by Lisa Shearin
I stood, went behind the desk, and dropped a kiss on top of her head. “I can’t be the best at everything.”
Chapter 4
The Khrynsani temple was guarded day and night. All entrances had been found and sealed except for one.
Curiosity was a powerful thing. The Khrynsani had occupied this building for over a thousand years. Now, for the first time, it stood empty, with most of the main temple having been destroyed the night the Saghred had been shattered. Sarad had summoned the pair of sea dragons that lived in the caverns beneath the temple’s many sublevels to join the battle in the temple itself. The dragons had ripped their way up through those sublevels and through the temple’s floors. The Khrynsani temple had never been safe for anyone, now it was even less so. However, goblins were inquisitive by nature. We liked to explore, to discover.
The Khrynsani treasury had also been here in the temple. We had found it soon after the order had fallen, and the gold was now back in the royal treasury where it belonged—and from where vast quantities of it had been stolen.
That would not dissuade the greedy. Where there was one cache of treasure, there could very well be more. There probably was. It would be found and the contents would be taken to the royal treasury. Chigaru’s intention was to repair the damage—to property and people—that the Khrynsani had done. Money would be needed, a lot of it.
Just because there were no Khrynsani here did not mean there was no danger.
The Saghred was destroyed, but there were other, lesser objects of power in the temple. Those that were out in the open had been deactivated or contained and removed. I was sure there were others that were still to be found. And they would be found, but only by those trained to encounter such objects, not a thief or curious youngsters who would endanger themselves and others by attempting to steal or manipulate them.
The only remaining way into the temple was through the repaired front doors. They were locked by ways both magical and mundane. Four guards were posted with four werehounds. What the guards couldn’t sense, the hounds could.
The goblin people were safe from the temple, and the temple was safe from the people.
Kesyn didn’t believe that I was safe from what it still contained. He was right. I wasn’t. Thanks to his teaching—and me learning from my mistakes—I was much better able to resist the calls of the artifacts and books inside. I had been inside many times since the temple and the Khrynsani who had controlled it had fallen. I had been tempted each and every time, but had not come close to succumbing.
Bad experiences were good teachers.
Kesyn Badru was also a good teacher. The best, if truth be told. He hadn’t known that I’d been inside the Khrynsani library multiple times without, shall we say, a magical chaperone. Now that he knew, he was determined that I wouldn’t be doing it again. Just because I didn’t need him with me didn’t mean I didn’t want him with me.
Books contained knowledge. Knowledge was consumed. In inexperienced or careless hands, the books in the Khrynsani library could consume you.
I smiled grimly. And there were people who actually believed that words had no power.
The guards knew me. They were Imala’s people, chosen by her and approved by me and A’Zahra Nuru. They were mage-level talents, but especially gifted in locking things up and keeping them that way. They were called prison mages or vault mages. There were no living prisoners here, but none of the objects or books inside would be leaving without a qualified escort, so in a sense, that made them prisoners.
I was here to examine one of those prisoners that, unless I was careful, would be every bit as dangerous as a living Khrynsani dark mage.
The vault mages opened an access point in the wards they had laboriously conjured and constructed over the temple’s massive set of black iron doors. To get inside, we had only opened one of those physical doors, but the resounding boom of it closing behind us gave me an unwelcome flashback to fighting for my life in here only a few months ago.
Kesyn’s voice was an eerie echo in the empty space. “When is this mausoleum going to be torn down?”
“Once we’ve taken everything out that needs to go, and destroyed the rest.” I shivered, and it wasn’t from the cold. “That day can’t come soon enough for me.”
Kesyn glanced down the hall at the blue lightglobes flickering in their sconces.
“The lights are on in here all the time?”
“Oh yes. I’ve ordered that they be activated and glowing at full power day and night.”
“Good.”
I knew what Kesyn was worried about. The temple didn’t have any windows, so noon appeared as midnight here, but some of the artifacts kept down in the lower levels fed off of darkness. I’d had those rooms lit even brighter than the rest of the temple. I was fully aware of the kinds of things Sarad Nukpana had liked to collect. I wasn’t taking any chances.
Those who had to venture inside the temple were not safe, and we knew it. The mages and academics working inside had been specifically chosen for their tasks. They had the talent to recognize what needed to be contained, and the strength to both resist and contain them. But to ensure that none of the books or objects had subverted that strength, anyone working in the temple had to submit to regular mind examinations. Every precaution and safety measure was being taken.
The Khrynsani temple was full of black magic temptation. Seductive didn’t even begin to describe it. Knowing a thing was evil only did so much to help you resist it. Though for me, knowing that Sarad Nukpana had brought it inside himself or had approved it, went a long way toward turning seductive into sickening.
Objects like the Saghred wanted to be used. They desired power as much as they craved the souls necessary to create it. Those with the greatest power became prizes to be lured in and taken. Most of these objects were primitive and couldn’t tell the difference between a mage who could be tempted, and one whose task was to collect and contain them.
