Black dust floated down covering a good portion of the room. Kelton stood still as if the lack of movement would lessen the disaster. He should have never attempted such a thing inside. The door opened, and Yanda entered. She froze in place as the coal dust continued to blanket the bed covers in a fine layer of blackness.

Yanda's face was iron, stuck between shock and anger. Kelton's mouth opened, the begging for forgiveness stifled by a particle-driven cough. He expected a tirade, or perhaps something physical. She could move quickly when it suited her. He swallowed another cough as if letting it out would make matters worse.

Yanda placed her hands on her hips and then changed her mind, letting them fall to her sides. Her laughter echoed down the hall and bruised Kelton's ego more than a tongue lashing ever could. He felt like a child.

"It was not expected," Kelton said, holding out the chunk of coal in his blackened hand. He had ground a portion of it down, and most of that powder now coated everything around him. Never did he expect his breath to be so powerful, nor the particles to be so fine. "I will clean it, " he begged.

Yanda waved away his statements and left in a fit of unending laughter. The opened door caused others to poked their heads in the room to investigate. Chuckles became common mixed with a few empathetic looks. Kelton replaced the coal in its cloth wrapper and looked at the mess. He'd have to take the blankets outside to shake the tiny bits loose. Everything else would need to be wiped down. He looked at the palm of his hand, the one that had held the coal. It would have to be scrubbed. And it should be done before Yanda returned. He'd not look the fool twice.

Touching the bed covers with the wrong hand was his first mistake. The black handprint made matters worse. Dipping his hand in the wash bowl was the second mistake. It clouded black and left a film on his skin. Instead of one dry blackened hand, he had two wet gray ones that threatened to soil anything they touched. After some panicked thought, he relented and ruined a washing cloth to dry his hands. The disaster was compounding, and those that walked by the room were making matters worse with their smirks.

Kelton could hear Yanda's laughter growing as she returned. Glenda's voice joined hers. Kelton looked around and sighed, shoulders drooping. There was no place to hide. She meant to embarrass, and he couldn't blame her. There was coal dust everywhere.

Glenda reached the door first. Kelton tried his best to look contrite. She was carrying a stack of folded cloth and raised them to hide her mouth as her laughter began. Yanda wasn't trying to cover up how humorous she thought it was.

"It is a sight," Glenda said in between chuckles. They both moved in, and another woman followed with a bucket of water. Kelton was thankful the new woman was able to hold her reaction to a smile.

"I did not intend..."

"Of course you didn't," Glenda said. "You would have gotten out the way if you had. There is as much on you as on the bed." She began pulling the blankets off the bed. Yanda spoke and signaled him to undress.

"There are others here," Kelton said.

"Your shirt will suffice," Glenda interpreted, and the women began laughing among themselves.

"Now, this is a sight," Zello said as he entered. Behind him was Vasco who didn't try to stifle the humor he saw in the situation.

"Must the whole house know, Master," Kelton begged.

"Oh, I think so," Zello responded. "It is important to keep morale up, is it not Vasco?"

"Aye, Master," Vasco replied. "It also serves as a lesson to those who wish to play with coal. I think the children could benefit the most."

"Do you think we should bring them by? Show them the folly of such a thing?"

"Nay...nay," Kelton begged, then was muffled as Yanda forced his shirt over his head. She dipped a cloth in the bucket of water and began scrubbing his face. He was surprised by how black it turned and began to understand what everyone found so funny. He must look the fool.

"Now you know why we store coal outside," Zello said, his chuckling unabated. "What were you trying to do?"

"Something he doesn't wish to share, Master," Glenda interjected. "He thinks it important, yet he fears it may not work." She winked at Kelton.

"Curious," Zello mumbled.

"I will do it outside next time," Kelton said quickly. "It will have to be on a day with no wind, but I won't dirty any of the house again."

"Why not the tool house where we store the coal shovels and such?" Zello said, looking at Vasco.

"Aye, nothing to harm there and it's well dirty on its own. No wind there." Vasco nodded.

"It is done then," Zello said. "You can use the tool house for...for whatever this is." He waved his hand around the room and laughed.

