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CHAPTER SIX

“I wish every field camp was this easy to set up,” Teg commented a short time later.

Grunwold had brought Slicewind down over a promising spot, held it in place while Vereez and Xerak scouted to make sure they wouldn’t land the ship on something’s nest or burrow, and that the ground beneath the thick grass was relatively level. When the scouts gave the okay, skids were attached to brackets on the outside of the hull, so that Slicewind could rest on the ground without damage to the keel. There was even a set of portable steps that made going up and down easy.

“It is rather like having a deluxe RV,” Peg said.

“That flies,” Teg said, patting the ship affectionately. “Even if the field school could afford an RV, we wouldn’t be able to get it to most of the places where we need to camp on-site.”

Their chosen campsite was near a freshwater stream with a pool deep enough that a siphon pump could be dropped in, making getting water into the ship a simple and civilized matter.

“We’ll need to lock up, then trust to Slicewind’s wards when we go exploring the ruins,” Grunwold said. “I wouldn’t want to leave any fewer than two people behind, and that would leave only four to poke around. Given some of what Meg has been reading to us . . . ”

Peg looked unwontedly worried. “Better we stay together.”

Xerak said, “I know we brought supplies, but how about we set a few snares, Grun?”

Vereez cut in. “I’d love to have fresh meat as much as anyone, but what if we caught some monster? How about we settle for fish and what green stuff we can forage for here?”

“If you can acquaint me with the equipment,” Meg said, “I would be happy to sit and fish. Charles, my late husband, loved to fish, and I acquired the skill—and the patience—over many a summer trip.”

Teg also was good at fishing, but she was itching to explore, and was relieved when Peg—whose ex-son-in-law, Arnold, as it turned out, had also loved to fish—offered to join Meg.

The inquisitors were clearly surprised that genteel Meg was skilled in something as smelly as fishing, but they took her up on her offer. Before long, Meg, and Peg were casting glittering lures over the water. This world didn’t have fancy fiberglass rods or the like, but a flexible plant whose name translated as whipweed served very well. The fish must have liked the brightly colored yarns Peg used to augment their lures, or maybe there hadn’t been any fishing here for so long that they had lost any suspicion. For whatever reason, the catch was ample and the fresh fish, augmented with greens and tubers gathered by Xerak and Grunwold, tasted great.

Over dinner, they finished refining their plans.

“The trail we’ll be following is pretty narrow,” Grunwold began. “Since I’m fairly good with a sword, I’ll take point. Xerak, how fast can you get your magic into play if we need it?”

“If I prepare in advance, like I did before we got Slicewind out of the boat house, fairly fast,” Xerak said. “Just remember, if I do too much, I’m going to be useless.”

“More useless,” Grunwold shot back, automatically mocking. “But seriously, it’s good to know we can count on magical support if something goes wrong. Vereez, can you take rear guard? We hear better than the humans do. Catch scents better, too.”

“No problem,” Vereez said, looking up from where she was carefully inspecting her twin swords, cleaning them as if her life might depend on the sheen of the copper blades.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Teg interrupted, “but how useful will swords with copper blades be in an actual fight? I’d think copper would be too soft to hold an edge well.”

Vereez bared her teeth in a smile. “Oh, these blades are made from copper that’s been magically hardened. They’ll hold an edge as well as steel, better even, if I take proper care of them.”

“That’s good then,” Teg said. “I’d gathered from some of our chats that you haven’t had the military training Grunwold has had, but you’re kickass when you and Peg have been fencing.”

“I haven’t had military training,” Vereez admitted, “but I took a class back when I was small enough that my parents both thought that their little girl waving a sword about was cute. I turned out to have a knack for swordplay, and have kept up with it since. I’ve even represented my school at tournaments. But I’ve never cut anyone except by accident. I don’t even like hunting.”

“Thanks,” Teg said. “Sorry, General Grunwold, pray, continue.”

“I thought we’d put you three humans in the middle,” Grunwold said. “Any suggestions as to order?”

“I’ll take the next-to-rear position,” Peg said promptly, “since I have some skill with a sword—although, like Vereez, I’ve never cut someone in anger.”

Something about the way Peg stressed “cut,” made Teg suspect that if angered, sword in hand or not, Peg could be formidable. Remembering a few arguments at book club, Teg decided to upgrade “could” to “would.”

