Are you looking for something in particular? The woman stood right beside me now. I started a bit, since I hadnt heard her move.

But at her question, I suddenly realized there was something I could learn from the library. Information about the Gods War, I said.

Religious texts are in the chapel, not here. If anything, now the woman looked more sour. Perhaps she was the librarian, in which case I might have offended her. It was clear the library saw little enough traffic as it was without being mistaken for someplace else.

I dont want religious texts, I said quickly, hoping to placate her. I want historical accounts. Death records. Journals, letters, scholarly interpretations anything written at the time.

The woman narrowed her eyes at me for a moment. She was the only adult Id seen in Sky who was shorter than me, which might have comforted me somewhat if not for the blatant hostility in her expression. I marveled at the hostility, for she was dressed in the same simple white uniform as most of the servants. Usually all it took was the sight of the fullblood mark on my brow to make them polite to the point of obsequiousness.

There are some things like that, she said. But any complete accounts of the war have been heavily censored by the priests. There might be a few untouched resources left in private collectionsits said Lord Dekarta keeps the most valuable of these in his quarters.

I should have known. Id like to see anything you have. Nahadoth had made me curious. I knew nothing of the Gods War that the priests hadnt told me. Perhaps if I read the accounts myself, I could sift some truth from the lies.

The old woman pursed her lips, thoughtful, and then gestured curtly for me to follow her. This way.

I followed her through the winding aisles, my awe growing as I realized just how truly big the place was. This library must hold all the knowledge of the world.

My dour companion snorted. A few millennia worth, from a few pockets of humanity, nothing more. And that picked and sorted, trimmed and twisted to suit the tastes of those in power.

Theres truth even in tainted knowledge, if one reads carefully.

Only if one knows the knowledge is tainted in the first place. Turning another corner, the old woman stopped. We had reached some sort of nexus amid the maze. Before us, several bookcases had been arranged back-to-back as a titanic six-sided column. Each bookcase was a good five feet wide, tall and sturdy enough to help support the ceiling that was twenty feet or more above; the whole structure rivaled the trunk of a centuries-old tree. There is what you want.

I took a step toward the column and then stopped, abruptly uncertain. When I turned back, I realized the old woman was watching me with a disconcertingly intent gaze. Her eyes were the color of low-grade pewter.

Excuse me, I said, spurred by some instinct. Theres a lot here. Where would you suggest I begin?

She scowled and said How should I know? before turning away. She vanished amid the stacks before I could recover from the shock of such blatant rudeness.

But I had more important concerns than one cranky librarian, so I turned my attention back to the column. Choosing a shelf at random, I skimmed the spines for titles that sounded interesting, and began my hunt.

Two hours laterI had moved to the floor in the interim, spreading books and scrolls around myselfexasperation set in. Groaning, I flung myself back amid the circle of books, sprawling over them in a way that would surely incense the librarian if she saw me. The old womans comments had made me think there would be little mention of the Gods War, but this was anything but the case. There were complete eyewitness accounts of the war. There were accounts of accounts, and critical analyses of those accounts. There was so much information, in fact, that if I had begun reading that day and continued without stopping, it would have taken me months to read it all.

And try as I might, I could not sift the truth from what Id read. All of the accounts cited the same series of events: the weakening of the world, in which every living thing from forests to strong young men had grown ill and begun to die. The three-day storm. The shattering and re-formation of the sun. On the third day the skies had gone quiet, and Itempas appeared to explain the new order of the world.

What was missing were the events leading up to the war. Here I could see the priests had been busy, for I could find no descriptions of the gods relationship prior to the war. There were no mentions of customs or beliefs in the days of the Three. Those few texts that even touched on the subject simply cited what Bright Itempas had told the first Arameri: Enefa was instigator and villain, Nahadoth her willing coconspirator, Lord Itempas the hero betrayed and then triumphant. And I had wasted more time.

Rubbing my tired eyes, I debated whether to try again the next day or just give up altogether. But as I mustered my strength to get up, something caught my eye. On the ceiling. I could see, from this angle, where two of the bookcases joined to form the column. But they were not actually joined; there was a gap between them perhaps six inches wide. Puzzled, I sat up and peered closer at the column. It appeared as it always had, a set of huge, heavily laden bookcases arranged back-to-back in a rough circle, joined tight with no gaps.