"I want to see about finding myself a tavern girl. It's been . . ." Walter trailed off at Karl's glare. "Sorry."
"As I was saying," Ahira went on, "there are three things to do. Since this is a safe city, we'll split up into three groups. I'll take the Library, but I want one of you literate types with me. Andrea?"
"Wait," Aristobulus snapped. "I need to—"
"Fine. You, instead, since she hasn't used a spell, yet."
Andrea smiled. "I've only got three; I haven't wanted to waste them. But if you need somebody put to sleep, or charmed, or want me to disappear . . ."
Right now, Karl thought, there isn't much I'd like better. "That last could be useful, if we need a bit of extra money, no?"
"True." Ahira raised an eyebrow. "Your charm spell—think you can get us a decent rate for lodging with it?"
"Maybe. You want me to see to the rooms?"
"Fine. You take the thief with you."
I won't be jealous. I won't. I'm just going to—
Walter shook his head. "I'd rather go look around; I'll keep an eye on Karl and Doria—Andrea should be able to handle the innkeeper by herself, no?"
"Okay. Why don't you get going, meet the rest of us back here, say, at sundown?"
She nodded and left, her sandals slapping against the cobblestones.
Ahira turned to Karl. "You three are to stay out of trouble, understood? I just want you to find out when the Games are, get an idea of the prices of things like horses and supplies, then meet us back here. No fights, and make damn sure that there's no stealing. We won't have another Jason. Yes?"
Good. While Walter was his best friend, Ahira was too smart to leave the responsibility of seeing that he didn't steal with him. "I'll watch him."
"And he'll watch you to make sure you don't pull another stunt like the one you did with the elf." He picked up his two rucksacks and beckoned to Aristobulus. "See the rest of you at sundown—in case somebody misses it, everybody else stays put." The dwarf beckoned to Aristobulus, and both of them walked away.
Walter waited until they had vanished into an alleyway beyond the fountain before turning to Karl. "Beer?" He smiled. "Just one or two."
Of all the irresponsible—
No. No more kneejerk reactions. "I guess one beer wouldn't hurt any." Karl shrugged. "And I could use a drink, at that. Doria?"
She looked up at him sadly. "You never asked me out for a drink before, Karl." Her hand stole toward Walter's. "I couldn't turn you down, even if I wanted to." She gripped Walter's much larger hand, with shaking, white-knuckled fingers.
Great. Maybe I'd better have that talk with Walter, and soon. This is getting too damn complicated.
* * *
The three armored guardsmen at the top of the broad stone steps nodded in unison at Aristobulus, then glared suspiciously down at Ahira.
The dwarf forced himself to keep his hands at his sides, although his palms itched to feel the smoothness of his axe's handle. Probably this was just the guards' professional demeanor, but perhaps there was more to it: Dwarves were not renowned as scholars, and Ahira's presence might have excited their professional suspicions. If he didn't keep cool, that could lead to a fight.
And three-on-one would not be something Ahira would look forward to, not even after going berserk. Besides, it wouldn't be just three-on-one; these guards were wearing the same center-ridged breastplates that Airvhan's guards had worn; patently, they were part of the Pandathaway police force, or whatever passed for such. They had seen similarly equipped men on their way toward the Library—there would be, easily, half a dozen within shouting distance.
The largest of the three, a pale-skinned man with a heavy brow and a small sharp nose, gestured with his spear. "What are you doing here?"
Aristobulus raised an eyebrow; the guard lowered his spear, and touched his free hand to his forehead. "Your pardon—I was addressing the dwarf, sir."
At the wizard's sideways glance, Ahira nodded slightly. Best to keep the guards thinking that Aristobulus was in charge, since they were treating him respectfully.
"The dwarf," Aristobulus said, "would like to use the Library, as would I. Is his coin not good?" The wizard smiled thinly.
A chuckle. "It had better be. Sir. The last one trying to get counterfeit coin past the Librarians found himself full of arrows." He turned to the guard at his left. "Challa, take the dwarf's packs and weapons—everything except his pouch." Through yellow teeth, he grinned at Ahira. "That, you are going to need." The guard bowed slightly at Aristobulus. "If you and your . . . companion will come this way?"