Most evil objects weren’t what you could call strategic thinkers.
It had made our job much easier.
As a result, the blue-lit halls we walked through were quiet, both of mortal sounds and magical power.
Secondary hallways branched off, confusing to those unfamiliar with the temple. It had been designed that way on purpose. Those who belonged there knew. Those who didn’t risked their lives and immortal souls by stepping across the temple’s threshold. I knew where I was going, but I still counted the hallways as I passed. The risk had been lessened due to the collapse of some of the hallways’ walls and ceilings from the sea dragon rampage, rendering portions of the temple inaccessible. Getting lost in here, even temporarily, was the last thing I wanted to do. I had taken a wrong turn before, last week most recently. It had been like walking a gauntlet. In the older sections of the temple, the mortar had been mixed with the blood of sacrifices. Normally, I wasn’t sensitive to spirits or the echoes produced in the wake of violent death. I knew those who were, and counted myself fortunate not to share their dubious gift. Perhaps it was the sheer numbers of those who had been murdered to mortar the granite blocks. I actually heard their screams, felt their agony as the sacrificial blade was driven through their hearts.
We had just passed the hall that led down to that level.
I walked faster, and without a word, Kesyn more than kept pace.
*
The Khrynsani archives were too extensive to transfer all at once; and quite frankly ensuring that Chigaru’s new reign lasted through its first week had taken priority over moving books and scrolls. So Imala and I had done as we’d had to do for many of the Khrynsani buildings—post guards and wards to keep the curious and greedy out and the dangerous valuables in.
There were plenty of objects of monetary value, but what I was looking for would only have value to a very limited few. Though I imagine there were those who would have gladly killed to get access to the section of the temple that I had just entered.
The library.
/> The repository of all Khrynsani history, records, and knowledge, as well as whatever else might have been hoarded by the Khrynsani and thus unknown to the rest of the world.
Denita Enric was the senior scholar in charge of cataloguing and moving the library. It wasn’t vast, but it certainly wasn’t insignificant, either in the number of books and scrolls or in their power. Denita was incorruptible on every level—magical, political, and monetary. A’Zahra Nuru was one of her best friends and she trusted Denita completely. So did I.
Denita had selected those working with her on the basis of their shielding skills.
They couldn’t have any talent other than shields, and those had to be the best.
Books and the words within them could be more seductive than any lover, and could promise you more than any mortal could ever dream of giving.
There were two more vault mage guards on either side of the library doors. Denita and her assistants were experts at protecting themselves from injury, both physical and psychic, but if one of the books decided to fight back against being boxed and got through their shields, I wanted a vault mage nearby to lock that book down.
Kesyn noted their presence with approval.
“I’m getting cautious in my old age,” I said.
“Or you’ve been bitten enough.”
“That, too.”
The instant I crossed the library’s threshold, the whispers began. The more power you had, and the darker that power was, the more insistent the entreaties. To open a cover, to read aloud, to give the words voice.
And life.
I’d trained myself long ago to shut out the temptations, or at least hold them at bay. I wasn’t saying that my magic didn’t respond. It did. Like reacting to the sight and scent of a beautiful woman, a physical response wasn’t something that could be stopped, merely resisted.
I’d had a lot of practice resisting.
The first time I’d come here, I’d been alone.
That had been a mistake.
The lightglobes hadn’t been lit that day; however, their illumination hadn’t been needed. The pages of the books stacked on the reading desks and even those in boxes and still on the shelves had glowed and pulsed, dazzling my senses, tempting them.
Tempting me.
There had been no one here to prevent me from opening and reading any book I desired, one by one until I’d consumed them all.
The books knew.
I blinked and shook my head, dispelling the memory, scattering those thoughts. Thoughts that had no place there.
Denita Enric glanced up, and I detected concern in her dark eyes. It was there for only a moment, then her academic reserve slipped back into place.
I wasn’t the only one who was concerned.
Some of her students were watching me as well. Not openly, but they were being cautious and curious.
They knew who and what I used to be.
Kesyn’s reputation wasn’t exactly warm and cuddly, either.
One young goblin clutched the book he’d been about to pack against his chest, eyes wide.
“My footsteps aren’t going to burst into flames,” I assured him.
All that earned me were a few nervous smiles.
“And I don’t bite,” I added.
Kesyn grinned, showing his fangs, one of them chipped. “I do.”
Reputations. They died hard. It looked like I would need to drive a couple of extra daggers into mine when I got back from Aquas. For now, that was all the reassurance I could give them.
I turned my attention to Denita. “You sent word that you had another book for me.”
Denita tilted her head toward a nearby table. “A few hours ago, I found what appears to be a travel journal from one of the earliest expeditions. It’s been cataloged, and I had it set aside for you.”
The Khrynsani were avid collectors of magically-imbued objects, and would travel to wherever they had to in order to get their hands on what they wanted. They documented those journeys—where they went and what they found and brought home with them—or failed to bring home, as in the case of the Heart of Nidaar. I had asked Denita to set aside every travel journal that she found. Not only would it be helpful for finding and securing the Heart of Nidaar, it could give us the upper hand in locating objects in the future.
