When Ellisia, a seventeen-year-old book enthusiast with a passion for learning and a fascination with words, has the opportunity to attend Academy, she’s elated to further her education as well as live near the Palace BookHall—the focus of her lifelong dream. But as she begins to discover the true power of the spoken word, she faces a choice: join forces with a foreign scientist or relinquish her dreams of someday working in the BookHall. As the scientist’s projects begin to threaten the safety of Ellisia’s family, she’s torn between her loyalties and her ambitions. When impending crisis brings a clash of spiritual kingdoms, Ellisia must once for all choose how she’ll harness the power of words. Spoken words transcend her reality, uniting heavenly with earthly and commanding the forces that drive the physical world, and Ellisia’s voice will be the catalyst for sure defeat—or decisive victory.
A blur of images paraded before her mental vision, sprung from the slightly-yellowed page open on her lap. Curled in her favorite main room corner chair, Ellisia let her imagination travel as rapidly as her eyes. Dukes and drama, intrigue and investigation, foiled plots and feisty populace—every word seized her fancy as her mind rapidly painted each scene in vivid pictures. Her only focus: what the next chapter might hold.
She stuck her thumb under the corner to begin the page turn. Wishing to reread a particularly mysterious sentence, she wavered between pages for a brief instant.
Rap, rap.
Ellisia started, raising her head to glance towards the front door. Judging by the insistent force of the knock, someone had been trying to gain her attention for some time. She sighed, stuck a crumpled bit of paper between the pages, closed the book, and went to the door. Evidently she wouldn’t be finishing her story tonight.
Fumbling with the rusty metal, she lifted the latch.
“Reading again.” The dark-haired girl on the step didn’t even bother with a question mark. “Of course.”
Ellisia sighed and grinned at the same time. “Of course,” she echoed. “Come in, Dresie.”
The neighbor girl stepped past Ellisia. “Carita’s not home?”
“Not just now. And the baby’s with her.”
“Ah, how convenient for me. I hoped we could chat a bit.” Dresie’s dark eyes roved about the sitting room before landing on the book Ellisia had been reading. “I don’t suppose you’d like to head outdoors any more than you usually would.”
“Not really.” Ellisia returned to her chair. “It’s far too cold. I can’t wait until this winter is over in a few weeks.”
Dresie threw back her head, a merry gilded laugh emerging. “You never used to mind the cold, as I recall. Remember when we’d play outside for hours as young girls? With Dixaen? And remember how you’d out-garden both of us?” She paused as her eyes flitted across the bookshelf in the corner. “We used to write about such times in our story journal…you still have that, don’t you?”
Ellisia murmured assent. “I can’t tell you where it is though…I haven’t looked at that for an eternity.”
Dresie’s fingers moved quickly across the titles. “It used to be back in this corner.” She pulled out several volumes, then reached back for a thin, worn cover wrinkled behind them. “Here. Just see.”
The lids fell open, and crooked letters sprawled faintly across the pages. Ellisia scanned them, suddenly transported by the few vivid words and the gaps filled in by her memories to that autumn afternoon.
Nine Years Earlier
“Books? You’d better believe there are books, Ellisia. Why, whole rooms full of books—you can’t even begin to imagine. Rooms bigger than your whole house. And shelves up to the ceiling.”
Dreamy wonder shone in her eyes as she gazed at Caeleb’s animated expression. A whole roomful of books at once! “Have you read them all?”
A laugh rang out. “No, I haven’t. Even you couldn’t possibly read all those books in one lifetime. One of my favorite BookHalls is in Amadel Academy—we call it the Palace Academy.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s a school where students learn about anything they want to—and get a certificate in that particular field.” Caeleb leaned back on his hands, his gaze trained on the sky for a moment before returning to Ellisia’s rapt expression. “They do have a BookHall, though, and I enjoy going there because I can usually find a book more easily than at the Palace BookHall.”
“The Palace BookHall.” Ellisia’s words were an awed whisper.
“You’d love the Palace BookHall.” Caeleb plucked a blade of grass and tossed it at her. “You wouldn’t know what to do with yourself. Or rather, you’d have more to read than you’d know what to do with. You’d never leave. Shelves floor to ceiling. Three stories, at least. All filled with books. And, guess what?” He leaned forward conspiratorially.
