The Quest for the Trilogy: Boneslicer; Seaspray; Deathwhisper

by Mel Odom

  “This ’ere’s me friend,” Raisho declared. “A learned friend who knows more’n any of ye will ever learn if ’n ye devote the rest of yer lives to it. I’m not in the ’abit of lettin’ me friends go unaided, an’ I won’t see ’is position disrespected. ’E’s a Librarian. The Grandmagister of the Vault of All Known Knowledge. An’ if ’n ye ’aven’t ’eard of ’im yet, ye will.”

  One of the men looked at the others. “What’s a Librarian?”

  Both his companions shook their heads. Still, confronted by the hard-eyed sailors from Moonsdreamer, they resumed their seats.

  “Books ain’t nothin’ to fear no more.” Raisho took the cutlass from the logger’s throat. “They’re good things. Things worth respectin’. And I won’t stand fer it to be any other way.” He glared back at the man on the floor. “Do we ’ave us an understandin’ then?”

  The man shot silent resentment at Raisho for a moment. Then he grudgingly nodded. “Yes.”

  “Ye can get up, then.” Raisho caught Fhiel’s eye at the bar. “We didn’t come ’ere for no trouble, but we’ve ’ad some what give it to us on the trail ’ere.” He nodded to the loggers’ table. “Set ’em up with a round on me.” Reaching into his coin purse, he took out a silver coin and flipped it to the barkeep. “Let ’em drink that up.”

  Looking somewhat relieved, Fhiel pulled ale from the cask behind the bar. “Yes sir.”

  The logger on the floor got up but didn’t look at Raisho or Juhg. He returned to his table and the free ale. The men talked in low voices. Juhg overheard “Grandmagister” three times. He was aware of being the object of covert scrutiny.

  “Do you think that was wise?” Juhg asked in a voice that carried only to Raisho.

  “No, ’twasn’t wise at all.” Raisho grinned. “We’re ’ard-lookin’ men, scribbler. ’E should ’ave ’ad ’imself at least twenty more men afore ’e come over ’ere a-threatenin’ the way ’e did. They’re loggers, not trained warriors.”

  Juhg sighed. “That’s not what I meant. I was talking about making an announcement about me being the Grandmagister and about the Vault of All Known Knowledge.”

  Raisho laughed. “I thought ye were in Shark’s Maw Cove to convince all them people they should be a-buildin’ schools.”

  “I was.”

  “An’ ye were talkin’ about the Library.”

  Frowning, Juhg said, “You know I was.”

  Grinning under the shadow of his hood, Raisho looked around at the inn’s patrons. All of them quickly looked away rather than risk accidentally meeting the sea captain’s fierce gaze.

  “Don’t ye think they’ll be talkin’ about ye after ye’re gone from ’ere?”

  Juhg’s cheeks burned.

  Raisho laughed at his discomfort in good-natured humor. “They’ll be talkin’ about ye.”

  “I’d rather they didn’t equate violence with an education.”

  “Really?” Raisho shifted, obviously enjoying himself. When they’d lain fallow onboard Windchaser, Raisho had often instigated arguments just to draw conversation from Juhg. The fact that he possessed a canny mind and a quick facility for learning had always made him a worthy opponent. “Wasn’t it Baomet Sunkar that attributed much of education to invadin’ armies what brought new learnin’ back to both countries?”

  In disbelief, Juhg looked at his friend. “You have been reading.”

  Shrugging, Raisho said, “It’s a way of easin’ long voyages.”

  Smiling in deeper appreciation of his friend, Juhg returned his attention to his journal. The cheery fire warmed him.

  “Grandmagister Juhg.”

  Startled, Juhg looked up from his journal. A young woman with long red hair and her father’s honest brown eyes regarded him. Her smile was open and friendly. She wore a yellow blouse with alabaster fringe and tan breeches. A feathered red cap sat on her head at a jaunty angle. She carried a pack over one shoulder and a small harp in one hand.

  Gladness touched Juhg’s heart and momentarily lifted the grave doubts and fears that his work on the journal barely kept at bay. He closed the journal, capped his inkwell, and put them both into his pack. He stuck the quill he’d been using behind his ear.

