“Not quite as formidable.” She stood, using the table to brace herself. “A brilliant chemist. I didn’t know him well, partially because we could never comprehend a word the other said.” She chuckled. I couldn’t tell if she was serious or not.
I followed her around a maze of shelves on the main floor. Mahogany and glass shimmered in the lamplight, and the room smelled of wood polish and pronghorn leather. “A warrior and a scientist. I don’t understand how you get me out of that.”
“Because you love music?”
I opted not to argue about a nosoul’s capacity for love. This time.
“Some things are inherited, certainly. Physical features. You look a lot like Menehem when I saw him last, actually, with the auburn hair and freckles. You show your mother’s fierceness and your father’s intelligence, but some things, like music and poetry, are passions of the soul.”
I liked that. Sam had been born to farmers and woodworkers and glassblowers. Armande, his current father, was a baker. While Sam had learned hundreds of things out of curiosity and desire to help the community, he always came back to music.
Perhaps, if I was going to be reincarnated at the end of this life, I’d find myself similarly drawn, because there was music in my head, which sang me to sleep at night. It wasn’t Sam’s music or anyone else’s. That probably made it mine. What a frightening thought.
“We’re looking for Menehem’s diaries?” I asked as we came to that area of the library.
Sine swept her hand across the nook created by bookcases. “Since I cannot tell you about him, we might as well read Menehem’s words. It’s unfortunate he left Range so shortly after you were born.”
Yeah, unfortunate he was so ashamed he couldn’t even stay to help Li, who didn’t want to care for me either.
I touched a lamp, illuminating the alcove. Two thousand books waited in their shelves while I searched the spines for the home of the parent who’d abandoned me.
While there were a few older volumes still in place, the newer ones, the ones I’d have needed, were missing. His diaries had abandoned me, too.
I swore, drawing a look from Sine. “Sorry,” I said. “Would he have taken his books when he left?”
She scowled at the empty shelves. “It’s very unlikely. Books are heavy, and he had a lot of them.”
“And there are other copies.” Sam had shown me how to find digital copies. Well, he’d asked Whit to show me. “Will you do me a favor while I check the digital archives?”
Sine nodded.
“Look for Li’s diaries. I don’t need to read any—not right now, anyway—but I’m wondering if they’re still there.”
She gave me a queer look, but nodded again and headed deeper into the diaries section while I made my way out. If she hadn’t guessed my suspicions already, it wouldn’t take long.
I didn’t mind her knowing, either, but it felt weird to tell a Councilor I thought someone—maybe one of her friends—was trying to keep me from investigating my origins by removing the books I needed. Other than Sam, the only people who knew about my quest were on the Council.
The digital archives could be accessed in consoles upstairs, toward the alcove where Sam and I had watched archived videos. On my way up, I tapped on lamps and made a mental list of who might have taken Menehem’s diaries.
Well, anyone could have taken them, but it was the Council I didn’t trust. Most of them were against me. Antha, Frase, and Deborl didn’t seem to despise me, but I doubted they cared whether I lived or died.
Sine was on my side. I’d liked her even before I found out she’d been Sam’s mother in their previous lives. She’d died during childbirth, and was reincarnated when he was three. As a result, he’d spent his teenage years being mothered by a girl younger than him. Then she’d outlived him, and when he was reborn into this body, she was old enough to be his grandmother. I found it endlessly amusing and confusing.
As for Meuric, I couldn’t tell. He was always pleasant, but he made me uncomfortable. He watched me all the time, and always waited to hear what others thought or wanted before deciding what to do with me, like his own ideas wouldn’t be approved.
That left half the Council I didn’t know well enough, and therefore couldn’t trust. Any of them might be the one sabotaging my efforts—if there was any sabotaging after all.
I sat at the first data console and pressed the power button. When it gave a soft whir and a cursor blinked at me, I typed “Menehem.”
Hundreds of diaries appeared, most marked as lab notes and other scientific things. Perhaps, during some of all that free time Sam had scheduled for me, I’d have a peek at those. For now, I narrowed the search to more personal things.
I half expected the console to refuse access, but it offered diaries up until a few years before I was born, which had been the 330th Year of Songs. That put his latest in the 329th Year of Stars. He’d probably finished it and left it for archiving, and taken his current diary with him.
Still, this could be useful.