Oberon's Dreams - By Aaron Pogue Page 0,13

letters, Blake, and these are not the letters of men.”

Corin plucked a book from the bundle in Charlie’s arms. It was bound in supple leather and stitched with fine silk thread. Rich, soft paper seemed untouched by time, and the symbols on the pages were indeed quite alien. They bore some similarity in look to the scrollwork on the stone-carved gates.

“This is your treasure?” Blake asked. “Books?”

“There is value in old books,” Corin said, distracted. “But look at their condition.”

“And these as well?” Blake asked, nodding past Charlie to the other returning looters. Sleepy Jim was next, from the shop across the street, and he carried books, too. Corin frowned. Clever Karr had books, too, and David Taker. They dumped them at Corin’s feet, expressions demanding explanations, and every man among the crew, no matter where he’d gone, brought back books.

“Perhaps this was the bookbinders’ lane,” Corin tried, but the expressions on their faces denied it as clearly as the money changer’s sign. Corin wet his lips. “We should search farther in—”

“We tried the other avenues,” Dave Taker said. “I looked through four dozen different doors, and everywhere was only books.”

“There must have been a strongbox somewhere, a shelf of silver—”

“Books,” David said. “Just books in every room. Go see yourself. This place…this place is wrong.”

“We never should have come here,” Blake said softly. To Corin’s horror, even Jim nodded along.

“There is good money in old books,” Corin repeated. “Don’t let the traitor fool you. This book alone—” he waved the one he held “—might fetch a hundred pistoles in silver at the universities.” He waved to the pile spilled at his feet. “Just here, we have a fortune! If there are more—”

“You haven’t seen the rooms,” Dave answered. Too much white showed in his eyes. His voice cracked. “The slave did warn us, Captain! You heard what she said. We never should have come.”

Corin stormed up to him. He managed by sheer rage to loom over the taller man. “Would you join Blake in bonds, you gutless dog?”

The man did not back down. “I would leave this place. That’s all I know. We never should have come.”

Too many of them nodded now. Acid boiled in Corin’s stomach—anger and fear in equal parts. He’d come too far to lose this now.

“You heartless cowards! I’ve seen you face the despot’s grays. I’ve seen you board a ship full of gladiators. I’ve seen you cut down enemies and lords. Would you quail now for fear of books?”

None of them would meet his eyes but Blake, who grinned with the thrill of victory. “You brought us to this desert hunting gold. Pirates in the desert!” He spat his disapproval. “A little solid sparkle can overcome reason, but lacking that, these boys know right from wrong.”

“Still your tongue or I’ll still it for you,” Corin snapped.

Blake’s smile twitched. He jabbed his chin toward David Taker. “Cut me free.”

Corin caught Taker’s eyes before the man could move. “Show me. Show me these terrifying libraries.”

Taker nodded once, mute, then turned on his heel. Corin jerked his head toward the treacherous first mate and raised his voice to the other men. “Bring him along. Bring everyone along.” Corin looked at the book in his hand, the pile at his feet, and slowly shook his head. Then he stomped off after his guide.

He followed up the boulevard in the flickering gloom of their torches. As they passed the money changer’s shop, he glanced in. Books were everywhere, stacked in neat piles of varying heights. He caught only a glimpse of it, but he saw the same through the next open door, and the next. David Taker passed half a dozen shops before stopping at a door that hadn’t yet been opened. He stepped easily aside, ceding Corin the opportunity to try this one.

Corin’s hand closed on the dusty brass knob, but he hesitated. His whole crew waited in the street behind him, more than a hundred deadly men, and all of them afraid. Corin could feel Blake’s hateful gaze, his mocking grin. The pirate captain turned the knob. He pushed the door open to a slow, grinding creak, and torchlight danced into a long-abandoned room.

It showed him books. Not on shelves or tables, not neatly sorted for storage or sale, but stacked in tottering piles. Corin entered the room, moving as though in a dream, and his eyes roved over the stacks.

There were hundreds of books. Thousands. Not a stick of furniture, not a strongbox standing open, not