"What do you want with my pack and—"
"We can't have you taking anything out of the Library, now can we?"
Ahira lowered his two rucksacks to the broad stone steps, then handed his crossbow, flail, and battleaxe to Challa, holding back a grin as the man staggered under the load. "You will make certain that nothing of mine . . . walks away?"
"You must be new to Pandathaway," Challa panted through gritted teeth, as he led the two of them through the entrance, past the open oak doors. The doors were massive, towering easily ten times Ahira's height, inlaid with gold and silver tracings. "We're under oath to the Library. An accusation, even, would put us out on the streets—at least until it was decided on." He set Ahira's gear down on top of a pile of other goods: swords and bows, sealed boxes and mesh bags. "But don't get any notions, dwarf. A suspension would give us plenty of time to find whoever accused us, and take our pay out of his small hide. Do you get my meaning?"
The entrance foyer of the Great Library of Pandathaway was a large, bare room, illuminated only by spears of golden light from tiny, fist-sized windows high above, only a few feet below the juncture of the stone walls and the ceiling. Below the windows, a wooden walkway ran the length of the front wall. No—not windows; those were arrowports. Whoever had designed the Library had provided for its defense.
Their sandals scuffed against the floor as Challa led them toward the rear of the room, with its two exits.
One was a small archway, leading into a lamplit corridor. Ahira started toward it, stopped by Aristobulus' tug on his sleeve.
"That is my entrance," the wizard whispered. "Glyphs over the doorway—they say, roughly: 'If you can read this, pass in safety.' I'll see to my needs, then locate you."
Without waiting for an answer, Aristobulus stepped briskly toward the archway and walked through. As he did, a bare glimmer of red outlined his body, then faded as the wizard walked quickly out of sight, not looking back.
I'll have to discuss this sort of thing with him later, Ahira thought, idly toying with images of bashing Aristobulus' head against a wall. Until they reached the other side, they were all in danger. Walking away without consulting him was not going to be repeated. By anyone.
Challa brushed Ahira toward the other exit, where a bored, white-bearded human sat behind a door made of thick steel bars, reading a leather-bound book. With a deep sigh, he closed the book and raised his head. "What is it?"
Challa jerked himself to a semblance of attention. "The dwarf is here to use the Library, sir. At least, that's what his friend said."
"A dwarf? And what friend?"
"A wizard, sir."
"You're certain about that?" The old man raised a skeptical eyebrow. "With the likes of this?"
"Certain, Librarian. He walked right through Wizard's Arch. There isn't any other possibility, is there?"
A shrug. "Well, if there is, it's no concern of ours. Wizards Guildmasters built it; it's their responsibility." He extended a palm through the bars. "That will be two gold."
Ahira reached into his pouch and drew out a single gold coin. "I thought that it was one?"
"Two." The Librarian pointed at a plaque set into the wall next to the door. "Can't you read?"
"No." Ahira shrugged, drawing out another coin.
"Then what are you doing here? Never mind, it's no concern of mine. Just an old man's curiosity. We don't get many dwarves
here."
And at these prices, you're not going to get many more. Ahira dropped the coins into a withered palm.
The Librarian sighed, slipping the coins into the slot of a stone box, its lid secured by a steel strap and heavy padlock. "Enter-and-be-welcome," he said. "And guard, you can hurry back to your post. If you would care to keep your position." The door creaked open; the Librarian hurried Ahira inside with a quick gesture. "Come along, now. I don't have all day."
Ahira stepped through. The room was small, but tightly packed with bookshelves and scrollracks, labeled and unlabeled tomes exuding the pleasant reek of old paper and aged parchment. Beyond the farthest stack, an open doorway gave him a glimpse of a marble-floored corridor.
The Librarian seated himself on his highbacked chair and folded his hands on his lap. "Well, now, why are you here? You can't read, and—"
"That is none of your business." An explanation was out of the question; Ahira wasn't sure how they treated the supposedly insane here, but he was damn sure that he didn't want to find out firsthand.
