Lord of the Libraries (43 page)
“This has cost too much,” Juhg said. “I’m tired and I’m hurting. I can’t do this.”
The mantis let the silence between them stretch out for a time. “You have been chosen, Librarian Juhg.”
“By you?”
“No. Fate chose you. I only accepted you and offered what help I could.”
“Allowing my friend to die,” Juhg said, turning around with tears in his eyes, “is not what I would define as help.”
“Not today, perhaps,” the mantis agreed, “but in time you will come to recognize that Craugh did the only thing he could do: risk his life for the lives of his friends. You have done the same for your friends, when circumstances have called for it.”
Looking back over his years with the Grandmagister, Juhg knew that he had done exactly that dozens of times. He had been scared most of those times, and uncertain of the eventual outcome of his risk many of those times. He had never stinted, never held back. He wasn’t brave, he knew that, but he loved his friends fiercely and felt the responsibilities of the tasks he’d taken on.
“Don’t casually dismiss the sacrifice Craugh has made for you,” the mantis said. “If you forsake the mission your Grandmagister has given you,
that is exactly what you’ll be doing. Here, at the end of this thing, Craugh has redeemed himself. Allow him that moment of nobility.”
that is exactly what you’ll be doing. Here, at the end of this thing, Craugh has redeemed himself. Allow him that moment of nobility.”
Stung by the mantis’s soft words, Juhg couldn’t speak.
Then, from the corner of his eye, he saw his past self suddenly walking across the desert with the other mantis. Unable to stop himself, Juhg ran to his past self, shouting the same warning that he had heard only days ago in the Smoking Marshes.
His other self looked shocked and troubled for just an instant, then the other mantis took him by the hand and led him away as a blinding sandstorm rose up and blew over him.
Choking on the dust and grit, Juhg dropped to his knees. He knew he wouldn’t listen and he wouldn’t understand. He knew that his past self would suspect Craugh even more intently.
He could do nothing now just as surely as he could do nothing then. For a time, he remained there in the desert on his knees, baking in the sun and feeling the terrible weight of grief and loss. And even through that, he didn’t know if he would survive to rescue the Grandmagister.
Or even if the Grandmagister was still alive.
He was surprised at how long the mantis left him alone with his thoughts. Then again, in a place where time had no meaning, maybe it wasn’t long at all. The sun never moved from high overhead.
Finally, because he didn’t know how much time was passing in his world and he didn’t want to put any of the others in jeopardy, Juhg pushed himself to his feet and turned to the mantis.
“Is there anything else?”
The mantis looked at him. “I will tell you this: when you finally learn how to put the pieces of
The Book of Time
together, you will be in immediate danger.”
The Book of Time
together, you will be in immediate danger.”
“Because
The Book of Time
opens a gateway to this place,” Juhg said.
The Book of Time
opens a gateway to this place,” Juhg said.
“Yes. Tuhl told you that.”
“How do you know that?”
“You told me.”
“No, I didn’t,” Juhg said.
The mantis smiled a little. “Then you will tell me when we next meet again.”
“Then I will live?” Juhg asked. “I will be successful? Will I save the Grandmagister?”
“I can’t answer those questions.”
“But you already have. Didn’t you hear what you just said?”
In a louder voice, the mantis said, “Time grows short in your world. Finish your task, Librarian!” It raised an arm.
Before Juhg could say another word, the blackness overwhelmed him and swept him away.
When Juhg returned to his body in the stone room, in the Oasis of Bleached Bones, where the green gemstones were kept, the pain and raw emotion raging within him seemed even stronger. He rose to his feet with Raisho’s help and they went out into the tunnel.
Cobner and Raisho led the way, striding side by side through the tunnels. Goblinkin met them before they’d gone three paces from the doorway.
