CHAPTER NINE
Teg longed for a moment to investigate whether the camouflage was managed with stone facing or paint or something arcane, but restrained herself. The tension in their little group was almost palpable.
Vereez said with forced calm, “Sapphire Wind, can you tell if this door has been locked or had any sort of magic worked on it?”
“I sense neither,” Meg’s voice replied. “As best I can tell, it has only been pulled shut. The latch is located right there.”
A sparkle of blue-white light outlined where a lever lay flush against the door, rather after the fashion used for pocket doors in small apartments or mobile homes.
Vereez set her hand on it. “Everyone ready?”
Grim nods, surprisingly similar, never mind the difference in the shapes of the heads involved, gave her the reply. Xerak held up one hand.
“Give me a moment to ready mana in case I need to quickly work a spell. The small workings I’ve been doing are beginning to tell on me.”
Not even Grunwold expressed any impatience. When the spearhead atop Xerak’s staff was limed in a pale, greenish-violet light, Vereez slid up the latch, revealing the downward stairway they’d seen in the vision in the Font of Sight. Interestingly, there was far less dust and fewer cobwebs than they’d seen back then. Their feet gritted some on the stone treads but no more, Teg assessed, than would be reasonable given the passage of something over a couple of decades within an enclosed space.
How long had this stairwell been sealed when the extraction agents came through? she wondered.
Stepping with care, they approached the door that over two decades before the extraction agents had struggled to open.
“Sapphire Wind says it can open this door for us,” Meg said. “It also says it doesn’t believe that the room beyond is untenanted.”
Teg glanced around and saw the same thought on very different faces. Whatever it is, it isn’t going to like us breaking in.
“Let Sapphire Wind open the door for us,” Vereez stated, although the cant of her ears and her inflection made the statement a question. “That way none of us needs to get too close. Maybe we can get a look at whatever is inside before it gets the jump on us.”
No one protested, but numerous weapons shifted to ready.
“When everyone is prepared, then,” Meg said with such calm it was impossible to tell if it was she or Sapphire Wind who spoke.
“Those of you in front,” Grunwold grumbled, “remember to move so you don’t block the door. Okay? Now, open it!”
With the faintest grinding of stone against stone, the door slid to one side, revealing the same small room, the same ornate pedestal that they’d seen in the vision in the Font of Sight.
Two elements did not match that vision. As expected, the top of the pedestal was empty. Nor were any of them prepared for the horrific creature that coiled around the pedestal’s base.
Long bodied yet bulky, the monster had elongated, many-toothed jaws, like those of a crocodile, and that creature’s armored hide as well. However, its skull was more canine, with a higher forehead. Eight legs—each longer than those of a crocodile, and more heavily muscled than those of a dog—with spikes at the joints, lifted a heavy, broad-chested torso like that of a mastiff. The tail that balanced the long head and stocky body was tipped with a ball, rather like what Teg recalled an ankylosaur was supposed to have had. Worst of all were the all-too intelligent eyes, huge and brilliant red, that studied the intruders from beneath ridged protective plates.
The fragment of the artifact they sought rested on the floor between the creature’s front paws—or were those hands? Teg wasn’t at all sure. What she was certain of was that this monster wasn’t going to give up its prize—it looked like the bronze spindle on which the larger bit had rested—without a fight.
After a long pause for mutual staring, the monster gaped open its long jaws and spat a gob of particularly viscous saliva toward them. Either this was a warning shot or the creature had bad aim, for the steaming stuff plopped directly between Teg and Vereez, who were closest to the front. They leapt back as one. Vereez grabbed the edge of the door and slid it shut.
“So,” Peg said, her tone so calm she had to be severely rattled, “what was that?”
“No idea,” Grunwold said. “Xerak? Vereez? You’ve seen more than this simple farmer’s son.”
“I’ve never seen one of those,” Vereez replied.
“Me either,” Xerak added, “not even a picture in my master’s vast collection of bestiaries. There’s only one classification I can give it: unique monstrosity, magically created.”
“A classification system that includes the unique,” Teg said, trying her best to match Peg’s calm. We’re the mentors after all, even if this world is not our own. “That’s a nice system indeed.”
“So, how do we deal with Unique Monstrosity?” Grunwold said. “That room is too small and too awkwardly shaped for us all to rush it. Even if we could, the portion of the artifact it’s holding might get broken.”
“Additionally,” Xerak added at his most scholarly, “we know the creature’s spittle is either hot or acidic, or possibly both. If that stuff hits exposed skin, that would definitely hurt.”
Teg had flipped the sun spider amulet into her palm and was staring at it. “What if I used this to shoot webs at its head? If I’m really lucky, I’d manage to rope its jaws shut. Even if I can’t do that, it’s certain to be distracted. “Or,” she continued, making as if to hand the amulet over, “you could use it, Xerak or Vereez.”
