There wasn’t a reward for finding the library early. Not a password or a special scroll or anything remotely encouraging other than the fact that we were allowed to take the scrolls to the reading nooks above as long as we returned them by the next day. And everyone was allowed to do that once they found the seedling’s library. Wren tried to ask what would happen if someone took the scrolls further than the reading nooks or didn’t return them on time, but then Clara got a dangerous glint in her eye and asked how she might like to have green skin.

Wren wasn’t a fan of that idea.

Shawsh was a fan of giving us a tour of the library. The thought of shuffling after the old man didn’t sound appealing—I itched to slip off on my own and find out what lay hidden in the scrolls for myself instead—but then Clara fluttered her fingers and we all thought it best to follow Shawsh to the back of the room. She settled back down onto her cushions with the scroll she had been reading and a bit of a smirk.

He stopped in a clump of scrolls that didn’t look any different from the rest though they were yellowed with age and they surrounded a pedestal the same height as my head. On top of the pedestal was a miniature statue of a beautiful woman with honey colored hair that draped in thin strands over her arms and the slate she was writing on. Her whole body seemed focused on what she was writing—head bent in concentration, legs drawn up underneath her—as if she was pouring her soul into the words. A bless mark ran in a line over the middle of her bottom lip and down her neck, but she wasn’t wearing a whisper woman’s robe. Instead, her dark blue robes had many light, flowing layers that seemed to shimmer in the light.

Shawsh gestured broadly to the statue. “Moorkin, the first Recorder and one of the original Chosen. These are reproductions of her drawings and more notable recordings of events during her time.” He turned slightly and lovingly brushed his hand in the air above a particular strand of scrolls. “I’d recommend the Collection of Wishes once you learn to read the archaic characters.”

Wren’s nose scrunched in confusion. “Why would we need to read archaic characters?”

Why would you not want to? Wren’s complete lack of interest in expanding her knowledge about something other our cohort’s social dynamics was what was really confounding to me. We had a chance to read Moorkin and that meant diving into the first days of the whisper women with the account of someone who had been there to experience it. A firsthand account of the beginning of the Fealty Age.

Shawsh didn’t explain any of that. Instead, he tapped his leg as if in a moment of realization. “The goddess used the written word before it became what it is today. I’m sure that’s why it’s required.”

Wren didn’t look convinced about the significance of learning the archaic versions of the characters she was already struggling to learn, but we moved on to another semi-circle of scroll strands and a pedestal. The scene on top of this one was a pile of weapons. Everything from slings and spears to Ento’s daggers were featured in the pile, but none of them crowned the top of the pile. That special position was reserved, terrifyingly enough, for a shamble man with the goddess’s eye carved into its back.

Loclen broke into the silence to ask what we were all thinking. “Why is there a shamble man on top of all the weapons?”

Shawsh rolled his shoulders and grinned again. “Do you think you could beat the goddess’s power?”

Her face drained of color and Loclen’s eyes darted around. “N-no!”

His grin broadened a bit further. “Of course not. Who could? I thought the shamble man was a good reminder of what is really the most powerful.”

Prevna appraised the terrifyingly accurate statue in front of us before focusing on the old man. “Did you make all of these scenes? I haven’t seen anything like them before.”

Shawsh shrugged, sheepish. “It’s a hobby.”

A snort sounded from where we had left Clara. “You can say that again when your artwork isn’t decorating an entire wall in the goddess’s nest.”

I froze at that revelation. This fire starter had been recognized by the goddess? His art? How had She even known he existed?

Wren had a different pressing question she breathed out. “You got to decorate the goddess’s nest? What is it?”

“Oh, nothing much compared to all the great works here and Clara was kind enough to help me.” Shawsh had a faraway look in his crinkled eyes as he gestured vaguely to the scrolls around us.

“But what did you do?” Loclen pressed.

Shawsh blinked himself back into the present and sidestepped the question. “It was for the goddess.” He gestured to the scrolls again, but more firmly this time. “These are the works of various training masters of particular weapons. The diagrams within can help you perfect the basics or learn something new if you’re ready.”

He didn’t let the conversation drift back to his art in the goddess’s residence after that though he was happy to go over the pieces we found in the library. Clara also refused to expand on what they had created for the goddess once the tour was done. She seemed to enjoy our exasperation even as she disapproved of the library keeper’s modesty—not that that caused her to break solidarity with Shawsh.

So, instead, we had learned about the remaining areas in the library. The collection near the entrance, around the Seedling Palace statue, was the largest by far. Those were various writings by, for, and about seedlings and whisper women. Some apparently depicted some of the myths about the more well known whisper women while others were more for practical application, such as a short essay about the different sects. Another collection was centered around a maze on a waist high pedestal and they were all different varieties of brain teasers and diagrams that proposed different strategical and tactical problems for the reader to solve. The last area only had two scrolls hanging open against the wall on either side of a pedestal. The pedestal held the statue of a pine tree whose roots created bowls of blood. The scroll on the left side of the pedestal listed the Named blessings and those who had bore them while the scroll on the right listed those who had failed to become whisper women. No blessings, no other identifiers but their failure. Name after name after name. My mouth tasted sour as I stared at that list that far outlasted its more prodigious companion.

