The Quest for the Trilogy: Boneslicer; Seaspray; Deathwhisper (55 page)

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Authors: Mel Odom

BOOK: The Quest for the Trilogy: Boneslicer; Seaspray; Deathwhisper
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“I can. It doesn't say who the dwarf is, though. But look here.” Wick pointed
at a symbol inscribed on the dwarven blacksmith's chest plate. The symbol showed a dwarven hammer striking an anvil and flames shooting off the blow. “Do you recognize this symbol?”
“Yes. That belongs to the Cinder Clouds Islands dwarves.”
“More than that,” Wick said. “It belongs to Master Oskarr's family.”
Craugh peered more closely at the dwarf in the picture. “Is this Master Oskarr?”
“No. The time period is wrong. This was illustrated hundreds of years before Master Oskarr was born. There's a possibility the tale was old even before it was written down.”
“Who's the dwarf in the illustration?”
Wick shook his head. “I don't know.” He shifted books to one of those he'd brought from an earlier room. “Here's an entry by Naggal, one of Master Oskarr's apprentices.”
“It says the book is by Master Oskarr.”
“It wasn't. A lot of masters passed their writing off onto junior apprentices. They didn't have time to do the work themselves but it needed to be done. So they assigned it to someone.”
“And later claimed the work as their own?”
“Technically, the work was theirs,” Wick said. “The writing wasn't, of course, but they claimed the writing of manuals based on their work as well.”
“Even so, what does this tell us?”
“Well, where the metal came from, for one.” Wick held up the second book. “But this tells us that all three weapons—Boneslicer, Seaspray, and Deathwhisper—all came from the same source. That glowing rock you saw in the other picture. And from the same master hand as the others.” He flipped through the pages and showed Master Oskarr working at his forge. “‘From the remains of the fallen star—'”
“‘Fallen star'?” Craugh repeated.
“It's a rough approximation from the mer tongue.”
“All right.”
“‘From the remains of the fallen star my ancestor traded the merpeople for, I made three items,'” Wick read. “‘For the first time, I didn't plan out those weapons ahead of time. The ore called to me in a way I had never known. Of course, I fashioned an axe first. I'm a dwarf, after all, and my own nature will override anything else I'm confronted with.'”
“Vidrenium,” Craugh whispered.
“I'm Grandmagister Of This Library, And I—
Ulp
!”
W
ick blinked. It took a moment for the reference to vidrenium to come to him.
“It wasn't a fallen star,” Craugh said, taking out his pipe. He started to strike his thumb. “It was vidrenium. Had to be.” A wisp of smoke curled up from his thumb.
“No,” Wick warned, knowing a fire inside the Library would be a bad thing.
“Of course it was,” Craugh declared imperiously, thinking that Wick was arguing with him. As soon as the wizard's thumb caught fire, a magical rain cloud formed over his head and drenched him. He cursed.
“I tried to stop you,” Wick said.
Pipe clenched between his teeth, Craugh glared up at the miniature rain cloud. As if in open defiance, the rain cloud released a half dozen tiny bolts of lightning and rumbled with quiet but energetic thunder.
“The magic wards that protect the Vault of All Known Knowledge,” Wick reminded.
Almost immediately, the stone floor sucked the water from the floor with a loud gurgling and returned the floor to its dry state. Craugh, however, was left drenched, but every drop that dripped off him was blotted up by the floor.
The wizard put away his pipe, then muttered a single word. Wick felt the heat of the spell sear into him and turned his head to avoid it. When he looked back at Craugh, the wizard was dry once more.
“You mentioned vidrenium,” Wick reminded him.
“I did,” Craugh agreed, pursing his lips in contemplation. “You're familiar with it?”
“I know the legend,” Wick said. “It was a metal created by the best magical metallurgists of the time in Dream. The purest metals and the most powerful spells.”
“Yes,” Craugh said.
“I thought the metal, culled from white gold and invested with enchantments and magic, was just a myth.”
Craugh studied the glowing chunk of rock the dwarf and the elf exchanged in the illustration. “I'd heard they'd finally done it, though. All of them that worked on it, Dadorr, Hosfeth, Klial, and Tormak all died in the Cataclysm. Whatever they discovered will probably remain hidden for some time. They gave most of their lives to creating that metal.” He paused. “I remember when Dream died, after Lord Kharrion went into the city and unleashed the goblinkin hordes to run rampant. He caused explosions throughout Dream. There was a forge, a combination of dwarven manufacture and wizard spells, where they were working with vidrenium. I was told the magic spells safeguarding it were disrupted and caused even further destruction in the city.”