Xerak shook his head. “I think Vereez and I should stay with the tools we’re skilled with. If you’re willing to try to web the thing’s head, then . . . ”
As they carefully laid their plans, Teg couldn’t help but worry whether the monster was doing some planning of its own. Could it be eavesdropping? Maybe that nearly earless head was pressed against the door and it was chuckling to itself as it made counterplans.
She decided not to mention her paranoid conjecture. Overheard or not, they were going to need to give this a try.
When next Sapphire Wind was asked to open the door, Teg found herself kneeling on the floor to the left of the door, the sun spider amulet resting in her right palm. She’d tried to focus on it, as Xerak had taught her, and was aware of a faint buzz of energies against her skin. Despite her other, numerous, apprehensions, she felt a curious confidence that, when she activated the sun spider amulet, it would at least emit goo.
Vereez stood to the other side of the door, panting slightly, brown eyes bright and excited. Xerak and Grunwold stood back, long weapons in hand, ready to form the second wave. Peg held her sword, and Meg a machete, making up the third rank.
“Ready?” Meg asked softly. When answers came in the form of tense nods, the door began to slide open once more.
The crocodilian-headed creature was waiting, but this time they didn’t give it the leisure to spit and hack. Hooting and yapping, Vereez ran in the direction of the heavy ball at the end of its tail. At the same moment, Teg pushed her hand palm out, the sun spider amulet nestled against her skin. She didn’t let herself think that what she was doing had anything to do with magic. This was a tool. Xerak had told her how to use it. Shooting webbing was no different from throwing a shovel of dirt out of a pit, blind, knowing where the wheelbarrow was and that she would, absolutely, beyond the faintest doubt, hit it.
She was astonished and delighted when thick creamy ropes of silken goo shot from the sun spider amulet and hit the monster along the line of its jaw. She didn’t succeed in wrapping a perfect line of spidey silk and tying the jaw shut. Instead, what she did was more like walloping the teeth with a line of caulk or a wide bead of very stiff frosting. At least for this moment, that crocodile mouth lost its smile.
Vereez had landed squarely on top of the wrecking ball at the end of the creature’s tail, her weight not only keeping the Unique Monstrosity from swinging the ball into action, but making it difficult for the creature to move forward. It growled in frustration, aware it couldn’t turn to attack Vereez without making itself vulnerable to both Grunwold and Xerak.
As a compromise, the creature hauled itself into a seated position, holding the fragment of the artifact close to its chest with its left paw. Grunwold swung his sword, but the creature blocked the blade against its heavily armored right arm. For good measure, it spat bits of web goo at him. Before long, it was going to have its mouth clear. Then its spit would be dangerous, rather than just annoying.
“Teg, silk it again!” Peg yelled.
“Can’t. Spider doesn’t have enough juice,” Teg replied, backing into the hallway to give Xerak and Grunwold room to maneuver.
She held onto the amulet though, playing with it the way one does a worry stone, her fingers moving restlessly over the contours of the rough stone at the middle as she watched the battle, wishing desperately that she had something better than a machete, although there was a question as to whether anything smaller than a bazooka would help.
The stalemate would soon be ending. The room was too crowded for Grunwold and Xerak to effectively attack the Unique Monstrosity. Even if one or the other retreated into the hall, the creature’s armor had demonstrated that it was proof against both sword and spear. The Unique Monstrosity seemed to be resistant to Xerak’s magic as well, barely reacting when he enhanced his spear thrust with a jolt of flame.
All that was keeping the Unique Monstrosity from gaining the advantage was the rapidly dissolving goo sealing its mouth, and Vereez’s determined clinging to that wrecking-ball tail.
It may be two against one, Teg thought, but that one has eight legs and is using the middle sets to keep the boys back. What to do? What to do?
Suddenly, she got a really odd feeling that the sun spider amulet was trying to tell her that it just might have a little more goo in it. Then she had an idea, although whether it was hers or the amulet’s, she wouldn’t have been willing to bet.
“Xerak!” Teg shouted. “Go for its eyes! Grunwold, you cover him.”
She’d suspected that the Unique Monstrosity was intelligent. Its tactics were just too good. Now she counted on the translation spell to make it understand what she was saying. When it winced, she felt sure it had.
Xerak summoned a new gout of fire to the tip of his spear staff. Grunwold moved to where he could parry any viscous spittle. The Unique Monstrosity raised its free hand to cover one of its large eyes, squinching the other shut as best it could. Xerak shoved forth his flaming spearhead and Teg shouted.
“Grunwold, go for the other eye! Leave me an opening!”
The Unique Monstrosity wasn’t lacking in courage but, when both flaming spear point and Grunwold’s sword flashed directly for those overlarge eyes, it shrieked. In a moment of panic, it raised its remaining forearm to cover its face. This brought its hands into view. Teg saw that the heavy armor that protected the digits limited their ability to grip. The spindle portion of the artifact was only loosely grasped.
