CHAPTER SEVEN
The next morning, not even Vereez tried to sleep in. Slicewind didn’t have a full bath, so Teg couldn’t have her longed-for soak, but Peg gave her an amazing rubdown that included the use of a strong scented oil that Vereez compounded. This burned away the worst of the aches, and let Teg get a good night’s sleep. In the morning, she boasted some impressive bruises, but her excitement countered the worst of the pain.
Grunwold had repaired the ladder. As they hiked back, he and Xerak carried it between them, resting the ends on their shoulders and using it as a stretcher on which to carry additional camping gear. Vereez took point. Peg—Heru perched on her shoulder and looking behind—took the rear. Everyone—even Meg—carried at least a spear. Despite their precautions—or perhaps because of them—they saw nothing more threatening than some lizard parrots. These flew away when Heru croaked at them, making the xuxu puff out a triumphal fanfare through his crest.
The repaired ladder made getting down to the door much easier. When the last person had clambered down, Grunwold carried it off to one side, then covered it with some of the leaves and bracken that had drifted from above.
“I wish,” he said, standing back to inspect his work, “I didn’t feel so certain that this is exactly what the people who left this ladder here did—and that they never made it back to retrieve it.”
“There aren’t any bodies,” Teg reminded him, “and not a trace of bloodstains on the pavement. Stop thinking the worst.”
Vereez was taking the key from where she’d been wearing it on a string tied around her neck. Teg had gone to sleep early, so she’d missed the discussion about who would actually open the door and who would stand ready in case something—no one was certain precisely what—came bursting out at them.
Now Vereez ceremonially handed the key to Meg. “All right, Librarian. Do your thing!”
Then she dropped back, strung her bow, and set an arrow to the string. Grunwold drew his sword and stepped up next to Meg. Xerak had been chanting something under his breath for the last minute or so.
Peg looked over at Teg and said softly, “When you pass beyond the doors of the Library of the Sapphire Wind. Ready?”
“And then some!” Teg agreed, clutching her machete.
Meg put the key into the lock, then used both hands to turn it. Grunwold was reaching forward to help her when she said, “No need, dear boy. It’s turning. Be ready to grab the handle on the left, and we’ll pull together.”
But there was no need. As soon as the key finished turning there was a resounding click, and the doors began opening outward. Grunwold put a protective arm out to push Meg behind him, then they stepped back and rejoined the other four.
Initially, the doors parted to reveal nothing but a band of darkness so absolute it seemed solid. Only when the twin panels were flat against the stone of the building’s front did they see that at the heart of darkness a shape was swirling into being. To say it was blue—the clean rich blue of a perfect sapphire—would be to do it a disservice, for the blue coruscated with sparks of every color in the spectrum, as well as a few that were only hinted at in dreams.
“A whirlwind?” Peg speculated, “but it’s too solid.”
“It’s Sapphire Wind,” Xerak replied, his tone hushed. “The Library’s guardian.”
“No wonder we didn’t find any bodies,” Grunwold moaned. “That thing could destroy us, then scour away the traces. Slowly, back away . . . ”
Meg had been peering around him. Now she shook her head and slipped under his arm, moving forward a few paces. “It’s inviting us in. Look how it swirls forward a little, then back, bending like a beckoning finger.”
“Luring us in so it can kill us,” Grunwold said, grabbing Meg firmly by one shoulder when she started to move closer. “It probably can’t leave the immediate vicinity of the Library. Come away, you mad woman!”
Meg stared up at him with disdain. “Have we come this far to be turned away now? You heard the verse. Beyond those doors are the answers you seek. Are you going to quit because it turns out the Library is not deserted?”
Grunwold froze, unable to find a reply.
“I think,” Vereez said, sliding her arrow back into her quiver, “Meg’s right. Grunwold, if you want to stay here to protect our escape route, we’ll ask after a cure for your father. No matter what, I’m going ahead. I’ve exhausted every other source, and I’m not giving up on my search.”
“Me, either,” Xerak said, his tone both wistful and determined. “My master . . . ”
Grunwold stared at Sapphire Wind. “I don’t think it means us well. I feel . . . But you’re right. We’ve come this far. I’m not going to wait as rearguard and drive myself crazy wondering what’s happened to you.”
“Let’s walk in step,” Meg suggested. “The doorway opens wide enough to take all six of us abreast, with room to spare. I don’t think one of us should cross before the others. That might leave someone out if the guardian is being very literal.”
“Should we hold hands then?” Vereez asked, sheathing her twin swords. “We might as well show ourselves a united company.”
“Sure,” Xerak said. “I’ll stand at the right end. That way I can keep my staff in my free hand.”
