The Lost Library of Cormanthyr

by Mel Odom

  “I thought you would have kept your journals with Golsway’s.”

  “No,” Baylee said. “Not since Golsway deemed that my writing was strong enough to stand on its own.”

  “When was that?”

  “When I was fourteen,” Baylee answered.

  “You’ve written journals at fourteen that are in Candlekeep?” She seemed amazed.

  Baylee shook his head. “You have to think about the time period. During those years, Golsway was much more active than he has been of late. That was one of the things we argued over. I was still willing to go rushing after the vaguest whisper, while he was more content these days to look for a big strike. When he was younger, they were all big strikes, some just bigger than others. Those early journals detailed what members of the Explorer’s Society deemed important finds.”

  “But they were still good enough to stand on their own?”

  Baylee looked into the woman’s copper eyes. “If you’re asking if Golsway’s journals are there, the answer is no.”

  “Why?”

  “Because Golsway didn’t want to chance a loss of the information we’ve discovered. If Candlekeep burned down, which won’t happen because the magic wards within it prevent paper catching fire within their walls, then both sets of our works wouldn’t be lost.”

  “Where did Golsway keep his journals?”

  Baylee shook his head. “I don’t know.”

  Her copper hued gaze remained on him, weighing the answer she’d received.

  “Wherever they are,” Baylee said, “you can be assured that it’s a matter of record.”

  “Why wouldn’t Golsway have told you?”

  “It wasn’t a matter of him not telling me,” Baylee said. “I never asked. At that time, I knew everything he did. He had no secret considerations about things we’d found that he didn’t share with me.”

  “It sounds like the two of you were very close,” Cordyan said.

  “Maybe too close,” Baylee agreed. “If there had been space allowed somewhere along the way, maybe I would have been there when he needed me.”

  If Golsway could not take care of himself at the time, Xuxa interposed, you would only have died with him.

  “Do you know what he was working on?” Cordyan asked.

  “No. Did anyone find a journal like this one?”

  Cordyan shook her head. “Not yet. A team was still investigating the premises when I was told to find you. Maybe they’ve found it in my absence.”

  Behind her, Cthulad and Calebaan broke up the conversation after the meal. The members of the Waterdhavian watch group gathered their traveling packs once again.

  “Looks like we’re about to get back onto the path,” Baylee said.

  Cordyan nodded. “I’m sorry to have interrupted your work time.”

  “No need,” Baylee replied. “It was an enjoyable talk. I look forward to another.”

  The watch lieutenant walked away.

  Baylee watched her, admiring the sleek roll of hips beneath the tunic’s edge. She didn’t walk like someone deliberately drawing attention to herself. The swaying gait was a natural part of the woman.

  She turned abruptly. “Where did Golsway keep his journal at his home?”

  The question almost caught Baylee off guard. He never let his features change. “There’s a desk in his study. Did anyone check there?”

  “I’ll ask when we get back.”

  Baylee watched her go again. She’s good, he told Xuxa. We’ll have to be careful around her.

  She’ll only find out about Golsway’s hidden precaution if you let it slip. Xuxa paused. You don’t have to worry about that because I won’t allow it to happen.

  16

  “Do you trust him?”

  Cordyan Tsald glanced at Piergeiron, who stood in the wreckage of Fannt Golsway’s house beside her. She had seen the Commander of the Watch on a number of occasions, and talked with him at times as well, but he still made her feel like a green recruit.

  “No,” she replied. “Baylee Arnvold holds to his own agenda of things.” She shifted her gaze back up the stairs to the men under her command who were shifting debris again, taking out things Baylee said meant nothing to their investigation. “I would stake my life that he had nothing to do with his mentor’s death. However, he will tell us only what he wants us to know.”

  Piergeiron shook his head. “That is all Golsway’s doing. The old mage had a certain way of looking at social responsibility.”