  “Yurial!” Juhg exclaimed as he got to his feet and opened his arms. The young woman came to him eagerly, but he was surprised again at how tall she was. She had to kneel to take him into her embrace.

  “I’ll be Yurial to you,” she said, “but to everyone else, I’m the Minstrel Ordal.”

  “Of course, of course.” Releasing her, Juhg stepped back and looked her up and down. “You’ve grown.”

  Yurial laughed in delight. “I have. There was no alternative, I’m afraid.”

  “You were just a girl when I last saw you.” Juhg waved her to one of the overstuffed chairs.

  “That was twenty years ago, Grandmagister.”

  Juhg thought about it. Keeping timelines of outside things—dynasties, science, and other fields of study—was simple, but his personal timelines often blurred. One year seemed to leap headlong into the next.

  “Twenty years brings about a lot of changes,” Yurial said.

  “It does. And don’t call me Grandmagister. You’re my friend.”

  “You have that title of office,” Yurial said. “I wouldn’t take it from you through casual address.”

  “Forgive me oafish friend,” Raisho said, stepping forward to introduce himself. “I’m sure that sooner or later ’e would’ve remembered I were ’ere.” He doffed his cloak to bare his head and smiled. “I am Captain Raisho, Master of Moonsdreamer, currently in port—”

  “—at Calmpoint,” Yurial said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Captain Raisho.”

  “Ye seem to find out things pretty quickly,” Raisho observed.

  Yurial smiled. “Generally, if it happens in Calmpoint, Deldal’s Mills, or a dozen other towns around here, I know about it.” She sat in the chair Juhg had waved her to.

  “We came straight from Calmpoint,” Raisho said.

  In that moment, Juhg realized why Raisho was being so inquisitive. “Raisho, Yurial didn’t have anything to do with what happened to us last night.”

  “Then ’ow did she know Moonsdreamer was in Calmpoint?”

  Yurial raised an amused and inquisitive eyebrow. “For one, Captain, you can’t very well sail a deep sea ship up the Steadfast River. For another, a group of miller’s men were returning to Deldal’s Mills when you arrived, and they carried the news of your arrival. Then there are the horses outside that carry Ganik the blacksmith’s mark. Another indication that you hadn’t brought your ship upriver.” She smiled again. “Unless you’ve some magic that allows you to fold your ship up and put it into your pocket.”

  “No,” Raisho growled.

  Juhg knew from experience that the young sea captain was embarrassed.

  “I meant no disrespect,” Raisho said, directing his gaze to Yurial as well as Juhg. “I just don’t want nothin’ to ’appen to the scribbler ’ere.”

  “So I judged,” Yurial said, “from the reports of the near altercation in here earlier.” She sat back calmly, her fingers plucking quiet notes subconsciously from the harp in her lap.

  “Where’s your da?” Juhg asked, hoping to steer the conversation away from the last few minutes.

  “He’s dead.” Sadness touched Yurial’s brown eyes.

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” Juhg said.

  “As am I,” Yurial said. “He was taken by Torlik’s Fever three years past. One of the logging camps deep in the forest came down with it. Da went there because he couldn’t bear the thought of those women and children dying without the all too brief happiness of stories and songs to tell them good-bye. So he went.” She paused. “Da had been around Torlik’s Fever on three other occasions. Survived it himself once. He thought he would be safe. He wasn’t. We had to burn his body there with the others. But I placed a headstone for him in the graveyard. It gives me a place to go talk to him.”


  “You still have his songs,” Juhg told her. “All those he taught you, as well as the ones he wrote.”

  A smile lightened her features then. “I know.”

  “I didn’t know he was gone,” Juhg apologized. “Otherwise I would have visited.”

  Yurial plucked sweet, sad notes, but she smiled. “I know you would have. You and Grandmagister Lamplighter. And since Wick’s not here, am I to assume that something has happened to—”

  “No,” Juhg said. “Grandmagister Lamplighter abdicated his position to go off on a most remarkable journey.” He didn’t know how else to describe his mentor’s disappearance with The Book of Time.

