The Way We Fall

Chapter 2 - Roche

The cries of the burned woman haunted Roche's mind as she climbed the stone steps of the castle, dodging maids and servants running about with various supplies in their hands. By the time she got to the third floor, she was covered in a thin layer of sweat. She didn't dare use her inkblood again to cleanse herself. She walked through the eerily empty winding halls until she found a large set of double doors with the royal insignia carved into it. The sight of the symbol made Roche's stomach turn after the fire display, but she swallowed her disgust and pushed open the door.

"Hot damn." Roche muttered, her words swallowed by the silence of the library. The library was a huge, cavernous space. Large floor-to-ceiling wooden shelves connected the well kept white stone floors. The grout was clean enough that Roche wagered she could eat off of it. The ceiling was clear and domes, with electric pot lights tucked in. They were off, even though almost no natural light was streaming through the large windows overlooking the cliffs. Roche gaped at the sight. Her village didn't have fancy pot lights. Or electricity.

Roche wandered in. She could see large stone columns interspersed through the library, overshadowed by friezes with vivid carved scenes. The scenes seemed so animated that Roche found herself dazedly stepping closer, shifting from sculpture to sculpture, until she had waded far too deep into the library to understand where she was.

Her heart picked up as she turned in a slow circle. The shelves around her all looked the same. Roche gulped. Now how was she supposed to find the royal librarian? She was on the verge of shouting for help in the silent library when she heard the squeak of rolling wheels and the hum of something she'd only heard in the Faultless City: electricity. Roche followed the sound until the shelves widened into a large circular chamber with stones on the floor that were more sandy than pearly. The shelves spanned the walls, filled with thick and crumbling pages. In the center of the room, perched atop a large ladder with wheels at the bottom and some kind of electric unit attached, an elderly woman dressed in an atrociously long robe slid more books on the shelf. Roche silently padded to her side, staring up the ladder. When the woman didn't turn, Roche cleared her throat.

"Excuse me?" she called up. The pale, wrinkled woman twisted in surprise, nearly slipping off the ladder. Roche flinched and dove forward to catch her, but the ladder began to hum with electricity. It rolled to the side, steadying the woman before she could fall. The woman scowled, straightening her thin, wired spectacles.

"Er... sorry." Roche muttered, lowering her gaze. She stared at the ladder. "Fascinating. Does that run on some kind of electricity? How did it know you were going to fall?"

"You're certainly a curious sort." the woman grumbled. She pressed a button, and the steps of the ladder began to lower her to the ground. Even when they were on even footing, the woman towered over Roche. "Is this your first time in the Faultless City?"

"How could you tell?" Roche asked, shocked. The woman grinned, tucking a stray strand of her ash-grey hair behind her ear.

"If you were from here, you wouldn't be surprised by electricity and sensors." She gave Roche a once over. "So what is someone who is not from the Faultless City doing in my library?"

"Your library?" Roche repeated dubiously. She furrowed her brow. "Are you Verita? The Royal Librarian?"

The woman dipped her head with a nod. "You know of me?"

"I was sent to find you." Roche pulled out her sealed envelope. Her mother had warned her not to open it during the ride to the Faultless City. "My mother gave me this. Said you should read it."

"I see," Verita repeated slowly. She pried open the seal on the envelope with her thumbnail with a soft snick. "And your mother is..."

"Elena." Roche supplied. Verita's thin shoulders stiffened instantly, her pale lips twisting hawkishly. Wordlessly, she pulled out the letter, scanning its contents. Roche fought the urge to slip beside her and read what it said. Her mother had been very secretive about the letter.