She pursed her lips, "No it did not. Not at all. Take me back to the others. We need to come up with a new plan."
Halfway back to her friends, the old dwarf from the council chamber caught up with her. "Krystelle Mora, I would not have thought you would give up so easily."
Stopping, Krystelle turned to the dwarf. "The Council made their position very clear, I heard no room for negotiation. I did not catch your name."
"I am called Witek," he said. "Do not give up hope. There may be a way to get you into the libraries, although there will likely be strict conditions. Allow me time to speak with Finnguala. I believe I can convince her."
"Why would you do that?"
"Let's just say we share a common purpose. I believe you are right about the ripples of magic and the Heartstone. In fact, that is why I am here myself. To locate the Heartstone and bring a halt to the destruction. Now, I must go. Rest tonight and I will find you and your companions in the morning."
Watching Witek stroll back toward the Council Chamber, Krystelle scowled. "Somehow I do not know if I should trust that man."
"Aye," said Asegeirr, startling Krystelle. She'd all but forgotten he was there. "Witek is a strange one and that's a fact. If anyone can change the council's mind though, it's him. He's crafty like that. If I didna know better I'd say he was some kind of magician."
"What do you mean?"
"Ah, never mind that. Just idle talk. Let's get you back to your friends and settled."
#
Cenric tossed and turned for hours that night. When shown his quarters after the Council's rejection he'd been relieved to have a room to his own. Constantly putting on the mask of the old Cenric at every moment during the journey north had become excruciating. He was no longer that boy. The naivete. The false trust. Perhaps even the innocence that had marked his youth had been washed away in the light of truth and the things Sterling Lex taught him.
In the wee hours he finally gave up any attempt to sleep and retreated to the small chair at the side of his chamber. Curse the dwarfs. Their reluctance to allow his party access to the dwarven histories and records put his mission in jeopardy. He had to find the Heartstone before anyone else reached the stone.
If only there were a way for him to sneak into the records without the dwarves finding out. Or his companions. No, it was too much of a risk. He could not put himself in a position where he would need to call upon his strange ally. At least he had not been forced to call upon that darkness since meeting up with Krystelle and the others. He would not have liked to have had to summon it against them. But he knew he would if it became necessary.
Knowing he would not sleep, he settled down to the floor of his chamber and began a series of spells. Every night since meeting up with the others, he took the occasion of his turn at watch to slip in to the forest and practice his magic. Most nights he lay awake until Daciana came to wake him, waiting for his chance, his body quivering with the anticipation. Tonight, as it had every night, the spells relieved his soul and calmed his mind.
When the morning arrived, he found himself in an antechamber with the others waiting for news. He felt at peace, and knew it would be several hours before the hunger to use his magic overtook him again.
Krystelle had been vague about her encounter after the council chamber the previous afternoon. She would only reveal that a window of opportunity presented itself to her. He suspected she had told her friend Daciana more than she revealed to the rest of them, but he could not be sure. If only he could have listened in on their conversation.
"Are you sure this dwarf of yours is going to come through?" said Jeffry.
"No," said Krystelle, "I am not sure at all. But I don't know that we have any other options. Unless you have another idea?"
"I just don't trust a stranger."
Cenric found himself wondering who this strange benefactor might be. He didn't trust the dwarves. He didn't trust the elves. He didn't trust the wizards. None of them ever showed any regard for him or his well-being. Only Sterling Lex and the other sorcerers had shown the slightest bit of care for him. The 'noble' order of Gabriel, in the person of Quiren Adelwolf had betrayed him. Snatched him from his home, sent him out into danger to run their petty errands. A small voice at the back of Cenric's mind said perhaps that was not true but, as always, he forced that down. The evidence was plain to see.
At long last the dwarf came into the chamber. It was all Cenric could do to contain his surprise when the old dwarf lowered his cowl. It was Witek. He sent Cenric a warning glance, not to reveal who Witek was or that he was allied with Sterling Lex.