“It's possible during the explosions that chunks of vidrenium were thrown into the Gentlewind Sea,” Wick pointed out. Then he sighed. “So much of this is guesswork. And now, with Dream involved, there is even more research to be done.”
“Guesswork or not,” Craugh said, “I think you're on to something.”
Wick took heart in that.
“But your efforts alone aren't enough,” Craugh stated.
“I'm doing the best that I can,” Wick protested before he realized those very words were about to doom him.
“I know.” Craugh's voice was unmistakably soft and understanding. “You must become an army, Second Level Librarian Lamplighter, and there is only one way you can do that.” The wizard's robes swirled as he turned and left the room. “Come.”
In disbelief, Wick watched Craugh stride through the door. Then, hands and arms filled with books, the little Librarian hurried after the wizard. Wick didn't make a sound, but inside his own mind he was screaming in terror.
Grandmagister Frollo is going to find out about this! And he's not going to care for it! I'm going to be scrubbing kitchen floors for years! I'll never be allowed to touch paper again!
 
 
Craugh strode through the halls and passages of the Vault of All Known Knowledge. Every Librarian, from Novice to First Level, the wizard ordered them all to drop whatever they were doing and fall in behind him. He didn't say “or else.” That was inferred. The Librarians did as he bade reluctantly and with no little resentment (though none of it displayed to anyone except Wick because they thought Craugh's ire was all
his
fault—which, after a fashion, Wick had to agree that it was).
By the time they reached the main chamber (Craugh did have to stop three times and ask directions of Wick, but the little Librarian was surprised that the
wizard knew as much of the inner workings of the Vault of All Known Knowledge as he did), an army of Librarians marched at the wizard's heels.
“This is all your fault, Lamplighter,” First Level Librarian Cottle sneered. He was a rotund dweller with bulging eyes and a sweet tooth that was legendary, which was the cause of his immense fatness. “You brought the wizard here. You know Grandmagister Frollo doesn't want him here.”
“But I didn't—” Wick started to protest.
“The Grandmagister is going to be properly vexed at you,” First Level Librarian Amatard grouched.
“I couldn't stop—” Wick tried to add in his own defense.
“You're going to gain intimate knowledge of the kitchen floors after this,” First Level Librarian Natter promised. “If Grandmagister Frollo doesn't make you scrub, I will!”
“He's a wizard—” Wick pointed out. But he stopped because he knew it was no use.
I didn't have a
choice! His arms felt as though they were about to fall off from carrying the books the whole way. No one offered to help him with his burden.
Finally, though, they were in the main chamber. Tables and chairs and bookshelves filled the room. More Librarians were there, all of them huddled over the various projects they worked at. They looked up at once as Craugh entered the room with his army of captive Librarians.
“Your attention, Librarians,” Craugh said in a booming voice.
Wick quailed and felt as though he were going to faint.
I'm not going to be relegated to permanent kitchen duty, I'm going to be exiled from the Library!
“On your feet!” Craugh's voice bristled with command. “I've got a project worthy of the finest Librarians at the Vault of All Known Knowledge!”
Grudgingly, the Librarians came to their feet.
“This project requires a lot of research on a multitude of levels,” Craugh went on. “All the necessary information will be gathered and brought back to this room.”
Knowing he was the center of a lot of malicious attention (surely the most that had ever been unleashed in the Library), Wick took a quiet step back. Then another.
Eleven more
, he told himself,
and you can reach the door.
Without looking, Craugh reached back with his staff and hooked Wick behind the neck, drawing him up in a graceless, stumbling trot.
“You all know Second Level Librarian Lamplighter, I presume,” Craugh demanded.
“Yes,” a few Librarians answered.
Wick knew they all knew who he was. At one time or another, nearly all of them had come to him to take advantage of his knowledge, ask where a book was, or ask how to prepare something for Grandmagister Frollo. Even the First Level Librarians, although most reluctantly, acknowledged his acumen and familiarity with the Vault of All Known Knowledge.
“I said, you all know Second Level Librarian Lamplighter!” Craugh's voice thundered through the hall, sounding louder even than Grandmagister Frollo on his most surly day.
“Yes!” The reply this time was equally thunderous.
“Good,” Craugh replied. “He will be in charge of the research efforts. You will listen to him and do as he says and we'll all get along just fine.”
