SWNOVELS Chapter 19: Jamashar
Jamashar and Ishkmet were in the huge library of Skarzborrush, in front of them was a grunting old isters, older than Jamashar, he was a guide in the library.
“So what did you want?” the guide asked Jamashar.
Jamashar looked at his fellow isters and thought that he did not want to live to such an old age.
“Lives of Algadral Stonets,” Jamashar said.
The hunched librarian walked, shuffling his slippers, gesturing for isters and his companion to follow him.
“Algadral Stonets!” exclaimed the librarian, “Somewhere I’ve already heard this name–”
“We just need a book!” Ishkmet could not restrain himself. A short and stocky dwarf looked around with reverence, but could not cope with the urge to quickly leave the majestic building filled with the smells of paper, glue and old age.
“Climb up yourself,” the old man said and pointed to the ladder. Ishkmet and Jamashar placed the ladder to the wall with the shelves. “Row twenty, third bottom shelf, it’s signed there,” and the librarian waved his hand, and then went back, not caring at all about whom and how will handle the books.
Wallitarf began to climb the steps, and Jamashar supported the ladder.
“We have a problem,” Ishkmet said, “these books are not in a union language.”
“And what languages there are?” asked isters.
“Well, climb yourself and you’ll see,” the dwarf said and began to descend the ladder.
Jamashar climbed up and realized that a book was written in the ancient snunorf language, but Algadral Stonets was not a snunorf.
“Deshaar!” Jamashar called to the old man without climbing down the ladder.
The old man approached, groaning.
“Is this book available in a union language?” - He turned the volume in his hands.
“No.”
“And in old istersian?”
“No.” the old man sighed wearily.
“And in the native language of Algadral , is there copy in ancient tonnebeard language?” Jamashar asked with hope.
“Sorry, but no.”
“Well,” Jamashar said in disappointment, “thanks, at least I’ll take this one.”
When Jamashar came down, the old man asked him to sign in the journal that he took this book. Jamashar signed, and he and his dwarf friend quickly headed for the exit to leave the musty library.
“I doubt we’ll find a translator here,” the wallitarf said.
“Me too,” Jamashar agreed.
“Why has this city survived?” the dwarf changed the subject.
“Perhaps because it is the home of the Gaals of the Ksirin clan. A chain of mountains leads to Lyradrilot, from where the dragon must have flying off to collide with Iglara.”
“Or maybe the star has just come to an end,” the dwarf remarked sceptically.
They arrived at night and did not really see the city, and immediately went to spend the night in an inn. And now, they finally looked around, the city was partially built right in the rock, surrounded by mountains from the east and south, it was open only from the west and north sides. The stone buildings resembled the architectural style of the northern lands of Ermir. The library was located about one-third of the city’s height, and there were many steps that led up to it. The houses were carved right into the rock, forming a peculiar architecture of the city. The buildings descending from the middle of a mountain down to the ground lost the grey stone color and began to show off in the sandy color of clay.
“Even a dragon can refuse to destroy such beauty,” the wallitarf summed up.
“I’m afraid to interrupt your admiration of the city, dear Ishkmet, but do you realize that we need to go to Jöhnstromken now?”
The dwarf only now realized that since they won’t find a translator in the nearest cities, and were unlikely to find one anywhere at all, the only place where you can find at least huge volumes of dictionaries of the ancient snunorf language is the huge library of northerners in Jöhnstromken, which was the largest library in Ermir. Jamashar began to smile involuntarily at the sight of the stunned wallitarf.
“From here to Jöhnstromken is about three times farther than the distance that we rode,” said Ishkmet. “You saw the dragon! I know that you were with me and saw him, and the fact that he did not incinerate and devour us does not mean that everyone else will be just as kind! You and I have seen the scorched sand crystallizing! Remember?”
“I remember,” isters replied, and indeed, after meeting the dragon, they’d come across scorched lands that could terrify even the bravest, reckless and courageous warrior.
“So, maybe we’ll come back home, huh?” Ishkmet asked hopefully.
“You don’t have to go with me,” said the old man and, leaning toward the dwarf, took him by the shoulders with his hands, “I’m not as decrepit as a librarian, and I can take care of myself.”
“You are not, of course, but I saw a young istersian woman come up to you in a tavern, and you kicked her off, although you had money! Senility, my dear friend, has already reached you,” and the dwarf laughed, as well as Jamashar himself.