The House of Yeel

Chapter 21: A New Library





The city of Maristaple filled with revelers. Though everyone wanted to speak with the Great Yeel, the Crescent Knight, the mysterious Vot, or King Aruscetar, many had to satisfy themselves with only a glimpse of these famous figures at a distance. After a brief victory parade, they moved into the castle for a smaller celebration. Other more subtle groups, less jubilant, had dead to honor and graves to dig. The fallen were hailed as heroes who had saved the city in its most dire hour.

Vot and Yeel dined with the king that evening in a huge formal dining hall. Jymoor was present, and much more comfortable than she’d been at the table of men in Ascara-home, with Master Kasil at her side. Yeel had applied some advanced first aid, fusing Jymoor’s broken bones back together.

Before the meal commenced, King Aruscetar turned to Yeel.

“Great Yeel. Would you please accept the contents of the Library of Maristaple? We know the trove of knowledge would be safe in your wondrous house. Of course, you would be welcome to make personal use of any of the tomes and scrolls.”

“My house? Really? You would let me have all those books?”

“We ask only a few scribes and scholars be allowed to access it from time to time.”

“I must first and foremost thank you for trusting me with such valuable artifacts.”

“We owe equal thanks to Vot, for risking her precious army to aid in our defense,” Aruscetar announced. Many applauded.

“I’m glad Riken has been saved,” Vot said. “However, we’ll be forced to leave after we dine. The Ascarans can safely move out of the fortress and take up their traditional homes on the coast. They may need my assistance.”

“We’re in your debt,” Jymoor said. “Thank you for trusting us.”

“Come visit us again. See how peaceful it can be, under the green sky, without the threat of the Meridalae.”

“What of Tuluk?” asked Jymoor.

“There are two young males in his pod that will contend for mastery,” Vot said. “Though we will miss Tuluk, life goes on.”





***





Yeel watched the remnants of those Jymoor called his Companions. Of the fifty or so who had been rescued from the stone garden, less than half remained. Many had died in the fighting at Vot’s stronghold and then later at the battle for Maristaple. Still others, having won the day, announced their happy retirement or similar plans not involving Yeel. They had all been very gracious and thanked Yeel for his role in their rescue.

Yeel counted twenty-one individuals down below near the fountain, including Jymoor and Master Kasil.

“Please excuse my distant perch,” Yeel called down. “I’m sure I could find my way down there rapidly, but it occurs to me this is an easy way to address you all anyway, so if you please forgive any perceived insult.”

Yeel had their attention. His Companions looked up as one.

I must hurry the message along. These ones have little patience for extended discourse, he reminded himself.

“My Companions, I feel terrible to call upon you after two such desperate battles. Yet I would be negligent to ignore the menace that made both these wars necessary. You see, the Meridalae still have a foothold on your world. They will come back someday and cause another war. Unless we stop them now, while they’re weak.”

“I don’t think the army…either army…is ready to be deployed again after such a bloody time,” Jymoor said. She unconsciously rubbed her wounded shoulder as she spoke.

“There will be no army. Only myself and you Companions. You are all adventurers. You had to be to make it as far as the stone garden of Slevander. I’ve…become aware of…a hidden base from which the Meridalae directed this attack against Maristaple. If we go there now, we may surprise them and end this menace forever.”

“How do you know where to go?” Jymoor asked.

“That’s a good question. A really good question. I believe your predecessor knew I was once of the Meridalae.”

“You!”

“Yes. I’m not proud of it. I must have been fooled.”

“Must have been? You…you don’t remember.”

“You see…my species…that is, giant green cones of rubbery flesh with long tentacles such as myself…we cannot form memories when very young.”

“Oh! Neither can we.”

“So, for the first hundred years or so—”

“A hundred years? As an infant?”

“…for the first while, we can’t form memories, then we slowly learn a trick here or there to extend certain thoughts over time, and eventually, we learn to remember something permanently. Or semipermanently, anyway.”

“But I did eventually commit to memory three of their lairs here on your world: Eight Rod, Steelskull, and the Brown Moors. I’ve consulted with maps from your library and found these places. The closest, the Brown Moors, is probably where they are now, since in order to coordinate their offensive, they would have moved to the closest base.”

“They may have fled by now.”

“Ah. No, at least not completely. You see, at some point, one of my eyes was put into a reagent jar in the lair. Something preserved it. I can definitely see movement there, as recently as a couple of hours ago.”

“But you have both—oh.”

“Yes, as you have guessed, my eyes are not exactly like yours, not even somewhat like yours; in fact, they’re not vaguely like yours, in location, number, or freshness limitations.”

“I’m afraid to ask. As long as you lead us there, I’ll follow you though.”

“Thank you.”

“I will, too,” someone said.

“Yeel is green?” a voice asked quietly.

“And I,” another echoed loudly. Soon it was clear everyone would join him, and many hadn’t known Yeel was green.

Now for the hard part.