by Mel Odom
“Vidrenium,” Craugh whispered.
6
“I’m Grandmagister Of This Library, And I—Ulp!”
Wick blinked. It took a moment for the reference to vidrenium to come to him.
“It wasn’t a fallen star,” Craugh said, taking out his pipe. He started to strike his thumb. “It was vidrenium. Had to be.” A wisp of smoke curled up from his thumb.
“No,” Wick warned, knowing a fire inside the Library would be a bad thing.
“Of course it was,” Craugh declared imperiously, thinking that Wick was arguing with him. As soon as the wizard’s thumb caught fire, a magical rain cloud formed over his head and drenched him. He cursed.
“I tried to stop you,” Wick said.
Pipe clenched between his teeth, Craugh glared up at the miniature rain cloud. As if in open defiance, the rain cloud released a half dozen tiny bolts of lightning and rumbled with quiet but energetic thunder.
“The magic wards that protect the Vault of All Known Knowledge,” Wick reminded.
Almost immediately, the stone floor sucked the water from the floor with a loud gurgling and returned the floor to its dry state. Craugh, however, was left drenched, but every drop that dripped off him was blotted up by the floor.
The wizard put away his pipe, then muttered a single word. Wick felt the heat of the spell sear into him and turned his head to avoid it. When he looked back at Craugh, the wizard was dry once more.
“You mentioned vidrenium,” Wick reminded him.
“I did,” Craugh agreed, pursing his lips in contemplation. “You’re familiar with it?”
“I know the legend,” Wick said. “It was a metal created by the best magical metallurgists of the time in Dream. The purest metals and the most powerful spells.”
“Yes,” Craugh said.
“I thought the metal, culled from white gold and invested with enchantments and magic, was just a myth.”
Craugh studied the glowing chunk of rock the dwarf and the elf exchanged in the illustration. “I’d heard they’d finally done it, though. All of them that worked on it, Dadorr, Hosfeth, Klial, and Tormak all died in the Cataclysm. Whatever they discovered will probably remain hidden for some time. They gave most of their lives to creating that metal.” He paused. “I remember when Dream died, after Lord Kharrion went into the city and unleashed the goblinkin hordes to run rampant. He caused explosions throughout Dream. There was a forge, a combination of dwarven manufacture and wizard spells, where they were working with vidrenium. I was told the magic spells safeguarding it were disrupted and caused even further destruction in the city.”
“It’s possible during the explosions that chunks of vidrenium were thrown into the Gentlewind Sea,” Wick pointed out. Then he sighed. “So much of this is guesswork. And now, with Dream involved, there is even more research to be done.”
“Guesswork or not,” Craugh said, “I think you’re on to something.”
Wick took heart in that.
“But your efforts alone aren’t enough,” Craugh stated.
“I’m doing the best that I can,” Wick protested before he realized those very words were about to doom him.
“I know.” Craugh’s voice was unmistakably soft and understanding. “You must become an army, Second Level Librarian Lamplighter, and there is only one way you can do that.” The wizard’s robes swirled as he turned and left the room. “Come.”
In disbelief, Wick watched Craugh stride through the door. Then, hands and arms filled with books, the little Librarian hurried after the wizard. Wick didn’t make a sound, but inside his own mind he was screaming in terror. Grandmagister Frollo is going to find out about this! And he’s not going to care for it! I’m going to be scrubbing kitchen floors for years! I’ll never be allowed to touch paper again!
Craugh strode through the halls and passages of the Vault of All Known Knowledge. Every Librarian, from Novice to First Level, the wizard ordered them all to drop whatever they were doing and fall in behind him. He didn’t say “or else.” That was inferred. The Librarians did as he bade reluctantly and with no little resentment (though none of it displayed to anyone except Wick because they thought Craugh’s ire was all his fault—which, after a fashion, Wick had to agree that it was).
By the time they reached the main chamber (Craugh did have to stop three times and ask directions of Wick, but the little Librarian was surprised that the wizard knew as much of the inner workings of the Vault of All Known Knowledge as he did), an army of Librarians marched at the wizard’s heels.