“And I’ll take the left,” Vereez said, “since I am ambidextrous. Grunwold, it’s a great deal to ask you to go in weaponless, but would you take the center, with Meg and Teg flanking you? Heru can ride your shoulder. Peg? If you would stand between Meg and Xerak, we’ll have someone who can use a sword at either end.”
“I am flattered by your confidence,” Peg said, “but I can’t imagine that we can cut a wind.” She chuckled. “Although I’m nervous enough to break wind.”
“Peg!” said Meg and Teg simultaneously, but apparently the translation spell wasn’t up to off-color puns, so the three inquisitors only looked confused.
“Ready?” Vereez asked with a manic cheerfulness that fooled no one. “Then march! Right, left, right, left. Here we go!”
During the dozen steps it took for them to cross the diamond pavement, the vista before them began to change. The whirlwind continued its beckoning gesture, bending lower and lower until they could see into the top of its swirling vortex. This opened, becoming a tunnel that grew to fill the entire doorway.
“I told you it is going to kill us,” Grunwold said, but he sounded cheerful. “At least it’ll be quick.”
Teg, gripping Grunwold’s left hand, wondered if he’d take her trembling for fear. It wasn’t. She was as excited as she’d ever been. This was the sort of adventure that teased at the hearts of all but the driest of archeologists, that was why—despite his tomb-robber, pot-hunter, massively unethical behavior—Indiana Jones was an icon so many archeologists embraced.
This was discovery writ large. When they came to the doorway, Teg didn’t hesitate. She might even have pulled the others into the swirling blue vortex. Then they were walking through what felt like surf, if surf could be dry. Their feet sounded on pavement, then tile, then the silence of plush carpet.
Or maybe we’re walking on air.
Then the sensation of tugging surf ebbed and ceased, the swirl surrounding them slowed, then vanished, and they stood in front of a desk upon which a sign neatly printed in several of the local languages stated: general information.
Surrounding them was not just a grand foyer, but a temple to knowledge. Teg had visited the Library of Congress several times and had thought that nothing could excel the main reading room, with its elaborately painted domed ceiling and iconic statuary, but she suspected that in its prime, the grand reception area of the Library of the Sapphire Wind would have made that room look small and tawdry.
Overarching a vast open area was the astronomical skyscape that had continued to live in Grunwold’s father’s stories. This, through some miracle, remained intact, the stars glittering against a dustless black. What the remainder of the enormous room had looked like had to be guessed at, for it was a vista of destruction. Once brilliant frescos were cracked or scored with burns. In some places the plaster had slid down and dissolved into slag. Mosaics that had once depicted poets reciting or musicians singing were so filled with gaps that they became the visual equivalent of a stammer.
Teg remembered the drawings in many of the brochures and journals that they’d purchased from Kuvekt, so she guessed that the crumbled heaps of pink and white stone were where various designated experts had sat enthroned, absorbed in research when they were not assisting visitors. What looked like the largest kindling pile ever must be the remnants of the beautifully polished cedar cabinets in which lesser—but still valuable—reference works had been kept. Priceless data storage crystals glittered in chunks underfoot. Fanning out from the information desk, some seats incongruously intact, others broken to fragments, almost to gravel, were the long tables and benches where visitors had studied or awaited consultation.
No one was standing behind the information desk, so Meg took it upon herself to walk around it, doubtless to see if there was a directory or suchlike stashed there. What she found—or rather what found her—was completely unexpected. Once she was fully behind the desk, Meg lowered herself into the chair and folded her hands in front of her. When she looked up at them and spoke, neither her voice, nor her manner were her own.
“Grunwold, son of Sefit and Konnel, the latter once called Tam; Vereez, daughter of Inehem and Zarrq, adherents of Fortune; Xerak, son of Fardowsi, sometimes called ‘Clever Fingers’—since before you were born, since when you were born, I have awaited your arrival.”
“What the . . . !” Grunwold said, jumping back and drawing his sword with a metallic shing!
Xerak grasped his spear staff in a cross-body, defensive grip; the head beginning to glow with emerald fire. Of the three inquisitors, only Vereez kept her hands relaxed. She replied with the cool politeness of the socialite she had been trained to be.
“I am Vereez, daughter of Inehem and Zarrq Fortune. Tell me, is my friend, Meg, safe in your hold?”
“She is.” The voice that responded was cool, breathy, and genderless.
“I am relieved to hear this. May I ask who you are? I have guesses, but why should we play at riddles?”
“I am Sapphire Wind, spirit of this library.”
“That’s what I thought. How could you have waited for me and Xerak and Grunwold? This library was destroyed before we were born.”
“Precisely.”
“So how could you await us?”
“Because you are the offspring of those whose conduct led to the destruction of this library.”