"Thank you, Master," Kelton said, then was muffled again by Yanda's aggressive cleaning.

"Not on the morrow, though," Zello added. "Vasco is to show you the library. It is time for your picture mind to gather some of the knowledge stored there."

"It will be eye-opening," Vasco added. His smile no longer related to the mess in the room. Kelton smiled back, feeding off Vasco's enthusiasm. A building of books was a fantastic idea. Zello and Vasco retreated to allow the place to be cleaned without them getting in the way.

The water had to be changed twice during the cleanup. Yanda had rinsed out Kelton's hair and wiped down his pants to remove the soot that was held there. The task that had looked insurmountable to Kelton a moment ago was handled with acuity by the woman. They were pleased with themselves.

"I thank you," Kelton said as he pulled a clean shirt on. Yanda kissed his forehead with the last of her chuckles.

"I'll have this brought to the tool house," Glenda said as she retrieved the wrapped piece of coal. It was said as if she expected Kelton to play with it inside again. He ignored the motherly tone and nodded. It was probably for the best.

Filgot's left eye was swollen, swimming above a purplish half-moon bruise. He had a slight limp, favoring his left side. Kelton gave him an odd look hoping to hear an explanation but received nothing.

"Taggert will travel with you and Vasco this morning," Filgot said, his eyes looking past Kelton. Kelton turned to see Taggert approaching in worse shape. He had two eyes blackened, and his upper lip was swollen with a new scab barely dried on the corner of his mouth. Unlike Filgot, Taggert had a bounce in his step, as if his face had always looked like it had stopped a wagon.

"Good day," Taggert slurred. His lips weren't moving right or possibly he was struggling to not reopen the wound. His left hand lay comfortably on the hilt of his sword as if he were meant to be a soldier. Filgot retreated without another word.

"Did Filgot do that?" Kelton asked, pointing at Taggert's face. Filgot did say he was going to handle Taggert's apprehension and fear. A beating seemed an awful way to do it.

"Nay," Taggert replied. Kelton waited, yet no more information was forthcoming.

"Did you fall?"

"Nay," Taggert repeated.

"Brawling?" Vasco said as he approached. "You visit a tavern last night?"

"Aye," Taggert said. "Filgot took me to one. Thought we might talk over some ale. You know, soldier to soldier." Taggert tapped the pommel of his sword and started walking toward the wagon that had been made ready for the trip to the library. He was standing taller. Vasco smiled knowingly at Kelton. They mounted the cart, Vasco and Kelton in the back, Taggert on the buckboard with the driver. Taggert signaled the driver to head out.

"Are there lots of fights at the taverns?" Kelton asked. It was meant to be a leading question.

"Off and on," Taggert replied as if his marred face were nothing exceptional. He sat tall as the wagon exited the compound.

"How did the brawl start?" Vasco asked.

"An accident, nothing more." Taggert looked about the world like a ship's captain. "Filgot and I were talking about our duty, and the mugs ran dry. He retrieved another pair from the keep and slipped on his return. Spilled a bit on a drunken fool the next table over. That's all."

"That's all?" Vasco prodded.

"There was some calling of names and recriminations of Filgot's lineage. It happened that the drunk had some friends and they thought Filgot liable for the night. Filgot was angered and thought otherwise, then finished spilling the drink on the man."

"How many friends?" Vasco asked.

"Four, though I think there were more who decided to stay out of it." Taggert shrugged. Kelton could see the pride in the shrug.

"Five against one?"

"Two!" Taggert said quickly. He turned in the seat to face Vasco as if he were insulted. "Five against two. I would not stand by and watch him beaten. That would hurt more than the few fists I took."

"Of course, of course," Vasco said, his voice retreating. Kelton tried not to smile. He was sure Filgot initiated the fight on purpose. Training of sorts, where losing was counted in bruises and not missing limbs.

"We were thrown out with those we battled with." A half smile, the best he could produce, formed on Tagget's face. "We gave more than we got and spent the rest of our coin at a better establishment." He turned forward, his back straight as a board. Shoulders square. He may have meant it to sound like it was just another night, yet it was apparent it changed him. Taggert was immensely pleased with himself. Vasco winked at Kelton, and they shared a smile. Filgot knew his job well.

