Near the center of Spire was an old but well-maintained building. Tal had seen it before but, like so many other buildings in Spire, he’d never had time or reason to wonder what function it served. The builders led Tal through the front door and inside he was greeted by a sight he’d never thought possible. Row upon row of bookshelves filled the space. Tal knew of a few books in Peak. He’d even contributed a bit to some of them, explaining various details for certain buildings, but he’d never seen anything on this scale. Each shelf was easily twice as tall as Tal and ladders were propped along alternating shelves to provide access to the highest books. Moving throughout the rows were a handful of people, carrying stacks of books either to or from the shelves. Like everyone else in Spire that Tal had met, these people worked in groups of two or more, never speaking aloud and yet often seeming to be in silent conversation with the others around them.

There wasn’t much room above the bookshelves for lamps or chandeliers. Instead, removable lamps were set into the sides of the shelves that didn’t have ladders. As the workers moved about the shelves they would sometimes remove one of those lamps to allow them a better view of the books along that row, returning the lamp once they were finished in that row. Some of the rows were so long and dark that Tal couldn’t see much of anything within their shadows, catching only glimpses here and there as someone with a lamp passed through them.

Without a word, a pair of workers handed their stacks of books to another group before coming over to Tal and the builders.

“Welcome to our collection of history,” they said to Tal. “We will escort you to our history keeper.”

Tal followed them, noting that the builders turned instead and left the building. The pair escorting Tal led him through the orderly rows of shelves until they reached a solitary door set into the far wall. They both knocked on the door and then waited. A moment passed and Tal began to wonder if anyone was going to answer. Soon enough, however, Tal heard some movement behind the door. He wondered what this person would be like, and whether or not they were part of the bond.

The door opened and an elderly woman peaked out at them. Her expression was wary and Tal sensed an unease between his escorts and the woman.

“Hmm? What is it now?” she asked, her voice terse and ragged.

The moment she stopped speaking she began coughing. It was a harsh, dry cough that Tal had heard before among some of the older builders in Peak. They called it the dead man’s cough since those who got it tended to die not long afterwards.

“This man is from Peak,” the two explained to the old woman, “and he’s been brought to learn about the bond.”

The woman turned with surprise and looked Tal up and down.

“You’re from Peak?”

“Yes,” Tal replied.

She seemed to waver with indecision before finally opening the door fully and motioning for Tal to come in. The pair who had brought Tal to the old woman made no attempt to go in and as soon as Tal was inside, the woman shut the door. The room itself was cozy, with a small fireplace in the corner and a few chairs and couches. It all looked well cared for if a bit worn from age.

“Sit down,” the woman rasped before suffering another bout of coughing. “So,” she said once the coughing had subsided, “you’re one of those that I’ve been hearing so much about, eh? Come across on that foolish bridge of theirs, did you?”

Tal nodded and the woman let out a solitary laugh that sounded more like derision than amusement.

“And which one are you?” she asked, “the fool or the smart one?”

“I guess I’m the fool,” Tal replied.

“Hmm, I doubt that but it’s nice of you to say so.”

Tal didn’t know what to make of this old woman. What had she been told about Dega and himself?

“Sit!” the woman ordered abruptly and Tal found himself sitting down in the nears seat while she busied herself with a kettle and a couple of cups.

While she worked, Tal took the opportunity to look around at the room properly. A curtain hung in the corner hid most of a bed. Beside the fireplace was a wide but shallow counter, above which hung a small pot and pan, a few cooking utensils, and some dried herbs. Further along that wall were stacked a few bins of vegetables beside a water barrel. It seemed as though pretty much everything this woman needed was in this one room. Considering the lack of affection she’d expressed to the others, Tal figured it was by design, either on her part or the others.

“Alright,” the woman said when she finally came and sat down in an armchair opposite of the seat Tal had taken. “How’s our sister city doing?”

Tal frowned. He’d never heard anyone from Spire refer to Peak as their sister city. It sounded almost friendly, familiar even, and yet Tal could see no reason for either one. Still, he didn’t want to give the woman any more reason to be rough on him and so he told her about what life was like in Peak. She sat quietly, nodding from time to time while she sipped from her cup.

“And Dega dragged you away with him,” she concluded when Tal fell silent. “Thought he could escape the mess he’d made in Peak and still live like he used to, the fool. But you weren’t brought here to tell me things I already knew.”

“No,” Tal agreed.

“You want to learn about the bond,” the woman said although she didn’t seem to be expecting Tal to reply. “You and Dega have both been down to the burial mounds,” she stated.

“How did you know about that?”

Tal had thought they hadn’t been seen but obviously he was wrong. He wondered what else had been noticed about Dega and himself.

“I don’t sleep much anymore, haven’t for a long while,” the woman said and for the first time there was a softness to her words. “No one else here ever goes down to the burial mounds so it’s one of the few places I can still go without seeing them.”

“So you saw us?”

“I was sitting in my old house,” the old woman nodded, “remembering the days before the bond when I overheard Dega explaining his theories to you.” She shook her head and sighed. “That man is never happy unless he has someone else to make miserable.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” she spat with sudden anger, “that everything Dega says is meant to cause everyone else around him pain and fear while at the same time building himself up as the only one who can solve the very problems he’s invented.”

Tal considered her words for a moment and then turned his focus to what Dega had told him about what the bond might be.

