Vander had killed Ghost when he returned to Westgate, had nearly torn the little man’s head from his shoulders, but a tenday later, Ghost had walked into Vander’s camp, smiling.
Vander came out of his contemplations and regarded his hated companion. Ghost towered above him, a black glove on one hand, a white one on the other, and wearing a familiar golden-edged mirror hanging on a golden chain around his neck.
At the clap of the firbolg’s hands, Vander felt himself floating. His noncorporeal spirit looked back at the weak, drowsy form on the floor with contempt then looked ahead to the giant receptacle. There came a flash of burning pain as Vander entered his firbolg body. His spirit twisted and shifted to reconfigure itself to the proper form, to reorient Vander to his new coil.
Ghost had come out of the spirit-walk faster than Vander, as always, and was sitting comfortably in a chair, watching the firbolg intently as Vander came back to consciousness. The puny body wore the gloves and mirror—the magic device always transferred with its master. As soon as it became obvious that Vander wouldn’t attack him, Ghost clenched his hands and closed his eyes. The gloves and mirror disappeared, but Vander knew from bitter and painful experience that they were well within immediate recall.
“You will depart as planned with the band and the young wizard,” Ghost instructed.
“What of this Bogo Rath?” Vander asked. “I don’t trust him.”
“That is of no consequence,” Ghost replied. “After all, you do not trust me, either, but I know you are enamored of my warm personality.”
Vander wanted to smash the smug smile off Ghost’s sleepy-eyed face.
“The wizard is to accompany us,” Ghost instructed. “Aballister paid us handsomely to take Rath along, a fine cache of gold for so minor an inconvenience.”
“To what purpose?” Vander had to ask, always amazed at the webs of seemingly pointless intrigue created by less than honorable men.
“Aballister believes that sending an emissary will keep him informed,” Ghost replied. “The wizard has a weakness for knowledge. He cannot tolerate the occurrence of anything that affects him, directly or even indirectly, without his knowledge.”
Vander did not disagree. He had met Aballister only once, and Ghost had spoken with the hollow-featured wizard no more than three times. But the firbolg didn’t doubt Ghost’s perceptions. The little man possessed an uncanny understanding of character, particularly of character flaws, and always found a way to use that to his advantage.
The young scholar blinked at the morning brightness shining across Impresk Lake and through the windows of his room’s balcony doors. Breakfast sat on the table next to Cadderly—extra portions, he noted with a smile. They were a bribe, Brennan’s way of saying thank you for Cadderly’s continued discretion. Fredegar wouldn’t be happy with his son if he knew where Brennan had spent the evening.
Cadderly was indeed hungry, and the food looked good, but when the young scholar noticed The Tome of Universal Harmony sitting open on his desk by the window, he realized a more profound and demanding hunger. He took a single biscuit with him as he went to the desk.
Like so many times before, Cadderly devoured the pages, the blurred words, faster than his eyes could follow. He was through the tome in a matter of minutes, then turned it back over and began again, rushing, almost desperately, to keep the mysterious song flowing uninterrupted. How many times Cadderly went through the work that day, he couldn’t know. When Brennan came in with his lunch, then his supper, he didn’t look up.
The daylight waned, and still Cadderly pored on. His first thought, when the room became too dark to read in, was to go and light his lamp, but he hated to waste the time that action would take. Hardly considering his actions, Cadderly recalled a page in the tome, a particular melody, and uttered a few simple words. The room filled with light.
The stream of the song was broken. Cadderly sat blinking in amazement at what he had done. He retraced his mental steps, recalled that same page, its image clear in his mind. He uttered the chant again, changing his inflections and alternating two of the words.
The light went out.
Shaking, Cadderly slipped out of his chair and over to his bed. He threw an arm across his eyes as though that act might hide the confusing memory of what had just occurred.
“I’ll see the wizard in the morning,” he whispered aloud. “He will understand.”
Cadderly didn’t believe a word of it, but he refused to listen to the truth.
“In the morning,” he whispered again, as he sought the serenity of sleep.
