wall concern Remalna. All
those there are from other parts of the world. Some real
treasures are numbered among that collection. And under the
windows are plays and songs."
"Plays, Your Highness?" I repeated in surprise. "Do people
write plays down? How can they, when the players change the
play each time they do it?"
She nodded, moving along the shelves as though looking for
something in particular. "In our part of the world, this is so,
and it is common to some of the rest of the world as well. But
there are places where plays are written first—usually
based on true historical occurrence—and performed as
written. It is an old art. At the Empress's Court there is a
current fashion for plays written at least four hundred years
ago, with all their quaint language and custom and
costume."
I thought this over and realized once again how much in the
world I was ignorant of. "I thought plays were about dream
people, that the events had never happened—that the
purpose of plays is to make people laugh."
"There's a fine scholar in the south who has traveled about
the world studying plays, and he maintains that, whether or not
they are based on real experiences, they are the harbingers of
social change," Princess Elestra replied. "Ah! Here we
are."
She pulled down a book, its cover fine red silk, with the
ride in gilt:
The Queen from the Desert.
"I know that book!" I said.
"It is very popular," she responded, then pulled down four
books from nearby, each a different size and thickness. To my
surprise, each had the same title. "We were speaking of plays,
the implication being that history is static. But even it can
change. Look."
I glanced through the histories, all of which were written
in a scribe's exquisite hand. Two of them were purported to be
taken from the queen's own private record, but a quick perusal
of the first few lines showed a vast difference between them.
Two of the books were written by Court-appointed
historians—the heralds—like the one I'd read. One
of them seemed familiar. The other had a lot fewer words and
more decoration in the margins. When I flipped through it, I
noticed there were conversations I didn't remember seeing in
the one I had read.
"So some of these are lies?" I looked up, confused.
"A few are distorted deliberately, but one has to realize
that aside from those, which our best booksellers weed out,
there is truth and truth," the Princess said. "What one person
sees is not always what another sees. To go back to our
histories of the desert queen, we can find a fifth one, written
a century later, wherein her story is scarcely
recognizable—but that one was written as a lampoon of
another queen."
"So... the scribes will change things?" I said.
She nodded. "Sometimes."
"Why?"
She closed the books and returned them to the shelves.
"Occasionally for political reasons, other times because the
scribes think they have a special insight on the truth. Or they
think the subject was dull, so they enliven his or her words.
Court historians are sometimes good, and sometimes foolish ...
and sometimes ambitious. The later histories are often the most
trustworthy. Though they are not immediate, the writers can
refer to memoirs of two or three contemporaries and compare
versions."
"Going back to the memoirs, Your Highness, how does one know
one is getting the words of the person whose name is in
front?"
She pulled down three more books and flipped to the backs,
each showing a seal and names and dates. Below these was
written:
Fellowship of the Tower.
"What is this, Your Highness, a sigil for a guild?"
"It is more than a guild. Men and women who join give up all
affiliation with their own land. There are five or six
establishments throughout the world. Members of the fellowship
are not just scribes, but are sworn to stay with the written
truth. If you find a copy of Queen Theraez's memoirs with the
Fellowship of the Tower's sigil in
those there are from other parts of the world. Some real
treasures are numbered among that collection. And under the
windows are plays and songs."
"Plays, Your Highness?" I repeated in surprise. "Do people
write plays down? How can they, when the players change the
play each time they do it?"
She nodded, moving along the shelves as though looking for
something in particular. "In our part of the world, this is so,
and it is common to some of the rest of the world as well. But
there are places where plays are written first—usually
based on true historical occurrence—and performed as
written. It is an old art. At the Empress's Court there is a
current fashion for plays written at least four hundred years
ago, with all their quaint language and custom and
costume."
I thought this over and realized once again how much in the
world I was ignorant of. "I thought plays were about dream
people, that the events had never happened—that the
purpose of plays is to make people laugh."
"There's a fine scholar in the south who has traveled about
the world studying plays, and he maintains that, whether or not
they are based on real experiences, they are the harbingers of
social change," Princess Elestra replied. "Ah! Here we
are."
She pulled down a book, its cover fine red silk, with the
ride in gilt:
The Queen from the Desert.
"I know that book!" I said.
"It is very popular," she responded, then pulled down four
books from nearby, each a different size and thickness. To my
surprise, each had the same title. "We were speaking of plays,
the implication being that history is static. But even it can
change. Look."
I glanced through the histories, all of which were written
in a scribe's exquisite hand. Two of them were purported to be
taken from the queen's own private record, but a quick perusal
of the first few lines showed a vast difference between them.
Two of the books were written by Court-appointed
historians—the heralds—like the one I'd read. One
of them seemed familiar. The other had a lot fewer words and
more decoration in the margins. When I flipped through it, I
noticed there were conversations I didn't remember seeing in
the one I had read.
"So some of these are lies?" I looked up, confused.
"A few are distorted deliberately, but one has to realize
that aside from those, which our best booksellers weed out,
there is truth and truth," the Princess said. "What one person
sees is not always what another sees. To go back to our
histories of the desert queen, we can find a fifth one, written
a century later, wherein her story is scarcely
recognizable—but that one was written as a lampoon of
another queen."
"So... the scribes will change things?" I said.
She nodded. "Sometimes."
"Why?"
She closed the books and returned them to the shelves.
"Occasionally for political reasons, other times because the
scribes think they have a special insight on the truth. Or they
think the subject was dull, so they enliven his or her words.
Court historians are sometimes good, and sometimes foolish ...
and sometimes ambitious. The later histories are often the most
trustworthy. Though they are not immediate, the writers can
refer to memoirs of two or three contemporaries and compare
versions."
"Going back to the memoirs, Your Highness, how does one know
one is getting the words of the person whose name is in
front?"
She pulled down three more books and flipped to the backs,
each showing a seal and names and dates. Below these was
written:
Fellowship of the Tower.
"What is this, Your Highness, a sigil for a guild?"
"It is more than a guild. Men and women who join give up all
affiliation with their own land. There are five or six
establishments throughout the world. Members of the fellowship
are not just scribes, but are sworn to stay with the written
truth. If you find a copy of Queen Theraez's memoirs with the
Fellowship of the Tower's sigil in
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