The dwarf swung his battle-axe, giving vent to loud battle cries. Beside him, Raisho swung his cutlass and knife in a flurry of blows. From the way they moved together, an onlooker would have sworn they’d fought together for years. And in between their cruel blows, meted out with vengeance in their hearts and designed to kill or incapacitate their enemies, Jassamyn bent her bow, sending arrow after arrow into the backs of fleeing goblinkin that sought to avoid the certain death that was the dwarven warrior and young sailor.
Two more turns through the tunnels led them to where a slave group was huddled against the wall. Goblinkin slavers stood over them, cutting them bloody with their vicious whips as they sought to maintain order.
The goblinkin turned at once and knew that the group bearing down on them was not their comrades. Eleven of them stood in a ragged line that filled the tunnel.
“Lay down yer weapons,” one of the goblinkin roared. “Lay down yer weapons an’ we’ll let ye live.”
“Jassamyn,” Cobner growled, “he’s makin’ my cars tired.”
The elven maid put a shaft through the speaker’s right eye, then another through the neck of a second man, and a third through the open mouth of a goblinkin seeking to yell out in warning or in anger. Before the first goblinkin dropped dead to the ground, the third was already falling.
Cobner and Raisho rushed the remaining goblinkin. Juhg stood in awe as they fought and slew. The goblinkin put up a brave defense for a moment
or two, but in the end their fates were plain for all to see. The last two turned to flee for their lives. Jassamyn slew them both before they’d gone a dozen paces.
or two, but in the end their fates were plain for all to see. The last two turned to flee for their lives. Jassamyn slew them both before they’d gone a dozen paces.
“Help us!” one of the slaves cried out. “Free us and we will fight with you!”
Without a word, Cobner and Raisho struck free the chains that bound the slaves. Slowly and painfully, the slaves stood on uncertain legs and took up weapons dropped by the dead goblinkin. Then Cobner led them forward, striking out once more for the exit.
The freed slaves were vengeful and bloodthirsty. No goblinkin they encountered was spared, and many of them died horrible deaths at the hands of those they had beaten and mistreated.
Juhg found no spark of remorse in his heart for the savaged bodies of the goblinkin they found, nor for the ones that his companions left behind. He didn’t try to find one either. From the things he had endured at the hands of their kind and what he had seen of the slaves around him now, he had no pity left to him.
At length, they all climbed up from the buried remains of the elven city. Morning stained the eastern skies lavender and rose, with a hint of the golden dawn that was yet to come.
They took one of the sandsails and some waterskins, and left the other craft to the escaped slaves. The goblinkin didn’t have enough sandsails to transport all the captives back to Fringe, which was the closest city, but the dwarves who had formed the leadership of the freed slaves—over the protests of the dwellers who had regained some sense of their selfishness now that they knew they would live to see another day—promised that arrangements would be made for all who survived.
Juhg lay back and had his face wound tended by Jassamyn, who had insisted on caring for it before they left the Oasis of Bleached Bones because fresh water would be hard to come by out in the desert if they became becalmed. She also didn’t want to risk infection.
She used catgut she winnowed from one of her extra bowstrings to make the sutures, then a curved needle that was actually a little too large for the task to sew his face back together. They had nothing for pain, but Juhg was already in so much pain that a little more made no difference at all.
“I’m no healer,” Jassamyn said as she tied a suture to pull the wound closed.
“It’s all right,” Juhg replied. “Thank you for taking care of me.” He kept seeing Craugh going down under the mountain of sand.
“And I’ve no hand for this kind of fine work,” the elven maid apologized. “My mother never saw fit to have me trained in this other than to make do.”
Tseralyn, although a queen of her own trading empire now, remained a mercenary at heart. Her daughter had taken up the sword and the bow as well, learning horsemanship instead of sewing.
“This is going to leave a scar,” she said softly. “Quite a terrible one, I’m afraid.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Juhg told her. And it didn’t. Once Jassamyn had finished the last suture and fussed over him for a little longer, she left him alone in the shade of the small tent Raisho had put up for him.
