Tunio awoke to someone shaking him. He opened his eyes and saw Aquillia standing over him. She was dressed in a simple green skirt that came down to her knees. Her hair was tied up in a loose bun with bangs framing her face. A look of worry creased her face. Tunio sat up and Aquillia stepped back

“Metilia said you wanted my help with the riddle the king put out,” she said.

“Yes,” Tunio agreed, “what time is it?”

“You missed breakfast,” Aquillia said, leaning against the closed door.

Tunio flung back the sheet and pulled on his trousers and stood.

“What do you think we should do first?” he asked.

“Let’s look at the meaning of the words first and see if it will give us a clue.”

“Great,” Tunio said and indicated with his hand to the door she was leaning on.

She stood, opened the door, and stepped outside.

He closed the door behind her and they walked down the stairs and out into the street. The sun was bright in a cloudless sky. He turned to look at the notice attached to the side of the building.

Tunio read it again.

“Honour and glory,

reveal the soul

remain true to your word

and see glory

Lies destroy the heart and mind.

Truth frees the soul,

Honesty shall humble you.

Gains shall follow.”

“Does anything jump out at you?” Aquillia asked over Tunio’s shoulder.

“No,” sighed Tunio, “however, I had a dream about it before being woken by your Metilia and Gazali. The verse in my dream was different.”

“How so?” asked Aquillia.

“This poem. Have you heard of it before?”

“No,” admitted Aquillia. “It seems that the poem is popular enough to merit its printing, on the notice; I wonder if the rest of it might also reveal clues.”

“Where will we find the rest of the clues?” Tunio asked.

“The city library might have a complete copy of the poem,” she suggested.

“I am glad I came here,” said Tunio. “A city with a library…”

“Come. I know where it is.” Aquillia turned to her left and strode off down the path.

Tunio followed her as she walked down the street past sellers and merchants selling their merchandise. At an invisible line, the merchants stopped, and the buildings changed to being made of glass and crystal. They ranged in colours, all cloudy, but with doors and windows at one and a half metre intervals. The people were no longer a mix of all the races but changed to being mostly gnomes—smallish people about one metre in height with thin, ethereal wings on their backs. They were dressed in an assortment of clothing, from bright sparkling colours to drab greys. Their clothing also varied in style, some electing to remain nude while others going all out from tight-fitting clothes that left nothing to the imagination to clothes that hid everything and distracted the eyes. One gnome with green skin fluttered past wearing a dress that hugged her upper body like a second skin; it started as a soft pink and changed, as it went down its length, to a violent purple that ended in a large hoop with many pink petticoats. She was followed by several blue gnomes dressed in different colours more muted than her in reds and blues. The last member was completely nude. His long, brown hair was wrapped around his body. Another gnome walked past holding a basket in her hands offering all who passed to see inside, where a small purple baby sat. She smiled any time someone looked. A small group of soldiers flew past, heading back to the market district wearing steel plate armour that covered them from head to toe and carried long pikes in their hands.

“Don’t stop,” called Aquillia, “if we keep moving, we will make it out today.”

Tunio hurried on and tore his eyes from the busy street.

At the other end of the district, Aquillia stopped and braced herself against a tree.

“Walking through the gnomish district can be dangerous if you tarry too long,” she explained.

“How so?” Tunio asked, turning to look back into the gnomish quarter.

“The gnomes can be playful and can trick you into seeing what you want you to see,” Aquillia explained.

“Did this happen to you once?” Tunio asked.

“A couple of times. I was looking for my older brother. I still haven’t seen him, and it has been fifty years since I left home. I spent about a month looking for him in there. I thought I was only in there for a week. It turned out that a gnome had taken a fancy to me and wanted me to stay with him.”

“Is there a way around it?” Tunio mused.

“We could go through the slave district,” said Aquillia, “but it is a warren, and the terrain can change daily.”

“Where is the library?” Tunio asked, turning back to Aquillia.

Aquillia stood up straight and smiled back at Tunio.

“This way,” she said, then took off.

They walked along a lane with a high wall on one side and a neatly kept garden on the other side. The garden was full of gentle, curving paths and manicured lawns and bushes. Garden beds with an assortment of coloured flowers were arrayed in complicated patterns. At one point they crossed over a small footbridge that had a small creek flowing underneath; the creek also went through a grate in the wall into the district behind it. The garden came to an end and the lane split off into three directions before them. To the left, it went through an ornate gate that was guarded by a small squad of pike gnomes. To the right, another gate was guarded by another squad of pike gnomes in royal purple livery. Directly in front of Tunio and Aquillia stood a collection of crystal buildings that sprawled behind them on either side of the lane. Aquillia strode across the lane into the new district. The buildings had ornate signs on the sides, each identifying the building’s purpose. They walked down the lane and passed the royal archive, the royal bank, the department of censuses, the department of housing, and finally at the end of the lane sat a large squat crystal building, the royal library.

“Here we go,” she said, “the library.”