“Let me have the fourth position,” Meg said. “As Teg demonstrated earlier, when we were cutting brush for the cook fire, she at least can use a machete, so she could back up you, Grunwold, while Xerak gets his spell ready. I fear I would be needing protection, rather than otherwise.”

“Good then,” Grunwold said. “That leaves the question of what other supplies we’ll bring, and who should carry what.”

They went over their plans with such care that when they actually set out, shortly after dawn the next morning, Teg had a curious sense that they’d already gone hiking together before.

In addition to his sword, Grunwold carried a long spear with which he probed the ground whenever a fallen tree or some other obstacle meant that they had to venture off the narrow trail that, based on their maps, might be the remnant of what had once been a broad, paved road. A few times, his care saved them from stepping into holes or, one time, a nest of something like snakes. Xerak strode alertly along, his spear staff held with familiar confidence in his right hand. He wore a machete at his belt, both as a tool, and as a backup weapon.

The three humans—clad in the hiking clothes they’d brought from home—came next. Teg’s daypack held a variety of small tools, including a whisk broom. They’d debated bringing shovels, but had decided those could wait until they’d done their preliminary scouting.

Next came Meg who shouldered a light pack holding what they hoped would be the most useful of the books and maps, then Peg. In one hand, Peg held a light, flexible sword from Slicewind’s stores. Peg also carried the pack holding lunch—and a pair of socks she was knitting: “In case we end up sitting around while Teg does something archeological.” Vereez brought up the rear.

Their first day among the ruins, they didn’t find the hoped for door. They didn’t even find the main library building. However, they did establish several encouraging data points, including that the trail they were following was definitely the same road which had led between the library complex proper and the village where (as their research had confirmed) the support staff and junior librarians had lived.

They also established that, despite the seemingly complete destruction as seen from the air—something they all had found discouraging—more of the complex was at least partially intact than had seemed possible.

“It’s as if portions of the ground simply dropped straight down,” Teg said, hunkering to inspect a section of wall from which they’d trimmed the enshrouding vines. “From above, this seemed like the remnants of a wall, the upper portion of which had broken or crumbled away. Up close . . .  I’m guessing this is the top of the wall, probably adjoining the roof. See there? That’s where the roof supports would have gone.”

Grunwold—sweaty but without the rank body odor Teg was familiar with from many a young archeologist—crouched next to her and peered down. “Do you think the roof caved in?”

“Probably. I’d love to look but”—she sighed and pushed herself to her feet—“this isn’t the doorway into the Library, and I’ll save the risky stuff for excavating that.”

Meg had kept busy making notes on a rough map. “Not that we’ll be likely to miss this place—not with all the pruning you have done—but better to be meticulous.”

Peg chuckled. “You don’t fool me. You’re taking notes for when you write your own addition to Kuvekt’s collection of explorer’s journals.”

Meg’s pink-and-white complexion was no good at hiding blushes. “Well, I did think . . .  I mean, don’t you think Kuvekt-lial would enjoy a less sensational, more practical, text?”

Peg gave Meg a quick hug. “He would and, like every librarian I’ve ever met, you secretly want to write a book of your own, don’t you?”

“I’m all for Meg writing the star volume of Kuvekt-lial’s,” Teg agreed. “Let’s work from here long enough to get a general sense of how large this building is, its relation to the road, and to other structures. We can then compare that information to the maps we have back on Slicewind. That will help us refine our search tomorrow.”

Both that day and the next, they continued in this fashion. Their course took them gradually uphill, into an area where towering trees—possibly the remnants of the Library’s original ornamental plantings—competed with secondary growth of vines, smaller shrubs, and a wide variety of opportunistic plants.

Grunwold, now that he was aware of the significance of plant growth, noted wherever a seemingly solid patch of growth was likely to indicate a hidden or collapsed structure.

“I feel like Indiana Jones in the first movie,” Peg said, slapping at something multilegged and emerald green. The local equivalents of mosquitoes and biting flies didn’t care for the taste of human, but that didn’t mean some of them didn’t sample. “The one that starts in the jungle. I hope we don’t find a pit of snakes, next.”


On the fourth day of exploration, they confirmed the location of the main library building. They also met their first taste of the dangers that they had begun to believe were nothing more than travelers’ tall tales.

It wasn’t that they hadn’t encountered some nasty creatures. When fishing the second evening, Meg had pulled up something that looked like the offspring of a lobster and a circular saw blade. The crustacean hadn’t been much larger than a salad plate, but it had buzzed its claws so threateningly that Meg—normally preternaturally calm—had shrieked at the top of her lungs.

