by Sever Bronny
“That worker told us,” Leera blurted. “The chiseler.”
“Basil. Indeed …”
The trio got out of there as fast as they dared.
“I can’t stand her type,” Bridget said through gritted teeth as soon as they were out of earshot. “The meddling, over-controlling—” She made a choking gesture. “Ugh, know-it-all!”
Augum exchanged a look with Leera. “Bridge?”
“Nothing, it’s just I had a mentor like that once, for a very, very short time.” She shivered. “Horrible, horrible person.”
“Oh, you mean Harvus?” Leera joked, throwing a light elbow. “Or Erika Scarson?”
“Not funny.”
“No, I suppose it isn’t.”
“We’ve had our share of bad mentors now,” Augum added.
“At least Mophead taught us how to cast SME,” Leera said.
“Not really,” he replied. “Left out a bunch of stuff we needed to know, remember?”
“Oh, right.” Leera gave Bridget a proud smile. “Didn’t know you’re such a good liar.”
“We had a story prepared ahead of time. You know, just for such an occurrence?”
Augum guiltily recalled the evening before and how they made all these plans, but he had gotten sleepy and stopped paying attention after a while.
“Besides,” Bridget added, “hopefully we’ll be long gone by the time anybody figures out that mentor doesn’t exist, or that we’re not really from Everscale.”
They made their way into the hallway of bronze statues, slowing to a lazy stroll.
“Anybody learn anything back there with those books?” Augum asked, hoping Bridget had something juicy.
Leera stayed silent, flashing him a guilty look. He guessed she hadn’t soaked much in either.
Bridget rubbed her eyes. “Not too much, unfortunately. Kind of feels like all the important books were missing. Read about some of the founders, all crotchety old men. Oh, but I did learn a lot about symbolism, which could be useful. For example, I learned that fire represents understanding, and that the original symbol of knowledge was a sword—the Sword of Knowledge, it was called. Anyway, the Sword of Knowledge represented light and—” She stopped, narrowed her eyes at Leera, who was suddenly pointing at her yawning mouth.
“I should point at my ears too,” Leera added, “because everything that you’re saying is going in one and out the other. Come on, didn’t you learn anything interesting?”
Bridget stopped and ballooned. “Interesting? Interesting? And what have you learned? I’ve been studying for five straight hours while you did nothing but drool and pretend to—”
Augum groaned, too tired to intervene. But he did notice they had stopped right in front of the giant embroidery of Atrius Arinthian and his family. “Tap into a part of ancestry,” he muttered, examining the family portrait. This was his ancestry. Did it have anything to do with the riddle?
He rolled his eyes at himself. How self-centered. Not everything had to revolve around him …
“Bet you it’s something stupid,” he mumbled to the arguing girls, who ignored him completely. “Like literally adding a tap into—”
Suddenly he froze, took a step forward and placed his hand on the ancient fabric. Basil had even hinted at it! It was so simple—
The girls stopped arguing.
“Found something, Aug?” Leera asked.
He took a step back to admire the whole of it. “Tap into ancestry.”
“Yep, that’s the riddle,” Leera said.
“Tap into ancestry—!”
“Uh, yeah.”
He glanced between the girls. Each had one brow raised skeptically. “Don’t you get it? It wasn’t tap into ancestry like literature ancestry, it was literal, like, literally adding the word ‘tap’ into the word ‘ancestry’. Now do you get it?”
Bridget smacked her forehead. “Tapestry! Of course it’s something obvious!” She rocked back and forth on her heels giddily. “That’s great, Aug, really great job. How did we not see it?”
Leera was staring at her. “All that studying sure came in useful, huh?” she said dryly.
Bridget stopped rocking. “Sorry, Lee, I haven’t been getting much sleep. I apologize.”
Leera smiled. “Don’t you give it a second thought, Sister.”
Augum returned to studying the tapestry, specifically the spot with the gargoyle holding the candle. “Have you noticed these, you two? There are gargoyles in some of the tapestries.”
Leera blinked. “There are?”