Okay, sun spider, she thought at the amulet. Let’s grab that bit of metal right out of the Monstrosity’s paw.
A cord of spidey silk shot out, gobbed onto the bronze spindle, coating it. Teg hauled back, grateful for all those long, boring evenings on field projects where fishing had been one of the few amusements available. She’d developed a light touch, and once the spindle was “hooked,” she pulled with just the right amount of force to pop the fragment of the artifact from the Unique Monstrosity’s hand-paw.
The creature shrieked, an earsplitting sound that made Teg want to clap her own hands over her ears. Ignoring the danger of the sword and spear to its eyes, the monster lurched toward where Teg was trying to reel in her sticky line. Even the weight of Vereez on its tail only slowed the Unique Monstrosity, and Teg didn’t think she could both recover the artifact and stumble out of the way in time to avoid the snap of those crocodilian jaws.
Then Peg shoved through and dove, sliding like a batter trying to turn a single into a double. With her left hand, she grabbed the bronze spindle, goo and all, then curled herself around it. Grunwold and Xerak leapt to protect Peg, and Teg—whose head was suddenly light—stumbled back. Had Meg not hurried forward and caught her, she would have fallen squarely on her butt.
As Meg lowered her to the floor, Teg heard Peg’s voice, shrill with tension, but still holding matriarchal no-nonsense authority.
“I’ve got it and I’m keeping it. Come at me, Monstrosity, and I’ll vanish back to my own world, and then what would you do?” She was reaching for the transport talisman on her wrist as she spoke, and the monster seemed to understand the threat. At least it stopped moving. “Good, whatever you are. Now, I want you to slow down and listen. You’ve been guarding this bit of artifact, right?”
The Unique Monstrosity slowly nodded.
“Very good,” Peg continued. “Now, pay attention. We’re not going to steal it. We’re going to fix it. Do you understand that?”
Again a slow, heavy-headed nod.
“So we’re on the same side, it seems to me.”
No nod this time.
“Do you want the artifact fixed?”
Nod.
“Can you fix it?”
No motion. Teg wondered if the creature’s neck wouldn’t let it shake its head. Or maybe it had a more complicated thought to express and didn’t want to say no. She felt about five drinks drunk, but managed to speak.
“Hold on, Peg. I have a question for it.” The glowing red eyes turned to look at her. “Can you talk? I mean, when your mouth isn’t all gummed up?”
The creature nodded enthusiastically.
Meg took over. “Shall we call truce then and discuss matters?”
Again a nod.
“Let’s go back upstairs,” Grunwold suggested. “It’s not exactly comfortable, but it’s better than here.”
“And I,” Peg said, accepting Xerak’s help to get to her feet, “would definitely prefer a chair. You kids sure know how to make an old lady push her limits.”
Teg had feared that their recovering the piece of the artifact would be a signal for every remaining guardian creature to attack but, perhaps because the Unique Monstrosity walked with them, perhaps because Sapphire Wind swirled around them, visible now as a faint sparkle in the air even to the nonmagically attuned, they met with no opposition.
On their way back through the artifact repository, Sapphire Wind directed them to a pigeonhole where reposed an enshrouding container similar to the one that they’d seen broken in the vision. Once the artifact was stored in it, some of the tension crackling in the air ebbed, but Teg wasn’t sure it had anything to do with the artifact being sealed away or just pure relief that the job was done.
When they were back in the reception room, everyone gathered around one of the long tables. Heru soared to take up watch on one of the high desks that commanded a good view of the corridors into the stacks. Grunwold went outside, returning with a bucket of fresh water so that the Unique Monstrosity could wash its jaws.
While Meg and Vereez treated a variety of small wounds—including a nasty scrape Peg had gotten on her chin when she had dived across the floor—Teg started laying out a sort of picnic. She found she was both ravenous and nauseous, which wasn’t a pleasant combination at all.
Eventually, everyone but the Unique Monstrosity took a seat on a bench and selected some sort of refreshment, while pretending that having a very large monster washing its face a few yards away was completely normal. After a great deal of sloshing its jaws in the bucket, the monster spoke. To Teg’s astonishment, it sounded completely human.
Well, completely comprehensible, anyhow, Teg amended, for the voice was deep and grating.
“My name is Emsehu. I am the son of Dmen Qeres, the man who built the Library of the Sapphire Wind,” the Unique Monstrosity announced, “and I am the man who, albeit indirectly, am responsible for the Library’s destruction.”
“Hang on,” Grunwold said, pausing in the middle of meticulously repacking one of the first-aid kits. “Are you saying you’re the one who hired our parents to steal that thing from the Library?”