“This is all your fault, Lamplighter,” First Level Librarian Cottle sneered. He was a rotund dweller with bulging eyes and a sweet tooth that was legendary, which was the cause of his immense fatness. “You brought the wizard here. You know Grandmagister Frollo doesn’t want him here.”
“But I didn’t—” Wick started to protest.
“The Grandmagister is going to be properly vexed at you,” First Level Librarian Amatard grouched.
“I couldn’t stop—” Wick tried to add in his own defense.
“You’re going to gain intimate knowledge of the kitchen floors after this,” First Level Librarian Natter promised. “If Grandmagister Frollo doesn’t make you scrub, I will!”
“He’s a wizard—” Wick pointed out. But he stopped because he knew it was no use. I didn’t have a choice! His arms felt as though they were about to fall off from carrying the books the whole way. No one offered to help him with his burden.
Finally, though, they were in the main chamber. Tables and chairs and bookshelves filled the room. More Librarians were there, all of them huddled over the various projects they worked at. They looked up at once as Craugh entered the room with his army of captive Librarians.
“Your attention, Librarians,” Craugh said in a booming voice.
Wick quailed and felt as though he were going to faint. I’m not going to be relegated to permanent kitchen duty, I’m going to be exiled from the Library!
“On your feet!” Craugh’s voice bristled with command. “I’ve got a project worthy of the finest Librarians at the Vault of All Known Knowledge!”
Grudgingly, the Librarians came to their feet.
“This project requires a lot of research on a multitude of levels,” Craugh went on. “All the necessary information will be gathered and brought back to this room.”
Knowing he was the center of a lot of malicious attention (surely the most that had ever been unleashed in the Library), Wick took a quiet step back. Then another. Eleven more, he told himself, and you can reach the door.
Without looking, Craugh reached back with his staff and hooked Wick behind the neck, drawing him up in a graceless, stumbling trot.
“You all know Second Level Librarian Lamplighter, I presume,” Craugh demanded.
“Yes,” a few Librarians answered.
Wick knew they all knew who he was. At one time or another, nearly all of them had come to him to take advantage of his knowledge, ask where a book was, or ask how to prepare something for Grandmagister Frollo. Even the First Level Librarians, although most reluctantly, acknowledged his acumen and familiarity with the Vault of All Known Knowledge.
“I said, you all know Second Level Librarian Lamplighter!” Craugh’s voice thundered through the hall, sounding louder even than Grandmagister Frollo on his most surly day.
“Yes!” The reply this time was equally thunderous.
“Good,” Craugh replied. “He will be in charge of the research efforts. You will listen to him and do as he says and we’ll all get along just fine.”
Listen to me? Wick blinked in astonishment. A whole new wave of terror blasted through him. Surely he was going to be blamed for everything that happened from this point on.
“Craugh!”
Wick recognized the voice as Grandmagister Frollo’s at once. His knees fell out from under him. Swiftly, Craugh reached out for him, caught him by his shirt collar in one hand, and somehow kept him upright as they turned to fa
ce the Grandmagister.
Frollo strode imperiously through the Library’s main hall and all the Librarians gathered there. Dressed in the charcoal gray robes of Grandmagister, he didn’t look like an imposing figure. He was a blade-thin human, tall, and stoopshouldered from all the long years working over books. A long gray beard trailed down to his narrow chest, partially masking his pinched, severe features. There was never a day in his acquaintance with the man, even before Grandmagister Ludaan passed away peacefully while reading and Frollo took over as the new Grandmagister, that Wick had seen Frollo happy.
Quarrel, Alysta, Bulokk, and his dwarven warriors trailed behind the Grandmagister.
“What is the meaning of this?” Frollo demanded. His hazel eyes flashed angrily. “You can’t just come into this Library and disrupt everything.”
“I’ve come,” Craugh said, straightening himself to his full height and towering over the Grandmagister—especially with the peaked slouch hat, “on a matter of grave importance.”
