by Mel Odom
“Was it?”
“Yes. The Grandmagister had thought some record of the ship’s mission or what the captain had witnessed might have been in the salvageable goods. There was nothing but the picked-over bones of a broken ship when I arrived. Very little had survived the battle, the fire, or all the long years resting at the bottom of the Blood-Soaked Sea until the underwater quake tossed it up into the tides that brought it to land.”
Sharz walked to the back of the room, pulled a chair over, and climbed on top of it. He reached up to the ceiling, pressed against a timber that looked solidly in place, and reached inside to withdraw a rectangular object covered in oilskin.
Juhg’s heart sped up and he was moving before he knew it. Is this The Book of Time? Can finding it have been so easy?
But he knew that couldn’t have been the answer. If the Grandmagister were to have gotten The Book of Time in his grasp, he surely wouldn’t have left it behind. That made no sense.
Sharz handed the package down.
With dweller-quick fingers, knowing and canny, Juhg stripped the oilskin from the book. Cobner, Jassalyn, and Raisho crowded in around Juhg, peering over his shoulders, which was simple since he was so much shorter than they were.
Craugh maintained his seat by the fireplace and absently stroked the cat.
With the oilskin free of the book, Juhg stared down to see the thin, courtly letters writ in the Grandmagister’s hand, which was easily recognizable by the beautiful Qs he made. No Librarian had ever made Qs so easily and so artfully as the Grandmagister.
“An’ what do ye have there?” Raisho asked.
“A journal,” Jassalyn said, folding her arms. She frowned. The tiny draca shifted irritably on her shoulder, then scratched at its face with one clawed foot. “Wick’s, if I’m any judge of the handwriting.”
The Grandmagister had taught the elven maid to read when she was very young. With her mother’s blessing, she’d sometimes accompanied the Grandmagister on his adventures through the Forest of Fangs and Shadows, honing her woodcraft with the warriors Tseralyn had sent with them as well as learning from the Grandmagister.
“It is the Grandmagister’s hand.” Juhg opened the book and a piece of paper floated free. Quick as a wink, he snatched the paper from the air, beating Raisho by a lot. No human’s was as quick as a dweller’s covetous hand. That was a saying that existed on the mainland as well as Greydawn Moors.
Looking at the first page, all neatly written in the Grandmagister’s best effort, Juhg realized he could not read the book.
“Is somethin’ wrong?” Sharz asked.
“The book is written in code,” Juhg said. He frowned at the lines of script.
“Code?” Raisho asked.
“Wick masked the writing,” Jassalyn said.
Cobner rubbed his lower face with a massive hand, shook his head, then went to stand by the fire to warm his backside. The dwarf liked the warmth of the interior of the mainland. The coolness along the coastal waters had never agreed with him.
“Why would ’e do that?” the young sailor asked.
“To prevent prying eyes from knowing what he wrote in that book,” Cobner said. “I’ve seen Wick do that a number of times. He has always been a crafty one. I taught him everything he knows.”
“But ’e left the book for you,” Raisho protested.
“Wick didn’t know who might try to fetch it,” Sharz said. “He told me to care for it until he came for it.” He nodded toward Juhg. “Or until he came for it.”
Juhg looked at the note, finding the Grandmagister’s hand there as well. He read aloud for everyone. “Rest your head, go jump after.”
“Go jump after what?” Cobner growled. “Resting your head? That don’t make no sense.”
No, Juhg thought gloomily, it doesn’t. He stared at the letter, thinking that perhaps he had missed something.
“And one thing ol’ Wick was always about,” Cobner went on, “he was about making sense, he was. I remember when I first met him and Brandt gave Wick that Keldarian elf gem puzzle to figure out. Of course, we had no idea it was a puzzle. Just thought it was some interestingly cut gems.” The dwarven warrior shook his head. “But Wick, he knowed right away it was a puzzle. Lead us to that wizard’s hideout in the cemetery in Hanged Elf’s Point.”
Looking up from the piece of paper in his hand, Juhg saw that everyone in the room was looking at him as if to ask, So where are you leading us?