“What?” She forced the whisper out, hardly able to breathe. Three stories of books! What next?
“They’re all lined up by color. Each topic is a different color. So when you walk in, it’s a stunning rainbow array of blues, greens, reds, oranges, yellows, purples, browns—floor to ceiling, mind you. And you’d tire yourself out before you reached the other side of the room.”
“Tire myself out …” The echo drifted into nothingness. “Caeleb, I’m visiting that BookHall someday.”
“I’m sure you will, princess.” Caeleb grinned before pushing to his feet. “Looks like Dresie and Dixaen are back. Want to play Captured Bases again?”
“Of course!” She leaped up.
Several rousing rounds later, sunlight stretched the shadows into comically tall versions of their noontime selves, and Caeleb had disappeared inside to talk grownup business with Kaelan.
“We need to go back home now, Dixaen,” Dresie’s black braids flapped as she dashed around the yard scooping up the bases. “Grandfather said we must come when the sun touched the hilltops, and there it is now.”
“Get the ball, too, Dresie,” Ellisia returned. “Put it in the kitchen lean-to.” Seizing a stick, she began erasing the lines they’d drawn in the dirt to mark the boundaries.
She’d reached the other edge of the yard when Dresie came flying back, panting heavily and braids flying. “I can’t open the lean-to. It must be locked.”
“Locked? No, it can’t be. We just got the things out of it earlier. And Carita never locks it while we’re still playing.” Ellisia followed her friend to the lean-to and took a deep breath as she tried the handle.
It wouldn’t budge.
“Can you go through the front door?” Ellisia asked.
Dresie disappeared, only to return a moment later. “That door’s locked, too.”
“What? No, it can’t be.” Ellisia breathed deeply once again as tightness welled up inside her. They couldn’t be locked out of the house. Carita would never do that.
Yet testing the door confirmed Dresie’s words, and Ellisia’s heart sank yet further. Knocking loudly yielded no response, and Dixaen’s strength added to the girls’ efforts still failed to move the handle.
“What will we do?” Dresie’s face drooped as she bit her lip. “You have to get in for the night.”
Ellisia thought rapidly. There was no other way in. One of these doors had to open. Where was Carita? Why didn’t she hear?
A passage Carita had often sung to her shot into her mind. “Behold, I stand at the door and knock …” And there was that other song from Adon Olam’s Word: “Knock, and it shall be opened unto you.”
Adon Olam had said it. It must be true. Ellisia couldn’t open the door, and Carita wasn’t there, but Adon Olam was there always. Softly Ellisia sang the words, then louder and more boldly as she banged on the firmly-shut door. “Open!” she commanded the door. “Adon Olam says it shall be opened. So open and let us in!”
Her right hand reached for the handle as her left hand continued to pound—and the door slipped open. “Thank you,” Ellisia said, stepping in.
Dresie brought the bases in and silently dropped them in the box where they belonged. “It opened,” she whispered. “It opened. It was locked.” She gazed around as if expecting to see Carita standing there somewhere.
“Adon Olam opened it for us,” Ellisia said matter-of-factly. “Or He sent one of His angels to do it. I knew He would. He always does when I say it for Him. He knew we needed to get in.”
Ellisia blinked at the words in the journal. Nine years ago, and she still remembered the relief when that door had opened. Carita had been busy upstairs and hadn’t even heard their knocking. And that conversation with Caeleb…she hadn’t penned much of it in the journal, but every word had been seared into her heart. She’d dreamed regularly of Academy and the BookHall since that day.
“Remember when you told the door to open?” Dresie’s voice cut into her musings. “It just did. I almost couldn’t believe it.” She flipped a page.
Ellisia shrugged. “I remember. I wasn’t surprised. That wasn’t the first time something like that happened.”
“I know.” A note of seriousness laced Dresie’s tone. “I remember a few other occasions later. Ellisia, honestly, did it happen a lot?”
“Some. Not regularly, but I certainly noticed it. Just seemed like part of life to me.”
“Do you remember when Grandfather was ill, and you told his disease to go away? I thought you were being too optimistic and unrealistic.”