“Considering where I found it I knew you’d want to see it,” she told me. “It was inside Sarad Nukpana’s personal shelf.”
That got my attention, and Kesyn’s.
“Inside?” he asked.
Denita flashed a grin. “When a bookshelf is set against a wall, I always knock on the back of the shelf with a little push of magic. I’ve found all kinds of interesting things that way.”
“I’ll bet you have,” I said. “Was it warded?”
“Unexpectedly, no. And I was grateful it wasn’t. Most are. And considering that it would have been Sarad Nukpana who would have done the warding…”
“I don’t blame you.”
“Maybe he left it unwarded so his mommy could get at it,” Kesyn muttered.
I walked over to the journal and extended my hands over it. No magic residue. Good. I could do without any more surprises today.
Still I hesitated before touching it.
I laid my hand on the spine.
No telltale tingle of malevolent magic.
Denita came to stand beside me, and lowered her voice. “I knew the book’s author would especially interest you. Rudra Muralin.”
Rudra Muralin had been the head of the Khrynsani order nine hundred years ago, and his lifespan had been extended by direct contact with the Saghred. I knew this because I’d met him in person a few months ago.
Kesyn whispered a word that I completely agreed with.
“You said it, sir.”
“And if you even think about touching that book, I’ll say it again—after I get you in a headlock.”
“I have to examine it,” I told him.
“No, you don’t.” Then he muttered a low string of profanities because he knew I was right and he didn’t like it. “At least have proper backup when you do it.”
“Who would that be?”
“Me and A’Zahra.”
“May I take it with me?” I asked Denita.
“I’d hoped you’d want to take it out of here,” she said. “Though I have a feeling that little book isn’t going anywhere it doesn’t want to go.”
And I had a feeling—a sinking one—that Rudra Muralin would love nothing more than for me to take his book home with me. “I think the book will cooperate.”
Rudra was dead. Sarad Nukpana had killed him. Or to be more precise, Sarad had drained the life out of him, sucked out his soul and knowledge, leaving behind a dried husk.
I’d seen his body.
Imala had decapitated him.
That didn’t stop the feeling that somehow, somewhere, Rudra Muralin was laughing.
Chapter 5
A’Zahra Nuru wouldn’t be available until tomorrow morning, and I’d have been lying if I said I wasn’t relieved.
I also had another excuse to put off dealing with Rudra’s book.
I had an appointment with Agata Azul.
I’d sent a messenger to her before I left to see A’Zahra. Kesyn had included a private message along with my request. Her reply had been waiting when we’d returned with the book.
I read the note again. “She said yes. And she wants to meet at her home.”
Kesyn chuckled. “Don’t get your hopes up. The lady said yes to a meeting, not to go sailing off to the other side of the world with you.”
“What was in that note of yours?”
“That you have more sense than you used to, you’re a relatively decent sort, and that I’d appreciate it if she listened to what you had to say.”
“Charming.”
Kesyn spread his arms. “If you got it, use it.”
“What do you think are the chances she’ll agree to go with us?”
“We
ll, she doesn’t scare easily, so you’ll probably be fine there.”
“So you’re saying that going to an uninhabited continent to find a legendary city and the all-powerful stone that powered it, before the Khrynsani and an army of alien invaders can get to it first, won’t scare her.”
“I don’t think she’ll bat an eye,” Kesyn said. “Aggie always was the adventuresome sort. Just be honest with her, and you’ll be fine.” My teacher’s eyes had an evil glint. “Probably.”
*
I wasn’t about to simply drop in on a gem mage of Azul’s power, especially when her idea of landscaping was to cover every square inch of ground with crystals cut to a razor’s sharpness and glowing with power held under check—or released—at her whim.
Guests prudently remained on the brick path to the front door.
Suicidal maniacs arrived uninvited.
Thus, I’d made an appointment to ensure that Agata Azul considered me a guest and not a threat. Whether I was a maniac was up to her to decide.
Kesyn had remained at my house to secure the book. My home was wrapped in wards, but one simply didn’t leave a book hidden by Sarad Nukpana and written by Rudra Muralin lying around as casual reading material.
Considering who I was now and who I had been—and those who didn’t like either one—I’d half expected Agata Azul to insist that we meet in secret. I wanted to get and stay on the lady’s good side, so when she agreed to meet at her home, I knew a little judicious shielding would help my case. Not shielding from her crystal sentries, but from anyone watching me. Chigaru may have been on the throne, but I still had a target on my back. Several actually. Though who was I kidding? I had so many they overlapped.
Kesyn was right. No one in their right mind would want to be anywhere near me. He’d said Agata was brilliant, yet she’d accepted my request for a meeting. Maybe her sanity was questionable. Considering what I was about to ask her to help me do, I wasn’t too certain about my own.
