Archive Ch.4

“So, what’d you do?”

Nic looked over at Jordi as the two of them walked side by side, following the guide bot as it led them through the halls of Archive.

“Sorry?” Nic asked.

“What’d you do to get called into the boss’ office?”

Nic shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. I was at the front desk, and she called down asking to speak with me.”

“Curious,” Jordi said, his eyebrows shooting up in a look of great interest. “Very curious.”

“Is that unusual?”

Jordi shook his head. “Nah, not really, she likes to get involved in stuff all the time.”

Nic blinked, caught off guard as he tried to square the two contrary bits of information.

“Uh, then how-?”

“Usually something has to break first.”

“Oh,” Nic paused, thinking again. “Stuff break a lot around here?”

Jordi grinned. “Does if you ask her.”

Ahead, a wide arch on the left opened into another chamber. The bot ignored it, keeping to the path straight ahead, a sharp beep reminding the two techne to follow it. Nic went to do so, only for Jordi to grab his arm, holding him back.

“Nah, nah,” he gestured towards the room. “Faster if we go through here.”

Nic hesitated, remembering the librarian’s warning. The bot certainly made its displeasure known, sending sharp beeps at Jordi as he turned towards the chamber.

“Oh, shush yourself,” Jordi said without bothering to look back.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea? They told me to follow the path.”

“Ah they’re just paranoid,” Jordi said, waving a dismissive hand. “We’ll cut the time in half if we go through here.”

He didn’t wait for Nic to answer, moving into the room with a jaunty spring to his step, Dewey lumbering along at his heel. The guide bot followed, practically shrieking at Jordi as it went. Not wanting to be left behind, Nic hesitated only a moment longer before following, bringing up the rear of this little conga line.

The room beyond wasn’t large but was entirely open, nothing but a handful of writing desks occupying the space in a neat grid. Each was occupied by a scribe, all of them pouring over texts or tapping away at keyboards, filling their air with a quiet pattering sound that reminded Nic of rainfall.

Their intrusion was like a stampede of raging elephants by compassion. Between their footfalls, the clattering of Dewey’s wheels on the tile floor and the guide bot’s continuing protests, their presence shattered the studious quiet like a cannon blast. Many eyes rose to glare at them as they passed, displeased in the extreme at the disruption. Nic did his best not to meet their gazes and shuffle through as quickly as possible.

“Afternoon,” Jordi said, giving the room a little wave as they passed.

Pure venom met the cheery greeting, Nic swearing the room’s temperature dropped by several degrees. An embarrassed flush crawled up his face as he moved to pass through as quickly as possible. Jordi didn’t seem to notice, moving along at a pace somewhere around a leisurely stroll.

“Should uh, should we have done that?” Nic asked once they were through.

“What, because of those fuddies?” Jordi replied, pointing back over his shoulder. “I wouldn’t worry about them.”

“They looked pretty upset.”

Jordi chuckled. “They’d get upset if a mouse farted in a hurricane on the other side of the planet. They’re a touchy bunch.”

Before Nic could question further, the guide bot beeped, this time moving away from them as it diverted down a side passage. Nic paused, looking to Jordi, who nodded.

“Yeah, we can follow again, we’re back on the route now.”

They set off again, walking in relative silence until Nic realized they were moving in the opposite direction they had been on the other side of the room. Crunching some numbers, a realization hit him, and he turned back to Jordi.

“Wait, if this is the same route, doesn’t that mean we’d just walk in a big loop to get back here?”

“Yep,” Jordi said with a nod. “Hence the shortcut.”

Nic paused, processing that little nugget for a moment and coming to no clear conclusions.

“…Who built this place, exactly?” he asked.

“Librarians,” Jordi said with a shrug. “Come on, boss’ office is just up ahead.”

He increased his pace, moving away as if he had sufficiently answered the question. Nic sprinted to keep pace, catching up just as the guide bot reached the end of the side passage where a set of doors sat inlaid into the wall. Without any input from the humans, the door slid open with a ding, revealing a circular elevator large enough to easily hold a half dozen people at once.

“After you,” Jordi said, gesturing Nic forward.

Nic hesitated only a moment before taking the invitation and stepping inside. Jordi did the same, Dewey trundling along at his heel before settling in the center of the room. The guide bot did not join them, instead flying back the way they had come as the doors slid shut. Without prompting, the car began to move soon after, the walls rumbling ever so slightly as they rose skywards.

“Bit of free advice?” Jordi said, unprompted.

“Uh, sure?” Nic replied, unsure if he was grateful or afraid.

“Don’t let her scare you too much. She’s only mostly as terrifying as she seems.”

Nic was about to ask what the hells that meant when the elevator came to a halt and the doors whispered open. A powerful aroma washed in as they did, a mingled scent of incense, engine oil and vanilla of all things. Not a bad smell by any stretch, just an odd combination that left Nic a bit off balance. He was still trying to recover when a voice called from within the room.

“Enter.”

