Fifty-one

The silence between us stretches far longer than it is considered acceptable. I stare at him, he stares back. The story unfolds one event at a time, and I'm suddenly getting more than I bargained for. Even though he has been a point of contact for my mother in the past, that does not necessarily make him a bad person, or a good one. Only time will tell.

" Should we take this conversation elsewhere?" His suggestion drags me out of my reverie. Hiding the hitch in my breath with a smile, I nod in assent.

" I was planning to see the library. If you know where it is, I'd very much like to talk while I continue to marvel at all that Gallassos has to offer," Fortunately the firmness in my tone does not betray the slight quiver of excitement and fear in my voice. Both emotions battle to rise to the surface, while he leads the way up the stairs, the same way we came in. When I reach the top of the stairs I throw a glance back over my shoulder to see if I can catch a glimpse of Mason or Graham. I don't want them to worry about me. My sudden disappearance would alarm them, and the last thing we want to do is to draw attention to ourselves.

After a short perusal, I catch sight of Mason, his back facing the entrance, and I have no way of gaining his attention seeing that he is deep in conversation with a few gentlemen. Fortunately, I catch Graham's eye, who frowns at me in question. I point downwards, knowing that the library is situated underground and the same time hoping he would understand the signal even though we haven't discussed it prior to embarking on this little adventure. Graham nods at me, looking a little confused until he catches sight of Andrew waiting for me a few paces ahead.

Carrying forward, I follow Andrew as he leads me through the alcove and then we take a sharp turn right. After a few paces, a set of narrow stairs reveal themselves, illuminated by little sconces carved within the wall. But what is most striking about the staircase is the lustrous off-white shine to it. I can't help myself and slide my fingers over the wall right at the top of the stairs, marvelling at the slight stickiness coating the wall. Covered in striations, and layers upon layers of various shades of white, alternating with various shades of grey shaped by the passing ages, various layers of minerals form what appears to be a salt mine, giving it an uncanny resemblance to marble.

" Salt," Andrew confirms, trying to enlighten me while he stands in front of me facing the mouth of some sort of cavern. Blinding white light seeps through the narrow entry shrouding Andrew in more mystery.

" Salt mines," I elaborate, and he nods in agreement.

" The lake," I take a moment to mull over it, " Is salted water, " It explains a lot.

" Indeed it is. Little Palace is built over a former salt mine. Some of it has been preserved but over the centuries, water percolated through the fissures in the mine walls, thus creating the marvel little Palace is sitting on top of, " He offers while I slowly drift after him, the carven beckoning with its drip, drip echoing like a chant in my ears.

It opens up into a giant room, so deep that I'm unable to see the bottom, but I can see the twinkle of lights reflected in the still water below giving me a vague idea of how deep it goes. Such a strange place to put a library in.

Sensing my curiosity Andrew chimes in, pointing to one of the walls where a row of books sit protected by a thick sheen of glass.

" It is a very perilous journey. Without guidance there is a good chance that you'll end up at the bottom of the salt pool that sits two hundred feet below us," And that answers that.

With a deep breath, I follow the narrow stairs lining the smooth steep wall, marvelling at lights gently swaying from the ceiling, reflecting off the salt walls. Every single inch has been used to house the books decorating the cavern. Thousands, upon thousands of them, everywhere you look, each wall is lined with several rows of books. It would take me years to find what I'm looking for if it's in this place. My mother has been here for a reason.

We walk in silence letting my eyes drift here, there and everywhere. A cushy round sofa sits halfway through in a small alcove, next to a round table of the same colour as the walls, and it is only a guess but I think it's also made of salt. The air is thick, thick and heavy to breathe. I can taste the salt in the air, invading my lungs with each breath I take. I guess, it would take a while before I start dehydrating, shrivel up and die.

When we reach the little alcove, I drift away from the stairs and decide to study the small space, and the book opens on the table. It doesn't seem very smart to let a book out in this environment. The ink and paper will begin to degrade if exposed for too long. I flip the book closed, more out of curiosity to know the title and to protect its contents. When my eye lands on the title, my curiosity reaches new heights. 'Daiō'

Never heard of the name or the authors who wrote it. I glance at the red and dark green leather-bound book, with a newfound interest in the topic of the book. Swiping it off the table, I leave the little alcove behind, and trail after Andrew before he notices my absence. Tugging on the edges of the cape, I tuck the book in front of me shielding it with the cape.

" Cold?" Andrew asks glancing at me over his shoulder.

" Just a touch, " I say casually, pretending to be absorbed by my surroundings when all I want to do is plop myself on the ground and leaf through the book to uncover its secrets.

" So, tell me about Anika," I decide to get to the point, shivering at the slight chill in the air. The more we descend, the colder it gets and also harder to breathe.

" We met about fifteen years ago. She came to visit the library. I come here quite often as a way to pass the time. It will take more than one lifetime to go through all of these books, but I've always been fascinated with the wealth of information that holds. She was searching for scriptures of the old world. There are not many left. And those that have survived have been partially destroyed, and therefore incomplete," He offers as he stops a few steps down in front of me, opens one of the casings pulls a swath, and gently peels off the shroud it is been covered in.