Act 2: Scene 2
Literature.
Never had a word held so much interest to me. I stayed awake for much of that night, and had finished The Nature of Literature by early morning. To think that people actually wrote imaginary stories, purely for entertainment! Every book I had ever read had been explanatory, a teaching aid and nothing more. So this . . . this literature . . . was something entirely new to me.
But it wasn't so much the novels that fascinated me. The Nature of Literature was only half devoted to them. The other half focused on theatre.
The entire concept enraptured me. Pictures of extravagant costumes, swirling dancers, magnificent and imaginative sets were all that my dreams consisted of when I finally fell asleep. From then on, I spent my breaks selecting choice example of plays from the literature section, devouring them hungrily with my eyes at night.
I think I know why the idea held so much attraction for me. I had spent the first part of my life being ignored and scorned and betrayed. I wanted desperately to be noticed. And theatre was all about dramatics, something that I appreciated in full, something that would give me the attention I so desired.
The wonderfully emotive plays themselves were only the first step. Faowri thought I had gone insane when I returned from the literature section one night with a pile of Theatrical Costume books.
"You're really into that stuff, aren't you?"
"Yes, I suppose I am." I grinned. Faowri had made for surprisingly pleasant company so far. She spoke to me without condescension, without hatred, without scorn, and these qualities had been directed at me for as long as I could remember, so the cynical red mage was a refreshing change.
If I was startled to see that my notes began to be bordered by random costume designs, Faowri wasn't.
"No offence, but your uniform is a little dull. I often fancy a change, too, from these dratted robes."
She was referring to my Genome uniform. It was monotonous and practical, and I had never liked it. Thoughts of replacing it were suddenly at the forefront of my mind. "Yes, it is rather, isn't it?"
"There's a good tailor in Treno," she advised brightly. "I'm sure you'll find something more suited to your dramatic tastes there, my friend."
"How do you know I'm so dramatic?"
"Well, you talk in your sleep, did you know that?"
Darn. I hoped I hadn't said anything . . . indiscreet.
"All quotes from Lord Avon's plays," she grinned maliciously. "And you act pretty well, even in your sleep, you know."
I was acting better than she thought if she'd bought every lie I'd been forced to tell her. Suppressing a smile, I pretended interest.
"Really?"
"Hey, Kuja. Can I ask you something?"
"Depends what it is."
"Well, where do you come from? I've never seen anyone quite like you before. And that tail . . . you're just . . . unusual, you know?"
Scowling, I glanced backwards at my furry appendage. Never had I hated a part of myself so much as that damned tail. It reminded me of my origins every chance it got.
"I don't know," I said softly. "I was raised by kind people on a continent far from that of the Mist. They found me as a child."
Faowri's expression was very sympathetic. This acting thing was quite fun - with it, I could manipulate people the way Garland had manipulated me. Who did he think he was? He should never have been granted the power to give life; that power belonged to Fate and Creation alone . . .
I gasped. The red mage shot me a concerned look.
"What is it?"
"Nothing," I lied.
Actually, I had received a very good idea . . .
***
Black magic was the most destructive force in the known universe. Therefore, it would make the perfect weapon to make the side I chose to be on victorious. But no current race existed on Gaia that could attune itself to the violent behaviour of such dark energy.
However, I could improvise. What if I created a species capable of harbouring such destruction? I could simultaneously show Garland exactly how intelligent I was and give life the way he did so thoughtlessly. Irony was a term I was now incredibly familiar with, thanks to the literature I had been reading, and it would be most ironical for me to perfect Garland's own technique and prove that he wasn't so superior after all.
My search expanded from simple magic to life magic, the theories of life, life processes and anatomy. The results were quite fruitful, and I had many ideas of how to begin. Although I hadn't yet finished the magic section of the Library, I had everything I needed to get started.
Surprisingly, I was loath to leave Faowri to her own devices. Her conversations were intelligent and we spoke as equals. But, undoubtedly, I would find others. Until then, it was back to my weary solitude.
"Farewell, Faowri." Grasping her hand in mine, I shook it. "It's possible I will be back again, but just in case you are not here then, I wish to thank you for your help."
"It was my pleasure," she smiled. "Your company was most enjoyable. Hopefully we will meet again, and not just inside Daguerreo."