The morning was many hours and many dreams away for the troubled young man.
Percival hopped up to the room’s window—no, not the window, but the terrace doors. Cadderly considered the strange sight, for the squirrel’s sheer size made the doors look more like a tiny window. It was Percival, Cadderly knew, but why was the squirrel six feet tall?
The white squirrel entered the room and moved beside him. Cadderly extended his hand to pat the beast, but Percival recoiled then rushed back in, his not-so-tiny paws ripping tears in the pouches on Cadderly’s belt. Cadderly began to protest, but one of the pouches broke open, spilling a continual stream of cacasa nuts onto the floor.
Hundreds of cacasa nuts! Thousands of cacasa nuts!
The gigantic squirrel eagerly stuffed them into his bulging mouth by the score and soon the floor was clear again.
“Where are you going?” Cadderly heard himself ask as the squirrel bounded away. The doors were closed again somehow, but the squirrel ran right through them, knocking them from their hinges. Then Percival hopped over the balcony railing and was gone.
Cadderly sat up in his bed—but it was not his bed, for he was not in his room. Rather, he lay in the inn’s common room. It was very late, he knew, and very quiet.
Cadderly was not alone. He felt a ghostly presence behind him. Mustering his courage, he spun around.
He cried out, the scream torn from his lungs by sheer desperation. There lay Headmaster Avery, Cadderly’s mentor, his surrogate father, spread across one of the room’s small circular tables, his chest opened wide.
Cadderly didn’t have to examine the man to know he was dead. His heart had been torn out.
Cadderly sat up in his bed—and it was indeed his bed. His room was quiet, except for the occasional rattling of the balcony doors, shivering in the night wind. A full moon was up, its silvery light dancing through the window, splaying shadows across the floor.
The serenity seemed hardly enough to chase away the dreams. Cadderly tried to recall that page in the tome again, tried to remember the chant, the spell, to bathe the room in light. He was weary and troubled and had not eaten all that day, and hardly at all the day before. The image of the page would not come, so he lay still, terrified, in the dim light.
There was only the quiet light of the moon.
Dawn was a long while away.
FIVE
HOME AGAIN
A steady stream of shouts led the way for Danica and the Bouldershoulder brothers as they walked the halls in the southern section of the Edificant Library’s second floor. All three companions knew the source of the ruckus was Headmaster Avery even before they approached his office, and they knew, too, from whispers that had greeted them on their arrival, that Kierkan Rufo bore the brunt of the verbal assault.
“It is good that you have returned,” came a voice to the side. Headmistress Pertelope strode toward the three. She smiled warmly and wore, as had become her norm, a full-length, long-sleeved gown and black gloves. Not an inch of skin peeked out below her neck, and between the dark robes and the tightly cropped salt-and-pepper hair, her face seemed almost detached, floating in an empty background. “I’d feared you had lost your hearts to Shilmista—which would have been perfectly reasonable,” the headmistress said, with no hint of judgment in her calm tone.
“Ye’re bats!” Ivan snorted, shaking his head vigorously. “An elfish place, and not for me likin
g.”
Pikel kicked him in the shin, and the brothers glared long and hard at each other.
“Shilmista was wonderful,” Danica admitted. “Especially when we sent the monsters in full flight. Already it seems as if the shadows have lightened in the elven wood.”
Pertelope nodded and flashed her warm smile once more. “You’re going to see Avery?” she stated as much as asked.
“It is our duty,” Danica replied, “but he doesn’t seem to be in a very good mood.”
“Rufo’d spoil anyone’s day, by me reckoning,” Ivan put in.
Again Pertelope nodded, and she managed a somewhat strained smile. “Kierkan Rufo’s actions in the forest will not be easily forgotten,” she explained. “The priest has much to prove if he wishes to regain the favor of the headmasters, particularly Headmaster Avery.”
“Good enough for him!” Ivan snorted.
“Oo oi!” Pikel added.
“I’ve heard that Rufo has already received some punishment,” Pertelope continued wryly, looking pointedly at Danica’s fist.
