The Rings of Salammis

The Tower - Part 3

     It was very dark when he reached the bottom, and he had to feel his way along the damp stone walls of the narrow passage that led away. Ahead of him was a glimmer of light, though, and as he got closer he realised it was coming from the square window of an oaken door. He paused before it to try to see through, but the glass was green and cloudy and all he could see were the vague outlines of what looked like large wooden boxes. With a sigh, he gave the door a gentle push, then a pull when he realised that it opened outwards.

     What he'd thought was a large box turned out to be an ancient oaken desk, cluttered with creased and stained papers and bearing two gnarled candlesticks from which smoke rose to create large patches of black soot on the bare plastered ceiling. More papers littered the floor, some looking as though they'd been gnawed by rats, which shocked Thomas as he thought of the priceless information being destroyed by the vermin.

     There were a few shelves and cabinets standing against the walls, and although they groaned under the weight of crumbling ledgers and huge leather bound volumes it was a minuscule quantity of paperwork compared to what an institution like the University must have generated over three (no, two) thousand years. Where was all the rest? He must have been mistaken. This wasn't the archives after all. Just the office of some lowly wizard given an obscure and largely unappreciated job. He wondered what the job was, and what crime the wizard had committed to be given it, but time was pressing. Matthew was waiting for him, and they were expected back on the Ship of Space. He turned to leave.

     There was a tiny, grey haired old man standing right behind him, and Thomas just managed to stop himself bumping into him. "S-sorry" he stammered as he tried to compose himself. "I was looking for the archives. I didn't mean to intrude"

     "If you're looking for the archives, you've found them," said the old man, giving him a toothless grin. "Name's Hal Tamil, keeper of the archives." He reached out a thin, cold, bony hand that Thomas shook carefully. The old man looked as frail and fragile as a bird. "What can I do for you?"

     Thomas stared at him in astonishment, then looked again at the small room, barely larger than a prison cell and with no obvious exits leading to other rooms. "This is the archives?" he asked doubtfully. "I'd expected something a bit, er..."

     "Bigger?" cackled the old man. "It's as big as it needs to be. This is a university of magic, after all. Now, what are you looking for?"

     "Er," It took Thomas a moment to get his mind back on track. "I'm looking for anything you've got on the Gem Lords. Specifically, anything you've got on the one called Lord Sapphire."

     He stared at the bare stone walls, wondering whether one of them would fade into transparency to reveal a vast cavern filled with records and papers. Instead, Hal Tamil shuffled over to the desk, muttering under his breath and pulled open one of the drawers. Inside was a thick wad of papers bound together with string that he lifted out and plopped on the desk.

     "Here you are," he said, untying the string with gnarled, arthritic fingers. "Make sure you leave it nice and tidy before you go." He turned to leave.

     Thomas leaned over the desk to look into the drawer. It was empty. "Hey, wait a minute," he cried. "How did you know I was coming?"

     "I didn't," said the old man, pausing in his tracks. "How could I have known?"

     "But you had all this stuff ready, waiting for me."

     Hal Tamil chuckled again. "Everyone reacts the same way. This is a school of magic. Everyone who comes here sees and does amazing things, but still the desk of Ma-Luma is more than they can take at first."