9
Code-Breaker
The repast filled the large room with delicious scents. Using the wizard’s gold, Teeyar had spent with a vengeance, purchasing fish and chickens, fresh fruits and vegetables, and spices.
During the hour and a half after she’d gotten home, Teeyar had put the chickens in the stovepipe oven with loaves of fresh bread—pickleberry and tomato basil with a green persimmon glaze—fried the fish, made two casseroles with the vegetables that she breaded with crushed walnuts, and made six pies. Raisho and Jassamyn had volunteered their services, adding a few things of their own, while Nyia got out the good plates.
Craugh and Sharz had smoked their pipes near the fireplace and talked, getting to know each other and sharing stories about the Grandmagister. Cobner, without being obvious about it, kept watch over the building with frequent trips to the windows till it got dark. Then he took to rambling downstairs to the darkened shop and stayed away from the windows where he could easily be seen by someone keeping watch from outside.
So far, there had been no indication that the men Aldhran Khempus had left behind in the Garment District had any idea where they were.
Seated at Sharz’s personal work table, with all the small containers of beads safely out of the way, juhg worked on the journal the Grandmagister had left behind. One thing he did know, the number in the upper right hand corner of the first page—3/5—indicated that four other copies of the book existed, all of them exact duplicates. The numbering sequence was one used by the Librarians at the Vault of All Known Knowledge for generations to indicate what copy a book was of how many.
With four others in existence, Juhg had to wonder what happened to them. And who might have possession of them. The thought wasn’t pleasant and he fretted over it.
He read the message on the piece of paper several times, and had finally started to believe that it was merely a note the Grandmagister had made for himself.
But why such a strange note? Why would the Grandmagister feel the need to remind himself to rest his head? When they were on the mainland, they rested whenever they felt the need when they were in a safe place. There was no need to remind himself to do that. Their adventures along the mainland had always been fraught with peril.
Grandmagister, Juhg thought wearily, why did you send me here? My place was on One-Eyed Peggie. At least there I could have tried to help you.
Every now and again, Juhg looked up and saw Craugh puffing contentedly on his pipe, still absently stroking the cat in his lap. A few times, Juhg had caught the wizard staring at him. He felt like Craugh was weighing and measuring him.
Or did he have something more sinister in mind?
On those occasions, a cold breeze blew up Juhg’s back that the warmth of the fireplace couldn’t take away. He remembered how Craugh had fought in the alley, but all of their lives had been on the line then.
Rest your head, go jump after.
The words on the paper held a cadence to them that niggled at something at the back of Juhg’s mind. Every time he reached for it, though, the stray thought scurried away like a mouse scared of its own shadow. There was something … something about the cadence. He could almost hear the Grandmagister’s voice. He closed his eyes, stopped breathing, and reached for it—
“It’s time to eat,” Teeyar called, sounding tired but happy.
Gone. Juhg released his pent-up breath, feeling strangled by frustration.
“I’m sorry,” Teeyar apologized. “Did I wake you?”
“No,” Juhg replied, h
oping to keep his frustration from his voice. “I’ve got a small headache.”
“I’ve got some healing powders you can use if you like.”
“Thank you,” Juhg said graciously. “Perhaps I will.”
Nyia took great pride in showing everyone to their chairs around the table. Even though the table had an addition and two drop leaves, seating seven adults and a child around it was difficult. Raisho and Sharz had brought chairs up from the shop.
“Teeyar, you set a magnificent table,” Craugh boomed as they took their places after Sharz’s wife had called them to sup.
“Thank you, Master Craugh.” Teeyar blushed a little. She quickly filled bowls with chowder from the big pot hanging above the fire in the fireplace.
Try as he might, and with all the delicious smells tickling his nose, Juhg couldn’t find much of an appetite. He ate the chowder and mopped it up with a piece of pickleberry bread, and he took his time about that.