Unsure if he was supposed to answer or not, Nic elected to follow instructions and stepped out of the elevator. A large chamber opened before him, following right along with the rest of Archive, fusing the scholarly with the practical. To his left, Nic saw the familiar setup of a casting circuit, similar to those in Greytower, though far more organized than anything Master Orlin had ever made. To his right sat a small maze of bookshelves, somehow managing to completely engulf their part of the room despite taking up less than a quarter of the space. It looked like the kind of place where one could get lost without even having to try.

Between them lay a carpeted path which led to the far side of the room where sat a truly enormous desk. Though throne might have been a more appropriate descriptor, Nic having difficulty imagining any actual work had ever been done upon its surface. It felt old, the polished wood radiating age like an aura, the details feeling as if they had been carved by time itself rather than the hands of a carpenter. This sat in sharp contrast to the many mechanical devices that were inlaid everywhere, bronze gears ticking away with clockwork precision and mysterious purpose. They reminded Nic of the device he’d seen down in the lobby, a part of him wondering if the two machines were somehow connected.

Behind the desk sat a woman, one that Nic would have instinctively called Director even without knowing her title. She sat tall and proud, lording over her domain in a way that broached neither doubt nor argument about who was in charge. She wore a simple robe, adorned with minor decorations, all centered around a familiar cogwheel pin over her shoulder. A stern, angular face looked out from behind a pair of half moon glasses, eyes the colour jade boring into Nic from across the room.

As Nic drew close, the Director rose from her chair and walked around her desk to stand before him directly. She was much taller than Nic had been expecting, enough so that Nic had to crane his neck upwards to meet her gaze. For not the first time in recent days, Nic was met with the uncomfortable feeling of being assessed.

Her hold was so powerful that Nic was genuinely caught off guard when she spoke.

“You are not Orlin.”

“Uh, no,” Nic said. “Is that bad?”

“Not for you,” She looked him over again. “What’s your name, boy?”

“I-” Nic cleared his throat. “Nicholas Greytower, apprentice to Orlin Greytower?”

“…I see.”

The Director’s gaze softened, pulling back its intensity ever so slightly as she returned to her seat. With a wave of her hand, another chair appeared opposite her, forming out of a clockwork mechanism that rose out of the floor.

“Please, sit.”

Nic complied, trying and failing to find a comfortable position, settling on keeping his back straight with arms folded across his lap. He imagined the scene looked quite like a student being called into the headmaster’s office for misbehaving.

“So, tell me Nicholas Greytower: what brings you to us today?”

For the third time in the last half hour, Nic found himself explaining in detail his mild curiosity. At least he had it down to a science now, able to get across the important points without undo stammering or tangents. Though it still felt a bit silly, the amount of fuss that was going into answering such a simple question.

“And then he told me I could come here to find out the answer. So, here I am.”

Nic tailed off as he concluded his story, doing his best to meet the Director’s unwavering gaze. Thankfully she nodded, a calculating look in her eyes.

“Well, he’s right about that, if nothing else,” she said, sitting back in her chair. “Unfortunately, you’ve chosen a poor time to visit us.”

“Oh?” Nic asked, worried. “Why’s that?”

“Because I have no delvers to spare right now. We’re on the eve of a major expedition and everyone with the relevant experience is busy with preparations.”

Several questions popped up in Nic’s mind at these words, most of them some variation on “what does that mean” but he kept them all to himself, choosing the polite response for the moment.

“That sucks.”

The Director nodded. “Indeed, and I am sorry, you just chose a poor time to visit us.”

“It’s alright,” Nic said. “It’s not that important.”

“Thank you for understanding.” She went to rise. “And rest assured, once the expedition is underway, we’ll be able to-”

“I can do it.”

It was Jordi who had spoken. He’d been so quiet up until now that Nic had forgotten he was even in the room. Both Nic and the Director turned to look, finding him leaning against one of the bookcases, a knowing smile curling the corners of his lips.

“I beg your pardon?” The Director asked.

“I can take him delving,” Jordi needlessly clarified.

The Director narrowed her eyes. “Absolutely not.”

“Why not? Solves your problem and it’s not like it’ll be that deep a dive. Not for a question like that.”    

The two stared at one another for a long, silent moment, the Director’s stern demeanor proving utterly ineffective against Jordi, who just continued smiling. Nic watched, unsure who he should be supporting, when the Director turned her gaze back on him.

“Would that be acceptable to you?”

“I, guess?” Nic tried. “If he’s okay with it, sure.”

The Director paused again, gears turning behind her eyes, her lips ever so slightly pursed as some intense decision making was done.

“You go no further than the first marker,” she said, turning back to Jordi. “There will be no reason for you to go deeper than that. Agreed?”

Jordi stepped away from the wall, raising one hand over his heart and the other in open palmed salute.

“On my honor, Director.”

She did not seem pleased with that response but didn’t say anything to him, instead turning back at Nic.

“Well, it seems you’re in luck, young Greytower. I entrust you to the-” she paused, chewing her words. “Capable, hands of Jordan.”

“Thank you?” Nic said, glancing back and forth between the Director and Jordi. The latter looked happy as a cat in the milk parlor. “Appreciate the help.”

“Happy to oblige. Now if there’s nothing else, I’ll say good day to you.” She cast one last frown at Jordi, before adding. “And good delving.”

*

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