The Scrollrunners

Chapter 13 | Ashes

Smoke poured over the city of Alexandria as night began to fall. The already hot air became unbearably stifling under the smoke's heavy blanket. The stark orange glow of the city against the midnight blue sky at night was obscured by gray, and the tips of palm trees lining its winding streets were no longer visible. Even the bright stars up above had lost their brilliant shine.

People waved cloths and rags towards their windows and doors, trying to purge the noxious, violent substance from their open homes. By now, whispers had carried throughout the ancient city telling tales of angry Scholars and the disobedient girl who had stolen from them; she had stolen their precious papyrus scrolls, their knowledge, their power.

So, they burned her haven to the ground.

It was risky, starting a fire in a dry desert city. But they had it under control, planning ahead on how to smother the flames, just as they had smothered the girl's small, insignificant rebellion.

There were other whispers, too. Swapped between neighbors, passersby on the gloomy streets, trader to merchant, friend to friend. This girl, the one the Library had so violently silenced, was the same girl who had started a revolution. Not just with that precious, secret classroom— the one they just incinerated— her revolution included every child in Alexandria. She was going to fight for their right to attend school at the great Library of Alexandria, to learn, to have opportunity and equality, to have choice and autonomy, and to have a future. Not so insignificant as the Scholars would like to think.

The people's voices began to rise above whispers, and they would soon become shouts.

A secret classroom? Here, in Alexandria?

Yes, that's what the Scholars burned down. And you'll never guess whose classroom it was...

That girl? Really? The one who plans to open up the Library to all children?

The very same.

How could those Scholars do that to her? And to those other children in the classroom?

They want to keep us out, to hold us down. Just like always.

She's got the right idea, that girl... When is her revolution happening?

Oh, it's already begun. But during the Founding Festival, we're to gather in the agora outside the Library at high noon.

I'll be there.

I have a feeling many of us will.

Somehow, all the students of the secret classroom had gathered in the temple, after the fire. Arben had guided most of them to that safe place as they fled earlier that day, despondent, confused, scared. Talen, who had not been in class because of an athletic competition, had made her way there, too, hearing through the grapevine of Ma'at that her classmates, her friends, had congregated there. Letes, along with Lenion who refused to leave her side, retreated to the Serapeum after helplessly watching— or not watching, in Letes's case— that sacred space turn to ash.

Talibah, the one who started it all, was the last one to know about the classroom. She got back to the classroom in the late afternoon, completely unaware of the attack, and only saw the aftermath of the destruction of her favorite place in the world. She tripped and stumbled through its smoking rubble, and wandered through the softly floating ashes for a long time. The ashes felt light and feathery on her skin as she held her arms out in front of her and just stared, face hollowed out in both horror and awe.

How could something so gentle come from such violence and hate?

She had watched the transparent, gray ashes hover in the air in the late afternoon sun. Watched as they descended ever so slowly to the once vividly blue mosaic floor and eddied and drifted over its surface as if haunted.

Nothing salvageable remained. After all, all their works— art, essays, mathematical equations, charts of the stars in the night sky, scientific hypotheses— had been carefully crafted on papyrus. None of it stood a chance.

At some point, hours later, Talibah found herself laying in the ashes on the cold floor, staring blankly up into the sky. Even the stars provided no comfort tonight.

Eventually, she somehow rallied the energy to pick herself up and make her way to the temple. It was her second favorite place in Alexandria, and the only place she could think to go.

I guess now it's my favorite place.

So, the ash-covered girl stumbled through the streets that were finally clearing of smoke. People stared at her, some even approached her with concern, but she didn't notice or care, just let her feet take her to the temple. Whispers erupted in her wake.

When she finally reached the road on which the temple lay, she spotted a small crowd of people gathered on its steps. No— not people— her family.

Though her heart lifted a fraction at the sight of the classroom students and the people of the temple, her feet still dragged in the sand. It took immense effort to approach the temple, as if she moved through quick sand instead of atop the sand-covered streets. Once the huddle of people recognized her, the desert night filled with her name. Sadness and anger, and hope and love, brimmed in those voices.

Talibah reached the foot of the crumbling steps leading up to the Serapeum and fell to her knees, unable to go any further. She needn't have tried to do it all on her own.

She was immediately surrounded by familiar faces silhouetted by the torches and candles that lined the once-grand steps and glowed from within its warm walls. She felt compassionate hands clutching her own, patting her back, smoothing her hair, and lifting her up. Tears slid down her cheeks and splashed onto her arms, and she felt theirs falling onto her as well.

Then, Letes's face appeared before hers, dirty and smudged and tear-streaked. Letes just smiled at her. Talibah could tell that that smile came with all the strength her best friend had, for it was laced with sadness and anger and fear, barely held at bay.

But, try as she might, Talibah could not smile back.