"Very well." The old man sighed. "But your insolence is going to cost you. Another gold, please."
Ahira took a half-step forward. "I could break you with—"
Wheeet! The man gave out a piercing, pursed-lips whistle, rewarded instantly by the thumping of feet in the corridor. Within seconds, Ahira found himself at the focus of an arc of five crossbowmen, weapons cocked and aimed at his head.
"And that will be enough of that,'"the Librarian said. "I am Callutius, Junior Librarian. You will address me either by my title, or simply as 'sir'—and always, always with respect. Is that understood?"
"Yes. Sir."
Callutius gave him a sour smile. "One gold for insolence plus another for the information is two, please."
"Information?"
Callutius didn't seem to hear him.
"—sir?"
"My name and title, fool." He held out his palm and accepted Ahira's gold, dropping one coin into the box, the other into a fold of the yellow sash at his waist. Callutius steepled his hands in front of his chin. "And now, what can the Great Library of Pandathaway do to serve you?"
Ahira scowled. "I'm afraid to say. How much will the answer to that question cost me, Librarian?"
"Junior Librarian—which is why I'm on greeting duty." He turned in his chair to face the bowmen. "You may go now; I think our customer is learning proper deportment."
As the bowmen shuffled off, he turned back to the dwarf. "How much it costs depends on what you wish to know. I assume that you'll need an apprentice to read for you? That will be three gold, for his services until the close of the Library today." He raised a warning finger. "And don't think to pump him for location information; there are severe penalties for that." Callutius smiled. "And as to how much the location of whatever it is that you wish to know will cost you, that is negotiable with me. Quite a lot, probably—nobody except a wizard comes to the Library unless he needs to know something very badly." He snickered. "Of course, you could just look around with the apprentice, and try to find out whatever it is that you need to know."
Ahira nodded. "That sounds good to me."
"Don't be silly!" Callutius was shocked. "There are four hundred fifty-three rooms in the Library, with an average of five thousand three hundred twelve books or scrolls in each. Conceivably, you could cover one room each day—it could easily take you better than a year to find out what you want. At two gold each day." The Librarian leaned back and closed his eyes. "I'll wait until you've made your decision."
Ahira thought it over. He could just wait there for Aristobulus, but that might be a while—and spending time around Callutius was not a pleasant prospect. Or he could hire an apprentice—no. A compromise was in order. "I won't need an apprentice, but I do want to find directions to the Gate Between Worlds. A map, if there is such a thing."
Callutius chuckled. "A treasure hunter, eh? You choose an expensive form of suicide—sixty goldpieces for directions."
"One."
"Fifty."
"One."
"Forty-five."
"One."
"Really? Is that all you're willing to pay?" Callutius shrugged. "Well, it's none of my concern. Look around; you've already paid for that." He raised a finger in admonition. "But if you damage one page, its replacement will be the skin of your back, suitably tanned and cured." Callutius closed his eyes again.
"Ten gold. And that's all."
"Done!" Callutius smile was genuinely friendly as he took the proffered coins in his cupped palms, tucking all of them into his sash. "And a well-struck bargain, little one."
"Meaning that I gave in too easily?"
"Not at all." The Librarian's grin made his words a lie. He whistled again, this time a complex four-tone theme that was picked up down the corridor, then echoed off into the distance. Callutius picked up his book, then gestured at the doorway leading deeper into the Library. "Go on—an apprentice will meet you, to guide you," he said, ushering Ahira along. "And it has been a true pleasure aiding you in your search for knowledge." He patted at his sash.
"An enriching experience?"
"Quite. I take it this is your first time in Pandathaway?"
"Yes."
"Welcome to Pandathaway, then. And if you hurt anything, I'll see your head on a pole."
Chapter Nine
Maps and Dragons
Wilt thou seal up avenues of ill? Pay every debt, as though God wrote the bill.