“Your problems are no problems of mine,” Frollo snapped, frothing at the mouth. “Or of this Library.”
“I need these Librarians to do research.”
“These Librarians already have tasks. Important tasks. They’re not here at your beck and call. You can’t just rush in here and interrupt schedules and procedures simply because you can’t figure something out on your own.”
Craugh’s face purpled in fury.
Wick pushed against the staff, hoping he might be able to take a step or five back from the impending collision of wills. Regrettably, Craugh kept his hold on the staff—and therefore Wick—quite firm.
“I came here tonight and discovered these interlopers,” Frollo said, throwing back a hand to include Quarrel, Alysta, Bulokk, and his warriors. “Here! Without my approval. You know we protect many important books and records here, Craugh. You, of all people, should know that.”
“I do,” Craugh said. “Those books and records are the very reasons I chose to come here.”
You chose to come here? Wick thought indignantly. He almost objected aloud, then realized that Craugh was not only taking the credit for their presence there, but he was also taking the blame. At least that part was good. Wick decided he could sacrifice one for getting out of the other.
“Faugh!” Frollo sneered. He turned his attention to Wick. “And you, you malingering excuse for a proper Librarian, are you the cause of all this?”
Unable to speak in his terror (unable to stand if it hadn’t been for Craugh’s staff propping him up), Wick could only shake his head.
“Don’t lie to me!” Frollo commanded. “Craugh wouldn’t have come here by choice. And you’ve been missing for days. Did you go off with one of those pitiful excuses for books from Hralbomm’s Wing?”
Wick gave that consideration. That was tricky. That night in Paunsel’s Tavern, he had taken an adventure about Taurak Bleiyz (which he still hadn’t finished!), and there was the possibility that the Grandmagister was already aware of that. But the romance wasn’t the reason he’d been gone from the Library for so long. He started to open his mouth and explain himself.
“And don’t you dare tell me you were shanghaied again!” Grandmagister Frollo bellowed. “I’ll have none of that this time!”
Stymied, afraid for his very life, Wick closed his mouth.
“Answer me!” Grandmagister Frollo shrilled.
Wick wished that somewhere along the way he had learned how to turn himself invisible. But since invisibility wasn’t forthcoming, he took a deep breath, screwed up his courage, and—
“This is not his fault,” Craugh roared. “He is trying to help solve the problem I’m dealing with.”
“Again, Craugh,” Frollo shouted back, turning to stare directly into the wizard’s face, “your problem is not my problem.”
Green embers circulated around Craugh’s staff. His eyes glowed bright green.
“Uh-oh,” someone said. “Now you’ve done it.”
To Wick’s horror, he discovered the speaker was none other than himself.
“I want you out of here!” Frollo pointed imperiously in the direction of the main door. “This instant! I’m Grandmagister of this Library, and I—ulp!”
Actually, the ulp came after Craugh moved, but the wizard moved so quickly that the ulp came out almost immediately. Taking one step in toward the Grandmagister, Craugh caught Frollo’s head in one spidery hand that could have palmed a dinner plate. Green sparks scattered in all directions from Craugh’s staff and eyes, spinning round inside the great chamber.
Then Craugh spoke a Word, just a single Word, but it boomed so loud that Wick was never certain what it was. Frollo seemed to collapse into the charcoal-gray Grandmagister’s robes.
By the time Wick blinked, Grandmagister Frollo had disappeared. His robe lay on the floor.
“He’s killed the Grandmagister!” someone shouted.
Again, Wick discovered that it was himself. And it was no wonder that he didn’t recognize his voice because it certainly didn’t sound like him. He’d never spoken so high-pitched.
“The wizard’s killed the Grandmagister!”
Now that, Wick thought as he held his hand over his mouth, was not me!
“Craugh vaporized Grandmagister Frollo!”
“Someone get the dwarves!”
Two of the Novice Librarians and one First Level Librarian standing nearby fainted dead away and lay sprawled on the floor. Other Librarians moved back from them as if they feared Craugh had slain them as well, and that death might be catching.