“I am. And ‘that thing’ has a name. It is called Ba Djed of the Weaver.”
“Why did you need to steal the Ba whatever if the place belonged to your father?” Grunwold pressed, apparently unaware of the irony that he—who had stolen Slicewind—should be the one to ask this.
“The answer to that is complicated.”
“And why do you look like that?” Grunwold persisted.
Peg cut in before Grunwold could continue his cross-examination.
“Grunwold, it has been a very stressful day for all of us. We all understand that. Even so, how about you let Emsehu manage more than one statement before cutting him off?”
Grunwold turned his ears sideways in obvious annoyance, then shrugged. “If you want. This was starting to sound like one of those long, boring tales. I thought I’d cut to the chase. Save time. Like that.”
He busied himself with repacking the first-aid kit, and Emsehu continued.
“The Library of the Sapphire Wind was founded by my father, but I had no rights to it. You see, my father had one love—his scholarly, magical duties. This did not mean he was celibate, but he usually avoided ‘complications,’ which is how he referred to his occasional offspring. When his sexual liaisons did produce children, he dealt with them in what he felt was an honorable fashion, providing financial support for the offspring, and otherwise having nothing to do with him or her.
“I was raised by my mother, who told me she was a widow. Claiming that she was overwhelmed by grief that their time together had been so brief, she would tell me nothing of my father. I assumed that she would tell me when I was older, but she died in a boating accident when I was in college. Bereft of my mother, I became more eager to know something of my father. However, I could find no one who knew him.
“Desire to learn more of my heritage made me a better student than I might otherwise have been. After college, I went on to Zisurru University in Rivers Meet. I specialized in research spells, including dabbling in divination and rebirth lore. Eventually, I learned that my mother had lied to me. Not only had my father not died back then, he was still alive. It took more research to learn his name, but eventually I did so.
“With this new information, I found him easy enough to locate, for Dmen Qeres was one of the great wizards of his day. I did not presume to introduce myself to this great man, but I did win a post at the Library of the Sapphire Wind. These many years later, I can freely state what I barely permitted myself to admit then. I hoped that my father would take notice of me for my talents, make me one of his intimates, and rejoice when I confessed myself his son.
“But that didn’t happen. I had ability and talent both, but Dmen Qeres was an old man who had already settled on his favorites. He had neither energy nor attention to spare for one of many eager young scholars who strove for his recognition. Eventually, disheartened, I left the Library to take work elsewhere. When I heard Dmen Qeres had died, I waited to learn if he had acknowledged any of the children of his body in his will. He had not.
“For some reason this last rejection—as I saw it—bothered me as none of the others had done. Perhaps it was because, if he were swiftly reborn, I would not have a son’s claim on him. By now, I hardly know.
“My late father had left his entire fortune to endow the Library of the Sapphire Wind. With some perverse sense of entitlement, I sought employment at the Library once more. Even during the first time I had worked within those walls I had sensed that the Library held powerful secrets—but then isn’t such the natural aura of all great libraries? This time my goal from the outset was to discover what those secrets might be.
“Eventually, I became aware that deep beneath the Library’s repository was a hidden vault in which something of great value was kept, its aura masked by the various and disparate magics stored in both the Library’s texts and the items in the repository. I grew wild with the desire to have whatever this was for my own, obsessed with the feeling that if I had it, I would also possess what had been my competition for my father’s attention and affections.
“I will not say I was sane, but I was cunning. Rather than risk the theft myself, I hired a talented group of extraction agents to do so. I equipped them well. If in some part of my mind I expected them to fail—and me to learn from their failure—still I had not the least sense that I would be putting the Library in danger.
“After the Library’s destruction, I made my way to the ruins and, using my research magic skills, attempted to learn what had happened to the artifact I had sought. In this way, I learned that the artifact my extraction agents had been sent to get was, apparently, still within the Library. I didn’t realize then—indeed I was ignorant until now—that what I had found was only one part of a great whole. Sapphire Wind was not as generous with me as with you. Indeed, I did not realize the Library’s prime guardian was still present and could be appealed to.”
Meg spoke for the Library’s genius loci. “Sapphire Wind did not trust you—nor think you could be bargained with as the Library bargained with us.”
“Ah, that explains its actions. And the conclusion is probably valid as well.”
Emsehu lapped water, more canine-seeming than crocodilian in this.
When Emsehu didn’t resume speaking, Vereez asked, “But your transformation. How did that happen?”
Emsehu heaved a great sigh. “Once I was certain that my father’s great treasure still remained here, I came to the ruins several times to attempt to locate and retrieve it. During my last attempt, I was wounded near to death. At that point, a twisted aspect of my father’s magical protections made itself apparent. My dying was arrested and my spirit was channeled into one of the guardian creatures that the Library of the Sapphire Wind had been equipped with from its earliest days.