As I made for the entrance of the Library with my notes and my bag of provisions, I smiled wryly. If we ever met again outside of the Library, then it would be for me to order the Invincible to devour her soul. A pity. She was the first human I ever liked, too. But, sacrifices had to be made . . . I supposed.
***
Now I needed a place where I could work on my new project in secret. I didn't want to have to build up a workshop entirely from scratch, and I wouldn't need to. Gaia's world had spawned many great architects and I had sought out some of them in Daguerreo's books. It was strange how so many of their projects were left . . . unfinished.
But very fortunate for me, I thought, as the silver dragon dropped to a lower air current, drifting in a lazy, spiralling glide over the mountain range. I stood upon its back, the map I held flapping around violently in the wind.
"Hover for a moment, please," I ordered, struggling to keep my balance. The air over this continent was hot and dry and the gales across this particular plain were incredibly fierce. It would have made more sense to sit down on my ride, but the part of me that had developed so strongly since my education at the Library insisted that I made a bigger impression when standing.
The silver dragon obliged, back-winging so abruptly that I fell rearwards. A particularly sharp spinal ridge broke my fall.
"My apologies," it said sincerely.
"I accept them," I muttered irritably, rubbing my lower back and turning my attention once more to the map. "Now, Levien began to build his palace inside that mountain somewhere. Thankfully, he wasn't very smart and forgot about the earthquakes this area of the continent is racked with. With Lich," and I shuddered involuntarily, "containing that problem by now, I'll have the place to myself and none of the concerns that forced the architect to abandon the project."
"Where is it?"
" 'Where is it?' indeed!" I said despairingly, scanning the surfaces of the mountain range for an abnormality that would signify the palace's location. The wind displaced my hair and I impatiently flicked it back behind my ears, but the few extremely feathery strands I had been cursed with since my creation continued to flap around in my face. "Drop low - aahh!"
The silver dragon shrieked in surprise as, in the midst of a completely unexpected dive, the winds interfered with the air currents and it was forced to roll with them. When stability had been regained, it craned its head around to make sure I was still there.
"Land, land, land, land, land!" I yelled, thankful I hadn't been standing upright during that fanciful manoeuvre.
We reached the foot of the mountain without further incident, though I sourly wondered if a Float spell might make life easier when riding my companion over this area in the future.
"This planet's skies are unfamiliar to me," was the dragon's excuse.
"Even after more than two years down here?" I replied with some amusement.
"They are not like Terra's. They change. They move."
"Look!" I pointed hastily at an irregular formation of rock in the mountainside, hundreds of feet up. "It said in the document that the entrance was closed up by another earthquake shortly after abandonment."
"Shall I fly you up there?"
I raised an eyebrow, conjuring up in my mind an image of the death grip I had held on the dragon during his midair roll. If my draconic friend could look sheepish, it achieved the expression marvellously.
"I think, for now, I'd rather climb."
***
"It's certainly big enough," the dragon remarked, flexing its wings to prove this as we stood in the cavernous entryway of the palace. A quick Flare spell had removed the rubble blocking our way.
"We could stow the Invincible in here, if we needed to," I agreed. "But we don't. Still, there may be a purpose for it later on. Shall we continue?"
Despite entries in books that indicated the contrary, a lot of work had actually been completed inside the palace. Levien had originally meant for the inside to be constructed first, and then the outside sculpted from the rock surrounding it. He'd never reached that step, and since it meant my lair would remain hidden from view, I was grateful. The person the palace had been designed for also seemed to share my flair for the dramatic; something that pleased me immensely as I ran my fingers over delicately carved stone angels on the pillars supporting the heavy stone ceiling. Feats of magic sent shafts of light down from illusory stained-glass skylights, and, though dusty, the décor was lavish and expensive. Of course, it needed a lot of work, but I had plenty of time to make this place my own.
"You are excited," the silver dragon observed, sidling through another arched doorway to join me.
"Indeed!" I smiled, waving my hand absently at a vast array of long-since disused candles. The Fire spell set them blazing dramatically, casting long shadows against the smooth marble walls. "This will be my place, no hand-me-down from Garland but a place I can adapt to my own tastes and requirements. It will be like . . . like a . . ."
"A home," it finished for me, when my mouth dried to such an extent that I couldn't continue.
"Home," I repeated softly, and promised myself that the next time I said it, it wouldn't be such an unfamiliar word.
End of Act 2: Scene 2