There was complete silence. Not even Grunwold—who could usually be depended on for a profanity or outburst—could find anything to say. Finally, Teg took up the questioning.
“That’s an amazing claim. How do we know to believe you?”
“And why,” Peg cut in indignantly, “should these children be held responsible for something their parents did, even if they did do it? I certainly don’t hold my children responsible for my actions—although they have a remarkable tendency to try to blame me for their mistakes, though that’s neither here nor there.”
Meg might have smiled or rolled her eyes at Peg’s disorganized volubility, but Sapphire Wind only paused, as if trying to decide which question to answer first. At last it said, “I can show you what happened, but would you believe me even then? It is possible to lie with images as easily as with words.”
“You,” Xerak said, “knew our names. I suppose you could have overheard these from our talk when we were outside. But you knew our parents’ names. That’s interesting. I’ve been trying to remember, and I’m not certain we’ve spoke of our parents by name since we left Kuvekt-lial, and maybe not even then.”
“That’s right,” Grunwold said, lowering his sword, although he didn’t return it to its sheath. “I’ve said ‘my dad,’ or ‘my mom,’ but I certainly wouldn’t have referred to him as ‘Tam.’ It’s a family joke that he won’t let even his parents call him that.”
“There is a reason why your father has sought to discard that name,” Sapphire Wind said, “and that reason is indirectly tied to the destruction of the Library. Will you let me show you?”
Vereez answered for all of them. “Yes, but—can you find some other way to talk to us? This using Meg makes me uneasy.”
“If you will go through the door I will cause to open,” Sapphire Wind replied, “there are means within to enable me to communicate.”
“Let’s do it,” Grunwold said, returning his sword to its scabbard. “Hey, Wind . . . ”
Xerak hissed, appalled by the informality, and Grunwold began again with an exasperated sigh, “O Great Sapphire Wind, caretaker of this ruin, we came here guided by prophesy, seeking the answers to questions. Will we have the opportunity to ask these?”
He tossed his antlered head at Xerak as if to say, “Satisfied?”
Sapphire Wind did not appear to notice this byplay. “That will be up to you. Come. More will be made clear when you have seen what I have to show you.”
Heralded by a soft, white glow, a door slid open to the far right and rear of the reception hall. When Meg rose and began leading the way toward the door, the rest trailed after, reluctant yet eager. The door gave access into a room that had suffered much less damage than had the reception hall. A mosaic of white tiles lined the entire chamber. The ceiling was domed, and the walls curved, so that the impression was that of walking into a pearl. This illusion was perpetuated by several rows of seats set amphitheater style around the lower curve, anchored onto the wall so they seemed to float.
The focus of this peculiar theater in the round was a sculptured form that reminded Teg of the sort of baptismal fonts still found in old churches, although this one—except for being made from the same pale pearlescent stone as the mosaic that lined the sphere—looked more like a chalice. The chalice was situated so that its graceful stem rested at the base of the sphere. The chalice’s cup was filled to a finger’s breadth of the rim with a liquid that shimmered in purples, blues and yellows, like the oil that rises to the surface of a road after a sudden rainstorm.
“The Font of Sight,” Meg said, her voice now her own. “I read several references to it in the brochures, but there were no drawings.” She paused and reached out to touch Vereez lightly on one arm, and said softly, “It was sweet of you to ask after my safety.”
“Did you think we wouldn’t be worried?”
“Yeah,” Grunwold added. “Who’s to say that whatever grabbed you wouldn’t go after one of us next?”
Vereez rolled her eyes and moved closer to Meg. “I guess we should take seats?”
Meg nodded. “Yes. Why don’t we all arrange ourselves on the right hand side? That way none of us will view whatever image appears in the Font upside down.”
“Sensible,” Peg said, “which I suppose means that Grunwold will insist on sitting on the opposite side, just to be difficult.”
Grunwold didn’t deign reply, but he did sit with the rest of them. The seats were arranged two in the bottom row, then three, then four. Grunwold did insist on sitting in the rearmost row. Privately, Teg wondered if this was asserting his independence, or if he was a bit spooked by some sorts of magic. Maybe he was just being polite and sitting where his antlers wouldn’t block anyone’s view.
Meg and Vereez took the lowest two seats. Peg and Teg settled themselves on the next tier. Xerak vacillated for a moment, clearly wondering if he should sit with Grunwold, but then seated himself on Teg’s other side, his fascination with the Font winning over whatever loyalty he felt for his often irritable friend.
“I wish I’d thought to get some popcorn,” Peg was saying when the liquid that filled the font began to ripple and eddy. “Hmm . . . Liquid-crystal television?”
“Shut up.” Teg elbowed her. “Or I’ll make you go sit with Grunwold.”