Bridget paced over. “The gargoyle represents wisdom, integrity, and curiosity.”
“It’s not the only one I’ve seen either,” he said, keeping his voice low as an initiate strode by. He led them to another tapestry further back in the hallway. “See, here’s one too.”
“This one’s winking,” Bridget said.
“But not all the tapestries have the gargoyles,” Leera pointed out, glancing around at the others.
“Spread out,” Augum said. “Let’s see what else we can find. Meet back here at the cry of the eighth bell. And keep your eyes peeled for Watts.”
The girls nodded and dispersed.
Augum had a very hard time finding another gargoyle, eventually glimpsing one high up a tall tapestry, hidden in a corner. It was sitting in a wheat field, all but invisible among the chaffs. He resumed searching, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, but found no more of them.
When the cry of the eighth toll of the bell came, the trio once again assembled in the hallway, now deserted.
“Didn’t find another one,” Bridget confessed.
“I found one,” Leera said. “A gargoyle, that is. It was camouflaged and held a skull, whatever that means.”
“And I found one sitting in a wheat field,” Augum said. “That makes, what, four?” He counted them on his fingers. “A gargoyle holding a candle, a gargoyle winking, a gargoyle sitting in a wheat field, and a gargoyle holding a skull.”
Bridget ran her fingers through her dyed hair and expelled a tired breath. “I need food. Can’t think straight.”
“Place closes in an hour,” Leera said. “If we want food, better to get it now before the Supper Hall closes.”
“Good idea. We can discuss the riddle while we eat.”
Sneaking In
“I can’t help but feel there’s some sort of connection,” Bridget was saying over a nearly empty bowl of potato stew. They were in the Supper Hall and there was hardly anybody there. Rain beat against colorful stained glass windows. Braziers burned low. The library castle would close within the hour, which is when they had to be back in their rooms.
Leera dipped bread into her stew. “Between the gargoyles?”
“Yes. Well, I mean …” Bridget waved her spoon in the air. “There’s something awfully familiar about the symbolism. I don’t remember if I read it or heard it or …”
“We’ve got four of these symbolic hints.” Augum counted them on his fingers once more. “A gargoyle holding a candle, a gargoyle winking, a gargoyle holding a skull, and a gargoyle sitting in a wheat field.” But what did they mean?
Leera finished her bread and grimaced. “The skull symbolizes death, that one’s obvious.” She glanced tentatively at Bridget. “Right?”
“Yes, I agree. But I think it’s a riddle, very much like the one that man gave us. And I suspect it has to do with ancestry.” Suddenly she peered between the two of them. “What have we been trying to find information on all day?”
“Ancestry—?” Leera replied uncertainly.
“Exactly.” She leaned a little closer. “Come on, help me here, you two, there’s something really familiar about these symbols, I know it.”
Augum scraped the last of his stew from his bowl. “Did we ever find out who the ancestor of the library was?”
Bridget opened her mouth to speak. “I … I don’t know.”
Leera pointed at Augum with her spoon. “Didn’t what’s-his-face, the weird old geezer
we met by the gargoyle, didn’t he say something about the founder?”
Bridget’s face lit up. “He did, didn’t he? The arcane quote … it was said by the founder. But what was his name again … Theodorus … Theodorus what?”
The trio murmured names to each other, feeling they were onto something.
“Wasn’t it Winky or something?” Leera finally asked.
Bridget gaped at her. “Yes! It was wink-something … wink what?”
Augum recounted the hints. “A gargoyle holding a candle, a gargoyle winking, a gargoyle holding a skull, and a gargoyle sitting in a wheat—” He froze for just a moment, and then the trio blurted it together.
“Field!”
“Theodorus Winkfield,” Bridget said in a hushed voice. “That was the founder’s name! That accounts for the wink and the field. Now we just have to figure out how the skull and candle factor in.”
Leera’s hands froze in midair. “A tomb.” She glanced between them. “It’s got to be his tomb. That’s what the skull means—death. And we know where the tomb is, don’t we?”
