The Cave Part 12

Three weeks flew by after the libraries were opened to me. I was not a fast learner. Tharkin had to refresh many of my earlier lessons in education from that former life that was only now starting to come back to me. I had not needed reading skills in great part as a thief. The basics to know what I was doing, what boxes I was sneaking into, what items I was stealing, the essentials. But now I was being expected to understand concepts and facts, history and method. I will admit that Tharkin had to improve my reading and comprehension skills through patient teaching, and listening to me read aloud. Then we would spend afternoons talking over what was studied while conducting the daily chores.

I also admit that I was not a great student of history. I was fascinated with the subject it is true, but if the events or people of the past did not have a direst impact on my present life, I was inclined to forget what I had learned. Tharkin was a great teacher when it came to engaging his pupil with interest. He could tell of events as if he had lived in the period of time, had witnessed the great moments, and had know the people personally and held them at the time of their death. This made a great impression upon me as I listened intently to his narratives.

As for the art of healing, I found a great joy in learning to use the arcane arts to heal. All my life, I had wanted to change the fate of those injured or sick with terminal ailments. I did not need to have all my memories restored to know this. It was a deeply ingrained desire that bypassed my locked recollections of the past. I saw individuals in my memories, those afflicted by the coughing scourge, and wished that I had the power to change their reality. Thanks to the teaching that Tharkin now gave me through the tomes held in the library, I was learning quickly about every sickness I had wanted to fight.

"You must remember though, death cannot be defeated naturally in this world," said Tharkin, at the end of one of our long discussions. "There is a time for life, and a time for death. Many spend their whole lives trying to fight this truth, when all along, they should have been enjoying the gift they had received, and accepted the finality of this mortal realm."

"But what of those that die young?" I asked, interrupting one of the hermit's lecture on the subject. "What of babies that die before their time?"

"This is a serious subject, and not one I take lightly," replied Tharkin. "We both agree that long life is desirable to see the maturation of hopes and dreams. However, both you and I do not know all ends. Long life is not guaranteed to anyone, and the determination of when a person's time has come is not given to mortals. This answer is in no way satisfying to anyone who has lost a beloved family member or friend, but it is still the truth. None of us know the span of our days."

Eventually Tharkin had left me to study on my own when he felt I had mastered enough of the language to do so. We would talk afterwards at dinner. I had noticed that he was getting tired more often than not, and taking naps in his room while I carried on with the chores and studies. Fall was fast descending upon us, with the leaves lighting up in reds, golds, and ocher hues. Kar was still with us, having long since healed, but deciding to stay for the excellent ocean fishing he was able to make from the great cliff tops. The great creatures of the deep that he pulled up with his talons were extraordinary. Tharkin had told me some were small whales in fact.

I sat reading in the library, having found that even though the Calmara was exceptionally silent and willing to just sit and let me enjoy a good read, the living ripples of its body were too much a fascination and distraction for actual study. I would eventually drop my book and stare at the mystic creature, wondering where it had come from, how it had come into being, and whether or not there were more like it in the world. Silent guardians of vast treasures such as the library, wardens to the great gateways that connect one reality to another. I could get quite lost in these questions and observations, and once I think I made the creature a little self conscious as I kept staring at it. So in spite of the lovely fall weather and golden sunshine, I moved my studies back into the library.

Without Tharkin around to check on my progress, I admit that I ventured off in some of my studies to investigate other topics. Somethings came easy, usually practical studies, but the more philosophical works would sometimes keep me rereading the same passages just to understand the author's point. Needless to say, even though it was difficult to apply myself all the time, I began to realize just how valuable was the resource of knowledge opened to me. I was learning of places, myths, real history, and where the two intersected. One question answered inevitably led to another that begged to be pursued. I was changing on the inside, beginning to question many of my simplistic ideas in a way I never had before. Part of me wondered if this was something that naturally happened as one aged and experienced life, and if I was not instead learning many lessons from the other lives I read about far quicker than I would have during my own years.

But, as I was saying, one day I was reading in the library so as not to be distracted by the beauty of the Calmara, when I noticed something for the first time in the silent library. The torches it is true always gave off a natural crackle, as did the fire pit in spite of not actually burning up the logs. Part of the magic blue flames I guessed. I was quickly learning that the art of mimicry and deception where at work here. If one really wanted to, one could make the logs also actually burn up and require feeding, but whoever had designed the library halls had wanted the functionality and comfort without effort. The appearance of the real.

There had been a sound from down the hallway, a whispered suggestion of a voice. I bolted upright in my seat, having so long dwelt in almost silence that my heart rate jumped rapidly at the noise. Turning to look down the darkened hall where I expected it to have come from, I saw a slight flicker of light. A sudden twinkle of green and purplish spark. What in the Seven Realms was this?

Knowledge, whispered something again, distinctly. Forbidden knowledge is sweet.

The words spoken so softly were both pleading and commanding. I did not have to hear more to know what was being suggested. I raised my staff, and willed the light of it to extend the radius of my vision into the darkness. I nearly gasped aloud, but held myself in check. There was a shadowy cloaked figure just beyond the range of my staff light. Hooded and leaning on a staff of its own, one bony skeletal hand holding to it. Nothing else of its form showed, except that it was at least two feet taller than myself.