—Ralph Waldo Emerson
Karl enjoyed himself as the three of them wandered through the open-air markets of Pandathaway. The markets were a rainbow of sights, sounds, and smells: dwarf blacksmiths hawking mailshirts and steelplate greaves; jewelers selling rubies and sapphires in settings both plain and ornate; foodsellers displaying spits of garlic-laden meat and glass bowls of tangy fruit ices; bakers calling all to sample golden, fist-sized loaves of bread, dripping butter and fresh from stone ovens.
The prices were high for most things, although a beerseller let them drink three huge tankards for a copper; it occurred to Karl that bread and circuses might have translated into beer and games, here.
At an armorer's canopied stall, they stopped to haggle with a dwarf blacksmith over the price for charming a blade—Walter had suggested that Andrea's and Aristobulus' spells might earn some extra money if needed.
"Well," Karl finally said, quickly bored with the bargaining that the smith seemed to enjoy, "if it's only worth one gold for two swords to you, it's probably not worth bothering our friends. But we might take you up on it later."
The dwarf spat, muttering in some tongue that Karl couldn't follow. "No promises that my offer will stay open. Many wizards in Pandathaway."
Walter looked at him, raising an eyebrow. His unvoiced question: Maybe it would be worth it to nail down the deal now?
"Out of my way," Doria snapped, shoving her way between Karl and Walter. "You two have the bargaining sense of—never mind." She slammed her palm down on the weathered counter. "Look, you," she said in Erendra, "we don't have the patience for that sort of nonsense. Understood?"
The dwarf spread his hands. "I don't know—"
"None of that. A charmed sword has to be worth, easily, a hundred, hundred-fifty gold if it has any kind of edge—that would be about twice standard—and you're trying to get these two poor fools to agree to half a gold, each? Don't bother keeping that offer open; we don't need it."
The dwarf chuckled deeply. "Well, it was worth trying for a fast bargain. They look new. You're a Hand cleric, aren't you?"
"Yes."
"It figures. No offense intended, but I don't care for your sect. I'm just an honest armorer and smith, trying to turn a bit of profit, and—"
Karl took a step forward. "And cheat us just a little?"
"Well," the dwarf shrugged, "maybe take a bit of advantage. From the way you three keep spinning your heads around, I figured you might be new to Pandathaway." He eyed Karl's sword. "
You any good with that thing?"
Karl slipped his right hand to his swordhilt. "I manage."
The dwarf held up both palms. "Be easy, friend. I'm not threatening. It's just that I have a few spare coins, just now. Since you're new here, the oddsmakers probably will undervalue you; I might be persuaded to put a bet down."
Doria nodded. "And give us a good price on a spell or two."
The dwarf dismissed that with an airy wave. "I don't see the need—"
Doria reached out and grabbed him by the collar, pushing her face close to his. "You're familiar with healing spells?"
The dwarf could have pushed her away with ease. Instead, eyeing Karl and Walter, he nodded slightly.
"And," she continued, "have you ever seen one work in reverse?" She ran a fingertip lightly across the dwarf's throat.
He shook his head.
"Then," she said as she released him, "if you don't want to, maybe you'll stop trying to take advantage of my friends, no?"
The dwarf looked curiously at Karl and Walter. "Where did you get this one? I thought that Hand clerics were nonviolent."
And I didn't know Doria was capable of this sort of thing. Karl eyed her curiously. "She's a new kind."
"I'll go along with that—I'll make you a deal. Put her in the Games, and we'll all bet on her and get rich as elves. The stupid swordsmen will never know what hit them, eh?" The dwarf laughed, a deep-throated roar that came across as sincere, not just a bargaining technique. "But seriously, if you'll cover half my losses if you don't place, I'll give you, say, twenty gold for glowing a sword, thirty for charming one. Agreed?"
"No," Doria said. "You'll give us those prices anyway—and your wagers are your own profit or loss. Agreed?"
The dwarfs mouth quirked into a frown. "Can't get away with anything around you, eh?" He picked up his hammer and turned back to his forge, pumping his bellows with a muscular arm. "Go on, now—find somebody else to persecute. If you win, come back and I'll do well by you." As they started to walk away, he called out, "And don't bring her with you next time."
Karl chuckled. "It seems you gained some skills during the transfer that we didn't know about, Doria."
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