  “Hopefully, Wick will return soon to us with marvelous tales of where he’s been and what he’s seen,” Yurial said. “There’s never been a talespinner like him.”

  “Never,” Juhg agreed. “I wish he were here now to advance the idea of starting schools to teach reading and for the building of Libraries.”

  “From what I hear,” Yurial said, “you’ve been doing well.”

  “Changing opinions is hard and slow.”

  “You’re combating a thousand years of fear. That won’t be an easy task.”

  “But if people could only understand what the Libraries have to offer,” Juhg said, “they would take to the idea more quickly.”

  “All they know right now is that books may draw the goblinkin to them. The goblinkin still sack towns. Especially in the south near Hanged Elf’s Point.”

  Juhg knew that. One of his Librarians was assigned to assessing the growing threat of that situation. Several of the leaders he’d talked to were afraid another goblinkin war was brewing. He couldn’t discount that possibility.

  “But enough of that,” Yurial said. “What has brought you here when you have so many other important things to do?”

  Juhg waved the innkeeper over to bring fresh drinks all around, then he proceeded to tell the tale.

  “Craugh wants to ferret out the betrayal that happened at the Battle of Fell’s Keep?” Yurial sat back in her chair and delicately strummed the harp. The music was hauntingly familiar. Juhg was certain he’d heard it before, probably played by her father, but Yurial had made it her own.

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because, as he insists, the world—or at least the mainland—is getting smaller. The goblinkin activity in the south has bunched up the northern empires, kingdoms, and port cities. The populations there have increased, so trade and travel have become more important. It’s hard enough to work out those things without the mystery of who betrayed who at the Battle of Fell’s Keep standing in the way.”

  Yurial nodded. “I agree with that.”

  “As do I,” Juhg said.

  “But what brings you here to Deldal’s Mills?”

  “Grandmagister Lamplighter left a book at the Vault of All Known Knowledge detailing his search for the traitor. I finished translating the code only a few days ago. At the end of that book, he left a clue to the location of the second book.”

  “There are two books?”

  “There are three in all,” Juhg said.

  “Is the third with the second?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Yurial thought for a moment. Her quick mind instantly provided an answer to the question she hadn’t even asked. “You came here to see me because you think I know the location of the second book.”

  “Because Grandmagister Lamplighter said Minstrel Ordal did.”

  Yurial shook her head. “He never gave me a book. Or my da. We helped Wick find a couple.”

  “Actually,” Juhg said, “the Grandmagister said asking Minstrel Ordal a question would unveil the location of the second book.”

  “What’s the question?”

  A wave of nervousness passed through Juhg. The Grandmagister had been referring to Yurial’s da, a man who had dealings with Edgewick Lamplighter on a personal level, swapping stories and humor and songs. Even though one Minstrel Ordal passed on all his knowledge to his apprentice, that didn’t mean everything was handed down.

  “The question is, ‘What rides in on four legs, stands on two legs, and stumbles away on three legs’? I thought at first it might refer to the ages of a man. Crawling on four legs as a babe, walking as a man, then with the aid of a staff when he’s bent with age.”

  Yurial smiled. “That’s a good guess. Except it doesn’t explain the bit about riding. Babes don’t necessarily ride on four legs.”

  “Do you know the answer?”

  “Of course I do. It’s an easy question to answer if you knew Wick and my da.”

  “It escaped me.”

  Yurial stood and slung her pack and harp once more. “Come with me and you’ll get your answer. Let’s take care of Ganik’s horses first. They look sad standing tethered outside.”

  “We don’t need them?” Raisho asked.

  “Not unless you intend to leave tonight.”

  Thinking about the scarecrow they’d encountered in the forest, Juhg shook his head. “We’ll take rooms here tonight.”

  “You’re welcome to stay at my home.” Yurial looked at the sailors, who were also getting to their feet. “Of course, it will be crowded.”

  “We’ll be fine here.” Despite her status as Minstrel Ordal and the respect she had in the community as such, she had only a small house and was of modest means.

  Together, after reassuring Fhiel they would return for supper, they departed.