Raisho and Cobner dug in with gusto, putting away slabs of pecan-covered fish and honey-glazed chicken with melon dressing. The vegetable casseroles and mushrooms sautéed in lemon butter fell victim as well. All of it led up to firepear pie slathered in fresh cream that Teeyar had whipped and left to sit on the ice-filled box that kept the vegetables crisp. With the fast ships coming down from the north, ice was a delicacy that Imarish was wealthy enough to afford. There were also a rhubarb pie, pecan pie, peach pie, blackberry pie, and even a salty sweet spoon-cactus pie made from the exotic meat of the sea cacti that drifted in from the open ocean.
But even after all the damage the dwarven warrior and the young sailor could do, Craugh outdid them all. When Cobner was loosening his belt and Raisho was leaning back in his chair to make room, the wizard sat hunched over and drank hot tea as if he had plenty of room to spare and no discomfort at all.
Nyia was in awe of how much they could eat, and her mother shushed her, embarrassed at her daughter’s incorrigible nature.
“You think I eat a lot, do you?” Craugh asked the little girl. He sat with his pointed hat on the chair back behind him.
“You eat a lot,” Nyia told him. Her eyes rounded with amazement.
Craugh poked his fork at her. “I believe I’ve yet room for a morsel or two. Tell me, are you tender?”
The little girl squealed in delight and hid in her mother’s embrace in mock fright. Everyone at the table laughed at Nyia’s antics.
Except Juhg. He couldn’t forget how easily Craugh had slain Methoss and turned Ladamae to salt. And he couldn’t forget all the atrocities the wizard said he’d committed while looking for The Book of Time.
“Is nothing to your liking, Master Juhg?” Teeyar asked, looking at the dweller’s nearly untouched plate.
“Forgive me,” Juhg said. “Your table is fine. It’s my stomach and my head that are off.” He excused himself and left the table.
Rest your head, go jump after.
The cadence contained in those words rolled sickeningly through Juhg’s head, like a tillerless ship caught out on the open sea during a sudden summer squall. His head ached in pain for real now.
He sat at Sharz’s table and continued working by the light of a single candle. Smoke from the candle kept drawing to him, burning his nostrils and his eyes. He turned page after page in the book, thinking he might somehow break the code. He’d done that before, transcribing secret political books whose authors had died a thousand years and more ago. All the ambitions and betrayals lay moldering in the ground, but the secrets had survived.
Usually, one of the first things a code-breaker looked for were repeated single-letter words. Such as a or I. When those were located, then two-letter and three-letter words were sought out. Such as to or too, or an and and and the. After those words were deciphered, the others came faster. Those words often unlocked single-letter, double-letter, or even more-letter exchanges.
But the Grandmagister’s journal wasn’t giving up its secrets.
He forced himself up from the table. His back and legs ached, but only a little of that discomfort was from the battle earlier in the day. Most of it came from sitting for hours at the work table poring over the book.
At the tiny kitchen, he helped himself to another cup of cold tea. He was down to the dregs now and he knew he couldn’t go much longer with what he had.
The others had all gone to bed. Craugh, Raisho, and Cobner all slept downstairs in Sharz’s shop on cots and tables. All of them were used to mean ways. Nyia slept with her parents so that Jassamyn could have a room to herself.
Juhg walked to the nearest window and peered out. He made sure he never stood in the line of the candle so he could be silhouetted against the window.
Most of the Garment District was to bed. Only the mills and the looms worked throughout the night. The creaking of the waterwheels echoed through the silent darkness. Here and there, groups of men walked the cobblestoned streets to jobs.
The island city was unlike so many places Juhg had been. In the south, the goblinkin ruled, gathering in ever-increasing numbers, pushing their boundaries northward again. In the far north, the ice crept over the small pockets of civilization that fought winter itself for survival. Between, villages of humans and dwarves plied the sea or carved an existence from the land, elves roamed the forests, and here and there small towns of dwellers sprang up, all of them still wearing fresh scars from the goblinkin slavers they’d escaped.
Nowhere else was like Imarish, with all its promise and prosperity. Despite the jealousy the other places had, most of them wished to be Imarish.