“These guardians were magical simulacra. Now I learned why some were more effective than others. I was far from the first to attempt to steal from the Library’s treasures. Those individuals who died in the attempt were imprisoned in a simulacra, bound to use all their wits to protect what they would have stolen.”
“So your living soul was enslaved?” Xerak asked, horrified. “That’s the blackest of magic.”
“There was a loophole,” Emsehu admitted. “If an imprisoned soul wanted to be freed, all it had to do was die—via suicide or in combat or simply by willing it. However, the simulacra were enchanted with a strong self-preservation initiative. The two often clashed. In my case, since I was obsessed with finding and possessing my father’s treasure, I discovered my fate did not disturb me. As a guardian spirit, I could roam the Library at will. As such, I located a lesser guardian who had carried away one piece of what I knew was the great treasure. I slew that guardian and made myself the artifact’s protector. My intention was to seek the other pieces but, probably because of the guardian impulse of the simulacra I now inhabited, I ended up focusing on keeping what I had, rather than attempting to gain more. Instead, I researched the history of what I had, which is how I learned its name.”
“And what about now?” Grunwold asked with his usual gruffness. “We’ve got the ‘treasure’—even if it’s only part of the treasure. You all right with that?”
“I am resigned,” Emsehu said. “In any case, as that peculiar monster you have advising you—the one called Peg—said, your goal is to fix what is broken. Perhaps I will wait until the treasure is whole again, then make my move.”
Meg laughed. At least Teg was pretty sure it was Meg, not Sapphire Wind.
Meg said, “You are caught in the body of a guardian of this Library of which the Sapphire Wind is the genius loci. I suggest you don’t try anything too clever, especially if you wish to continue living. You spoke of three ways your spirit could move on. The Wind assures me that there is a fourth. It can dismiss you, but it would prefer not to do so, since in this form you are useful, and dead you would be of little use.”
Emsehu inclined his head. “I appreciate the consideration. I would prefer to continue as a guardian. For many, many years, my thoughts have been muddled. They are clearer now, and I find I have much to consider.”
“Very good,” Meg said, “as long as you serve faithfully, you may remain.” Meg turned her attention to the rest. “Since we have shown ourselves faithful to our own bargain, Sapphire Wind will research and then release the person it deems most fit to aid us. Which question would we like answered first?”
Her lips shaped a small, amused smile. “Oh! Before we discuss that, let me add that I have also convinced Sapphire Wind of the wisdom of explaining to the archivee what the situation is, therefore ascertaining that whoever is awakened will be willing to assist us.”
“Good thinking, Meg,” Xerak said. “Thank you.” He looked squarely at Grunwold and Vereez. “We could decide which inquisition has priority randomly, rolling dice or something, but in addition to looking for answers to our questions, we should consider the larger tactical picture. We will need a lead or assistance or something that will to help us find the other two pieces.”
“And I suppose,” Grunwold retorted bitterly, “that you’re going to argue that your beloved master would be our best choice. Well, just in case you’re wondering, I’m not sure I could argue against you. I’d been thinking that having a powerful wizard on our side would be useful.”
Xerak shook his head vigorously, his mane tossing with the violence of the motion. “Actually, I wasn’t. I was thinking that we should learn everything we can about a cure for your father. Maybe if we brought Konnel-toh a cure, he’d be grateful enough to fill us in on what happened all those years ago—I mean, immediately after what was shown in the vision. And, well . . . Konnel-toh is seriously ill. We might not have time to mess about.”
Vereez nodded agreement, but when she spoke there was acid in her tone. “I agree. Let’s help Konnel-toh first. I was talking with Peg and Teg earlier about how now that we know the truth about our parents’ pasts, we have some leverage over them. If we find a cure for Grunwold’s father, we’ll have a carrot. If not, there’s always a stick.”
Surprise widened Grunwold’s eyes so much that he almost looked frightened. “You’re serious? You’d choose to find a cure for my father first? Now that we know that he’s, well, one of the villains of this piece, I wasn’t sure that you’d agree we should making saving him a priority. Both of your inquisitions deal with innocents: a missing little girl or Xerak’s master, who may have been kidnapped.”
“Your father is no more of a villain than both of my parents,” Vereez nearly spat. “In fact, if there’s a real villain, it’s my mom. If she hadn’t been so stupid as to let off that spell that started everything burning and exploding . . . ”
Xerak gently thumped Vereez between the ears with two knuckles. “Vereez, you know firsthand how it is when you’ve done too much magic all at once. It’s hard to make good choices. You’re so tired, so disoriented. What’s around you starts seeming a lot less real than the beating of your pulse in your head. I’m not excusing them for what they did—coming here with every intent to steal—but as for Inehem-toh’s choice to throw that lightning sphere, I’m not sure I’d make any wiser choice in a similar circumstance—though I’d throw a fireball.”