The images that appeared above the shimmering waters of the Font resembled those used in science fiction movies where three-dimensional holograms had replaced flat images. Teg guessed that this was so the image would be easily viewed from any part of the rounded chamber. The setting was what was surely the main reception hall of the Library of the Sapphire Wind. Although the images were presented completely without sound, no words were needed to comprehend what was happening.
A trim woman with the head of a silver fox came through the main doors, looked around uncertainly, then went over to the information desk. The man sitting behind it—he had the head of some sort of brown-feathered hawk or eagle—wrote something down, handed it to her, then motioned for her to take a seat. She did so, removing a book from her bag and settling in to read with apparent lack of impatience.
Vereez spoke softly. “My mother? I think . . . She’s so young, but . . . ”
The image next showed the arrival of several other people. Each went to the information desk, each made a query, each was asked to take a seat and wait.
Grunwold identified a male with the head of a stag, much like his own, as his father, Xerak a young woman with the head of a tufted-eared squirrel as his mother. The remaining male whose lean, broad-shouldered muscular body was graced with the head of a polar bear, Vereez identified, her voice thick with apprehension, as her father. The final arrival was another woman—this one with the head of a snow leopard—who came in and sat next to Grunwold’s father.
“I don’t recognize her,” Xerak said. “Do you two?”
“Not me,” Vereez said, then paused. “Not to say for certain.”
“I don’t know her either,” Grunwold said. “She’s a real babe, isn’t she?”
“Jerk,” Vereez said. That she even responded to Grunwold’s comment showed how rattled she was.
Although there was no way to tell the passage of time, Teg had the distinct impression that these arrivals had been spaced out over several hours. Over time, all five featured players were called to the reception desk. Then, either alone or with one companion, they were escorted into the stacks. As soon as their escort had left them, they began to behave in a very un-researcher-like fashion. One of the first things each did once the escort had left was don a necklace with an attached pendant, then tuck the pendant out of sight. When they did so, their images shifted slightly, each becoming tinted a light yellow.
“My guess,” Xerak said, keeping his voice low, even though there was no soundtrack to interrupt, “is that those pendants make them ‘invisible’ to the Library’s security. If you look, you’ll notice many of the staff are wearing similar ornaments, although much more openly. Those five would now be perceived as belonging to the resident community.”
“This isn’t good,” Vereez said, her voice rough with tension. “Not good at all.”
The image pulled back, showing a cutaway view which revealed that, although the five had dispersed to areas apparently isolated from each other, they were now moving toward the same point: what the image cooperatively revealed as a door concealed behind an apparently immovable bookcase. Clearly, whatever they were looking for, it wasn’t going to be found in one of the books, scrolls, or neatly racked data crystals.
What played out after that began as a neatly run heist. The five hid until the Library closed for the night, the visitors had left, and the majority of the staff had departed. Only a few diehard researchers remained, scattered in various study carrels. None of these were even close to where the would-be thieves had gathered.
Vereez’s mother went over to the concealed door and began to make various motions.
“Amazing!” Xerak said. “That looks like a heavy-duty ward or trap-detecting spell. Vereez, did you know your mom knew things like that?”
“No.” The single word was bitter. “Did you know your mother knew things like that?”
Because Xerak’s mother was busily pulling out of an inside pocket of her coat a folder containing a tidy selection of lock picks. From various secret pockets and seams in her clothing, she removed an array of very nasty-locking darts, small knives, and what looked like a garrote.
“No,” Xerak replied in a tone that had lost any sense of detachment.
The next five minutes or so made clear that all five intruders possessed both an impressive array of extralegal skills and a variety of concealed equipment. Since working magic pretty much made her useless for anything else, Vereez’s mother was guarded by Vereez’s father. That he wore a set of matched swords similar to those his daughter now carried provided a decidedly creepy link between past and present.
When Vereez’s father gave the thumbs up, Grunwold’s father and the unknown woman hauled back the edges of the bookshelf, revealing a staircase that descended steeply into the depths, then passed along a series of corridors, lined with what looked like safe deposit boxes, each neatly closed and—presumably, since each had a keyhole—locked. While some of the boxes were quite small—hardly more than pigeonholes—others were capacious cabinets.
“I bet that’s the artifact repository,” Xerak said. “Those wouldn’t have been kept on open shelves like the books.”
“Rather an awkward route to use to get into it,” Peg said.
Xerak laughed. “I’d have expected more difficulties, actually. Once you get beyond routine domestic magics, artifacts aren’t things to leave lying about. Anything worth being put in the repository here would already be on the ‘handle with care’ list at most stores.”