“And then you couldn’t believe it when he recovered.” Ellisia sank into the green chair and clasped her thin pale hands in her lap. “I expected that, too.”
“Ellisia, there has to be more to this.” The whisper was earnest. “You know my cousin just married a teacher from Doekh. Those Doekhans know so much more about things than we do here, and my cousin says some of them have studied the effect words have and why.”
Ellisia’s dark eyes caught Dresie’s black ones. “Oh? It’s a matter of study there?”
“I hear so.”
Her clasped hands tightened. “Then I’m going to learn. And find out.”
“How?”
Ellisia shrugged. “I have no idea. But some way or another, I’ll find someone who knows. You have no clue what it’s like, Dresie. It’s true—I sometimes say something, and, good or bad, later I see it happening. I’ve tried not to dwell on it too much, but now that you say it, I do believe you’re right—it has to be more than mere coincidence. I guess I’ve thought it’s like praying—you know how Carita prays. She prays; things happen. But if there’s more to it, I’m finding out.”
“Be careful, though.” Dresie shut the journal and shoved it onto the shelf. “You don’t know what you’re dealing with. And I don’t know how much I trust most of those people from Doekh. You know most of them don’t follow Adon Olam.”
Ellisia nodded. “I’ll be careful.”
Scarcely had Ellisia returned to her book after saying farewell to Dresie before a second knock sounded at the door. A sigh escaped her as she again rose to answer—no reading for her today. Was everyone in town out on social visits this afternoon? Her hand again sought the rusty latch.
Then she barreled forward, launching herself into the arms of the stocky twenty-seven-year-old man who stood outside. “Caeleb! It’s so good to see you again! What are you doing here? How’s your grandfather? And your parents? What’s the news? How long can you stay?”
“Ellisia.” He returned the embrace with a broad grin. “Good to see you, too. You know, you’ve still grown since the last time I saw you.”
“Cae-leb …” she scolded gently.
“Not really.” His grin melted into a teasing chuckle. “But truly, it’s good to be back. Syorien’s social expectations do get tiring.”
“I’m sure they do.” She pulled back through the open door, shivering. “Won’t you come in?”
Caeleb entered, swinging himself easily into the room and towards the chair that Ellisia had deserted. He picked up the green-bound novel. “Is it a good book this time?”
“One of the best I’ve read! Especially this year. Though I certainly haven’t had many new books this year.” She bit her lip as her eyes again ran across the pitifully small collection on the corner shelves.
“And why is that?”
She shrugged. “Not enough new books in town here, I guess. I’ve read them all. Either borrowed them from those who have them, or I own them myself.” She plucked the book from Caeleb’s hand and thumbed through it. “This one was one the storekeeper’s wife picked up from a traveling merchant a month or two ago and saved for me until I could buy it. I’d love to be able to read a few more.”
Caeleb eased onto the low divan and stretched his arms behind his neck. “Well, what would you say if I told you that I could give you a chance to do just that?”
The book clattered to the table as she whirled to survey him. “You can? You didn’t bring more books, by chance?” She eyed the bag at his side with a slight frown—it hung as though stuffed with clothing and food, not books.
“Better than that.” Reaching into his bag, he pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to Ellisia.
“What’s this?” She unfolded it.
“A listing of all the certificates they’re offering at Amadel Academy now. There’s one that brought you to mind.”
She scanned the list quickly, her heart racing. She knew that Amadel Academy—the “Palace Academy,” as it was commonly called—was open only to select scholars, and not penniless ones like she was. And it was so far from her home here in Frydael…
A title jumped out at her. “World Literature?” she exclaimed. “There’s such a thing?” Never once in all her seventeen years had she heard of someone who was certified in literature.
Caeleb leaned back, his hands again resting behind his head. “It’s a new whim in Syorien. Don’t know who decided to offer it or why, but there it is.”
“Truly.” Ellisia was whispering now. A trembling excitement seized her, and the hand still holding the list shook. Grayness swirled about the edges of her vision, but the words WORLD LITERATURE stood emboldened with crystal clarity before her eyes.
“I know how much you love books, and I know how much you want to continue your education. You’ve done an excellent job teaching yourself all these years, and I’d love to see that continue.”