They strode across the plaza at the end of the lane and walked through the open doors. The floor was tiled in a black and white chequer pattern and the high arched walls were covered in jam-packed bookshelves; many free-standing bookshelves, reaching the roof, stood at precise intervals on either side of a narrow path that ran all the way back to the room. At the far end of the room was a small door with gold writing too small to be seen from across the library.

A large wooden topped marble bench sat across the entrance. A gnome with grey hair and wrinkles around her eyes smiled at Aquillia and Tunio as they walked in. She was dressed in a long, flowing, light blue robe that hung to her ankles.

“Wow, this is so amazing,” Tunio gasped aloud.

“This library boasts the largest collection of written word from all the realms,” the old lady informed.

“I was wondering if you had any information on the king’s challenge?” Tunio asked, smiling back at the greying gnome.

“The Veritas riddle? We sure do,” she replied. “My name is Flaxae, I will lead you to the history of the Belt of Veritas.”

“That will be so kind of you,” Tunio smiled at her.

Aquillia shrugged and followed Tunio and Flaxae as she floated down the library hallway.

Flaxae stopped at the third row and flew down, checking book numbers as went. She came to an empty shelf and stopped, her hand placed on the shelf. Tunio came and stepped up behind her.

“That’s odd,” Flaxae muttered, “they should be here.”

“What is meant to be there?” Aquillia asked.

“The Legend of King Cordifolia,” replied Flaxae. “We should have a dozen copies.”

“Could it be possible that they are all out?” Aquillia muttered.

“Sorry, dear?” Flaxae asked, turning to face Aquillia.

“Does the library allow loans?” Tunio asked, gently flicking a dirty look at Aquillia.

Aquillia shrugged, rolled her eyes, and strolled away to the main corridor.

“They do,” replied Flaxae, “but all copies gone at once is rather unusual.”

“Not when they are the first book you thought of, given the king’s challenge,” said Tunio.

“Oh, it’s a good start point,” said Flaxae. “It is, however, not the most authoritative.”

“What would be?” Tunio asked.

“Follow me. “

She dashed to the end of the row and rounded the corner. Tunio and Aquillia had to run to keep up. Flaxae ran along the outside wall of the room and at the end of the wall she rounded the corner heading back into the centre, with Tunio and Aquillia hot on her heels. She stopped suddenly at the door in the centre of the wall. On the door were the words “restricted section”. She turned to face Tunio.

“I really shouldn’t be doing this,” she whispered.

“If you help us, and we do find the belt, I think a small donation can be made to the library,” Aquillia said. She winked at Tunio.

Flaxae smiled, “That would be most appreciated.”

She glanced around furtively, opened the door and ducked in, quickly followed by Tunio and Aquillia.

As the door closed behind Aquillia, Flaxae lit a candle and cast light about the dark room. This much smaller room was filled with light wooden bookcases only two metres tall and they were packed in together with only enough space for one person to pass through at a time. Flaxae flew down the first corridor and came to a section of the bookcase that was packed with leather-bound tomes. She pulled one out and blew the dust off the book. A small billow of dust flew out from the book and landed on the bookcase.

The Battle of Peace Landing, Flaxae read off the front, “Official account of King Cordifolia penned by Gallia. Year two thirty, fourth era.”

Flaxae handed the book to Tunio and ushered them out of the restricted library. She extinguished the flame as they left, setting the lamp on the pedestal near the door.

Aquillia and Tunio strode to the front of the library. Flaxae followed them resuming her post at the counter at the door.

“Thank you for this, Flaxae,” Tunio said, turning to face Flaxae, “we will take good care of it.”

“You guys have fun.” Flaxae smiled and waved them on. “I will be on the lookout for your donation.”

***

Metilia strode through the gardens. A clean, white dress hung off her body, clinging to her hips and ending at her knees. Gazali followed her, dressed in a pair of rumpled brown trousers and a loose-fitting white shirt open at the front. She had led them out of the inn’s common room after breakfast. She sat on the cool bench in a garden not far from the tavern.

Gazali sat beside her and waited patiently, looking at her.

“We need to talk about us,” she said, breaking the silence.

“We do,” he agreed.

“If we are related,” she said, not looking at him, “does that change us?”

“If we are related,” he replied, “we would need to confirm this.”

“I know we will have to confirm if we are related,” she snapped, turning on him. Her eyes flashed and her brow furrowed.

“Easy,” he flinched, raising his hands in surrender to her. “I am in the same situation you are. I don’t know either way. It could be; we haven’t asked my mother yet.”

“I wanted to know where we stood before we spoke to your mother to either confirm or deny the story.” She looked down at her skirt.

“I love you,” he confessed softly, “and that won’t change if we have the same father.”

Her head snapped up and looked at him. “You love me?”

“Of course,” he said, blood rising into his cheeks. He continued to look at the gravel on the path. She looked back down at the ground, blood rising in her cheeks. Silence hung between them.

“Does that change anything?” he asked.

“I don’t know what to say,” she muttered, her face going even redder.

“You could start by telling me how you feel.”

He gently sat and looked intently into her face.

“I love you too,” she muttered.

A huge smile broke across his face, and he picked up one of her hands. “Would that change if we were half-brother and sister?”

“I love you so badly,” she admitted, “it hurts me sometimes.”