The Unglang Library was built of gray stone blocks. A series of five towers set in a ring, each topped with a pointed metal roof of the same color as the one that ringed Kelton's neck, though much of it was tarnished green. The towers were connected by buildings made of the same stone, though the roofs of those were of layered weathered wood and not metal. Kelton looked up. Each tower was about 50-men high and the connecting structures were 10-men high as well. It was built like a fortress yet lacked any threatening feel.

"Each tower has a purpose," Vasco said, pointing at the closest. "That's the one that houses the laws of the land and history. Local maps and such. The one over there concentrates on foreign lands, treaties, and their writings. Languages as well." Vasco was moving his finger from tower to tower. "The middle one is my favorite. It houses drawings and descriptions of all the known plants and animals. How to grow and tend them as well as their uses. There are beings you can't imagine described in those tomes. The next one is the home of functional books. How deep to dig a well, math texts, studies of the stars, and how the sun and moon move. If you want to know how a ship guides itself between ports, there is where you will find the answer. The last has frivolous books of little value to me. Poetry and stories that never happened. They please many, but I prefer life as the All-Father intended."

"Someone has written the words of storytellers?" Kelton asked.

"Aye, though there are better uses for writing," Vasco replied. "It takes a long time to inscribe a book. Time better spent on useful things."

The idea invoked memories of Gossamer. He could fill his own tower with the number of tales he knew. Vasco may think it a waste, but Kelton saw it as a monument to great feelings. There is so much power in stories, a million emotions nurtured until they blossom into wonder. There must be a thousand heroes in a tower of that size.

They dismounted the wagon in front of the main entrance. Steps rose high to an arched door that was positioned in the center of the law tower. Beside it stood a statue of a man standing proudly in nothing but a cloth about his waist. He held a book in one hand and a sword in the other. The craftsmanship was extraordinary, detail on a scale Kelton had never seen before. He smiled when he saw the face.

"Who is that?" Kelton asked, pointing up at the statue. The statue was large, its head was 4-men high.

"King Assima Victalica," Vasco replied. "The first of the great kings. He unified most of what we now call Masocrate. Warrior and scholar," he added, pointing at the sword and then the book.

"I met someone who looked similar," Kelton said. "Same long mustache with beads running their length. Reminds me of him."

"It's a look that comes into favor now and again."

"It could be his double, now that I look closely," Kelton added. The statue had Rolic's eyes and nose.

"There is much of King Victalica about. He established the basis of our laws. It says something of a man if his image is still being carved after nearly 1500 years."

"Aye," Kelton said, and gave the statue one last smile. He wondered if the tapestry in Rolic's cave was of King Victalica as well. Maybe Rolic aspired to greatness in his dreams. They moved up the stairs leaving Taggert and the wagon to pursue other duties.

The smell of dried wood was the first thing to greet Kelton when he entered. It was a unique scent, not a wood he recognized yet consistent and robust. It was if he stood in the middle of a forest that lacked rot and decay. Stillness embodied the odor.

The entry hall was round, as big as the tower was wide. Tiles similar to the Tarvakian home, but much larger, lay on the floor in concentric circles in whose center stood a wooden pedestal that supported the largest book Kelton had seen to date. Behind the book was a desk staffed by a silver who was busy with a smaller tome. Behind him lay a grand staircase that circled up along the wall. Kelton's eyes followed its path upward.

Circling above were four floors opened to the center, each lined with shelves, each shelf filled with books. More books than anyone could ever hope to read. An endless supply of knowledge. Men and women were circling above, pulling books off the shelves or reseating them. He could see cushioned chairs where some sat in comfort. Small desks with people leaning over and studying tomes.

"I knew you would be impressed," Vasco said, adding a chuckle.

"There are so many."

"It is but one tower of five, not to mention the works stored in the connecting buildings."

Kelton moved slowly, with reverence toward the large pedestaled book. It lay open, its pages listing word after word. Next to each word were others describing the recorded word.