“What did happen, then?”

“Mistakes happened,” she stated bitterly. “They thought if they melded their souls together that it would usher us into a golden age, that we would be so united, so in tune with one another that there would be no limit to what we could achieve. Not everyone was thrilled with the idea, of course. There were debates, meetings, and ultimately I was left the only one who didn’t want to take part. That worked out fine for them since there needed to be one person to coordinate the bonding. I should have refused, but, well, regrets are made from ‘should haves’ and ‘if onlys’.”

She got up from her seat, grimacing as her joints popped and ground together, and moved over to the curtain that hid her bed from view. She stepped out of sight for a moment and then returned with a small book. It was worn and the cover showed signs of needing to be replaced. She sat back down in her chair and opened the book, turning the pages and looking at each one with powerful emotion in her eyes.

“I wove their souls, one by one, taking each one in my hands,” she held out a hand as if reliving the experience and her eyes focused on something Tal couldn’t see. “You know everything there is to know about a person when you hold their soul, their wants and dreams, their secrets and their weaknesses. And once the bonding was complete, they all knew it. Nothing was hidden from them anymore and…

She trailed off and then shut her eyes.

“They were right about the unity they gained through the bond, but there was also a cost. Those whose souls were most tender bore the brunt of that cost. The bond was like a patchwork quilt, pieced together by ignorant hands, made from mismatched cloth. When the pieces are too different from one another, they tear at their seams. I tried to hold them together, once I realized what was happening, but…I couldn’t fix them. One by one they were torn from the bond and died. I did what I could to patch up the bond but it took me close to a year until it was stable. By then we’d lost so many people, including all the children. It was devastating, and they haven’t dared to try and have any children since then because they don’t know if their children would be born into the bond or not.”

“Why hasn’t anyone died since then?” Tal asked.

“I’m not sure yet,” she admitted, “but it seems like they share all of their infirmities. If one of them falls, instead of getting a broken arm or leg, everyone in that area suffers bruising or pain. I think it’s the same with sickness, but since no one seems to ever get sick anymore, or at least not sick enough for me to notice, I can’t say for certain on that fact. They all seem to be sharing their aging as well, the younger aging faster and the older aging slower. They’ve calculated it out and it looks like they’ll all reach the same age in another twenty years. Whether that will be the point they all die together or if that will be some years later I’m not sure either.”

They sat quietly for a while, Tal thinking over what he’d learned and the strangeness of it all. Obviously he knew the bond had to have some supernatural element to it, but this talk of bonding souls was both intriguing and upsetting. Were there other things Spire had learned to do with souls? Was this the extent of their knowledge and abilities or were there other things he needed to be on the watch for?

“Now I’ve told you Spire’s big secret,” she sighed and rubbed her face with her palms, “and you’ve answered my questions about Peak. I guess it’s only fair if I answer your questions.”

Tal didn’t need much time to come up with his first question.

“Why does Spire want to contact Peak?”

The old woman smiled a knowing smile and tapped the side of her head, “I know you were the smart one,” she said. “The people of Spire and of Peak used to be one people, on one mountain. Our records are incomplete on what caused the schism, but we went our separate ways many generations ago. In recent years, the people here have begun to notice things within themselves, small echoes if you will, from Peak. Those echoes are faint but full of pain, anger, and fear. It’s been growing steadily stronger and the concern here is that it could begin to taint everyone here, spoiling the bond and destroying the peace they have here.”

“So they built the bridge to stop Peak from, what, sending over their bad feelings?” Tal asked, struggling to understand what all she was saying.

“They want to protect their bond, yes, but they also want to help your people. Unlike Dega, they aren’t motivated solely by their own wants. One of the good things that’s come from the bond is that they care deeply for other people. Those who live in the valley are often the recipients of Spire’s aid, and now Peak has gained sufficient attention to warrant building that bridge and taking both you and Dega in.”

“I don’t understand,” Tal said, “it seems on the one hand you’re praising Spire while on the other hand you don’t seem to like them at all.”

She hung her head and pursed her lips. “I know,” she muttered. “Even after all this time, it’s hard for me. You see, once the bond was made, everyone’s personality seemed to just meld together until everyone I’d known, all of my friends and relatives, felt like they had been replaced. Replaced by kind, helpful, and intelligent people, but replaced all the same.”

“You think I should help them rebuild the bridge?”

“I do and I don’t,” she replied. “I worry about what will happen when our two people are brought back into contact. I worry about what will happen if the echoes from Peak are allowed to continue. I worry about the effect Dega could have if he returns to Peak. I worry about the possibility of more people trying to either join Spire’s bond or forging one of their own.”

Tal nodded his agreement.

“Any more questions?” she asked.

Tal was about to say no and thank her for her time when one final question came to him.

“What’s your name?”

Tears welled up in her eyes and an involuntary gasp escaped her lips.

“I haven’t,” she stammered, “it’s been so long since I needed to…

“I’m Tal,” he told her when he saw how much of a struggle it was for her to say her own name.

“I’m Elebreth,” she finally managed to say.

“Thank you for answering my questions,” he told her and began to make his way towards the door.

“Tal,” Elebreth called after him, “What will you do?”

He turned towards her, still fighting with his uncertainties but now determined in his decision.

“I’m going to help them,” he said.

As he left her room he thought he heard her mutter, “I hope you’ve chosen well.”

He did too.