Torn, p.42
Torn, page 42
You want me to own you? Tyen suddenly felt uncomfortable. He realised he now thought of the book as a person, and owning a person was slavery–an immoral and uncivilised practice that had been illegal for over a hundred years.
Better that than spend my existence in oblivion. Books don’t last for ever, not even magical ones. Keep me. Make use of me. I can give you a wealth of knowledge. All I ask is that you hold me as often as possible so that I can spend my lifespan awake and aware.
I don’t know … The man who created you did many terrible things–as you experienced yourself. I don’t want to follow in his shadow. Then something occurred to him that made his skin creep. Forgive me for being blunt about it, but his book, or any of his tools, could be designed for evil purposes. Are you one such tool?
I was not designed so, but that does not mean I could not be used so. A tool is only as evil as the hand that uses it.
The familiarity of the saying was startling and unexpectedly reassuring. It was one that Professor Weldan liked. The old historian had always been suspicious of magical things.
How do I know you’re not lying about not being evil?
I cannot lie.
Really? But what if you’re lying about not being able to lie?
You’ll have to work that one out for yourself.
Tyen frowned as he considered how he might devise a test for her, then realised something was buzzing right beside his ear. He shied away from the sensation, then breathed a sigh of relief as he saw it was Beetle, his little mechanical creation. More than a toy, yet not quite what he’d describe as a pet, it had proven to be a useful companion on the expedition.
The palm-sized insectoid swooped down to land on his shoulder, folded its iridescent blue wings, then whistled three times. Which was a warning that …
“Tyen!”
… Miko, his friend and fellow archaeology student was approaching.
The voice echoed in the short passage leading from the outside world to the tomb. Tyen muttered a curse. He glanced down at the page. Sorry, Vella. Have to go. Footsteps neared the door of the tomb. With no time to slip her into his bag, he stuffed her down his shirt, where she settled against the waistband of his trousers. She was warm–which was a bit disturbing now that he knew she was a conscious thing created from human flesh–but he didn’t have time to dwell on it. He turned to the door in time to see Miko stumble into view.
“Didn’t think to bring a lamp?” he asked.
“No time,” the other student gasped. “Kilraker sent me to get you. The others have gone back to the camp to pack up. We’re leaving Mailand.”
“Now?”
“Yes. Now,” Miko replied.
Tyen looked back at the small tomb. Though Professor Kilraker liked to refer to these foreign trips as treasure hunts, his peers expected the students to bring back evidence that the journeys were also educational. Copying the faint decorations on the tomb walls would have given them something to mark. He thought wistfully of the new instant etchers that some of the richer professors and self-funded adventurers used to record their work. They were far beyond his meagre allowance. Even if they weren’t, Kilraker wouldn’t take them on expeditions because they were heavy and fragile.
Picking up his satchel, Tyen opened the flap. “Beetle. Inside.” The insectoid scuttled down his arm into the bag. Tyen slung the strap over his head and shoulder and sent his flame into the passage.
“We have to hurry,” Miko said, leading the way. “The locals heard about where you’re digging. Must’ve been one of the boys Kilraker hired to deliver food who told them. A bunch are coming up the valley and they’re sounding those battle horns they carry.”
“They didn’t want us digging here? Nobody told me that!”
“Kilraker said not to. He said you were bound to find something impressive, after all the research you did.”
He reached the hole where Tyen had broken through into the passage and squeezed out. Tyen followed, letting the flame die as he climbed out into the bright afternoon sunlight. Dry heat enveloped him. Miko scrambled up the sides of the ditch. Following, Tyen looked back and surveyed his work. Nothing remained in the tomb that robbers would want, but he couldn’t stand to leave it exposed to vermin and he felt guilty about unearthing a tomb the locals didn’t wanted disturbed. Reaching out with his mind, he pulled magic to himself then moved the rocks and earth on either side back into the ditch.
“What are you doing?” Miko sounded exasperated.
“Filling it in.”
“We don’t have time!” Miko grabbed his arm and yanked him around so that they both looked down into the valley. He pointed. “See?”
The valley sides were near-vertical cliffs, and where the faces had crumbled over time piles of rubble had built up against the sides to form steep slopes. Tyen and Miko were standing atop of one of these.
At the bottom of the valley a long line of people was moving, faces tilted to search the scree above. One arm rose, pointing at Tyen and Miko. The rest stopped, then fists were raised.
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Rowenna Miller, Torn