"It is the King's Truth," Vasco instructed. "The words as the King, and those who sired him, have deemed true and valid. It grows every year, yet remains the same. It is the fact of which all other facts are based."

"All words are written here?"

"Aye, and new ones added when the King deems them necessary. There are many copies, one in each library. There are scribes whose life work is to reproduce it so that the King's Truth of words can be shared and knowledge not lost to misuse."

"There are more libraries?"

"Aye, many more, though this is the largest and most complete." Vasco shrugged. "Or so I am told."

"Can it be touched?" Kelton asked. It had the presence of an altar of sorts, something to be seen but not handled.

"Aye, but with the stick that lies before it," Vasco said, pointing to the wooden stick that lay in a grove meant for it. "It is used to prevent body oils weakening the pages." There was a black ball at the end, no bigger than a tip of a thumb. The other side was carved as one might a blade. Vasco lifted the stick and ran the ball near the upper corner of the page. The page curled with the pressure and flipped, exposing the next page. "If you wish to jump farther back or forward, stick the blade end into the pages and turn them all at once."

"How do you know where to look?" Kelton asked. There were so many words.

"It is a book of meanings, so you must know the word or guess at the letters that make it up. You remember my teachings of the letters and the order I taught them in. This is no different. Each word that begins with a certain letter is housed with all the others that begin with that letter. They too are sorted by the next letter in the word, and so on."

"Ohh," Kelton said, unable to find a word to express his amazement. Vasco handed him the stick, and Kelton thought it best to turn the book to its first page. He looked at it, smiled and went to the next. Everything you wanted to know about words was in the book, described by words that were in turn, in the book. It was a self-contained treasure. You only needed a basis of understanding, then the rest would feed off itself. Words describing words that described words. It was a marvel, and Kelton soaked it in with relish.

"It is not meant to be read page by page," Vasco said, his voice light and humorous.

"It is...it is, everything," Kelton said, moving to the next page. "It is a wonder. A most magnificent creation. To think something like this is in front of me."

"What is he doing?" A man asked. Kelton looked up at the silver who had relinquished his desk and moved next to Vasco. He was a portly man with bushy gray eyebrows.

"Am I doing wrong?" Kelton asked, moving back from the book.

"Nay," Vasco said, waving away his concern. He turned to the other silver. "It is his first time here. The King's Truth has overwhelmed him." Vasco pulled a black disk from his pocket and displayed it to the other silver. "I am sanctioned, and my master intends to sanction him as well."

"Then I leave him to you. He is your responsibility," the silver said with some authority. He looked at Kelton. "Do you find the King's Truth to your liking?"

"It is a wonderful way to learn words," Kelton said. He looked upward at all the other books. "You must be blessed by all the gods and goddesses to work in such a place."

The silver chuckled. "It is a job like any other. True, it is better than many, but anything done too much builds tedium." He pointed at the book. "It is best used as a reference. You find a word in another tome whose meaning is unknown to you, then find the truth of it here."

"Is it not best to learn the words here first?" Kelton asked.

"If only a mind could hold such knowledge," the silver said. "Words require context and use to be known well."

"Kelton learns differently," Vasco said with a smile.

The silver's eyebrows rose. "Kelton? I have heard that name of late."

"He joined our house a month ago," Vasco continued. "Already knew numbers, but has started working on letters. It is why he finds the King's Truth, and the library, so exciting."

"A month? That is not enough time to...wait, Kelton you say?"

"Aye," Kelton replied.

"The man who thwarted a hundred sailors? Picture mind I heard."

"It was not a hundred, and I stand here collared, so thwarting I did not." Kelton sighed.

"But you are truly a picture mind?"

"I see things once and remember." Kelton nodded. The silver held out his hand, indicating his desire for the book stick. Kelton relinquished it. The man put his body between Kelton and the book and flipped back a few pages with the stick.

"What is the third word down on the page numbered 17?"

"Acorn," Kelton replied after a moment of thought.

"Amazing, and the truth of the word?"

"The smooth o-v-a-l fruit of an oak tree," Kelton replied. "I do not know what o-v-a-l means yet."