  Later, after the horses had been safely moved to the livery, Yurial led them through Deldal’s Mills, through the shops and trade stores. Farther back, following a winding path between some of the older buildings in the town, they reached a small building that Juhg remembered.

  It was three stories tall and narrow, a seeming clapboard building that was part shop and part residence. Though old, it had stood the test of time and looked solid enough to stand for several more years. Lights burned in the first floor.

  An empty pottery jug painted with a sunburst (even though in the darkness that had fallen over Deldal’s Mills Juhg couldn’t see it) hung from the chain over the front door. It was the only advertisement, and it was all that was needed.

  Evarch’s Winery and Spirits was a legend along the Shattered Coast.

  “I should have remembered Evarch’s,” Juhg said.

  “You had a lot on your mind,” Yurial told him as they walked up the tall wooden steps to the vintner’s. She knocked on the door.

  “Who is it?” an irritable voice demanded from within.

  “Minstrel Ordal,” Yurial answered, “Grandmagister Juhg, and friends.”

  “Go away. It’s late.”

  “I know it’s late, Evarch. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t important. Come on. Open up.”

  “Tomorrow.”

  “Grandmagister Juhg is here.”

  “I heard you the first time. He can—” Evarch caught himself. “Did you say Grandmagister Juhg?”

  “I did.”

  A moment passed as a shadow appeared on the curtained window. Locks ratcheted. Then the door opened. Evarch stuck his head out. Moonslight gleamed on his gray hair and beard. His leathery face was seamed with wrinkles.

  “What happened to Wick?” Evarch demanded. “You didn’t go and let something bad happen to him, did you?”

  “No,” Juhg answered. “Grandmagister Lamplighter is off on an adventure.”

  “Another one, huh?” Evarch shook his shaggy head. “I swear, Wick has never acted like any halfer I’ve ever known.” He narrowed his eyes at Juhg. “You neither.”

  Juhg didn’t know how to respond to that so he didn’t.

  “I suppose you’re to blame for the interruption to my evening,” Evarch accused.

  “I am,” Juhg admitted. “Grandmagister Lamplighter told me to come see you.”

  “He did, did he?” Interest flickered in the old man’s eyes then. “Before he left?”

  “The Grandmagister left the Library eigh
t years ago. I was working on a book he’d written. There was a passage in there that sent me to Minstrel Ordal.”

  “Then to me?”

  “Yes.”

  Evarch scratched his chin. “How did you come to me?”

  “The Grandmagister sent me.”

  “Yes, I understand that. But how did you get the message? Did he just tell you to come see me? And you waited eight years to get around to it?”

  “No.”

  “Because I can see that happening with you halfers. Dwarves and elves, too. You act like you have all the time in the world. But there are those of us who count days more dearly.”

  “It was in the passage in the book,” Juhg said.

  “What book?”

  “One of Grandmagister Lamplighter’s journals about the Battle of Fell’s Keep.”

  “When he went seeking Master Blacksmith Oskarr’s battle-axe Boneslicer in the Cinder Clouds Islands?”

  Juhg nodded.

  “What did this passage say?” Evarch asked.

  “I was to find Minstrel Ordal and ask him—”

  “Not a him this time around,” Evarch said.

  “—and ask her the answer to the following question, ‘What rides in on four legs, stands on two legs, and stumbles away on three legs?’”

  “You should have known the answer to that,” Evarch said. “Without Minstrel Ordal’s help. Then again, you never had the same interest in razalistynberry wine that your teacher did.”

  “No.”

  “Still not as interested?”

  Juhg shook his head. “Sorry.” He’d never developed a taste for wine or pipeweed.

  “Oh spare me from the uncultured palate. At least Minstrel Ordal was able to guide you to my door. The answer to your teacher’s question is obvious. A thirsty man rides up on his horse’s four legs to Evarch’s Wine and Spirits, stands on his own two legs while he drinks his fill, then stumbles back using every lamppost along the way as his third leg.”

  It made sense to Juhg, but he knew he wouldn’t have gotten the answer without Yurial’s help. Well, I might have even if Yurial hadn’t been here, he told himself. Knowing the answer was in Deldal’s Mills might have been enough. Once I’d started thinking clearly.