. “In fact, we are not so different from you.” She turned toward the doors again, and for a time, only the occasional beep of a passed floor carried them through the silence.
            While he pondered her words, Dorian examined their guide’s back; each of them had worn glimmering garments, cloth that glowed nearly as much as their skin. This made determining the boundary between flesh and fabric impossible. Their backs, however, were exposed, and upon the shoulderblades of this one, Dorian could make out numerous dimples.
            “Will you explain that to me?” He asked finally.
            She turned, and she smiled again, but this smile had spoiled. “You know well what I mean, Dorian of the Black. You are… Just. Like. Me.”
            “I beg to differ,” Dorian disagreed. “I have my mind. You, on the other hand, seem to share so much with your ‘sisters’ as to be indistinguishable as a unique individual.”
            “This is the trouble with Black Librarians,” She said. “They believe that the individual is superior to the whole. It is that mindset, the having of one’s own mind, that has led to this hell mortals call earth.”
            Dorian ignored the jab. “So then you don’t. Have your own mind, I mean.”
            “We do, in fact. We are all individuals.”
            “What’s your name, then?”
            “It doesn’t matter.”
            “It does to me,” Dorian said, and he meant it, in spite of the challenge, and the difference.
            “You would waste your frail life placing importance upon a name, rather than devote your being to a higher power, a greater cause.”

            The elevator had reached the top floor, and the final ‘ding’ announcing such seemed to hang in the air.

            To Dorian, she said: “You value your freedom and your sense of self, but it blinds you.” She turned to Kevin. “You value your friendship, so you strive to see the darkness. In summation, you have both erred. One by nature, the other through compassion.”
            Dorian clenched his fists; Kevin swallowed a lump in his throat.
            “You are here to look upon the city as the Highest of Librarians do… to see with pure and unfettered vision. To think the true and correct thoughts.”
            The elevator doors pulled open.
            “Do not let this lesson be wasted.”