There exists a fascination with the women that share my life. Hardly a surprise, considering they are some of the most sublime creatures that have existed upon this or any other plane. This volume is partly intended as a window into their psyches and a chronicle of the unique love I share with each.
Some historians make too much of dividing my mates, placing them into distinct boxes: wives and concubines. It should be known here and now that I make no such distinction. The difference lies only in whether there existed a formal ceremony, recognized by church or kingdom, uniting our lives. I will sometimes use the term" wife" and "concubine" interchangeably. Do not attach too much significance to my use of one or the other.
I have already told the story of how I met my first concubine, my wazira, my Zhahllaia. Now I shall tell the story of the second to attach herself to me, and the founding of my household, which had thus far existed only within the djinn's fertile mind.
After quitting Tann, the Mythseekers journeyed to the free city of Castellandria, on Chassudor's southern coast. The greatest free city in upon the continent, if not the whole world, located upon the Castelpont, the strait between the Turquoise Sea and the Azure Ocean. Trade flows through Castellandria, making available to her inhabitants every luxury and curiosity imaginable. It would be paradise on Thür were it not for the decadent rule of the Doge and his Kallisites, but utopia exists only in dreams.
Each of my party had different reasons for wishing to come to this place. Velena wanted to be at the nexus of all news. Alia wished to find membership in a proper thieves' guild. Xeiliope wished to train with the Kallisites and see how well a daughter of Axichis could stand against the masked warriors of the Castelpont.
For me, the reason was the famed Grand Library.
The city itself is fascinating. Some historians claim that it is the longest continuously populated city in Chassudor. Some will even say it is the site of the original landing of the Myrric peoples on the continent from Aucor. I believe one of the reasons Velena was so intent on journeying there was the idea of finding a tomb or forgotten section of the city to explore. If any city could hold such a place, it would be this one. Castellandria was built in layers, with hives of old city, tunnels, sewers beneath. It was, for the most part, a city of stone, save perhaps for the shanties clustered at the very edge of the innermost of Hallian's Walls and a few of the bridges that spanned the most recent settlements in the waters.
It is also the biggest city on Chassudor, covering both cliffsides on either side of the Castelpont, and spreading inland from there. The sea gnawed at the edges and pieces of the city periodically tumbled into the waves. This created what was known as the Sunken Quarter, ruins that peeked above the water only at the lowest tides. Rumors abounded of chambers with air still within. Velena never found a conclusive lead to any, so make of that what you will.
Other pieces of the city, once on dry land, were now on the islands dotting the strait, or even built on stone and wooden columns over the water, accessible by a series of bridges, some stone, some wood, and some rope.
The Grand Library was one of these, a collection of stone spheres off the southern coast of the west side of the strait in the Turquoise Sea. Half of the globes were above water, the other half below, powerful magics maintained by a united group of wizards kept the water and sea life out. I suspected my colleague and friend Phylyta Sullac was one of these, as her homeland of Mairault was not too distant from the city.
We entered through the west gates along the old Copper Road. The land approaches were guarded by the famed Hallian Walls, a series of nested defenses rendering the city impregnable. Castellandria remained a free city despite every great power on the continent and a few others besides desperate to lay claim to its incomparable riches.
The quarter of the city by the western walls was a warren of buildings, a maze at multiple levels. The people here were poor, each one living on top of a hundred other families. It was an instant riot of sensation, from happy sounds of children playing, to street merchants hawking wares, to people gossiping. The scent was thunderous, a stink of people cut through with the fragrant smells of charring meat on outdoor grills. Though my horizons had long since been expanded from the provincialism of Burley Shoal, Castellandria was overwhelming for the first week.
We made our way through the bustle of the city until we found an inn overlooking the Castelpont itself. The inn was made of the white stone quarried locally that formed the bulk of the structures in the city. The sight of the Castelpont was humbling, the merchant vessels of hundreds of kingdoms traveling through the strait. On either side, they were watched over from high ground by a veritable legion of catapults and ballistae ready to rain down fury on any ship that broke the peace.
Thanks to the Doge's laws, I was forced to rent my own room while my companions were free to share one. We ate in the inn's kitchen and I retired early, exhausted from the week's travel. As alluring as the idea of loveplay with my companions was, I did not believe I had the vigor to acquit myself. Before sleep, I retrieved Zhahllaia's lamp from my pack and summoned her forth. The smoke billowed from the spout and I found myself smiling, my heart beating faster as I was about to be with my love.
Zhahllaia the Enlightened stepped from the smoke. I have used many superlatives to describe her incomparable beauty but the word I always return to is exquisite. She was petite and slender, with breasts like teardrops, her olive skin glistening with metallic undertones. Her hair was nearly black and hung to the small of her back. She wore ornate bracers on her wrists and ankles, bronze inlaid with turquoise. A golden ring haloed her navel, delicate golden chains wrapped about her body in an alluring web. She was otherwise nude.
"Well met, my barbarian," she said with an affectionate twinkle in her gold-flecked eyes.
"Come here, my wazira."
She kissed me, her lips like soft breath over the nape of my neck. "Where are we?"
"Castellandria."
"I have heard of this place."
"If anyplace has the knowledge to aid you, it would be the Grand Library here."
"There were places in Kharsoom," she said. "Or Tabiyya. The civilized lands."
"Those are quite far, I'm afraid. And Kharsoom has fallen to decadence."
"Then this will do," she said in her sweetly imperious way. She gave me a stern look. "I forbid you from using all of your time in my service. You will expand your powers as well."
"I suppose I can accept that."
"Good. Now you called me forth and this place is private enough..."