Lying on the small hill, Juhg looked out over the Oasis of Bleached Bones and found the place was aptly named. Hundreds of bones—dwarven, human, elven, dweller, goblinkin, and others—lay strewn across the golden sand. Some said that it was from the battles that had been fought there. Others claimed that the bones came from the elven forest below, rejecting the bones of the dead as it gathered strength to grow once more, after it had gotten strong enough to break the magical destruction Lord Kharrion’s spell had wrought.
He hoped that was so, because Craugh deserved a beautiful resting place. Bringing the Grandmagister there to that sea of barrenness was too hurtful to think about. Juhg thought it would have been better if they could come to an elven forest where everything grew healthy and beautiful.
Before he knew it, the pain subsided enough that fatigue and wear claimed him and he slept.
That afternoon, when Cobner declared them squared away and Jassamyn finally relented and said that Juhg had slept enough, they readied the sandsail. Several of the dwarves had already taken off for Fringe, intent on making rescue arrangements as soon as possible.
Raisho took the sandsail’s reins and Cobner occupied the navigator’s seat. The wind didn’t favor them when they departed, though. It came from the east, the direction they needed to travel, so Raisho had to tack into it, heading mainly to the south to achieve any speed at all. Several
times gusts rose up that caught the sandsail broadside and nearly overturned it.
times gusts rose up that caught the sandsail broadside and nearly overturned it.
Once he’d gotten comfortable in the sandsail, Juhg slept again. He kept his hands on the book Tuhl had brought with him. The book detailed Tuhl’s efforts to find
The Book of Time.
The bandage over the side of his face was hot and heavy, and he sweated profusely beneath it.
The Book of Time.
The bandage over the side of his face was hot and heavy, and he sweated profusely beneath it.
During the night, Raisho gave the reins over to Cobner, who had better night vision, and slept. They ran through the desert all night with Cobner at the helm. By morning, the wind changed directions, once more coming from the west so that they could run full ahead of it. But they couldn’t run ahead of the summer storm that unleashed heavy rain that soaked them to the skin for more than an hour before the storm broke up and let the sun out again.
By afternoon, they were at Grass’s Edge, the first eastern city on the other side of the Drylands. The division between the magically corrupted land of the desert and the city was immediately noticeable. It was as though a master draftsman had laid down a line of demarcation between the desert and the Sighing Forest.
Fever burned through Juhg when they arrived.
“You’re too sick to ride,” Jassamyn told him.
“I’ll ride,” Juhg said. “We’re only three days from Minter’s Stream. We can take a barge there down to the Dragon’s Tongue River.”
“Dying is not going to save the Grandmagister,” the elven maid informed him.
“Neither is delaying the journey.”
Grass’s Edge was more friendly than Fringe. The population was more mixed, the largest population being human, but it was waystation to several elves who liked trading. Several of the elves also acted as guides through the Sighing Forest to the caravans that wended their way to the Dragon’s Tongue River and the interior of the mainland. The elves didn’t do that for the money the caravan masters paid, but to protect the forests from the thoughtless ways of those who didn’t care for it.
Feeling the heavy giddiness of the fever, Juhg walked the city with Raisho to buy supplies. By the time they had what they needed, Cobner and Jassamyn had traded the sandsail and a few gems they had taken from the elven treasure found in the Oasis of Bleached Bones for horses.
They stopped long enough for the midday meal at a hostelry that offered
venison—which Jassamyn insisted was necessary to help Juhg get his strength back—and were on their way through the Sighing Forest by midafternoon.
venison—which Jassamyn insisted was necessary to help Juhg get his strength back—and were on their way through the Sighing Forest by midafternoon.
An elven warder met them at the beginning of the trail through the forest. He was young and proud, with a shock of amber-colored hair and haughty purple eyes. He wore a tunic of patterned green that would allow him to disappear into the forest if he chose. A longbow hung over his shoulder and a longsword was belted at his waist. A red-tailed hawk sat on his horse’s saddle. He stood beside the small, quick forest animal.
“Would you like a guide, Lady?” the elven warder asked.
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