Danica unconsciously slipped her guilty hands behind her back. She couldn’t deny that she had slugged Rufo, back in the forest when he complained about his companions’ deficiencies. She also couldn’t deny how much she had enjoyed dropping the blustering fool. Her actions had been rash, though, and probably not without consequence.
Pertelope sensed the young woman’s discomfort and quickly moved on to a different subject. “When you’re done talking with Headmaster Avery,” she said, “do come and see me. We have much to discuss.”
Danica knew that Pertelope was speaking of Cadderly, and she wanted to ask a hundred questions of the headmistress then and there. She only nodded, though, and remained silent, conscientious of her duty and knowing that her desires would have to wait.
The perceptive headmistress smiled knowingly and said, “Later,” then gave the young woman a wink and walked on.
Danica watched her go, a thousand thoughts of Cadderly following kind Pertelope’s every step. Ivan’s tapping boot reminded her that she had other considerations, and she reluctantly turned back to the dwarves. “Are you two ready to face Avery?”
Ivan chuckled wickedly. “Not to worry,” the dwarf assured her, grabbing her by the arm and leading her to the portly headmaster’s office. “If the fat one gets outta line with ye, I’ll threaten him with smaller portions at the dinner table. There’s a measure of power from being a place’s cook!”
Danica couldn’t disagree, but that offered little comfort as she neared the door and heard more clearly the level of Avery’s rage.
“Excuses!” the headmaster roared. “Always excuses! Why do you refuse to take responsibility for your actions?”
“I did not—” they heard Rufo begin meekly, but Avery promptly cut him off.
“You did!” the headmaster cried. “You betrayed them to that wretched imp—and more than once!” There came a pause then Avery’s voice sounded again, more composed. “Your actions after that were somewhat courageous, I will admit,” he said, “but they do not excuse you. Don’t presume for a moment that you’re forgiven. Now, go to your tasks with the knowledge that any transgression, however minor, will cost you dearly.”
The door swung open and a haggard Rufo rushed out, seeming displeased to see Danica and the dwarves.
“Surprised?” Ivan asked him with a wide grin.
The man, tilting slightly, ran his fingers through his matted black hair. His dark eyes darted about as if in search of escape. With nowhere to go, Rufo shoved his way between Danica and Pikel and scurried away, obviously embarrassed.
“Yer day just got better, eh?” Ivan called after him, enjoying the tall man’s torment.
“It took you a while to find your way to me,” came a surly call from the room, turning the companions back to Avery.
“Uh-oh,” muttered Pikel, but Ivan merely snorted and strode into the room, right up to Avery’s desk. Danica and Pikel came in a bit more hesitantly.
Avery’s bluster seemed to have played itself out. The chubby man pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and rubbed it across his sweaty, blotchy face.
“I didn’t believe you would come back,” he said, huffing with labored breath. He alternated his glance from Ivan to Pikel. “I had even suggested to Dean Thobicus that we begin to search for new cooks.”
“Not to worry,” Ivan assured him with a bow that swept the dwarf’s yellow beard across the floor. “The masters of yer belly have returned.”
Pikel piped up in hearty agreement, but Avery’s renewed glare showed how little he enjoyed the boisterous dwarf’s smug attitude.
“We will, of course, need a full report of your time in Shilmista—a written report,” he said, shuffling some papers around on his large desk.
“I don’t write,” Ivan teased, “but I can cook ye a goblin ear stew. That’ll fairly sum up me time in the wood.”
Even Danica couldn’t bite back a chuckle at that.
“Lady Maupoissant will help you then,” Avery said, articulating each word slowly to show them he was not amused.
“When will you need this?” Danica asked, hoping he would give her the whole winter. Her thoughts were on Carradoon, on Cadderly, and she was beginning to suspect that perhaps she should have continued through the mountains and gone straight to him.