That the thieves were searching for something specific there was no doubt; that they were also open to taking anything of value they could carry was proven by their actions. The unidentified snow leopard woman and Xerak’s mom cast about, quickly locating and opening a concealed compartment in which a neat row of keys hung. They each grabbed a key ring and started opening safe deposit boxes. Rings, pendants, small carved boxes of exotic wood or stone all vanished into pockets, pouches, and packs.
Each time something was taken, Teg expected an alarm to go off, but apparently the pendants the thieves had donned gave them carte blanche. Indeed, at first they were somewhat cautious, but soon they were grabbing whatever they could carry, as if they couldn’t believe their own luck. Grunwold’s father shoved several swords into his belt. Xerak’s mother—whose figure was naturally svelte—began to look distinctly busty as she dropped item after item down her cleavage and into the folds of her blousy top. What amazed Teg was how much the thieves could take without slowing their progress or making themselves clumsy. Nor for one moment did they ever lose a certain preternatural alertness.
Eventually, Vereez’s father found something he showed to Vereez’s mother, who nodded. Then he dropped the item into one pocket. He signaled the others, and the treasure hunting ended without even a wistful glance at the wealth that remained.
“They’ve done things like this before,” Vereez said, hurt seeping through her assumed nonchalance.
Grunwold replied with a casualness that deceived no one. “I think they were looking for something specific. When Zarrq-toh found it, they quit looting.”
Xerak grunted a noncommittal reply.
Eventually, the thieves arrived at a cross corridor no different than many they’d passed without even hesitating. Vereez’s father, who was in the lead, pulled up short, turned right, paced four steps, then pointed with the tip of his longer sword at a set of shelves. Again, Vereez’s mother worked some complicated bit of magic. Again, when the magic was completed, Grunwold’s father and the unidentified woman pulled apart a set of shelves to reveal a stairway leading down.
That no one had used this staircase for a long time was evident. Cobwebs laced the walls and hung over the treads like a peculiar holiday garland. Bright yellow-and-green-spotted triangular “beetles” the size of Teg’s thumb scuttled away from the light. The treads were thickly furred with dust, the coverage marred only where water had dripped from sweating stonework.
But the thieves were undeterred. Xerak’s mother took a torch and burned away the worst of the spider webs, at the same time examining the stairway to assure that nothing more dangerous than beetles awaited them below. While they’d trotted confidently down the staircase that had led into the repository, this time the thieves were more careful. Xerak’s mother led the way, searching each tread, each section of mortared stonework wall, for booby traps. Sometimes she found them, and everyone would still into preternaturally alert waiting while she disarmed them.
Sometimes elements in the traps were rotted or corroded, the threat they offered minimal, but she dealt with each one with care. The unidentified woman and Grunwold’s father were obviously impatient, Vereez’s mother and father were less so, possibly because whatever magic the silver fox-headed woman had done had clearly taken a lot out of her, and they were glad for her to have a chance to rest.
At the base of the stairway was a small foyer, on the other side of which was a heavy door that Grunwold’s father opened only after Xerak’s mother had carefully inspected it. Behind it—centered on a fluted pedestal in a room hardly large enough to hold all of the intruders—stood a small, oddly shaped item some ten or twelve centimeters in height, and quite narrow; perhaps two centimeters at its widest point.
The artifact was far less expensive-looking than any number of objects the thieves had already taken, made not from shining gold and glittering gems, but from polished bronze and a dark, smooth matte-black stone. The lowest section reminded Teg of a candlestick holder—although only four centimeters in height, it would have been difficult to make it hold even one of the small candles that are usually stuck atop a birthday cake. Onto the candlestick’s spindle was fitted a sort of crenelated chalice cut from black stone. The spindle apparently passed through the crenelated chalice, extending a few centimeters above it, where it was capped by a minute sculpture of a songbird. Although intricate and elegant, the artifact on the pedestal hardly seemed to merit such extensive security and concealment.
Moving with surgical precision that in no way made for slowness, the team went through an elaborate procedure that—after spells were cast and special tools employed—enabled them to remove the artifact from its pedestal. When Vereez’s father took a small ivory box covered with intricate carvings from one of his pockets, Xerak emitted a long, low whistling sigh.
“That’s an enshrouding container. Even one that size costs a small fortune—if you can find someone willing to part with it or a mage’s circle to create one. I bet that’s what they were searching for in the upper part of the repository. What’s going on here?”
“I think,” Grunwold said, his voice gruff and tight, “our moms and dads are busy stealing something that they shouldn’t even be near. And they are very good at what they’re doing. I wonder what went wrong?”
The images had frozen during this discussion, as if Sapphire Wind wanted to make certain no one missed the least element in this revelation of past misdeeds.
Vereez said tartly, “If you two would shut up, we might find out.”