Metal clanked as dwarves ran into the room and drew their weapons. They held pikes and battle-axes and stood at the ready. None of them appeared ready to jump Craugh. The green embers continued circling the wizard’s head and tall hat.
“Wait for Varrowyn,” one of the dwarves whispered, and it was so quiet in the main chamber that it sounded like a shout.
Several of the Librarians started edging away.
Craugh threw a hand out. Green lightning jetted from his hand and arced over the heads of the Librarians. The Librarians, from Novice to First Level Librarian, dropped to the floor. (And it was a good thing the Vault of All Known Knowledge was enchanted with the water absorbency spell, because more than a few robes were suddenly drenched.)
“No one leaves!” the wizard ordered.
“Aren’t you dwarves going to get him?” one of the Librarians demanded.
“Uh,” the sergeant-at-arms among the dwarves said. “Mayhap we should await Varrowyn’s decision on this.”
“He vaporized the Grandmagister!” someone cried. “You’re supposed to protect the Grandmagister and the Library!”
“Well,” the dwarf said, peering at the pile of robes, “it’s a little late to protect the Grandmagister. An’ the Library don’t appear to be in no immediate threat of harm.”
“Cowards!” another Librarian shouted.
The dwarf frowned and turned to the warrior next to him. “Did ye see which one of them quill-pushers said that?”
Before the man could reply, Varrowyn ran through the door. Wick was impressed. For Varrowyn to be there all the way from the front gate in such short time was impressive with all the armor he wore.
“What’s goin’ on?” Varrowyn held his battle-axe at the ready before him. “Where’s the Grandmagister?”
All the Librarians pointed at the charcoal-gray robe piled on the floor.
Varrowyn’s eyes widened in shocked surprise. “What happened to him?”
All the pointing fingers shifted to Craugh.
Varrowyn stood there for a moment, and Wick knew the dwarf had to be really undecided about what to do.
7
Solutions
Then the Grandmagister’s robe squeaked. Everyone looked at the material as it jerked and shifted. All breaths were held (except for Craugh’s) as a lump foraged its way through the clothing and emerged from the robe’s hem. A moment later an ugly pink and tan toad covered in
black warts followed its blunt snout into the open.
“Craugh, you’re going to pay for this!” Frollo squeaked in his new toad voice. He stood on his hind legs and shook his tiny little foot at the wizard. “Mark you well my words! You’re going to regret the day that you ever—”
Quarrel had been holding Alysta in her arms, possibly so the cat wouldn’t get stomped on in all the confusion. But Alysta (possibly giving in to her cat instincts and recognizing the toad as possible prey), erupted from her granddaughter’s arms and leaped for the irritated toad.
“Cat!” Frollo shrieked. “No! Don’t let it get me!” He turned and fled, but even with the alacrity of a quick-legged toad at his disposal, Wick knew Frollo would never escape Alysta’s quick fangs.
Craugh took his hat from his head and flung it. Just as Alysta pounced toward the toad, the hat descended upon her and trapped her. Green sparks sizzled and it locked down onto the floor.
Alysta hissed and meowed in feline displeasure. But despite her best efforts, she couldn’t budge Craugh’s peaked hat.
Shrieking and squeaking, Grandmagister Frollo hopped from the room as fast as his tiny legs would carry him.
“Was that—” Varrowyn frowned.
“The Grandmagister?” Craugh asked. “Yes. It was.”
“Hmmmm,” Varrowyn said, squinting at the wizard, and showing how he’d risen to command with the blessing of all the other dwarves by demonstrating both sense and sensibility, “then the Grandmagister truly hasn’t been harmed.”
The dwarves flanking Varrowyn sighed in unison and looked truly relieved.
“No. He’s not been harmed a bit. I give you my word on that.”
“You can’t just let Craugh turn the Grandmagister into a toad!” one of the Librarians shouted.
Craugh pointed at the speaker—First Level Librarian Cottle, Wick was glad to see—and immediately the Toad Librarian population of the Vault of All Known Knowledge doubled.