At last a true ally. He wondered how Witek had come to return to Hallvard. After the defeat at Cinaeth he'd not seen or heard from any of Sterling Lex's inner circle. Sequestered away at Cale Uriasz, he had thought himself on his own to further the cause. Now he saw perhaps that was not the case.
"This is your mysterious dwarf?" said Jeffry.
Ignoring him, Krystelle turned to Witek, "Well? Have you made any progress with the council?"
"I have," said the dwarf, "There are some restrictions but I have gained leave for members of your party to enter the libraries. Under strict supervision, of course."
"Restrictions?" Daciana looked worried.
"They have granted leave for you, Krystelle, and the boy Cenric to enter the libraries under my supervision and my countenance. We have only three days to find the information you seek and then that access will be cut off again. Under no circumstances can any material be removed from the libraries for any reason. Although that restriction is not unique to our search. The council is very keen on ensuring the knowledge contained within the libraries is not lost. Only a select few dwarven scholars are given leave to remove documents, and none of them have taken advantage of the privilege in living memory."
"At least that's something," said Krystelle.
Jeffry scowled, "I don't like the idea of the two of you taking all of the burden of this search. The search would go much quicker if all of us were looking.”
Waving a hand in dismissal, Witek snarled, "I don't believe we can gain any additional time nor do I believe we can change the conditions of this compromise. The council was very firm and have extended this grace based on your reputation, Krystelle, and my own."
Krystelle considered, looking back and forth at her companions before responding. "It will be fine. We will make it work. Witek, thank you so much for helping us with the council. We are in your debt."
"I am at your service. As I said yesterday our interests are aligned in this."
Daciana stood, "If we only have three days to search the archives. When does that time start?"
"Immediately," said Witek.
Cenric broke his silence, “We better start as soon as possible. Who knows how many pages and pages of books there'll be. I can't wait to read some of the old histories. I'll bet you we'll have to read really, really fast!”
Witek smiled, "Your enthusiastic friend is correct. We should, the three of us, go to the library now. The sooner we begin our search, the better."
#
Following Witek through the maze of tunnels, Cenric's mind raced. What was the dwarven sorcerer’s endgame here and why had he included Krystelle in the actual search. Surely, he could have found a way to ensure only he and Cenric gained access to the libraries. Couldn't he?
"Cenric!" Krystelle snapped, "Are you listening to Witek's instructions? You look like you are a hundred miles away."
Cenric searched back for Witek's monologue, and then put on the mask, "I was listening, Krystelle. I was, I promise. I can show you. First, be sure not to take anything out, even by accident because that will make the dwarves really mad. Then he said not to touch ANYTHING on a red shelf. If you need something from one of those go find a librarian and they'll help you 'cause the red shelf things are too fragile. And no fire at all. They don't want any of the books to get burned up. I wonder how we'll be able to see anything without torches? All these
green rocks make good light to get around, but I think reading with them will give you a..."
"Cenric!" Krystelle interrupted.
"See, I was listening." Too sharp, couldn't have Krystelle getting suspicious. Up came the mask. "I'm a good listener. I listen all the time. Just ask me anything."
Krystelle smiled and shook her head, "No, that is alright. I am sorry I questioned you." Turning she gestured for Witek to continue on. Cenric smirked at her back as they walked. So easy to show her what she expected to see.
Reaching a large chamber lined on three sides with benches, Witek paused. He had to speak louder here due to the fountain bubbling in the center. "This is the Ghethrendroig. There's no real translation from the dwarvish, but you can just call it the waiting room. Your friends will be brought here at the lunch hour. The libraries are just beyond those doors."
Looking across the chamber, past the stone fountain, Cenric saw a pair of massive stone doors. No wood here to encourage a fire, even the benches were stone. Witek led them over to the doors and pulled on a cord hanging from an opening to the right. "Have to let the librarians know we're here," he said. "There is no way to open the doors from the outside. We dwarves value knowledge almost as much as we do our precious stones."