I chuckled. "Of course, my love. I would not tease you."
The Grand Library was incredible. I made my way from the inn down to the wharf by way of the famous staircases that crisscrossed the cliffs. They stop off at various levels, moving into the various communities clinging to the slopes and those within the rocks themselves. At the bottom, I found the ferry that went to the Library, an elegant vessel whose bow was sculpted into the face of a snarling sea serpent. Rowers worked the deck below while the passengers stood on the top deck or rested on sculpted benches.
As I neared, the sheer enormity of the Grand Library began to take hold. On the cliffs high above, it appeared modest. As the ferry approached and it eclipsed the horizon like an island, I was awed. The ferry deposited us upon a dock that led into the central chamber. Although it appeared to be a hemisphere of sculpted marble, I knew that it was a full sphere, extending below the waves.
The dock led into a small antechamber overlooking a central hall. A librarian sat behind a desk, clad in the deep burgundy robes of their order. She had Castellandrian coloring, with black hair, olive skin, and deep blue eyes. Her curly hair was bound up in the prevailing style, with ringlets escaping from the central bun. Two Kallisite Guards stood on either side of her desk, their expressionless masks staring straight ahead.
We all signed her ledger and she welcomed us into the library. I saw the signature of my dear friend Lyta Sullac. She had been here a month before. I resolved to see her in person soon, and I would include this chance encounter in my next letter to her.
Inside, staircases led down to a great hall. This looked more like an entry hall to me, and I would learn later that this was in fact the case. When the island where the library was originally built was still above the waves, this had been where visitors entered. Then the island crumbled away, a victim of overzealous mining of the copper beneath. The antechamber where I had entered was a solution constructed when the reality of the library changed.
The entryway opened into the library's central chamber. Burgundy-robed librarians busied themselves behind a circular desk while still more moved among the shelves on a thousand different soundless errands.
The shelves took my breath away. Taller than many buildings and filled with tomes of unimaginable lore, I felt as though I was in the beating heart of all knowledge. The air smelled of a queer combination of paper and the sea, a pleasant alchemy I have grown to crave. Walkways and avenues crisscrossed the domed room, allowing access to the upper shelves. Other pathways led into the smaller chambers, more globular structures connected to this central sphere.
Open windows looked both above and below the waves. Sea life encrusted the latter, some climbing along the magical barriers that kept the water out. I was in a place of wonder. I stopped at the desk and before long one of the librarians approached me. The librarians of the Grand Library hailed from all over the world. The only thing they had in common was that they were all women and presumably all had an abiding love of books and the knowledge contained within.
I could see little of the librarian with whom I spoke, as her robes hid her form. Her face was mousy, her complexion fair. A small pair of golden spectacles at upon the bridge of her nose, a rare sight in most places in the world, but relatively common here. Her hair was her most striking feature. At her scalp, it was copper, fading to orange, and then finally yellow at the tips. She had it done in a Castellandrian style, piled atop her head with strands dangling about her face.
"Beg pardon, Monia," I said, using the Castellandrian honorific for a member of her order, "can you direct me to planar matters?"
"This way," she said, never looking up. She answered me in accented Rhandic and I momentarily cursed myself for not speaking to her in the local tongue, though my command of it was poor. I followed as she shuffled into the labyrinth of shelves. It was easy to get lost in the Grand Library. I suspect the librarians arranged it that way intentionally, that their order might be required for its administration. I still could not articulate why the tomes I sought were the alcove she led me to, but I was grateful for her guidance. I thanked her and she returned to her desk.
A single window looked out into the waters of the Castelpont. Here the Turquoise Sea merged with the Azure Ocean, producing a blue-green shade not seen anywhere else. I would soon learn there were many such places in the library, little out-of-the-way niches stuffed with books on some upper level or smaller chamber. I might as well have been alone. That sensation, of having the Grand Library to oneself is at once empowering and humbling, and I look upon my memories of that place with fondness.
I spent the next two weeks at the library, waking before dawn to take the first ferry of the day, and staying until after dark. I spoke to the same librarian every day, and she directed me where I needed to be. I learned relatively swiftly that there was an infinite amount of knowledge that I would never gain and likely never would. The desire to attempt to was its own compulsion.
I was in the midst of one such day of research when I heard a mousy voice behind me speaking in the precise accent of the educated Castellladrian. "Beg pardon?"
I turned to find my librarian. For the first time, she was looking at my face and I was able to see her eyes behind the golden frames of her spectacles I saw her eyes. I found them to be a shockingly lovely shade of indigo. "Yes? Oh, hello."
She looked away, back to the floor, as though my gaze were hot and she couldn't bear to touch it for long. "There is a tome that might interest you. It is in a different section."
I searched her face. I caught a scent, at the edge of perception, of a secret on a woman's breath, but ignored it. Magic abounded in the Grand Library, and paying too much attention to any one source could drive one to madness. "How do you know what I am looking for?" I asked.
She shrugged, still staring at the floor. I found myself wanting another look at her eyes. She was no great beauty, but between her eyes and hair, I found some allure. That, and this possible knowledge of my goals was undeniably interesting.
"You have asked for works on the process of bridging dimensions, of otherworldly entities, and curse theory," she said.
"I have. I am a wizard."
"Would you come with me? I will show you."
"Lead the way," I said. I followed her along the winding aisles. Sometimes, we would go into the central room, where the shelves towered above, before turning off into one of the smaller chambers that could almost be a library somewhere else in the world.
She paused in another niche, removing a thick tome with a green leather cover embossed with a complex and disturbing design. "Evocations," she explained. "
Vagovel's Regret
