The crowd caught Neb up and moved him. By the time he disentangled himself from it, most had left the pavilion to gather in the field outside. Voices buzzed, rising in an ever-growing noise. He stayed by the entrance watching Rudolfo speak with a handful of the Androfrancine bishops, even while his Gypsy Scouts loaded Sethbert’s body onto a stretcher to carry it off.
I would have done it for you, he thought. But he knew that Petronus buried his own dead in his own way and that he’d intended better things for Neb. Just as he also knew that the old man had no more wanted to kill Sethbert than he had wanted to take back the ring.
We do what must be done .
Isaak limped out of the pavilion. “Brother Nebios,” he said. “Have you seen Father Petronus?” Petronus no longer wore the title, but Neb didn’t have the heart to remind Isaak of that. Instead, he
shook his head. “He left quickly.”
Isaak’s eyes fluttered and flashed. “I am alarmed by the events of this day.” Neb nodded. “I am too, Isaak.”
Isaak continued. “I know that what I have seen is wrong. I know that it goes against the teachings of P’Andro Whym. I also know that it must surely mean an end to the Order that brought me into this world. And yet I feel an unexpected satisfaction.”
Neb studied him, unsure of what to say. His own satisfaction came from knowing that the man who killed his father would never harm anyone again. But another man-P?€er man #etronus-had made him an orphan all over again, bringing down what little remained of the only family he had ever known.
You were always an orphan, some voice deep inside of him said. He looked at Isaak again. He was an orphan, too, Neb supposed.
“I will look for him in his office,” Isaak said. “I must speak with him about what has transpired here today.”
Neb walked with him in silence, certain that they would not find Petronus in his office. He doubted they would find him at all, at least not around here. The old man’s work was done now, for better or for ill, and the world must now move forward from it.
They passed the canopy with its long trestle tables and benches, stacks of paper and bottles of ink. Even now, a few of the mechoservitors sat, gears humming and eyes flashing, as they wrote down the events of the council so that it might be preserved in the Great Library.
At Neb’s questioning look, Isaak paused. “I sent them out right away to record it all. I thought it could be important someday.”
Neb said nothing, and they continued without further words.
The office was dark and the door closed when they approached. The lamp was still warm when Neb relit, it and most of the papers had been neatly arranged on the desk for the next day’s filing. He saw an envelope with his name on it, and he took it, breaking the seal.
I’m sorry, it read. You were made for more than backward dreaming.
Isaak’s eyes dimmed, and his bellows pumped. “What does it mean?”
Neb lay the note back on the desk and leaned over the other pages. Notes and receipts of transfer,
letters of credit, disposal of excess properties. All signed and sealed with the papal signet, and waiting for whoever would find them first. “It means the work goes on,” he said in a quiet voice. “It means we
lament what light is lost and honor what remains.”
Leaving Isaak, he wandered the hallways and finally escaped into the gathering darkness. He ran into the woods as far as his feet could carry him, then found a stone and sat on it. He had no tears. He felt no anger. He simply was.
“I was always an orphan,” he said to that darkness as it drew in close around him.
He remembered Petronus’s note. You were made for more than backward dreaming .
Perhaps he was. Neb thought about Winters. He thought?€rs. He t about the dream where above them, a large brown world filled the sky. This is our home, she had said, laying naked beside him, and he believed her. Somewhere beyond this time, a new home arose.
Someday, in the fullness of time, he would help them find it. But until then, he would stay here in the
Ninefold Forest. Perhaps Rudolfo would let him serve the library in some fashion. “Are you still here?” he asked the empty forest.
Nebios ben Hebda heard the soft grunt and the slightest stirring from somewhere nearby, and he smiled.