Cenric cocked his head, "If the librarians have to let everyone in, how do they get in every morning."
Witek chuckled, "They rarely leave the libraries. Sleep there, eat there, die there. 'S why I could never have made it as one." Bitterness crept into Witek's voice at the end.
"Ah," Cenric nodded, eyes wide. He understood Witek a little better in that moment, and felt a new kinship with him. Cenric knew what it felt like to be constrained by unreasonable rules. Before he could ask anything further, the doors opened to reveal a strange little dwarf. Clad in a brown robe, he was the very first thin dwarf Cenric had ever seen. Dwarfs were thick and stocky, built for extreme hardship. This one looked like a gentle breeze would break his stick thin bones and blow him away. Whereas most dwarves were granite, this one seemed more like shale.
"I am Berhathog," he said with a grimace. "I will be your overseer. You have three days for your search beginning one hour ago. Witek, you have given them the rules?"
Witek nodded, "I have."
"Then let us begin. Know that I am not pleased at this breach of tradition and will be watching you closely. Break the rules and this...experiment is over. If a librarian instructs you to leave or that a particular volume is off-limits, you must obey. Within these walls, our word is law. Come." The dwarf turned and walked swiftly through the doors, with a speed and confidence that belied his frail appearance.
"Berhathog, I believe we shall start on the third level," said Witek. "I have already surveyed the first two and not found anything of note. I have collected several volumes of note and was preparing to study them. They are in the fourth alcove there."
The librarian waved a hand in acknowledgment and led them to a bank of platforms set along the wall. He motioned for them to join him on the second from the right. When all were in place, he drew a chain from beneath his robe and inserted into a pedestal set on the center of the platform, then turned and pulled a lever set into the wall behind him. With a jerk, the platform descended into the floor.
"It goes down?" asked Cenric, still playing the part.
Berhathog glared at him, without answering. Continuing the rest of the way in silence, Cenric watched the stone walls grind past. He wondered at the mechanism behind this lift. Dwarven magic or dwarven engineering? Sometimes it was difficult to tell the difference.
At last the wall opened up on one side and the platform shuddered to a stop. Berhathog pulled his key from the apparatus as Witek led them from the lift into the library. Cenric realized that there was no way to leave the library without one of the librarians.
Cenric blinked at the sudden light. It was bright here. And not that green light from the halls above. This was a white light. But where was it coming from, he could not tell, it just seemed to be.
Witek led them into a small alcove containing a stone table piled high with books and scrolls. A bench ran along one side of the table, and a pile of writing papers was arranged neatly at one end. Berhathog retreated to another alcove where he had a view of the party, as well as the shelves
"Krystelle, I wonder if you would begin reviewing these works?" said Witek. "Cenric and I will continue searching the stacks. There is an area of particular interest relative to the Ban on this level that I've not yet had an opportunity to examine. Come Cenric."
Following the dwarf down the line of shelving, Cenric glanced back to find Krystelle watching them go. Shaking her head, she turned back to the pile of books and opened the first one. Hurrying to catch up to Witek, Cenric put Krystelle out of his head.
"It is good you were able to join me here in Hallvard," said Witek. "Pity you brought these others with you."
Cenric grimaced. "There wasn't any other choice Master Witek. They found me in the swamp and I just blurted out where I was going."
He wilted under the dwarf's glare, "You could have killed them. That's what you could have done."
"I just...I wasn't..." Cenric stuttered, his new-found confidence melting in the presence of the dwarven sorcerer.
Witek waved a hand, "What's done is done. We need to focus on our search. Ah, here is the section I was looking for."
Shrugging it off, Cenric looked around at the countless volumes. "How are we ever going to find what we need in here? Isn't there some spell we could cast to find the journal?"