  “Such as waiting until he was finished thinking over whatever he wanted to think over, then deciding what the best course of action was? For everyone involved.”

  “Exactly. Golsway was never one to be an oarsman, unless he was pulling his own boat.” Piergeiron shifted irritably, anxious to be on with other things.

  Cordyan didn’t want to mention to her commander that she could handle things at the house quite easily. She covered a yawn with one hand. The last week had been spent nearly nonstop traveling to the warded area in the Dragonspine Mountains where they had used the gateway there to make the jump back to Waterdeep. The gateway was a closely guarded secret of Piergeiron’s, and the command word they had been given only worked once each way to cut down on the months of travel that would have otherwise been necessary.

  “What do you think he knows?” Piergeiron asked.

  “He knows where Golsway’s journal is,” Cordyan replied.

  “You’re certain?”

  “I know what I believe,” she answered. “But what I can prove is entirely another matter. What have you found out about Civva Cthulad?”

  “The man has an excellent reputation,” the Commander of the Watch replied. “From all accounts, you have nothing to fear where he is concerned.”

  “I was worried about him when he volunteered to come with us.”

  “Cthulad is the type of man who would volunteer immediately after such an event.” Piergeiron glanced at the man that appeared in the doorway. “I’ve got to go to another meeting. If there’s anything I need to know, get word to me immediately.”

  “Yes, Lord Piergeiron.” Cordyan bowed her head. She was conscious of the big man leaving, but her eyes were on Baylee Arnvold.

  The ranger worked in the drawing room where Thonsyl Keraqt had been burned alive. Although a number of watch investigators had been through the room with all five senses and divination spells, they’d found nothing. Baylee’s attention seemed to be concentrated primarily on shattered models that lay broken and scattered across the floor. The azmyth bat hung from the ceiling above him, its wings wrapped around itself as it slept.

  “What is he working on?” Calebaan walked up behind the watch lieutenant without warning. He offered her some of the cinnamon bread he’d brought in for his breakfast.

  Cordyan accepted the bread, as well as the small crock of honeycomb. She knew the wizard was talking about Baylee. “I don’t know,” she replied.

  Baylee continued working carefully, dragging up some pieces of colored papier mâché and discarding others. He had brushed debris out of the center of the area where a number of tables had been.

  “What was there?” Calebaan asked.

  “According to the housekeeper, there were a number of tables that held models of dig sites that Golsway had been to.”

  “Dig sites?” The wizard studied her shrewdly, then turned his attention back to the ranger. With calm and purpose, Baylee continued putting hunks of papier mâché together, seeming to get more confidence as each piece fit together. “You mean excavation points? Caves in the ground?”

  “And buildings.” Cordyan nodded. “They were memories, according to the housekeeper. Sometimes Golsway would invite a promising student over to study an interesting facet of the archeological find. But that was not often.”

  Calebaan scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Curious, isn’t it?”

  Cordyan lifted an eyebrow and smiled. “The possibility that Golsway left the find he was working on out in plain sight?
”

  “Yes.”

  “I find it frustrating that the old mage would have thought of something like this. Yet, it is very believable.”

  “You have to wonder, though, how Baylee thought of it.”

  “The answer to that is simple enough,” Cordyan answered. “He had to know what Golsway was working on.”

  “Even though he told you he did not?”

  “Either he was lying, or seeing this room and those models brought a perception to him that he didn’t know would be made. He went through the house with me on his heels for six hours this morning.” That was one of the biggest reasons Cordyan was so tired now. When Copert’s Conquest, the ship they had taken from the other end of the dimensional gate, had tied up at the docks just after midnight last night, Baylee had insisted on coming to the house instead of taking a room at an inn and sleeping.

  “I’m glad I got the sleep I did,” Calebaan commented. “Have you been to bed yet?”

  “No.”

  “You should think about it.”

  “I do,” Cordyan admitted ruefully, “and those thoughts make keeping my eyes open even harder.”