After that Shawsh settled himself back down in front of his work in progress, with the direction that we were to get him if we wanted to read any of the out of reach scrolls, and immediately lost himself in the work. Clara put off any attempts at conversation by pointedly focusing on her scroll, though she always paused for Shawsh’s color requests. I was ready to wander through the scrolls a bit more to pick out something to read, but I didn’t want to showoff the ability and Prevna and Wren wanted to leave while Loclen seemed to take the library keeper’s comment about archaic characters seriously. She wanted to hurry up and master the eighty-six basic characters so she could move on and be ready for those. I didn’t tell her I had already read one in Flickermark.

I tried to get them to leave without me but since we apparently had to do everything as a group, Prevna stuck as close as she could to me until I…couldn’t stand having a second shadow and agreed to leave. We made our way back up the hidden path and onto the platform before pausing at the fork in the path. Wren had gotten over her intimidation and wanted to go back down to the viewing platform on the off chance she would see the Beloved again, Loclen wanted to get back to our dome and her writing slate but was hesitant to cross the thin paths on her own, and I was more the willing to go back the way we had come and lose myself in all the new knowledge the library was bound to contain.

I kept silent as they tried to negotiate what we were doing, only really paying attention to the likelihood that I could slip away to read. Which was when I heard Prevna offer me up without getting my agreement first.

“Gimley can go with you, Loclen. I’ll go with Wren to the viewing platform.”

I snapped my head up. “Why do I have to go with her?”

Prevna gave me a cool, measuring look. “Do you want to go with Wren and chance slipping again, instead?”

I didn’t like the warning stress she put on the word ‘slipping’. She shouldn’t know anything—though I got the feeling that she did. Still, I could take care of myself and I didn’t need her input.

I crossed my arms. “Why are those my only two options?”

She snorted. “Because you didn’t deign to grace us with your opinion five minutes ago.”

My teeth ground together but I held back a growl of frustration. Go and babysit Loclen with the chance of returning for the library before I needed to go to the morning’s training, or go with Wren and face the threat of the dark tunnel and the distracting flutters she invoked.

With a conscious effort I released the pressure on my jaw and made my decision. “I’ll go with Wren.”

Fear never got me anywhere and I refused to be weak.

Prevna’s eyebrows rose. “Really?”

I glared back. “Really.”

She shrugged. “Fine.” Prevna glanced at Wren and Loclen. “That fine with you two?”

Wren looked caught somewhere between indignant, worried, surprised, and pleased before she settled on indignant. “We shouldn’t treat Loclen like she’s a burden. I mean she nearly fell earlier! I’ll go with her—I can go to the viewing platform another day.”

Then she hooked her arm through Loclen’s and pulled the startled girl along with her. Prevna and I were left staring after them, and an uncharitable part of me wondered why she couldn’t have announced that conclusion at the start of the whole discussion.

Prevna gave me a sidelong smirk. “She totally just avoided you.”

I turned on my heel to head back to the library and waved a dismissive hand to brush away her words and the embarrassment burning in my throat. “Most people do.”

Prevna used her longer legs to slide in front of me before I could take more than a single step. “Can I talk to you for a moment?”

I crossed my arms again. “You are right now.”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t be difficult.”

“I’m not.” I moved to step around her.

Prevna blocked my way again. “Look, I just wanted to check and see that you’re actually alright. Allies and all that.”

“I’m fine.”

“Really? Because last I checked we were around here you had a panic attack and you didn’t seem to fare much better after your personal training with Jin—if the garden was anything to judge by.”

I shoved my way past her. “Leave me alone.” I made it all of five steps before memory and realization stopped me cold. I turned back around to face her. “How did you know what you weren’t supposed to do on the stairs? And why would you have any reason to worry about the training of my blessing with Jin?”

The answer was obvious but I couldn’t bring myself to voice it.

Prevna, now that she knew I had put the pieces together, didn’t have any such hesitation. “Fellen told me. She—”

“She had no right!”

“She was worried!” Prevna met me, glare for glare. “But it wasn’t like she could come here or talk to you after you hurt her!” The fury boiling in my stomach went cold and hard but raged just as ferociously as before. The change must have registered on my face because Prevna paled a little before pushing on. “She didn’t tell me what happened, but I could tell it wasn’t good.” Then, as if she couldn’t help it, “Not that that was surprising.”

The cold anger subsided just as quickly as it came once she clarified what she knew. Frustration was still ready to go, however. “That still doesn’t mean she had to tell you. You weren’t a part of any of it!”

“Who else was she going to tell? She doesn’t know Wren and I was close by.”

I resisted the extremely childish impulse to stamp my foot, but only barely. “She didn’t have to tell anyone.”

Prevna rolled her eyes. “But she did.”

“And you shouldn’t care.”

“Well, you’re interesting, so apparently I do. I guess you’re going to have to deal with that.”

I just scowled at the path.

“Gimley?”

“What?” I snapped.

I heard the smug smile in her voice as she spoke, “See you at the midday meal. I’ll make sure to sit extra close so I can hear all your grievances then.”

She left and I didn’t go back to the library. Wasn’t in the mood for it. Wasn’t in the mood for much of anything other than silently ranting about Fellen’s stubborn idiocy. After what I did to her, she should have left me behind like useless waste—not find someone else, unwanted and unasked for, to stick their nose in my business. Not find someone else to care enough to try to help me. Someone I was bound to hurt, unintentionally or otherwise, simply because that was what I was best at.