The Paper Crown

13. The Library

I think it best to start with books. The written word is concrete. I cannot forget it and my ears cannot confuse it as long as it is on the page in front of me. When I ask Henryka and Zofia, the morning after the billiard game, they are confused.

"There is a library... but Mariusz has books of his own. Mariusz has more interesting books. In the library, it is mostly histories and records. And dictionaries."

"We can start with a dictionary. Where is the library?"

It is on the bottom floor of the palace, in the north wing, overlooking a carefully manufactured wilderness of garden currently drenched in rain. It is not very large, just big enough for a couple of tables and some chairs, but the walls are lined with books from floor to ceiling. At this time of day and in this weather, it is dark, silent and chill. As soon as we arrive, Zofia starts shivering dramatically.

I ignore her and start examining the nearest shelf. The first book I pull out is labelled in gilt: 1845-49. I flip it open. A densely printed page greets me. The next page is covered in tables of figures.

"What is this?"

Henryka peers at it. She frowns, takes it from me, flips through the pages, and reads the title-page.

"Agricultural product and tax records by district."

I put it back with a sigh. "Where are the dictionaries?"

It takes the girls some time to find them. While they search, I browse other books in the shelves. As Henryka said, they mostly appear to be official records or journals. There must be other places in the palace that have better books. Mariusz is always reading something when we are alone in our apartment.

"Here," Zofia says. "I found one."

"Put it on the table."

She lugs it to the table and lets it slam down. It looks very old, with fraying corners. When I open it, dust clouds the air. Zofia sneezes.

I flip through the pages. The letters are blocky and strange. At first I think it is just the print, but then I notice some letters that are not Latin at all.

"What is this?" I ask. "This isn't Selician."

Henryka comes closer. "Ah, that's Old Selician. It was written in Cyrillic until the Catholic reform."

"Can you read it?"

She squints. "A little... Not much."

"Aren't there any other dictionaries? Newer dictionaries?"

The girls go in search again. This time, Henryka finds a small modern dictionary. I scan the first few words. "Abak... what's that?"

"To count with," Zofia says. "With beads."

When will I ever need to say that?

"And acekoli?"

Henryka confused. She peers over my shoulder. "Oh! Ačekoli!" She says it quite differently to how I do. "Hm, it is like... but?"

"Though," Zofia says. "More like though."

"I'm not quite sure of the French translation," Henryka says.

"It can't be a very important word. Is there any word on this page I should know?" I ask. "I need to learn."

Henryka takes the book and flips through, frowning. "They are all important... it depends what you want to say."

"Everything!"

"But you should begin with the most important... Byti, perhaps." She flips the pages. "Here. It means to be."