  “I can take over here,” the watch wizard offered.

  “No.” Cordyan blinked her eyes with effort again, feeling the grains of sleep moving around in them. She knew Calebaan wouldn’t take the decline of his offer personally. They had worked together long enough for him to realize that she was thorough and liked to do things her way. “If Baylee can do without the sleep, then so can I.”

  The ranger looked up abruptly. He sat cross-legged on the floor, his forefingers steepled together and supporting his chin. He hadn’t shaved his facial hair in the last few days, and a dark shadow covered his jaw line. “Can you get something to eat brought here?”

  Cordyan studied the man. It was the first time he’d asked for anything, almost the first words he’d spoken independently without being prompted with a question since entering the home. “Of course,” she answered. “What would you like?”

  “There’s a tavern down along the wharf in the dock ward,” Baylee said, “called the Emerald Lantern. If he still works there, a cook named Tau Grimsby will set a plate showcasing the best from the sea and from the fields, along with an assortment of steamed vegetables and sautéed mushrooms, for only a few silvers. Maybe you could send someone for it.” He offered a purse that held the clink of coins.

  “Of course.”

  “Thanks.” Baylee tossed the coin purse over to her, then turned his attention back to the model he was reassembling. “Feel free to have them get you anything you’d like as well. But I recommend this plate.”

  Cordyan sent for a watch officer and bade him go to the Emerald Lantern. Hardly had he gone when Baylee called for her.

  “I think I have it,” the ranger said.

  “Have what?” Cordyan crossed the room, stepping over loose debris and blackened boards.

  “Where Golsway’s interests lay,” Baylee said, “if not exactly what he was searching for.”

  Cordyan studied the mound of grass-green papier mâché piled on the floor in front of Baylee. “And what do you think it is?”

  “Where it is,” Baylee reiterated. “You’ve heard of the Greycloak Hills?”

  “Of course.” Cordyan was intrigued. The Greycloak Hills were a known destination for adventuring bands.

  “In years past,” Baylee said, making a final adjustment to some of the papier mâché pieces he’d fit together, “the Greycloak Hills were called the Tomb Hills. Tombs from the Fallen Kingdom were spread throughout those hills. Many valuable artifacts were found there. Golsway and I went on three major expeditions to the area. Never did we return empty-handed.”

  Cordyan surveyed the model he’d assembled. “How do you know this wasn’t an old representation of one of those excavation sites?”

  “Because we never found anything in the Greycloak Hills that Golsway would have put on exhibition,” Baylee answered.

  “And this is new?” she asked.

  “I’ve never seen it here.”

  “You believe that Golsway was interested in a new dig site in the Greycloak Hills?” Calebaan asked.

  “No.” The ranger pointed out identifying landmarks. “This is a very old one, one of the very first. More than a hundred years back, the exact year is open to some conjecture, an adventuring party under the leadership of Bulwgar Helmm journeyed there and discovered enough in treasure to help open the floodgates of tomb raiders that slipped into the area.”

  “You believe that Golsway discovered something that had been missed in the earlier excavation?” Cordyan asked.

  “That fits this scenario.” Baylee shifted, trying to find a place that fit him more comfortably.

  Cordyan understood his motivation. She was tired of staying inside the house, wearied from standing so much in one spot. And she’d not been hunkered over the little pieces of models for hours.

  “Those early excavations were purely cursory,” Baylee said. “Groups charged into the area and took what they could find. A number of hidden areas were missed.”

  “You didn’t find Golsway’s journal, did you?”

  Baylee shook his head. “You’ve been with me the whole time. Did you see me find it?”

  “No.” Cordyan stared at the model, willing it to make sense. Only it sat there. “I need to be better convinced of the authenticity of your claim.”

  “All right. In the north ward, you’ll find a mapmaker,” Baylee said. “His name is Yassit Daggle. For a price, you can persuade him to come here with his topographical maps and confirm what I’m showing you. This section of the Greycloak Hills is quite distinctive to someone who’s been there.”