Peg glanced up from her knitting. “This is all good, but maybe we should get back to the question of who we’re going to ask Sapphire Wind to awaken?”
Vereez bared her fangs in a bright, flashing smile. “You’re right. I vote that we learn what we can about a cure for Grunwold’s father.”
Grunwold stubbornly shook his head. “I’m still voting for Xerak’s master. We could really use his resources.”
Xerak punched Grunwold in his shoulder. “Sorry, I’m with Vereez. And, listen, before we go any further, I think you’d better get something through that pointy head of yours. Uten Kekui is my master. He’s not required to do anything for me. He might even require me to stop taking part in your inquisitions and get back to my studies.”
Vereez looked shocked. “Surely he’d be grateful enough to offer to help us!”
Teg snorted. “If he needs to be rescued, as Xerak believes, he might be the opposite of grateful. He might feel a need to assert his authority.”
Peg giggled. “Uten Kekui might not even want to be ‘rescued.’ Maybe he’s off visiting his harem or something.” When Xerak looked offended, she sobered. “I’m sorry, Xerak. I know you’re worried, but I was remembering . . . Never mind what. So, Grunwold?”
“All right,” Grunwold said. “I’ll make it unanimous. We’ll ask for information leading to a cure for my father’s illness. For someone who can give us the cure, if possible. After all, the faster we get the cure, the faster we’ll be able to get on the trail of the second and third pieces, right?”
For all his aggressive tone, no one was deceived. Grunwold might have discovered that his father was a thief and a liar, but he hadn’t give up on his hope that Konnel’s life might be saved.
Meg held up one hand, then looked into the middle distance, communing with the Library’s genius loci. Then she nodded.
“Very good. Sapphire Wind says that searching for the appropriate person may take some hours. It suggests that we go back to Slicewind, rest and replenish ourselves. Now that Sapphire Wind is once again in sync with the Spindle of Ba Djed of the Weaver, it will have the power to alert us—well, me—when someone is ready to speak with us.”
“I’m all for going back to the ship,” Peg admitted. “Between spraining my wrist yesterday, and today’s valiant slide for home, I’m all out. Vereez, do you have any more of that muscle rub?”
“Plenty,” Vereez assured her, “and if we run out, I bet I can compound some more.”
Sapphire Wind’s summons did not come until midmorning, by which time Grunwold had polished every bit of brass and wood aboard Slicewind that could be made to shine, and even Vereez had gotten enough sleep. Peg had also slept in, and reported that she felt much less sore. Meg had taken over the table in the lounge so she could have some privacy to write in her journal.
Up on deck, Teg spent some time discussing with Xerak what had happened when she had used the amulet, trying to get a sense for how she’d managed to tap that strange force.
“Could I have had that magical overload you were talking about?” she asked him. “I felt really weird after, both sick to my stomach and wanting to eat everything in sight.”
“It’s possible,” Xerak said. “I wouldn’t have thought that the amulet would have had enough stored mana to summon more silk, especially after the amount you used the first time.”
“Me, either,” Teg admitted. “Actually, after I caulked Emsehu’s jaws, I was pretty certain that was that.”
“Did you do anything to mesh yourself with the amulet?”
“Mesh?” Teg considered. “After I pulled back to give you guys room, I did keep running my fingers over it, like you do with a worry stone, y’know?”
Fleetingly, she wondered if the translation spell could handle the concept, if she should demonstrate, but Xerak nodded.
“May I see the amulet?”
Teg realized that she really, really didn’t want to give it to him.
Which is all the more reason you should, chica. Who knows? If you don’t, you might end up muttering about “My Precious” and turning into a monster.
She reached into her pocket and pulled out the sun spider amulet. If Xerak noticed that she handed it over with undo haste, as if she feared that any delay might make her change her mind, he didn’t comment.
Seating himself on one of the lockers, Xerak cupped the amulet between his hands and muttered to himself. Then he held the amulet up to the light, so he could examine it more closely in the strong morning sunlight.
“Well, this is interesting,” he said. “When I made my first inspection, I thought it was odd that the center stone of the amulet was such a rough, unattractive stone, especially since the setting is a high-carat gold, and the small gemstones are so intricately faceted. However, at the time, we had a lot more to think about, and it was just a relief to find that the amulet had at least limited function. Now I understand what the center stone is.”
Teg had also been studying it, and she hazarded a guess. “It’s a meteorite, isn’t it? In our world those are rare and often valuable. Is it the same here?”
“Very much so,” Xerak agreed. “Some types are particularly valued for use in magic, especially for items meant to resonate with the earth-oriented disciplines.”
“Resonate?” Teg asked.
“As I do with fire,” Xerak said. “Let me explain further.”