“The Hall of Ancestry,” Augum whispered slowly. “Except that’s Watts’ domain.”
“That’s not the biggest challenge though, is it?” Bridget asked. “The man said this secret passage is only accessible after the ninth bell, when the library closes—but we’re not supposed to be caught in the hallways. So how do we get in there?”
“We hide,” Leera blurted. “We go there right now and hide before it closes.”
Bridget scrambled for the map. “But there’s only the portal entrance that we know of. How do we get by the guards and Watts at the same time?”
“We do it right at the cry of closing,” Augum said. “I mean, there’ll be a changing of the guard, right?” Or the guards might leave the place altogether.
“Risky, but it might work.” Bridget pushed her empty bowl away. “It’ll mean we won’t get a chance to see Malaika and Charissa. They’ll think something’s happened to us. Wait, no—I’ll send a message by attendant, tell him to leave it under the door.”
“It’ll also mean we might be stuck down there until morning,” Augum added. “But if we can get into the part of the library that’s forbidden, that holds information on how to use the biscuit—” using the codeword for the Agonex, “—then it’ll be worth it.” Not to mention they might be able to discover information on all the other stuff they’ve been meaning to research.
“I say we do it,” Leera said. She tapped the table. “And I say we do it now.”
The trio exchanged excited looks before scrambling out of the Supper Hall.
* * *
“Hear ye, hear ye! The ninth bell tolls! The library is closing!”
“There’s the crier,” Leera whispered from the entrance hall after Bridget had sent a message by courier up to their room.
“What did you say?” Augum asked Bridget, worried about discretion.
“For them not to worry and we’ll see them soon, that’s all.”
They were watching the portal room from behind a pillar, blending in with the thinning crowd of people departing the library.
“The crier’s entering the portal room,” Leera said. “Come on.”
“Hey, you’re The Hood, ain’t you?” said a boy their age wearing a necrophyte robe. He extended his hand to Augum, who was forced to shake it quickly. “I could tell it’s you because no one else wears their hood up. I think it’s a neat visual, to be honest, and definitely an appropriate nickname. I saw your fight! How did you get so good so quickly? Advanced training methods or something? Oh and when are you dueling tomorrow?”
Augum was trying to keep the crier in view. “Uh, don’t remember.”
“There’s been a bit of talk about you, you know.” The boy was attempting to not-so-subtly peek into Augum’s hood, but Augum kept looking away. “Got some real talent.”
“Great,” Augum replied absently, seeing the crier disappear into the portal room. “Nice to meet you, but will you excuse us?”
“Oh. Sure, I guess. Nice to meet—” but Augum had already hurried away with Bridget and Leera, blending in with the crowd.
They passed the large double doors into the portal room as people exited one portal after another, nearly all of them attendants, necrophytes, or Legionnaires. Some of the attendants and necrophytes activated the portal to the General Quarters, disappearing a moment later in a whoosh of wind. The whole thing seemed chaotic yet ordered and routine at the same time. The crier appeared from one portal and smoothly summoned and ducked into another, spreading the news of the ninth bell and the closure of the library. But Augum realized something profound—there was little chance they were going to get by the perceptive Watts without her recognizing them, not in this open room.
He could think of only one thing he could do. “Psst, you two trust me?” he whispered quickly.
Bridget’s face turned serious. “Of course, but—”
“Then just go along with it, all right?” He spent a few moments taking in the details of the room—the smooth and polished walls; the sound of feet padding along the floor; the semi-predictable patterns people wove as they meandered tiredly from one portal to the next. He imagined some going to a tavern, and some to their families. He recalled dancing rhythmically with Mya in time to the shadow of a pillar …
The girls watched him with anxious unease.
Augum lowered his head, timing the spell words to when a group of guards loudly chortled about some woman they had met.
“Centeratoraye xao xen.”
Everything instantly sharpened—the hooded lanterns, hiding a dim but warm glow behind iron bars, seemed more angular, if not a bit more sinister; the arched ceiling, with its massive ancient beams, looked like a spiky spider web, ready to ensnare the hapless victims below.