Listen to me?
Wick blinked in astonishment. A whole new wave of terror blasted through him. Surely he was going to be blamed for everything that happened from this point on.
“Craugh!”
Wick recognized the voice as Grandmagister Frollo's at once. His knees fell out from under him. Swiftly, Craugh reached out for him, caught him by his shirt collar in one hand, and somehow kept him upright as they turned to face the Grandmagister.
Frollo strode imperiously through the Library's main hall and all the Librarians gathered there. Dressed in the charcoal gray robes of Grandmagister, he didn't look like an imposing figure. He was a blade-thin human, tall, and stoopshouldered from all the long years working over books. A long gray beard trailed down to his narrow chest, partially masking his pinched, severe features. There was never a day in his acquaintance with the man, even before Grandmagister Ludaan passed away peacefully while reading and Frollo took over as the new Grandmagister, that Wick had seen Frollo happy.
Quarrel, Alysta, Bulokk, and his dwarven warriors trailed behind the Grandmagister.
“What is the meaning of this?” Frollo demanded. His hazel eyes flashed angrily. “You can't just come into this Library and disrupt everything.”
“I've come,” Craugh said, straightening himself to his full height and towering over the Grandmagister—especially with the peaked slouch hat, “on a matter of grave importance.”
“Your problems are no problems of mine,” Frollo snapped, frothing at the mouth. “Or of this Library.”
“I need these Librarians to do research.”
“These Librarians already have tasks.
Important
tasks. They're not here at your beck and call. You can't just rush in here and interrupt schedules and procedures simply because you can't figure something out on your own.”
Craugh's face purpled in fury.
Wick pushed against the staff, hoping he might be able to take a step or five back from the impending collision of wills. Regrettably, Craugh kept his hold on the staff—and therefore Wick—quite firm.
“I came here tonight and discovered these interlopers,” Frollo said, throwing back a hand to include Quarrel, Alysta, Bulokk, and his warriors. “Here!
Without
my approval. You know we protect many important books and records here, Craugh. You, of all people, should know that.”
“I do,” Craugh said. “Those books and records are the very reasons I chose to come here.”
You
chose to come here?
Wick thought indignantly. He almost objected aloud, then realized that Craugh was not only taking the credit for their presence there, but he was also taking the blame. At least that part was good. Wick decided he could sacrifice one for getting out of the other.
“Faugh!” Frollo sneered. He turned his attention to Wick. “And you, you malingering excuse for a proper Librarian, are you the cause of all this?”
Unable to speak in his terror (unable to stand if it hadn't been for Craugh's staff propping him up), Wick could only shake his head.
“Don't lie to me!” Frollo commanded. “Craugh wouldn't have come here by choice. And you've been missing for days. Did you go off with one of those pitiful excuses for books from Hralbomm's Wing?”
Wick gave that consideration. That was tricky. That night in Paunsel's Tavern, he
had
taken an adventure about Taurak Bleiyz (which he still hadn't finished!), and there was the possibility that the Grandmagister was already aware of that. But the romance wasn't the reason he'd been gone from the Library for so long. He started to open his mouth and explain himself.
“And don't you dare tell me you were shanghaied again!” Grandmagister Frollo bellowed. “I'll have none of that this time!”
Stymied, afraid for his very life, Wick closed his mouth.
“Answer me!” Grandmagister Frollo shrilled.
Wick wished that somewhere along the way he had learned how to turn himself invisible. But since invisibility wasn't forthcoming, he took a deep breath, screwed up his courage, and—
“This is not his fault,” Craugh roared. “He is trying to help solve the problem I'm dealing with.”
“Again, Craugh,” Frollo shouted back, turning to stare directly into the wizard's face, “your problem is not my problem.”
Green embers circulated around Craugh's staff. His eyes glowed bright green.
“Uh-oh,” someone said. “Now you've done it.”
To Wick's horror, he discovered the speaker was none other than himself.
“I want you out of here!” Frollo pointed imperiously in the direction of the main door. “This instant! I'm Grandmagister of this Library, and I—
ulp
!”
Actually, the
ulp
came after Craugh moved, but the wizard moved
so quickly
that the
ulp
came out almost immediately. Taking one step in toward the Grandmagister, Craugh caught Frollo's head in one spidery hand that could have palmed a dinner plate. Green sparks scattered in all directions from Craugh's staff and eyes, spinning round inside the great chamber.

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