Tales of the Inventor’s War

The Story of Samo: Chapter Four, Part Two

February 11, 2009 at 8:35 am (Story)

Not wanting to seem like he was hurrying, which he was, Tarat kept his pace as even as possible. He needed to find some way to understand what was going on. He didn’t even know where to start. The libraries at the Academy were the best source of information for just about anything related to the sciences and to history. Unfortunately, they were for the Academy. The public could use them freely, but patrons needed to sign their names into a roster in order to utilize it. He didn’t want to leave a trace of the fact that he was looking for information. He also didn’t want to ask Kiara for help. Even Samo didn’t know if he wanted to do that. Kia wouldn’t have been much help if he had asked. He was an painter. It wasn’t as if he knew anything about politics.

Then, as if he was hit by a second blow from his dead attacker, he stopped in the middle of the street. Bringing his hand to his forehead, he groaned. Then he started running. People paused to watch him pass; it wasn’t uncommon to see someone running, but many of them knew who he was. He was one of the more popular of the police, since he was still new and had not yet become hard to the people from whence he came. They also knew that Tarat, specifically, did not generally run unless there was some reason. He always tried to remain calm and composed, unless there was a reason to avoid that. Now he had a reason.

He skidded to a stop on the brick sidewalk and recomposed himself, straightening his tunic. He wasn’t in uniform, but it still paid to be as unwrinkled as possible. Opening the door, he walked into the bookstore. Tansu, the bookseller, was sitting on a high stool behind the counter. When he looked up at Tarat, he gasped and stepped down, saying, “Back for more books? I have nothing illegal here!”

“Calm down, sir,” Tarat replied, raising his hand to calm him. “I’m not even on duty right now.” He leaned on the counter and stared the man in the eyes. Tansu had a nervous look, but it seemed to be a perpetual nervousness. He tapped his pale, wrinkled fingers on the counter and clicked his tongue impatiently. As Tarat stared into his gray eyes, he saw the unrest that was asking him to leave. Tarat smiled and said, “Do you have anything by Sarenti Dacule?”

“What?” Tansu shouted. He stepped back and said, “I thought you said you’re not on duty! I don’t have an-”

“I’m here for Samo Diarcha.” Tarat interrupted him and continued, “I’m helping him with something. I need to find any information that I can about or by Dacule, preferably written by him. If I were to tell anyone at the guardhouse, I’d be arrested just like you.”

Tansu looked at him suspiciously and said, “Why should I trust you?”

“You shouldn’t.” Tarat smiled and set his hand on Tansu’s sleeve. “Now,” he said. “I’ve been a pretty nice guy, haven’t I? I haven’t taken advantage of my position, or authority. I haven’t been too harsh with people, because I haven’t seen any reason why I should be like that.” He patted the man’s arm and said, “I’ll tell you what’s up. This is a pretty serious deal here. I know that you have something on Dacule, and if I don’t see it in five minutes, I’ll start messing things up around here. You don’t want that, do you?”

Backing away, Tansu said, “You’re just like the others.”

“No I’m not.” He grabbed Tansu’s sleeve and drew him across the counter so that he was a few inches from his own face. He said, “I’m actually doing this to help people. Now get me those books.” He released Tansu and looked to the door leading to the back. Tansu backed away from him and started for the back. Tarat followed him, both to make certain that he didn’t run and to go to the books. In the back, Tansu looked among stacks of books and occasionally back at Tarat, who stood with his hands on his hips glaring at him. Finally, Tansu let out a cry of relief and brought down a small stack of five books, which he brought to Tarat.

He said, “Here. Three of these were written by the Inventor. One is a chronicle of the war and the other two are schematics manuals.”

“What are the other two?” Tarat asked.

Tansu backed away nervously and said, “They were written by his enemies. One of them was by Creas.”

“You actually have a book written by that sorcerer?” Tarat stepped forward menacingly. He said, “What possessed you to keep one of those?”

“It’s a history!” he replied. “A history, a political diary. It is not a spell book. Believe me. If I found one of those, you would not find it in my shop.”

Tarat nodded. This was good. He’d hear from both sides. He said, “I’ll read these back here so no one can see me leave with them.”

“Good luck finding something you can use.” Tansu nodded to him and skirted his way past and returned to the front of the store.

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