“You are scheduled to meet with Dean Thobicus in three days,” Avery informed her. “That should give you ample time—”
“Impossible,” Danica said to him. “I will meet with the dean today, or in the morning, perhaps, but—”
“Three days,” Avery repeated. “The dean’s schedule is not for you to decide, Lady Maupoissant.” Again he used her surname, and Danica knew it was to emphasize his anger.
Danica felt trapped. “I am not of your order,” she reminded the portly man. “I’m under no obligation—”
Again Avery cut her short. “You will do as you are told,” he said. “Do not think your own actions in Shilmista have been forgotten or forgiven.”
Danica fell back a step. Ivan, as angry as he was confused, hopped to his toes and glowered at Avery.
“Huh?” was all that stunned Pikel could mutter.
“As I said,” Avery declared, slamming a heavy fist on the desk. “You all played the role of hero, both in Shilmista and before that, when the Talonite priest and his insidious curse fell over the library, but that does not excuse your actions, Lady Maupoissant.”
Danica wanted to scream “What actions?” but she couldn’t get a sound past the mounting rage in her throat.
“You struck him,” Avery finally explained. “You attacked Rufo, a priest of Deneir, a host of the Edificant Library, without provocation.”
“He had it comin’,” Ivan retorted.
Avery managed a bit of a smile. “I don’t doubt that,” he agreed, for a moment seeming his old, likable self. “Yet there are rules concerning such behavior.” He looked straight into Danica’s brown eyes. “You might well be banned from the library for life if I were to pursue Rufo’s charges.
“Think of it,” Avery continued after giving Danica and the dwarves a moment to absorb his meaning. “All of your texts are here, all of the known works of Grandmaster Penpahg D’Ahn. I know how dear your studies are to you.”
“Then why do you threaten me like this?” Danica snapped. She flipped a lock of her unkempt hair from in front of her face and crossed her arms before her. “If I erred in striking Rufo then so be it, but if the same situation was repeated—if, after so many trials and so much killing, I had to listen to his endless whining and berating of me and my friends—I can’t honestly say I wouldn’t punch him again.”
“Oo oi!” Pikel readily agreed.
“Had it comin’,” Ivan said again.
Avery waved his hand in a patting motion to try to calm the three. “Agreed,” he said, “and I assure you I have no intention of letting Rufo’s accusations go beyond this point. But in exchange, I demand
that you give me these few things for which I have asked. Prepare the report and meet with Thobicus in three days, as he desires. On my word, Rufo’s accusations will never again be mentioned, to you or to anyone else.”
Danica blew the stubborn strand of hair away from her face, an action she knew Avery understood as a resigned sigh.
“I’m sure you’ll be pleased to hear that Cadderly is well, by all reports,” the headmaster said, obviously happy to change the subject.
Danica winced. Hearing the name aloud revived lingering fears and painful recollections.
“He stays at the Dragon’s Codpiece, a fine inn,” Avery went on. “Fredegar, the innkeeper, is a friend, and he has looked after Cadderly, though that has not been difficult since our young man rarely leaves his room.”
The portly headmaster’s obvious concern for Cadderly reminded Danica that Avery was no enemy—for her or for her love. She understood, too, that most of Avery’s surly behavior could be attributed to the same fact that had been gnawing away at her: Cadderly had remained at the library only as long as it took to retrieve his possessions. Cadderly had not, and might not ever, come home.
“I leave for Carradoon this afternoon,” Avery announced. “There is much business to be handled between the headmasters and the town’s leaders. With this threat of war hanging over us and … well, worry not about it. You three have earned at least a few days of peace.”
Again Danica understood the implication of the portly headmaster’s words. Certainly there was business between the library and the town, but Danica thought it unlikely that Avery, whose duties were to preside over and guide the younger priests, would be chosen as the library’s representative in town matters. Avery had volunteered to go, had insisted, Danica knew, and not because of any threat to either the town or the library. His business in Carradoon was an excuse to look in on Cadderly, the young man whom he loved as dearly as he would his own son.
With polite words Danica and the dwarves took their leave, the brothers protectively flanking Danica as they exited the room.