Although no one would have said they had dallied on the way in, the moment the artifact was placed in the enshrouding container and Vereez’s father had dropped it back into his pocket, the pace sped up. Protected by the unidentified woman, Xerak’s mother led the retreat up the stairs, evidently scanning for traps or alarms that might have been activated by the artifact’s removal. Sheathing his twin swords, Vereez’s father knelt in front of Vereez’s mother, who was nearly fainting from exhaustion, positioning her so he could carry her piggyback. Grunwold’s father took the rear, sword in hand, alert for anything that might come after them.
Up the first stair the thieves went, along the corridors of the repository, retracing their steps with haste that never devolved into carelessness. When they were through the last of the hidden doors, they quickly rearranged their order. Now Grunwold’s father and the unidentified woman were in the front. Vereez’s father, still carrying her mother, remained in the middle. Xerak’s mother dropped to the back.
Once again, Teg was struck by how polished their performance was. All of them knew their roles perfectly. Even the way Vereez’s father carried his partner, her long fox’s muzzle resting on his shoulder, showed no urgency or concern. He’d done this before. He expected to do it again. She, for her part, dozed, confident in the protection of her comrades.
So what went wrong? Teg thought, remembering the ruins that surrounded them. For surely something went wrong.
The thieves were nearing the star-domed reception room. Unlike when they had arrived, they were making no effort to be cautious. Apparently, they had been assured that the Library would be empty at that time, and that their pendants would take care of any magical security. The latter was certainly true. Several times they passed horrific creatures that sniffed at them and let them go by, satisfied that—despite the group’s odd behavior—they had some right to be there.
However, the reception hall was not empty. At one of the long tables near the information desk a trio of scholars—one with the head of a blue jay, another with the head of a skunk, the third with the head of an otter—were in consultation. Books and racked data crystals were piled around their feet and over the table. Scrolls weighted open by inkwells, paperweights, and empty scroll cases were spread around them. The trio were all seated, reading, motionless except for hands that moved to take notes. Therefore, the thieves remained unaware of them until they were nearly on top of them.
Although they were not hiding, the carpeted floors and the soft shoes and boots worn by all five thieves must have made their progress nearly soundless. In any case, the two groups spotted each other at precisely the same moment. The reactions were very different. The thieves started sprinting for the door. The researchers though . . .
The skunk thumped his pen and it transformed into a staff. The blue jay reached beneath his robe and came out with a pendant that sent pale yellow light lacing out to tangle the legs of Vereez’s father, who, burdened as he was, proved less agile than the rest. The otter pressed her hands flat on the tabletop and began to chant.
“Oh, shit!” Xerak yelled. “They’re all mages!”
Even the overview provided by Sapphire Wind could not make precisely clear exactly what happened next, especially after various guardian creatures began to pour into the room. Grunwold’s father and the unidentified woman used their swords with consummate skill, first cutting the yellow strands that bound Vereez’s father’s legs, then turning to hold off the guardian creatures. Vereez’s father, still carrying Vereez’s mother, raced for the exit. Vereez’s mother was awake now. Taking careful aim, she shot a ball of blue-white light directly at the paper-covered table.
“Oh, no!” Xerak almost roared. “Excellent technique except . . . ”
The blue-white ball hit, fountaining forth tiny lightning bolts and cascades of sparks. The papers turned to flame. Explosions shot miniature volcanoes of something far hotter than mere fire into the air to catch and burn every bit of wood, paper, and fabric.
The three wizards leapt back from the table. The otter’s robes were on fire. The blue jay let his spell drop in order to grab hold of her and smother the flames. The skunk pointed his staff at the documents on the table and water gushed over them, but it was far too late to halt the spreading conflagration.
“. . . Inehem-toh must have gambled that they weren’t reading highly magical documents.” Seeing the puzzled expressions on the humans’ faces, Xerak explained. “Think of dropping a match onto a heap of shredded paper and only after realizing that the paper has been soaked in oil.”
“More than oil,” Peg exclaimed, horrified. “Gunpowder!”
The fire was spreading now, raging over the tables, catching shelves of reference works. The five thieves continued fighting their way to the door. Vereez’s father no longer had the luxury of carrying his partner, but he was doing his best to protect her. She slid a ring from her pocket and began using it to shoot bolts of putrid green liquid that caused whatever it hit to sizzle and melt at the monstrous guardians.
Nonetheless, one of the guardian creatures, perhaps attuned to whatever had been sealed in the enshrouding container—or to the container itself—ripped directly through Vereez’s father’s tunic, grabbing the container in its jaws and pulling hard.