Upon seeing what had startled her, Vereez had yelped in delight and netted the noisy little horror, which turned out to be considered something of a delicacy. Vereez had caught several others, and couldn’t stop thanking Meg for her find, speculating that the lake might have been stocked with them, since they weren’t usually found far inland.

The “lobsaws,” as Peg dubbed them, were tasty, but after that the three humans restricted themselves to paddling in the clearest sections of the stream, where the pale beige sand clearly revealed anything that was sharing the water.

Heru had had several nasty encounters with something the inquisitors called “efindon,” and which Peg dubbed “lizard parrots.” Only the fact that the lizard parrots were more gliders than flyers, and that they seemed genetically adverse to cooperation, saved the mini pterodactyl from serious injury. After that, Heru decided that staying near Slicewind and trying to steal Peg’s yarn was more amusing than solo exploration.

Xerak drifted off the third evening—probably to drink, Teg thought, for although he hid the signs well, she had experience with more than one secret drinker. He came jogging back, tail lashing, eyes wild and scraggly mane wild, to report that he’d had a brush with a small pack of qwesemu, creatures built more or less like a wolf, but with quills like a porcupine. He’d frightened them off with a pyrotechnic scatter, and taken to his heels. Peg dubbed these “spike wolves.”

Peg—especially since the translation spell actually adopted her terms—became annoyed when Meg, who had been carefully recording the creatures’ actual names, tried to get Peg and Teg to use them.

“Why can’t you call a qwesemu a ‘qwesemu,’ not a ‘spike wolf’?” Meg said with a quiet patience that did not hide her exasperation.

“Because the one is just a funny-sounding word, and the other is descriptive,” Peg replied sharply. “I need to remember why I’m supposed to be scared of something, not try to remember if it’s pronounced qweh-semu or qwes-eh-mu when I glimpse one lurking in the underbrush.”

“You have a point,” Meg admitted, but she persisted in her efforts to learn the local language.

Although to the humans the spike wolves and lizard parrots seemed distinctly monstrous, the inquisitors seemed to feel that the encounters were more or less “normal” events.

Not much different, Teg thought, from the brushes I’ve had had with skunks, coyotes, even mountain lions and bears, on my more isolated field projects.

The encounter with the piranha toads was completely different.

They’d headed out that morning carrying shovels and trundling a flatbed cart, in addition to their usual kits, for they felt sure they would find the entry to the main library building that day. To this point, there had been no sign of the towering doors depicted in their research materials, but bits of paving and an anomalously intact ornamental pedestal—now so smothered in vines that they’d taken it for a shrub until Meg suggested they check it more closely—had pinpointed the location.

Teg had wanted to start clearing right away, but Grunwold—who by benefit of his role as owner/captain of Slicewind had been landed with the role of organizer, if not precisely leader—insisted they had to head back to Slicewind before the spike wolves and other nocturnal creatures started prowling.

“If you humans had better night vision,” he grumbled, “we could stay out, but you don’t.”

“At least you didn’t say we’re too old,” Peg said, heaving herself to her feet. “I’m all for getting back and putting some heat on my lower back.”


Back aboard Slicewind, once dinner had been made, and Vereez had been reminded that it was her turn to do the dishes, Teg and Meg sat in the table in the lounge pouring over maps and drawings.

“I think that’s where the entrance should be,” Teg said, lightly penciling in a five-pointed star to mark the spot. “These landmarks should help us find it.”

“It’s a pity we lack photographs,” Meg said. “With drawings there’s always the chance of an artist’s interpretation adding an element of inaccuracy.”

“Photos can have the same problems,” Teg assured her. “Angle, type of lens, even lighting can distort. That’s why solid landmarks—like that statue you found depicting the Library’s founder, Dmen Qeres—are so valuable.”

Peg, who was sitting in one of the cushy chairs, a hot water bottle at the small of her back, her fingers busy knitting some fingerless gloves from a heavy material more like string than yarn, spoke around a yawn. “Just remember, Teg. We’re not here to do archeology. We’re here to find the doors.”

Teg sighed. “I haven’t forgotten. But . . . ”

“We’ve already been in this world for eighteen days, since we told our families we were going on our trip,” Meg said. “At a scale of seven to one, that’s not even three full days. Nonetheless, we need to consider the passage of time.”