Augum formulated a quick plan on how he was going to deal with the side effects of Centarro, then turned his attention to the crowd, watching their faces from within his dark hood. Watching and learning. At the opportune moment, he suddenly reached out and yanked Bridget and Leera’s hoods, much to their surprise. He tussled their hair before removing his own hood, turning his head strategically at all the right moments away from prying eyes, making it as difficult as possible for anyone to recognize him.
He waited until the portal beside the one to the Hall of Ancestry was not active. “This way,” he said, guiding Bridget and Leera to it, where he bid them stand and wait.
“Don’t look anyone in the eyes,” he whispered, tussling his own hair a bit more.
“Aug, what are we doing here,” Leera whispered. “It’s so exposed—”
“Just wait.”
They did not have to wait long—Secretary Watts soon appeared, heaving her bell-shaped body through the portal with a sigh. Her eyes wandered lazily over Bridget and Leera, but she did not seem to recognize them. Augum used that moment to slowly wipe his forehead as if he was really tired. He tapped his foot on the polished floor, sending the signal he was waiting for people to get out of the way—and he knew, instinctively, that Watts had seen these subtle but small gestures, that they had registered in her frog brain as things to dismiss.
Her two Legion guards followed her. Amongst the hustle and bustle, Augum picked up one muttering to the other, “Hate it when it tries to attack us, what a pain.”
“Thing is speedier than lightning,” replied the second Legionnaire. “At least she holds it at bay.” It was then Augum realized they left some other kind of guard behind, but what? He watched Secretary Watts waddle off and realized it had to be a walker. It’s the only necromantic thing that was that fast.
“Prepare yourselves,” he said to Bridget and Leera. “There’s a walker in there.”
The girls exchanged looks.
Bridget swallowed. “Maybe we shouldn’t—”
“Just don’t kill it,” he cut in. “And watch out for me. Ready?” The spell was starting to fade. They had to go now. Just as the girls nodd
ed, he placed his hand on the portal engraving. “Shyneo.” His palm crackled to life. “Augustus Westwood.” The portal activated with a burst of wind, but his awareness was dimming; he could no longer sense if people were looking at him. He yanked on Bridget and Leera’s sleeves to quickly go first, and the three of them disappeared into the portal.
Hall of Ancestry
There was a clacking hiss in the near total darkness, lit only by Augum’s waning blue palm light. It was the sole warning they received before a thin skeleton wearing ragged armor and wielding a rusty sword launched a rabid attack.
“BAKA!” Leera shouted, violently shoving the thing into a fragile statue that immediately shattered.
Augum scrambled to get out of the way, trying to make sense of what was going on. Centarro was fading fast and everything was fogging up. “Don’t kill it,” he remembered to remind them, but he forgot why that had been important. He forgot his plan, too, of what he was supposed to do once the powerful side effects of Centarro kicked in. His palm blinked out, but Bridget cast hers, enveloping the ancient room in a greenish glow.
“How are we supposed to not kill it!” Leera yelled as the skeleton scrambled to stand amidst the rubble of the statue.
“Disablo!” Bridget said, pointing at the walker’s sword. It twirled away, clanging to the stone ground. The sound hurt Augum’s ears. He covered them, wincing, unable to think past the heavy fog that had descended on his reptile brain.
There were shots and cries and a lot of noise. At one point he was shoved, yet his childlike mind focused on simple things—the green light that faded in and out, eventually replaced by a watery one; the carved marble hoof of a horse; the dusty and cold stone floor.
When Augum finally started coming to, it was to the sound of the girls desperately calling for him. He was lying on the floor gazing at the statue of a horse.
“Get up, Aug, help us! We can’t hold it much longer!” one of the girls was shouting, but he had a hard time figuring out what all the fuss was about—until he looked behind him and saw Bridget and Leera sitting on a block of stone, underneath which was the walker, flailing. One of its arms was tangled in a short vine attached to Bridget’s glowing hand.