He was just entering into a complex and, to Teg, confusing lecture about resonances when Meg looked up from the travel journal she’d been reading, and began staring into the middle distance in what was becoming an alarmingly familiar fashion.
“It’s ready for us. Do we have any of those rich honey-nut clusters left? And any poffee? Sapphire Wind suggests a gift would be a good idea. And this person is likely to be hungry.”
“We definitely do,” Peg said, dropping her knitting into her bag and flexing her fingers. “I know just where they are. I’ll add them to the supply pack.”
With very little delay, the three humans and three inquisitors were making their way along the now familiar trail, alert but no longer apprehensive. When they opened the main doors and entered the reception area, they found that someone had evidently been clearing up some of the rubble. Near the information desk where they had had their picnic, a larger area had been cleaned up, the table had been polished, and more comfortable chairs replaced the benches. Seated at the head of the table, making notes on a slate with a piece of chalk, was an otter-headed woman who looked very much like one of the wizards from the vision in the Font of Sight.
She studied them through eyes that widened when she got her first good look at the humans. “Amazing! So you are the three who have come from another world to help set matters right?”
“We’ve come to help these three,” Meg said with an autocratic gesture toward the inquisitors, “and if that involves setting matters right, then I suppose we are. And you?”
“I am Nefnet,” the otter-headed woman said, “a specialist in matters of illness and—more importantly, for the sake of one of your young inquisitors—in their cures. Come. I have cleared seats around this table so we might more easily consult.”
“If you don’t mind,” Teg said, “I’d like continue the cleanup job. I’m used to listening and working at the same time.”
“I’ll help,” Vereez said. Wordlessly, Xerak joined them.
Peg took one of the offered seats. “I’ll sit. I’m still aching in muscles I’d forgotten from my flying tackle. Sit here, Grunwold,” she said, patting the chair next to her and motioning to Grunwold.
Grunwold obeyed. After he had settled, he slid the package of honey and nut clusters across the table. “Here. I mean, thank you. We’d like you to have these.”
Meg, who had seated herself on Grunwold’s other side, inclined her head in a slight nod of approval.
Nefnet looked at Grunwold. “You’re the young man whose father is ill? You do look rather like one of the thieves.”
“Yeah, I do or did,” he said gruffly, then realized that he probably sounded ruder than he meant. “I am. I’m sorry. He doesn’t look much like me now. I’m still trying to fit the dad I’ve known all my life to all this new information.”
“I understand,” Nefnet replied. “Sudden revelations are very hard to take.”
Teg glanced over, but the expression on the otter’s face didn’t seem to be sarcastic.
As Peg took out her knitting, she asked, “Are you a doctor, then?”
“I am not,” Nefnet replied, “although depending on what ailed you, I might be able to serve adequately. Rather, I am a scholar who has taken an interest in various forms of illness, how they evolve over time, why they effect certain people and not others.”
“Closer then,” Meg said, “to what in our world would be termed a medical PhD.”
Nefnet nodded, so the term must have translated. She turned to face Grunwold, although—quite clearly—she was fascinated by the humans, almost to the point of distraction.
“Tell me what you can about your father’s illness.”
Grunwold began by describing his father’s symptoms, which sounded, Teg thought, something like Parkinson’s disease, although with the addition of patches of numbness that had, apparently, been among the earliest symptoms. Whatever it was, it didn’t sound good.
After asking several more questions of the sort meant to eliminate one option in favor of another, Nefnet said, “Do you know how long he’s had this?”
Grunwold shook his head. “Not precisely. My parents didn’t talk about his being ill until it became impossible to hide that something was wrong.” He didn’t conceal his bitterness. “That was just a few years ago. But from things they’ve said here and there, I’ve gotten the impression that Dad’s been declining for several years. Now he’s in bad enough shape that . . . ”
He shook his head apologetically, clearly too choked up to speak.
When Nefnet began asking what Grunwold knew regarding treatments his father had tried, an interesting point emerged. Despite his evident wealth, Konnel had refused to consult experts, settling for a local healer who was only asked to treat specific issues, like a rash or very dry skin.
“I never knew why,” Grunwold said. “Now, from what we’ve learned here, I wonder if he was worried that some of his past—let’s call them exploits—would be discovered if someone looked to closely into his history.”
“Indeed possible,” Nefnet replied. “Obviously, you don’t know a great deal about your father’s younger years. Moreover, whatever you were told would be suspect. However, tell me what you know. Then I’ll examine you.”
Peg’s knitting needles paused in midclick. Everyone else froze. Teg realized she was holding her breath.
“Why do you want to examine him?” Peg asked.
Grunwold looked down at the table, then raised his gaze resolutely. “Because I have it, too. I don’t know how Nefnet guessed, but she’s right. It’s not very far advanced but, whatever it is that’s killing my dad, I have it, too.”
A general clamor arose, through which Nefnet said nothing, not even in response to direct questions. Grunwold finally raised a hand for silence.