“Promise, no letting archeological fervor distract me from our goal,” Teg said, raising her hand in something vaguely like a Boy Scout’s salute, although when she thought about it, she realized she might have gotten it mixed up with the Vulcan one, from Star Trek.


The next morning, Teg was up before first light, reassuring herself that the weather was not going to interfere with their expedition. She found Grunwold also awake, neatly arranging shovels, coils of rope, oil lanterns, and devices that worked much like flashlights, although the “bulb” was a magically enhanced crystal.

“I’ll get breakfast started,” she said. “Peg’s in the shower, and Meg’s getting dressed.”

Meg emerged a short time later. “I’ll pack us a lunch, just in case we don’t want to come back here before dark.”

Despite mild protests from Vereez, who even after a long day would stay up for hours, and Xerak, who probably had a hangover, the three mentors and three inquisitors were on the trail to the ruins while the dew was still drying on the grass.

Once they were on the site, despite her promise of the night before, Teg couldn’t help falling into her usual archeological protocols. She eased the likelihood of complaints by putting the three inquisitors to work in the area where the door was most likely to be located, then recruited Peg and Meg to help her create a fresh map using the few certain landmarks they’d found, then shading in details from the map they’d made using the brochures and books they’d gotten from Kuvekt.

Teg paced off distances, something she could do with close accuracy, and Meg handled the sketching. Peg climbed up onto the pedestal holding the statue of Dmen Qeres to get a better perspective of the scene and compare it to her map.

“There was a statue like this at my college,” she mused aloud as she settled herself, “of one of the early deans or something. It was just like this—academic gown, the book open between his hands. I swear that even allowing for the fact that this fellow has a raven’s head, the expression was just the same. Pompous and wiser-than-thou. It was like a challenge, y’know. People used to write rude things on the book’s pages.”

She stood on tiptoe, so she could look at the book the statue held, then read aloud, “‘Underfoot is the priceless gem, keystone you require.’ Huh, that’s weird. Maybe I got the first word wrong? Shouldn’t it be something like wisdom or knowledge or education?”

“Is that actually written there?” Meg asked, her voice oddly tight.

“Sure! You don’t think I could make up something like that? When I took my turn writing in our dean’s book, I quoted some of Jim Morrison’s lyrics.”

“What’s strange,” Meg said, closing her journal, in which she’d been sketching their site map, “is that yesterday, after we found the statue, I got up on the pedestal—I had Xerak give me a boost—so I could look at the book. I will swear that the pages were blank.”

“Slide over, Peg,” Teg said, trotting over. “I want to take a look.”

“I’ll hop down,” Peg said, lowering herself onto her butt before making the drop to save her knees.

Teg clambered up, feeling the aches in her calves from the last couple of days’ hikes. “Peg’s absolutely right, Meg. Those words are here, but I completely believe you when you say they weren’t yesterday. The inscription doesn’t look nearly worn enough to have been exposed to weather for two decades, much less going back to when the Library was founded. Peg, would you get Xerak? We need a wizard’s opinion.”

When Xerak took his turn, leaping up with an effortless grace that was practically feline—Or maybe I’ve just forgotten what it was like to be in my early twenties, Teg thought ruefully—he was equally baffled.

“After Meg had taken a look,” he admitted, “I did, too. The pages were blank and smooth. What’s weird is that they’re still smooth, like these words were painted on, not carved.”

“Can you, uh, ‘detect magic’ or something?” Peg asked. “I played D&D with my grandkids and their friends, and that’s a pretty basic spell.”

Xerak looked confused. “I thought you said you didn’t have magic in your world.”

“We don’t,” Peg said cheerfully, “but that doesn’t mean we can’t pretend. Can you detect any magic?”

Xerak closed his eyes and concentrated, then waved both hands and the tip of his tail. “There’s something. Faint. Almost as if it came from inside the statue? That’s not quite right, but it’s the best I can manage.”

“Maybe,” Meg offered, “there was a spell in the statue, one that would provide inspiration if anyone climbed up and looked at the page. Maybe what you and I did yesterday activated the magic but, because of all the damage to the Library, the book took a while to provide a quote. That would explain why this doesn’t make much sense. The mechanism could have been damaged when the Library was.”

“Makes as much sense as anything,” Xerak agreed, jumping down. From the way his tail kept lashing, Teg would have bet he wasn’t at all satisfied. “Well, we’ve been moving dirt and rock, but you ladies win the prize for the most interesting find. Figures. Come see what we’ve uncovered.”