The woman with the snow leopard head brought her sword down, severing the creature’s neck. In its death throes, it chomped down, teeth crushing the ivory container and breaking the artifact within into pieces. There was a flaring of eye-searing blue-black light that, even seen secondhand, caused Teg’s eyes to run and spots to blur her field of vision.
When she could see the display again, the five thieves were fleeing out the Library’s main door, the three scholars were nowhere to be seen, fire was spreading, and earthquake-like forces were rattling the building.
“Thus,” a voice hardly recognizable as Meg’s declaimed, “the Library of the Sapphire Wind was destroyed.”
The Font’s image faded soon thereafter. The three humans and the three inquisitors stared at each other in shock and horror.
“Well,” said Vereez, obviously trying to keep her voice light and completely failing, “I understand now why Sapphire Wind blames our parents for the destruction of the Library. I’m still not certain what that has to do with us, though.”
Meg held up her hand. “Sapphire Wind is willing to clarify whatever it can, but it needs a means to speak. It has asked me if I will help it and I have agreed—unless that will be too disturbing for the rest of you.”
“It will be disturbing, sure,” Peg said, “but if you agree, and if no harm will come to you, then . . . ”
Teg said, “It’s up to you, Meg.”
“Allowing Sapphire Wind to speak through me will be more efficient than charades or show and tell,” Meg replied. “I will be listening, and even be able to ask questions, although not out loud. I feel we need to know more.”
“But, Meg-toh,” Grunwold said, his use of the suffix revealing the affection he’d been careful to conceal, “you’re opening yourself to possession.”
Meg smiled. “When we were attacked, none of you inquisitors hesitated for a moment when you had to put yourselves at risk. How can I do any less?”
“When you put it that way,” Grunwold said slowly. “All right, but if anything happens to you . . . ”
He let his threat—which was, after all, somewhat empty, since not a one of them knew how to fight a bodiless magical creation—remain unspecified.
Xerak and Vereez nodded their reluctant acceptance of Meg’s offer.
Without any more fuss than when it had borrowed Meg’s voice before, Sapphire Wind spoke: “Meg wishes to know what happened to the inhabitants of the Library and the associated surroundings.”
“Me, too . . . ” Vereez said softly, doubtless dreading how many deaths lay at the feet of her parents and their allies.
“Not aware yet how limited my abilities would be in the future,” Sapphire Wind continued, “I archived those who belonged to the community.”
“Archived?” Teg said. “Can you clarify that?”
Meg’s arm gestured in the direction of the foyer. “I had been given a spell that enabled me to save a person’s life by storing that person within a magical artifact. It was intended to be an emergency measure. At the time—fuddled as I was for reasons I can explain—I viewed this as an emergency. The Library’s staff and scholars reside within the stars of the celestial dome. ‘Reside’ is misleading. They are stored there, asleep. Gently dreaming.”
“How many?” Xerak asked.
“Four hundred and twenty-three: this includes the Library staff, resident researchers, visitors, and those of the support community who lived near enough to the main Library buildings to be at risk of immediate demise. The inhabitants of the associated village were safe from immediate harm. Most of these fled within a few days as the area became too dangerous to safely inhabit.”
“I’ve been wondering about those dangers,” Peg said. “Over and over we’ve heard how dangerous this area is, but really it hasn’t been that bad. We did have some trouble with the piranha toads and the lizard parrots, but really, the vicinity hasn’t lived up to its reputation. I’d love to think it’s because we were so well prepared, but I don’t believe it. Did you have anything to do with how easy we had it?”
“I did,” Sapphire Wind replied. “I have been waiting for either one of the extraction agents—repentant—or someone intimately connected to them to come to me. When you finally did so, I protected you until you found this place. Even then I helped you to find the doors.”
Teg gasped. “The spike wolf that knocked me over the edge! That was your doing? I could have broken my back or been killed!”
“It was a risk that had to be taken,” Sapphire Wind said. “The rate at which you were discovering locations was such that I feared it would be weeks before anyone looked carefully below.”
“After all that time . . . ” Teg began, forgetting she wasn’t arguing with Meg.
Peg put a hand on Teg’s arm. “Sometimes, it’s precisely ‘after all that time’ that it becomes impossible to wait. Let up, Teg. I want to hear why Sapphire Wind thinks it’s so important that people connected to the disaster deal with the cleanup. I don’t think it’s just a matter of abstract justice.”
“It isn’t,” Sapphire Wind replied. “When you were watching the vision, you may have noticed that, at the very end, the artifact the extraction agents were trying to steal was broken into three parts. Although the image did not show this, I have ascertained that the artifact was not destroyed, but instead separated into three components: the Spindle, the Nest, and the Bird.
“I have done my best to research what happened to these components, and could only find a partial answer. I am certain that one part remains here. The other two are not here. I believe that at least one of the missing components may have been taken by one of the extraction agents.”