“I didn’t say anything because I was afraid of two things: that you’d think I was just looking for a cure for myself, which I’m not, and because I worried you’d think I might be contagious, which I don’t think I am. Got it?”
“Why don’t you think you’re contagious?” Vereez asked, her tone one of curiosity, not accusation.
“Because as far as I can remember, my parents have never taken any precautions—and believe me, if she thought anyone else might catch whatever this is, my mom would take them. Xerak, remember the summer you spent with us?”
“When one of the servants came back from holiday with mange?” Xerak said. “Do I ever! That preparation your mom had everyone wash with stank like . . . like . . . like nothing else I’ve ever smelled.”
His ears folded back at the memory. “And Sefit-toh wouldn’t let us go anywhere or do anything fun until she had eradicated the mange from the estate—and what’s worse, we didn’t even have it! You were a complete grump but, now that I think about it, since we couldn’t go anywhere, I did a lot of reading. That’s when I started getting serious about studying magic. So I guess the quarantine wasn’t a complete loss.”
Grunwold snorted. “For you . . . I . . . ” He stopped himself with visible effort. “The point is, my mother was always like that about anything she thought might spread. If she thought my father had something that might be contagious, she would definitely have taken precautions.”
“So she—and he—knew something,” Nefnet said thoughtfully. “Did you tell them that you had symptoms?”
Grunwold shook his head. “My symptoms only started a few months before Xerak and Vereez told me they were going to Hettua Shrine. I’d already decided that, since no one else seemed to be doing anything, I was going to find a cure for Dad.”
He looked at them all. “Honest!”
Meg reached up to pat him on one muscular shoulder. “We believe you, Grunwold. Now finish giving Nefnet your father’s treatment history, then let her examine you. If you need privacy, we can go do some cleanup. Certainly there’s plenty to clear away before anything like repairs to the Library can begin.”
For the first time since they’d met him, Grunwold looked vulnerable. “Please, stay. I’ve been hiding this for so long. I’m tired of hiding.”
After a detailed examination, Nefnet seemed hopeful but she would not promise a cure—at least not for Konnel.
“For you, Grunwold,” she said, “there is hope, because the disease has not had an opportunity to become as deeply rooted. For your father, all I can offer is a remission—and that only if you are willing to repeatedly provide the material from which the treatment will be made. I’ll be honest, I’ll need to draw some of the blood from the center of your bones, and getting that will be very painful.”
She went on to describe what sounded to Teg—whose knowledge of medical procedures was scattered and eclectic—like a magically assisted bone-marrow transfer. Grunwold’s own treatment would be simpler.
“Had your symptoms progressed to the point of muscle or nerve tremors,” Nefnet said, “I would offer less hope, but I could find not the least trace of either of these.”
This explained some of the very peculiar postures she had requested Grunwold assume, along with her insistence that he lie on the floor with small containers of various liquids distributed over his prone and supine form in turn.
Vereez asked impatiently, “How long before you can begin treating Grunwold?”
It was hard to imagine such an expression on an otter’s amiable features, but nonetheless Nefnet’s smile was cruel. “Had your parents not set in motion the destruction of this library, I could have begun almost immediately. However, now it will be necessary to see what remains of my books, equipment, and supplies. I will also need to check whether some of the plants in the gardens I tended have survived in a useful form.”
“Don’t,” Peg snapped, looking far more ferocious than Nefnet, “you start blaming these young people for what their parents did—did, I remind you—before any of them were born. Got it?”
Nefnet looked as if she was going to snap back, then she subsided. “You’re right, human. I apologize. Unborn children cannot be blamed for their parents’ crimes. In my own defense, let me explain that for over two decades I have existed in a dream state where I was aware—even when the dreams were delightful—that something had gone horribly wrong. It is a miracle that I did not lose my sanity.”
Meg’s lips curved in a smile that held compassion, rather than amusement. “Sapphire Wind drained itself to provide those dreams to you and to all those it saved. Now the means to begin the recovery has finally come. Let’s not let anger stop us before we have begun.”
“If you give me a list of the plants,” Xerak added, “I can check whether any of those you need are still growing here. My master felt a solid grounding in plants both medicinal and magical was an important part of a well-rounded wizard’s education.”
“I’ll go with you,” Vereez said. “I have some background in herbal lore, and I can guard your back in case a lizard parrot or piranha toad gets the peculiar idea that you actually look appetizing.”
“And the rest of us,” Teg said, “will help Nefnet locate the books and such she needs. I trust she will not protest?”
Frank curiosity regarding the humans won out over Nefnet’s anger. “I would welcome a chance to get to know more about you. And your help would speed matters along.”
“We’ll protect you, too,” Grunwold said. “Even with Emsehu on our side, the library’s not as safe it was.”