While the three mentors had been mapping, the sweating inquisitors had cleared away sufficient of the encroaching vegetation to discover that here—as in so many places—the ground was broken and uneven. Foundation lines showed how part of a wall remained on their level, while the rest of the same wall marched on a good five to eight meters below.

“The doors, if they’re here at all,” Vereez said, panting slightly and accepting Teg’s canteen with a grateful swish of her tail, “probably are associated with a part of the building that dropped down.”

Teg knelt and inspected the buckled pavement, which was made from flat, hexagonal stones. “Down and possibly to one side or another. See how these pavers have shifted? According to the drawings in the brochures, there was an elaborate ornamental pavement leading up to the main entrance. This is part of that pavement, but torqued.”

“Any sense which way?” Grunwold asked eagerly.

Teg shook her head. “Not with this small a sample, but if we clear some more . . . ”

Peg marched over, grasped the handles of a small, wheeled flatbed cart laden with the vegetation the inquisitors cut away, and groaned theatrically. “Let’s get to it!”


They worked steadily, taking a quick break for lunch, then getting back to work almost before they were done chewing.

Maybe it was the rumble of the cart. Maybe it was the general excitement of being near their goal, but none of them—not even sharp-eared Vereez—noticed the piranha toads until one snared Peg around her middle with its tongue. She, very sensibly, screamed, then even more sensibly added, “Help! I’m being eaten by a piranha toad!”

The piranha toads were the size of a compact car, a mottled deep purple. They resembled a toad in that they were squat, as wide as they were long, and possessed of enormous mouths. These mouths boasted multiple rows of needle-sharp teeth, tightly spaced except for a gap in the middle through which the tongue—a cord of startling violet—snapped out.

Those teeth, Teg thought wildly, must be the piranha part.

“Feerranu!” Vereez shouted, turning around, the shovel she’d been using on some stubborn roots in hand. “But these are enormous!”

Not sparing time for a reply, Grunwold loped down the slope, machete in hand, heading toward Peg.

Meg—who was perched up on a heap of masonry where she could take notes without being in the way—called in a voice so calm and cool that she might have been announcing that the library would be closing in fifteen minutes, “Two more of the feerranu are emerging from the undergrowth, to the right and left of the one that has Peg.”

“Let us know if you see others,” Xerak yelled. “Vereez, deal with the one on the left. I’ll take the one on the right.”

“Got it!” The reply was more like a sharp yap than a word as, still holding the shovel, Vereez charged.

Teg paused, looking for her own opening. Digging while wearing swords had proven too cumbersome, so no one was wearing weapons, although Xerak had his spear staff. She didn’t even have a machete, and the whisk broom she’d been using to clear pavement wasn’t much of a weapon.

Grunwold had reached Peg’s captor. Teg thought he’d smash it in the head. Instead he brought down the machete’s blade in a carefully aimed strike and sliced through its tongue. Blood the ridiculous blue of raspberry popsicles showered forth.

Peg dropped, rolling frantically in an effort to get free from the binding tongue. Teg grabbed a shovel, and went to help her. After that, if it hadn’t been for Meg’s occasional calls of encouragement and direction, she would have had no sense of what was going on around her.

“Nicely done, Grunwold!”

“Xerak, if you’re done bashing yours, I believe Vereez could use help. Two more of those feerranu just came out not far from her.”

“Teg! Leave Peg be. There’s one coming at you.”

Teg swung her shovel blindly, felt it hit something that felt like an under-inflated tire, heard a grunt of . . .  pain? Surprise?

Nearby, Peg was on her feet, her face blue with the piranha toad’s blood, streaked with tears, but her expression was angry, not afraid. Teg got between her and the creature, smacking it directly in the mouth when it began to open its jaws, the coiled tongue visible through the gap in its teeth.

“Good hit!” Peg said. “I want a shovel, too. Fucking son of a bastard bitch tried to eat me!”

Teg flashed a grin at her. “Looks as if the inquisitors have things under control . . . ”

Meg’s voice cut her off. “Everyone, back up! Get up to where we were excavating. I see some qwesemu—spike wolves—in the forest. They’re hesitating . . . ”

No wonder, Teg thought as she’d worked her awkward way up the slope—a job made infinitely harder because she wasn’t going to turn her back on the battle. The original three piranha toads were down, although still twitching. Xerak was using his staff to scientifically batter another. Vereez had reverted to the two-handed style of her training, machete in one hand, a steel trowel from Teg’s dig kit in the other. Between her and Grunwold yet another piranha toad, this one an enormous specimen the size of a VW bus, was getting the worst of it.

