Rian

Part 27

Satomi eyed the fifth shelf high above her head desiring the book coated in obsidian and dust. She thought she'd seen a stool somewhere, but that was several aisles back. The kind Pacoian at the front desk who spoke clear Japanese brought Satomi to this collection of thick bookcases. Each shelf, Satomi noticed, seemed carved from dark wood with the texture of stone. Solid, these bookcases were, with even more dense books sitting on top of them. Books for days of Kalon, of her system, her people and their languages and poems and thoughts. The first spiral bound Satomi picked up held pictures of different animals; predators with large eyes and slender bodies tipped with narrow snouts and ending with pointed tails, fish dark as night, but once under a flashlight their glittery skin gave way to every color Satomi imagined. From book to book Satomi noticed the different curve of letters and caress of hundreds of lost languages only Kalon had known.

They're in different languages, Satomi thought. There was the inkling to be disheartened by so many languages, but that thought was left far behind under a smile.

I bet Daisy can read these and if she can than so can I. Reaching her hands high above her head, Satomi used her fingertips to try and loosen the darkest book from its place, but she only found the snowing of dust on her face. The same smell she'd encountered at every book store she'd ever been in found her nose and her comfort.

Some things never change. Satomi knew there was no one close by to help her, her and the assistant had passed by dozens of aisles completely vacant of anyone before reaching this destination. Beginning to place books on top of book, Satomi raised her foot to take a step, but out of the corner of her eye she saw a tall figure with long, tangled hair pass by.

What was his name? Satomi asked.

"Drakon!"

Oh I hope that's it! The Hirotian with his head down and hands stuffed into his robe's pockets looked up to the unfamiliar voice. Slight, tilting darkness crossed his face followed by a full on scowl. With a quick pace Drakon approached the human, he wanted this interaction over and soon. Looking down at the small human who barely reached his stomach Drakon waited for what the human wanted.

Why didn't I just ignore her? Drakon rolled the idea around, but found it sullied with Agnes' disappointed glare.

"Could you help get this book?" The tiny human with even smaller fingers pointed to the book that was just out of her reach. Drakon cocked his head before glancing at the book and then back to Satomi. Raising a massive hand to the book shelf he picked the book from its place and once in front of his gaze he brushed off the dust and read the title. Frowning the Hirtoian looked down at the human waiting for the book with wide eyes and a truly curious gaze.

"May I ask why you chose this book?" Flipping the dull cover around he handed the book to Satomi who took it with eyes glued to the wordless cover.

"It's about Kalon, isn't it?"

"It is, but so is every book here for the next ten aisles. Why did you choose this book?" Satomi leaned back, catching the impassive gaze of the man in front of her. This is possibly the only time he would ever wait to hear of something she had to say, so she better make her answer as truthful as possible. "I...chose this book because it looks like it'd been neglected. Covered in dust with stained pages. I don't really enjoy reading, but I love to write and when I find my journal beginning to collect dust I think to myself it must need some love. This book needs some love."

Cracking the cover open Satomi found stanza type writing spaced out every five lines with a longer, solid black line. The pattern continued on every page despite the change in language.

A human that doesn't like to read, why am I not surprised? Drakon caught himself and peered again at the book. There was a reason it was placed so high out of the reach of patrons. The right person needed to handle it and so it seemed fate had chosen Satomi.

"Do you have a nickname?" The course voice brought Satomi's attention back. Almost too surprised to answer Satomi could only nod her head for a moment. "You don't have to tell-" Drakon began, but Satomi found her voice. "Saku. My nickname is Saku."

"This book has a name and then a nickname. We Are One is its known name, but among the people of Kalon it was called The Recollection written by Sol Temm-Tilsh. Sol was an elementary school teacher, she taught small children. When war broke out, before the dictator that ended Kalon came to power, the school emptied of students out of fear. Sol was one of the last teachers to abandon her post. She remained with her school until the day came that her students, even the most devoted, could no longer brave the bombings. Sol's heart was broken for her people and wanting to do what she thought was right she took to Kalon, traveled from country to county, often by foot to create a final thought for her people. She sat down with thousands of families and from their stories created this poetry." Opening his hand in a soft request to hold the book once more Satomi delivered it.

"Each time you see a set of lines more than five it means the family responsible for that story has a known fate. Six lines means the family was executed, seven lines means the family made it safely off world, eight lines means the family is separated, nine lines means the family is in direct contact with Sol, ten lines means..." Drakon's jaw clenched as his finger pressed onto a poem containing ten lines. Shaking his head and whatever nightmare took a brief hold of him away he continued. "Ten lines means the family was captured. From village to village this book became a way for families to communicate secretly. At a glance it's nothing more than a book, but to Sol it was a key." Flipping to the end of the book Drakon revealed a page torn from the book.

"Sought Soul. It's the last poem written by Sol after she was captured. Kash Rift, the dictator, had heard stories of Sol and wanted to meet Sol before her execution. Kash Rift in all her bountiful power and vile extremes looked down at Sol and told her if she could make the dictator of Kalon cry, could make her feel something other than endless devotion to power then she could go free. Sol sat down before the dictator and using the final bit of ink she had left she wrote eleven lines, the only poem with such a number. Whatever the poem said is a mystery. Those who were present claimed it had to do with setting suns and soulless tears, but still it remains a mystery. What we do know is that Kash Rift did not spare Sol, but instead spared her book, the only thing that managed to move Kash Rift enough. Although I believe, in the end, Kash only spared the book because she feared it so much."