“Oh.” Sam glanced at the other books and flipped a few pages, just as I had done. “That’s incredible. I don’t suppose you’ve translated everything but the crescendo symbol, hmm?”
“No, unfortunately.” I leaned back in my chair, stretching cramped muscles. “But I’ve looked at these things how many times? I’m glad for any progress.”
“I’ve no doubt.” He picked up the rose, which I’d left on the edge of my desk. It was tiny in his hands, delicate, and the way he gazed at it was more mysterious than the books. “What else are you looking at here? I see the size changes from the center to the outside.”
“It does, and I couldn’t tell you if you read it outside to inside, or inside to outside. Or why anyone would write in a spiral, making you have to turn the book around.”
“It does seem like a lot of trouble.”
“I’ve tried to write down when I see symbols in patterns, but it’s hard to tell when I’m not even sure of the direction of the text.” I spun my notebook to face him. “Does anything else look familiar?” Maybe if more were music symbols, that would offer a place to start. But he shook his head.
“Not yet.”
I let my thoughts wander through all the information I’d learned about Heart, its history, and where people had come from. He’d told me about tribes, people discovering Heart already built.
“Once, you told me you’d found bones in the agricultural quarter?” I watched him from the corner of my eye. “They might have been from a civilization before you.”
He wore caution like a mask. “That was a long time ago.”
I refused to be discouraged. “If people lived in Heart before you, perhaps these were their books.”
“Perhaps.”
How unhelpful. I tried again. “Do you remember anything? Any writing on rocks or trees? Anything like this?” Knowing who wrote it might give clues to what it said.
“Ana, that was a long time ago.” His gaze dropped toward the rose bloom, cupped in his hand like a puddle of twilight. “And it wasn’t my specialty. I avoided the agricultural quarter whenever I could. The only thing I wanted to do then was carve whistles that sounded like my favorite birds.”
“Whose specialty was it? We can look at their early diaries. Or just ask.” People expected me to be interested in strange things, and as long as I wasn’t rescuing sylph, I doubted anyone would mind.
Of course, after the sylph incident, they probably minded when I breathed.
Sam avoided my eyes. “We’d have to talk to Cris.”
“I thought he grew roses.” I nodded toward the one Sam held.
“He does. They’ve always been his love, like music is for me, but his talent was more practical in the earlier generations.”
I supposed no one cared which animal hide made a better drum skin if they really wanted to use it as clothes. I managed a smile and nod, because I knew how it felt to be useless.
Sam gazed through me, though. He had that familiar somewhen-else expression. “Cris had a way of making things grow, and finding the right spot to plant crops, which can be difficult over the caldera. The ground isn’t always thick enough to support anything with roots deeper than grass.”
That fit with what I knew of all attempts to dig beneath Heart. The sewer had been especially tricky.
“Cris was the first to find skeletons in the ground. It’s possible he saw something else while clearing farmland. An object with one of these symbols on it.” Sam came back to himself, back to the present. “Something you could use for reference.”
Something I could use for reference?
I didn’t want to be the one who figured things out. Everyone else was so old and experienced. Why couldn’t they do it? Why couldn’t I just focus on music and making the city safe for newsouls?
“Ana?” His voice was soft.
Without even realizing, I had hunched over the notebook, buried my face in my arms.
He touched the base of my neck, caressed all the way down my spine. He was solid and warm, and I wished things were the same as before we’d come back to Heart. Life hadn’t been perfect then, but I hadn’t felt this rift.
Chasm. Fissure. Canyon. Even with his palm on the small of my back, I felt like the entire Range caldera stretched between us.
I pulled away. “Let’s call him for a gardening lesson. Tomorrow afternoon, if he can fit us in.” I copied several symbols onto a fresh sheet of paper. “I’ll ask if he’s seen any of these and say”—I bit my lip—“I caught you doodling, but you couldn’t remember where you’d seen them before.”
“Okay.” His features twisted into a mask of uncertainty.
I started closing the books, but paused when I remembered the look between Armande and Sam when he’d discovered the rose. And the awkwardness between Sam and Cris in Purple Rose Cottage. I hadn’t thought much about it then, but…then there was the Blue Rose Serenade. “Did you want to ask?”
He cocked his head and searched me, as though I wore the correct answer on my face. “I’d rather not,” he said after a moment.