Heru, who had been frantically circling over the battle, began to croak, “Lizard parrots! Lizard parrots! Lizard parrots!”

“No, you idiot!” Grunwold cursed. “These are piranha toads not . . . ”

But the orange and green xuxu had not been wrong. A flock of the lizard parrots were gliding in, for once in agreement with each other. Whether they intended to scavenge or join the battle was unclear, but no one was taking a chance.

With a final slash at their deflating opponent, Vereez and Grunwold broke for the slight bit of open ground offered by the dig site. Xerak brought his staff down in a powerful two-handed blow between the piranha toad’s eyes and did the same, not waiting to see if he’d killed or only stunned his opponent.

Behind them was the pit into which at least part of the Library had dropped. In front, the spike wolves were beginning to stalk stiff legged, quills rattling, from cover. Above, the lizard parrots swirled, random members of the flock darting down to test their defense. The inquisitors positioned themselves to the fore, Xerak in the middle, Vereez to his left, Grunwold to his right. Grunwold had his spear now. Vereez was feinting with Teg’s trowel in an adaptation of her usual two-handed fighting style.

Xerak, meanwhile was clearly preparing to do something wizardly. As on the night they’d stolen Slicewind, this involved an intricate dance, employing not only arms and legs, hands and feet, but tail. Teg, standing slightly behind and to one side of Vereez, forced herself to not watch the almost hypnotic motions. She didn’t think the bulky piranha toads could get up here but the spike wolves and lizard parrots were another matter.

She saw motion in the growth to one side, something creeping along, stealthily taking advantage of the confusion to move in on their flank. Based on size and shape, it might be one of the spike wolves.

I thought Grunwold said those were nocturnal.

Grabbing her shovel more tightly, Teg prepared to swing. Maybe the creature saw the motion and decided to get the jump on her while it could. While still several yards away, it leapt, but misjudged the distance. Its jaws snapped harmlessly, inches from her face. Its body caught Teg squarely in the torso and knocked her back and into the dank depths.

***

Thought and Memory were walking up and down her, the way they did when they wanted to wake her up to feed them. Thought probed Teg’s cheek with a cool nose. Memory gently nipped her wrist.

“Go ’way,” Teg muttered. “I wanna sleep.”

The cats persisted. Now someone was yelling. Hadn’t she gotten rid of the clock radio because she hated waking up to some DJ shouting? Better a buzz or electronic chirping.

“Teg! Teg!”

The voices were familiar. What was the book club doing at her house? They always met at Pagearean Books. Was it a holiday? Valentine’s Day? They were going to have a small group, just Meg and Peg and her: the widow, the divorcee, and the luckless loser.

Memory nipped her wrist again. This time, at the sharp pain, Teg remembered everything, including the spike wolf hitting her in the chest and her falling. She felt under her, realized she’d landed on a pad of accumulated plant matter, thick enough to be springy.

Should she move? What if she’d broken something? She didn’t hurt too much, but would she hurt if she’d broken her back? Teg decided—for the moment at least—to settle for shouting. Though what if that spike wolf was somewhere near? Well, she guessed she’d learn if she could move then.

“Uh, hello!”

“Teg! Teg! You’re alive!” Peg’s voice.

Teg laughed painfully. “I think so. Maybe I’m just an echo or a talking xuxu like Heru.”

“Don’t move,” Meg said, her voice even calmer than usual—a sure sign she was panicked. “Right after you fell, Xerak released some sort of electrical charge that made the lizard parrots decide the spike wolves were a better target than us. When the lizard parrots started attacking them, the spike wolves headed for the undergrowth. Most of the piranha toads are either dead or retreated when the spike wolves showed up. We should be able to get to our gear and come after you in just a few minutes.”

“I’ll wait here,” Teg said, “at least unless something comes after me. Can I have some light? There’s a little down here, but not a lot.”

Peg’s voice. “I’ll get a lantern and lower it to you.”

Teg lay as still as she could, fighting panic. It helped when the lantern was lowered and imaginary monsters were banished further into the surrounding shadows. Carefully turning her head, she saw that she was on a ledge at least two meters wide and quite long. The faded browns and greens of the accumulated leaves and less identifiable vegetation were sprinkled with fresh material from their cutting and sweeping above.