Chuckling grimly, Witek pulled a thick tome from the shelf and handed it to Cenric. "Indeed there is, but at what consequence? Not only would we face the unknown backlash from the Ban's failure, the Council has put safeguards in place within the archives. I would not advise casting any spells while you are within these walls. The results would be...unfortunate. Now, everything I provided the woman is useless. It will keep her occupied though while we conduct the real search. Start with that volume. The forty fifth through fifty first chapters are said to be particularly relevant to elvish history and may give us a clue to whether the journal really is located here."
Settling into another nearby alcove, Cenric began skimming the book beginning at the indicated location. It was dry stuff and he forced himself to concentrate on the words in front of him as Witek settled next to him with his own tome.
They sat for hours pouring through history after history, looking for any hint of the journal’s location. Cenric learned more than he cared to know about the Ban and the perspectives of various races on the events leading up to the Dragon Wars. Ramblings about trade and uses of power and political maneuvers.
Eyes tired and head aching from pouring over the books, Cenric leaned back, stretching his arms and shoulders. Witek looked up from his own study, raising an eyebrow and sending Cenric back to his search. Sometime later, Krystelle and Berhathog joined them in their alcove. "Time to stop for the day," said Berhathog.
#
Jeffry spent his first day in Hallvard pacing the halls around his temporary living quarters. For the most part the dwarves ignored him and Daciana kept to herself, leaving him with lots of time to wonder how he had ended up here, far to the north and away from his business interests.
No doubt his father would find great amusement in this turn of events. Jeffry had spent his life running from expectations and trying to make his own way in the world. Somehow, he found himself trying to save the world. The thought was enough to make him laugh.
Even the purpose of this quest eluded him. Stories of spells and magical stones were far beyond his experience. He understood real world things. Economics, trade, logistics. The Ban and these so-called wizards meant nothing to him.
This was not his fight. He should leave. Head south and rejoin his caravans. His lieutenants were competent, but the longer he was gone the more likely a bad deal would come across the decks with the potential to ruin all he had built.
Why
did I come back? She told me to go and I did. I could have stayed away. Should have stayed away. Stayed out of all this.
Yet those eyes. Every time he tried to put those eyes out of his head, he failed. Truth be told, the memory of those eyes haunted him ever since their first encounter outside of Cuillen. In the intervening years, as he poured himself into building a robust network of smugglers, he had thought about those eyes often.
That night, they broke bread together as a party. The strange dwarf, Witek, chose to retire to his own quarters, promising to rejoin them in the morning. The boy, Cenric, sat off to one side, hunched over his meal, not engaging with the group. Jeffry wondered about him. Unable to put his finger on what it was, his gut told him that something was off about the boy. Yet Krystelle seemed unconcerned. In fact, she treated him like a favored younger brother. The one you had to protect and who kept going off to do stupid things. Jeffry had a brother just like that, so he recognized the instinct.
As the meal progressed, Daciana and Krystelle put their heads together, deep in conversation. All told, the situation left Jeffry at a loss. A frustrating day was rapidly turning into a frustrating night. The meal ended none too quickly and he excused himself.
Emerging from their quarters into the dimly lit corridor, he set off to expand his pacing circle. All indications pointed toward the second day mirroring the first, and he wanted to expand his knowledge of the layout near their quarters. It niggled at him that they were at the dwarves’ mercy and would feel better if he at least knew the way out of Hallvard without a dwarven escort.
Turning right, left, and then left again he found himself in an area he had not explored yet. Smiling, he started down the new corridor. Few dwarves roamed the halls at this time of night, but those he passed stared at the tall interloper, muttering in dwarvish. No doubt wondering what the council was thinking allowing these outsiders such leeway.
As he walked, his mind circled around Krystelle and his role in her quest. Passing a series of storage rooms, the hair on the back of his neck rose. Turning the next corner, he glanced down the corridor from the corner of his eyes only to catch a glimpse of a hooded figure stepping back into the shadows. Was someone following him? Taking the next turn, he hurried along in an attempt to lose his shadow, slowing down once he was confident he had shaken the pursuit.
Eligium- The Complete Series Page 53