“That makes sense,” Grunwold said grudgingly. “I mean, they did have the artifact in their custody. When that enshrouding container was broken and the thing was crunched, they would have tried to grab what they could. That’s what I would have done.”
Sapphire Wind moved Meg’s arm to point toward the Font of Sight. “Let me show you the end of the vision again and see what you deduce. I would not have you take such an important matter on my conjecture alone.”
The vision began with the fading of the blue-black light, focused in on the five extraction agents, as Sapphire Wind had termed them.
Tact? Teg wondered. I wonder if Meg had anything to do with that choice of words. After all, referring to the parents of people you want to help you as “thieves” may be accurate, but it’s not going to make you friends.
The snow leopard woman was on point, running to shove open the main doors. Vereez’s father was once again carrying Vereez’s mother as he ran full tilt for the doors. Grunwold’s father was grasping one wrist, which was streaming blood, but he had stayed back to wait for Xerak’s mother. She was coming up from a crouch. In her right hand, she held a long dagger, stained with gore. Her other hand was clenched tightly around something that caught the light for just a second.
“Fardowsi-toh is definitely holding onto something,” Vereez said. “It could be part of that artifact, but it’s impossible to be sure.”
“If I had one piece of the artifact,” Sapphire Wind said, “I could more accurately divine the location of the others.”
“Can’t you use the one that you say is here?” Xerak asked.
“It is close by,” Sapphire Wind replied, “almost certainly somewhere in the Library, but I do not know precisely where. I have searched the rubble in the reception area to the best of my ability, but I did not find it. My natural form can move solid objects, but only in a limited fashion.”
Teg was aware that all five of her companions were looking at her. “I’ll check through the rubble out in the reception hall, near where the thing broke apart, but I can’t promise I’ll find anything, especially since Sapphire Wind has already searched through the area.”
“But where else would the piece of the artifact be?” Vereez asked. “I mean, it couldn’t have sprouted legs and walked off.” She paused, considering. “I mean, it couldn’t, could it?”
Sapphire Wind shook Meg’s head. “I do not believe so. However, it could have been carried away by one of the Library’s guardian creatures. For many years now, as I have caused the detritus in the reception area to be sifted through, I have come to believe that is the most likely solution. They were summoned to keep it from being stolen, you see.”
“I am afraid I am beginning to understand,” Vereez said. “If one of the guardians did take it, then it would have put it back, right?”
“That is my supposition,” Sapphire Wind said.
Peg had seated herself and taken out her knitting, Teg thought as much to distract herself from the unsettling sight of seeing someone else talking through Meg as because she was restless.
Now, her needles still clicking, she asked, “Why haven’t you simply checked?”
“Because I am much reduced from what I should be,” Sapphire Wind said. “Ironically, while I can undo locks and disarm wards, I cannot open doors. I cannot compel the more intelligent of the guardian creatures such as would have been likely to retrieve, then attempt to replace, the component.”
“And the doors are closed now?” Grunwold asked. “Who closed them? The extraction agents didn’t.”
“When the guardians were summoned, this also reactivated the wards in case there were other intruders elsewhere in the Library. Doing so caused open doors to close.”
“But,” Peg asked, “then how would the guardian with the bit of the artifact have gotten through closed doors?”
Meg gave an oddly boneless shrug. “I was not present, so I cannot say, but many of the guardians have hands, or a close approximation of such.”
Teg moved toward the exit. “Sapphire Wind, can you give me more light out in the reception hall? If not, we’re going to need to bring in the rest of the lanterns from Slicewind. Searching for a few small pieces of bronze is going to be hard enough without doing it by flashlight beam. I think we should reassure ourselves that the piece of the artifact isn’t over where we saw it dropped before trooping off to the basement.”
“Or not trooping,” Xerak said, holding up a hand and gesturing for everyone to take a seat. “Grunwold, Vereez, we haven’t really talked about what we saw, but we can’t keep dodging it. Those were our parents. My mom. Grunwold’s dad. Both of Vereez’s parents. I didn’t recognize the other woman. Did either of you?”
“No,” Grunwold said.
“She looked a little familiar,” Vereez said hesitantly, “but I can’t say for sure. My parents entertain a lot, and by now she’d be over twenty years older. People change a lot in twenty years.”
Xerak nodded, then continued speaking. “We could go after the piece that might or might not be down in the vault . . . ”
“Guarded by monsters,” Peg said helpfully.
“. . . or we could go talk with our parents.”
Vereez stiffened and Teg, remembering what she’d confided about her parents, how they’d taken her baby away without involving her in the decision, understood why.
“I think,” Vereez said slowly. “I’d rather take my chances with monsters.”