There was no sign of the spike wolf that had knocked her down here. Possibly it had managed to scrabble out, possibly it hadn’t fallen, but had rebounded from her to vanish into the undergrowth. Above Teg could hear a smattering of her companions’ chatter as they worked to rescue her.

Vereez was first down, then Peg, still grimy and stained with blue blood from her encounter with the piranha toad, but chattering about how she’d repeatedly qualified in first aid—and even second and third—when various of her children, grandchildren, and the like had been involved in various terrifying activities. Once they had assured themselves that Teg was unbroken, they helped her stand.

“You’re lucky you don’t have a tail,” Vereez said, “or landing like you did, you might have a bad break.”

“There’s something to be said for unadorned butts,” Teg agreed, carefully feeling her legs and sides, wincing occasionally. The vegetation she’d landed on had saved her serious injury—there was no doubt of that—but she had some interesting scrapes.

“Walk around a bit,” Peg urged, handing Teg one of the flashlights. “We don’t want you to stiffen up. They’re rigging a sling to pull us up, since I, at least, have no skill in rope climbing.”

“What!” Vereez teased. “Your third daughter didn’t study it?”

Peg shook her head. “No, Esmerelda was more into domestic arts than gymnastics. She is an excellent baker, but not much of a gymnast. Now her Denise . . . ”

Teg half listened as she paced back and forth, examining the area more by habit than by interest. Right now, she hardly cared about ruins and lost libraries. She wanted a smoke and then a long soak or maybe both at the same time. But the habits of a lifetime guided her eyes, if not her mind. At the edge of the ledge, she found herself slowing, then stopping.

“Peg, did you say they were rigging some sort of sling to help us up?”

“That’s right.”

“They might want to come down instead.”

“What? Why?”

Teg motioned with the beam of the flashlight. “Because, if I’m not mistaken, down there are the doors into the Library of the Sapphire Wind.”


The other three were down in record time, especially given they needed to bring the others’ gear with them. Meg, who had been lowered, rather than climbing, hurried over to where Teg stood examining the double paneled door by methodically moving the flashlight’s beam from side to side.

“That’s definitely it!” Meg cried in delight. “Look at those curlicues carved around the edges, the pattern near the lock panel. Those are exactly like the pictures!”

“Except,” Teg said dryly, “those doors were part of a building that stood at the crest of a hill. These are—what?—ten meters down?”

“At least,” Xerak agreed. “This ledge is a bit over four meters down, and I’d say that’s twice as far. I wonder what happened?”

“I,” Grunwold said, trotting over to join them, a coil of rope over one muscular shoulder, “wonder if we can get the door open once we’re down there.” He shone his own flashlight over to one side, illuminating a section of sturdy tree trunk. “That looks like a battering ram to me.”

“Maybe that just fell down here,” Peg said hopefully, then shook her head in negation of her own statement. “No, that would be more unlikely than . . . ”

“An entire building dropping at least ten meters and staying intact?” Teg shrugged. “Speculation will only get us so far. Grunwold, do you think you can get us safely down there?”

Grunwold massaged the base of one antler thoughtfully. “I thought we’d start with Vereez and me going down to scout.”

“But . . . ” Teg began, then remembered the spike wolf that had knocked her over the edge, the piranha toads, the lizard parrots, and who knew what else that might be down there. She reluctantly nodded agreement to the wisdom of his suggestion. “All right. But I want to go down before you start poking around and messing up the site.”

“It’s not ‘all right’ with me,” Xerak cut in. “I should go down instead of Grunwold, probably with Vereez. We both have more applicable magical skills.”

“Grunwold, you’re also stronger than either of us,” Vereez said, “and the best at armed combat. If any of the creatures we left up top come down . . . ”

Grunwold glowered, but he didn’t argue. The descent was delayed while the remaining lanterns were lit. Then Peg was nominated to keep watch for anything coming down from above.

“Fine with me,” she quipped. “I wouldn’t trust Teg or Meg not to get distracted. Just don’t forget to tell me what’s going on.”

“Keep the chatter down,” Grunwold grumped, anchoring his rope to a projecting chunk of rock. “We can’t hear ourselves think.”

“I’m not surprised,” Peg shot back, “with the sort of thoughts you’re having echoing in your head. We need you calm, not sulky.”

Grunwold looked astonished, then sheepish—his big ears drooping. “Sorry. But I’m honestly worried about what noise might bring. We’re not in the safest of places.”