But the goblinkin are building bridges out there, aren’t they? Going to crawl right over the sea and gobble up the islands one by one.
Juhg sighed. Nothing was going to matter. Not in the end. The Vault of All Known Knowledge was destroyed and the books were lost. At least, most of them were lost. And those living at Greydawn Moors would like nothing more than to go back to being lost from the rest of the world.
“You’re going to make yourself sick if you keep this up.”
Startled by Jassamyn’s voice, Juhg almost jumped out of his skin. He whirled around, feeling his heart thudding in his chest.
“Sorry,” she said, but she didn’t look like she meant that as she leaned in the doorway of the small bedroom she’d been given. She wore her breeches and blouse, but had doffed her leather armor. Her bronze hair hung to her shoulders. The glow from the candle turned her skin to warm butter.
“I thought everyone was asleep,” Juhg said.
“I was. I’m a light sleeper when I’m not in my mother’s kingdom. You were up moving around.”
“I didn’t think that I would wake anyone.”
Jassamyn shrugged. “You move well. Not heavy-footed. Probably most people wouldn’t hear you moving around. But I’ll bet Cobner has. And maybe Craugh as well, though I don’t know how anyone could eat as much as he could and not lapse into a life-threatening coma.” She smiled.
On another night, Juhg thought he might have found humor in the comment. But it wasn’t there tonight.
“You’re in a sour mood,” Jassamyn commented.
Juhg didn’t bother to try to deny it. Over the years he’d gotten to know Jassamyn well. For a time he’d even been jealous of the Grandmagister’s attention to her. Jassamyn was an excellent student, but she wanted to learn about the world as well, more than could be learned from flipping through pages in musty books.
She’d traveled to Greydawn Moors and spent a month at the Vault of All Known Knowledge. At the end of that time, she and the Grandmagister were each frustrated with the other.
Juhg returned to the work table and sat. The candle smoke stubbornly insisted on following him.
Jassamyn pulled up a chair and sat on the other side of the table. She touched the candle and spoke a word that Juhg didn’t understand. Abruptly, the candle smoke threaded in a lazy spiral to the ceiling and stayed away from him.
“A spell?” Juhg asked, surprised.
&
nbsp; Smiling, Jassamyn said, “I’m learning new things. That’s one thing you and I have in common, Juhg. Both of us like to learn new things.”
“Is that what brought you here?”
“Wick’s summons brought me here. Or rather, my friendship with him did.” Jassamyn leaned back in the chair. At her mother’s courts in front of elven nobility she would have never gotten away with such relaxed posture. “Besides, I enjoy Imarish. For a time. There are too many people here to suit me. I prefer the openness of the woods.”
“I really have to tend to this.” Juhg indicated the Grandmagister’s journal.
“You can’t.”
The elven maid’s casual dismissal of his skills angered Juhg. “Everyone else seems convinced I can.”
“Are you convinced?”
Juhg sighed. It was time to quit fooling himself and the others. “No.”
“Good.” Jassamyn smiled.
Grudgingly, Juhg turned the opened pages of the journal toward her and moved the candle so that she might see it better.
Jassamyn didn’t even glance at the pages. She shook her head. “That was not meant for me.”
“But I thought you—”
She turned the journal back to him. “Juhg, listen to me. I am Wick’s friend. I am your friend, too. We’ve shared good times and horrible times with each other chasing after one of Wick’s missions. But he would never leave something like this for me. After all the years he’s shared with Craugh, Wick wouldn’t have left this book for him either. That’s why Craugh hasn’t demanded to look at the book himself.” She tapped the journal. “This was meant for you. This is only part of what Wick intended for you to find when you got here.”
Juhg ran his hands through his hair. “I can’t decode it,” he whispered. “I’ve tried. None of it makes any sense.”
“It will all make sense,” she replied. “I can’t imagine Wick ever doing anything that doesn’t make sense.” She paused and studied him. “Your mind just isn’t clear, that’s all. You’re overtired and you’re overworried. Wick always taught me that when I was in such shape I could never be at my best.”