“But you know I can’t …” Oh, how she wanted this.
“I know Carita can’t afford to send you anywhere,” Caeleb went on, plucking the list out of Ellisia’s trembling fingers, “though I know she wants you to get all the learning you can. But I have a proposition.” He grinned as he tucked the list back into his bag and folded his hands around his raised knee. “How would you like to come to Syorien with me and go to Academy?”
Ellisia’s mind whirled. Academy had always been only a daydream. “With you? I couldn’t just…How?”
“It’s simple. You know I’ve been back in Syorien with my grandparents for a while. My parents are in the country currently. We’ve been living down the street from one of my sisters.” He paused. “And now for the news you asked for.”
“What news?”
“Family news, of course. What else would you want to know?” His eyes twinkled.
“About Academy.” The words tumbled out before she could think. She clasped her hands tightly, trying to be patient. Could she truly attend Academy? What did Caeleb have in mind?
Caeleb grinned. “All in time. Family news first.” His smile tantalized her. What about Academy? He continued, seemingly oblivious to her excitement. “My sister just had triplets. Healthy babies, all three of them. But she needs assistance, and for some reason she won’t trust all the daytime care of them solely to me.” He exhaled exaggeratingly, rubbing his palm across his bag, his nose wrinkled at Ellisia. “So—would you come to live with Mae, help her with the babies, and go to Academy?”
Ellisia’s eyes widened. “I’d do anything to go to Academy. What does she want me to do?”
“Mostly just the ordinary housework, I think. She’s been having a neighbor girl help her with the babies during the daytime, and she is adjusting to the care of them, but the other work could use a hand. I figure Carita’s given you plenty of practice.”
Ellisia wrinkled her nose. “Sure.” She’d never enjoyed housework as much as her sister had, but she’d accompanied Carita many times on missions of mercy to neighbors’ homes in Frydael. She knew how to work, anyhow. “I’d do that. And—do you think I would be qualified to enter for the World Literature line? What does it involve? Can I get certified in that?”
“I’m sure you can do it easily if you set your mind to it,” Caeleb encouraged her. “I’m not certain what it involves, but I assume it involves books in some form.”
“Of course.” Nervous excitement bubbled over into a chuckle.
“And yes, you can get certified in that field. It’s a three-year program.”
“When does it begin?”
“Beginning of spring. That’s just two weeks away. Are you interested?” He grinned once more.
“Interested? Is that even a question?” Ellisia flew out of her seat and seized his hand, then released it and sat down again. “I’ll go. If Carita will let me. When are you returning to Syorien?”
“I hoped to make a week’s visit here …” When she didn’t answer, he went on. “But they won’t let me off that long. I’m leaving in five days. Can you be ready that quickly?”
“Can I? I could be ready tonight! I just have to pack my books …”
“There are plenty of books in Syorien, you know.” Caeleb laughed.
She shook her head, an arch smile across her face. “You wouldn’t understand. I certainly need to bring my favorites. There’s something about a particular book you’ve read over and over. There’s simply no other copy that will do.”
“Can’t argue with that one.” Caeleb stood. “Now where is Carita, anyway, that we’ve been left to ourselves so long?”
“She and the baby are over visiting Mrs. Jaelrven and her little flock. I suspect they’ll be at it a long while yet.”
“I suspect so.” Caeleb agreed. “In the meantime, want to play a game of Trux?”
“Most certainly,” Ellisia stated with alacrity. Skirts spinning, she headed for the cupboard and removed the game board and pieces. “If I can calm my mind that long. Are you sure I shouldn’t start packing right now?”
“And leave my lonesome self to laze away on one of the sole four days of the only vacation I’ve had in months? Yes, Ellisia. Go pack. I’ll manage.” He pulled a despondent face, and wooden pieces slipped from Ellisia’s hand as she doubled over in laughter.
“No, Caeleb. Trux it is. You are stuck with it now.”
After an intense game—in which Ellisia came off winner amid much back-and-forth bantering—Caeleb excused himself. Laughing goodbyes were exchanged, then he touched his hat and moved out of the doorway, waving.
She waved back, unable to wipe the smile off her face.
She was going to Academy!
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