“Point taken,” Peg said. “I can wait to hear the exciting details.”

Grunwold clearly wanted to protest when Vereez insisted on being the first one down, but he couldn’t disagree that she was a good choice. She was the lightest, quick on her feet, whereas Xerak, especially with his staff in hand, was more encumbered. Vereez took a few steps across the bracken-strewn ground below.

“Solid stone pavement,” Vereez called. “Probably the same mosaic pattern that we were looking at above.”

Teg glanced back up, then down again, estimating distances. The hilltop had fallen away in stages, leaving this ledge first at four meters, then the lowest another six or seven meters further down.

And the doors stayed standing, she thought. If I didn’t already have ample reason to believe in magic, that might do it.

Teg was all too aware that the day wasn’t getting any younger. They’d put in several hours of work before the attack. She knew that good sense demanded they get back to Slicewind and safety before dark. She watched impatiently as Xerak joined Vereez and the two did some further checking of the area before approaching the two huge doors.

“They’re locked,” Vereez called up.

“No surprise,” Grunwold replied. “Hey, Peg. Have any of your children or grandchildren studied lock picking?”

“Only of the most limited sort,” Peg replied. “There was a fad a few years ago, and I admit, I joined in on the fun. I’d be happy to try.”

“Let me go down there,” Teg almost pleaded. “I’m not all that bruised up. Maybe I can figure something out.”

She was in motion as she spoke and Grunwold, perhaps fearing she’d try to jump down if he didn’t lower her, gave in without more than muttered imprecations about crazy humans.

Teg felt very strange, excited, almost elated, as if—beyond all common sense—she knew what she would find. Removing her whisk broom from her pack, she knelt—doing her best to keep from wincing when the bruises from her fall throbbed in protest—and began whisking clear the stone pavement in front and alongside the doors.

Absently, she could hear the others talking. The tree trunk had definitely been used as a battering ram—the end showed evidence of impact—but the door showed no marks, not even a chip in the glossy finish. Xerak studied the lock, tried the spell he’d used to open the warehouse back on Grunwold’s family’s estate, only to end up with scorched fingers. These wards were much stronger.

Vereez’s voice. She’d been searching the rubble near the battering ram and discovered that someone had made a ladder. Many of the rungs had come loose, but Grunwold was certain he could fix them. Surely that would be much faster than making a new one.

Xerak again. Wasn’t it getting on toward evening? They had a hike ahead of them, and what if the piranha toads or spike wolves were still around? He sounded worried.

Teg worked faster. Yes! She hadn’t been sure—looking from above by flashlight wasn’t much to go on—but the character of the pavement had changed. The hexagons had gradually been replaced with diamonds. At first these were merely elongated rhomboids, like those on playing cards, but then they became more elaborate, with carvings that suggested faceted gemstones. These pavers were colored, most a bluish slate, but some in beige, rose, and . . . 

“Vereez!” she called. “Come over here. I have a use for those incredible fingernails of yours.”

The young woman hastened over. “What?”

Teg pointed to a paver that, in the flashlight’s glow glittered with mica. “Can you lift out that stone? Yes. That one. I think you’ll find . . . ”

Obediently, Vereez probed, first with the tip of her hunting knife, then with her fingernails. “It feels loose.”

“Careful,” Teg cautioned. “If this is what I think, it could come apart.”

Vereez wrinkled her nose in puzzlement, but probed more carefully. At last, the top of the paving stone Teg had indicated came away, revealing a hollow within which lay a large key. Teg had feared that the key would have been cast from metal, which could have corroded, but this key appeared to be carved from dark green jade.

“‘Underfoot is the priceless gem, keystone you require,’” Meg recited in an awed voice. “Excellent deduction, Teg! What made you think of it?”

“I’m not sure,” Teg admitted. “Underfoot. Keystone. The fact that the majority of the pavers were diamond shaped. When I noticed the different detail, I started looking for one that was unique.”

“Do we try the key right away?” Vereez asked eagerly, turning the key over and over in her hand, as if unable to believe it was real.

“We’d better not,” Grunwold said, his disappointment evident. “It’s getting late. We’ll come back tomorrow, early. And we’ll pack along the basics for camping, just in case we decide to stay the night. No idea how long it will take for us to find what we’re looking for.”

“Yes,” Meg said, tucking her journal away with evident reluctance. “No matter how great was today’s triumph, I fear our search is far from over.”


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Framed