  Cordyan glanced at Calebaan, silently seeking his advice.

  “I know of Daggle,” the watch wizard said.

  “If his fee is a consideration,” Baylee put in, “I’ll gladly pay it myself.”

  “No,” Cordyan replied. “The coffers of Waterdeep and the Watch are not so shallow that they cannot cover a mapmaker’s expense.”

  “Good. I’ll need him here, and whatever latest maps of the area he might have to make a better guess about what Golsway was after.”

  “The elves from Evereska have taken over the lands of the Greycloak Hills of late,” Calebaan said. “There is much speculation that they have discovered sources of magic, and perhaps even treasures, that have not yet been found.”

  “Everyone connected with this has displayed a vast resource of magic,” Baylee said quietly.

  Cordyan held her own counsel. The conclusions the ranger offered fit the circumstances. She looked into Baylee’s jade green gaze. “It will take time to find the truth.”

  “Maybe more than you realize,” Calebaan said. “The elves dwelling in the Greycloak Hills these days are very territorial.”

  The watch officer who had been sent to the Emerald Lantern returned carrying a large basket and a wine flask. He placed the food and wine on a nearby table. “The cook wishes for you to enjoy your repast,” the man said. “And wishes for you to drop in on him as time presents itself.”

  Baylee crossed the room to the table. When he lifted the lid on the basket, Cordyan smelled the aroma of the food. “Would the two of you care to join me?” the ranger asked. “Enough was sent.”

  Cordyan shook her head, trying to keep distance between herself and the ranger. Over the last days of travel, keeping that distance had been hard. Baylee was a friendly man, and despite the present situation, generally of good humor. And his travels around all of Faerûn made him an interesting conversationalist.

  “If you really don’t mind,” Calebaan said, “I might nibble on a few things.”

  “Please help yourself.” Baylee pulled the wine flask up and turned it so he could read the label. He smiled in appreciation. “Tau must have been in a generous mood today.” He showed Calebaan the label.

  “A very good year,” the watch wizard agreed.

  Baylee held out
his hands, showing the dirt and the grime from reassembling the model pieces. “I’m going to wash up and come right back.” He left the room, going up the stairs.

  Calebaan rummaged in the basket, bringing out a large buttered shrimp. He bit into it, then made a growl of approval. “You should really try this.”

  Cordyan felt irritated at her friend, which let her know exactly how tired she was. “No, thank you.” She stared hard at the model. “Do you believe him? About the Greycloak Hills?”

  “I can find no reason not to.” Calebaan searched in the basket still further and emerged triumphant with a cube of beef that still showed a little pink. “Why? What do you think?”

  “What I think,” Cordyan said, “is that Baylee Arnvold would make an excellent card player.” She rubbed the back of her neck, wishing her eyelids did not feel so heavy. As she rotated her neck, she noticed the azmyth bat no longer clung to the ceiling. “Where is Xuxa?”

  “Who?”

  Cordyan gazed around the room, noting the open window leading out to the balcony. “The bat,” she explained. Where she had spent time with Baylee, Calebaan had spent most of his time with Civva Cthulad.

  Calebaan put the beef into his mouth as he glanced at the ceiling. “It was there.”

  “Not any more.” With a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, Cordyan ran up the stairs to the privy there. The door was locked from the inside when she arrived. She pounded on the door. “Baylee.”

  The other watch officers clearing debris looked at her as if she’d lost her mind.

  But there was no answer from the other side of the door.

  Cordyan drew her foot back and smashed it against the jamb. The door popped open at once. When she stepped inside, she spotted the open window on the other side of the room. She crossed over to it and looked out. Even though Fannt Golsway’s house was sequestered to an extent, many streets ran by it.

  She didn’t see Baylee Arnvold on any of them.

  Your departure from the house isn’t going to be appreciated, Xuxa said.