The Destruction of the Books (26 page)

“If he had his own personal secrets he wished to keep,” the Grandmagister said, “he would have done such a thing.”

“No,” Craugh disagreed. “I must beg a difference of opinion, my old friend. Many of the forces that wizards invoke lie in the first language the Old Ones gave those who would borrow magick from the land and the oceans and the heavens. Even those goblinkin sorcerers that practice the dark magicks drawn from fire use that language. You can’t change that fact.”

“You’re both assuming that the book is the wizard’s,” the Grandmagister said. “That could be a mistaken perception. It’s possible that it was not Ertonomous Dron’s book.”

Juhg blinked, thinking about that. He’d recognized no wizard’s sigil or mark anywhere in the book. And those would have looked no differently than any owner’s mark. No claiming design existed.

“Dracol’s Principles of Logic,”
the Grandmagister reminded. “Juhg, you should remember that. The Laws of Assumption?”

“‘Clearly state only the known,’” Juhg said. “‘Clearly state the questions that are to be answered. And remember that logic, like a river, doesn’t have to flow straight and true; only get to where it’s going.’”

“But it will never double back on itself or contradict itself,” the Grandmagister added.

Juhg nodded.

“The wizard had possession of the book,” Craugh said. “That’s a fact.”

“Yes. Although a case might be made, under the circumstances, for the book having possessed him.” Grandmagister Lamplighter nodded. “Why did Ertonomous Dron have possession of this book? Or vice versa?” He lifted the volume with his fingers.

“It wasn’t by accident,” Juhg said, carefully adding a known fact. “He took pains to guard it.”

“Or,” Craugh said, “at least to protect himself from it. Which makes a case for it being something that he didn’t wish to have around and was possibly afraid of.”

The Grandmagister picked the book up. “It doesn’t appear dangerous.”

“Neither does a threet fingerling,” Craugh said. “But if you get stung by one during spawning season, you’re a dead man.”

Threets, Juhg knew, were vicious predators that hatched in the bodies of corpses. They were most dangerous when they were newborns, fingerlings.

“I’ll take your word for that,” the Grandmagister said, “and be glad that I’ve never seen a threet, fingerling or full-grown.”

“A birthing of a swarm of threet fingerlings,” Craugh said in a tight voice choked with memory, “is something that is not easily forgotten.”

“Ertonomous Dron traveled with goblinkin,” Juhg said.

“Why?” the Grandmagister asked.

“I will state that it wasn’t by choice,” Craugh said. “Even the most evil wizard will not travel with goblinkin if he has a choice.”

“Fomhyn Mhout allied himself with goblinkin in Hanged Elf’s Point,” the Grandmagister reminded.

“Mhout used the goblinkin who infested the city only as a barrier to keep his enemies away from his fortress,” Craugh stated.

“We’ll agree to disagree over that one,” the Grandmagister said.

The wizard nodded. “So why travel with the goblinkin with the book?”

“Because the book had to be transported,” Juhg said.

“Why not just transportation for the wizard?” the Grandmagister asked.

“If Ertonomous Dron wanted transportation only for himself,” Juhg said, warming to the mental work at hand, “he would have traveled on his own. More than likely
without
the goblinkin escort.”

“Perhaps not,” Craugh said.

“He might not have had a choice,” the Grandmagister pointed out. “The book could have held them all in thrall.”

“All right.” Juhg nodded. “But Ertonomous Dron wouldn’t have traveled with the book if he feared for its safekeeping.”

“What would he have done with it?”

“Stored it,” Juhg answered. “Put it in some wizardly secret hiding place that only he knew of.”

“Such places have been found,” the Grandmagister said. During the years, he had found a few of those places scattered across the mainland.

“Yes, but not easily. And the book was more exposed during travel than it would have been in hiding.” Juhg thought for a moment. “Kannithon’s
The Slight of Sleight: A Beginner’s Guide to Pick-Pocketing.
”

Craugh looked at the Grandmagister. “You have a book like that on the required reading lists for Librarians?”

“Only for some First Level Librarians,” the Grandmagister admitted. “I found the work a fascinating study. A tremendous supplement to Yahweg’s
A Warrior’s Art of Defending Others, and How to Take Their Lives in the Event You Are Not Paid So That Your Reputation Grows.
Kannithon held to a basic premise of exposing a target, whether it was an object or a human being, then acting. Many successful assassins used his book.”

“You make that sound like a good thing.”

“Kannithon was a master at his craft. His skill was an art, and the book was a treasure trove of information not only about assassination, but about the times and the cities in which he lived. There were several cities and countries, and all are elegantly brought to life in his words. Though, of course, the dark alleys and seedy bars and docks are by far the most covered.”

“Remind me to take a look at the lists you are putting out these days,” Craugh commented.

“The point is,” Juhg said, “that Kannithon felt a moving target was a more vulnerable one. So the question now is whether Ertonomous Dron moved the book because he chose to—or because he was afraid not to.”

“Meaning that the book was of worth to him,” Craugh said. “And that others were after the book.”

“Yes.” Juhg nodded. “And that it was no longer safe where it—or where
he
—was.”

“Possibly.” The wizard drew on his pipe in quiet contemplation.

“There is a definite way to quickly find out if this book is magical in nature,” the Grandmagister said in a soft voice. His finger idly played with the stitched binding that held the book together.

Craugh looked at him.

Without another word, the Grandmagister pushed the book across the table to the wizard.

A sour expression filled Craugh’s face. “You know how much I hate messing about with another wizard’s magicks. I’ve told you that on any number of occasions.”

Grandmagister Lamplighter nodded solemnly. “As I recall, you always say that only the worst kinds of things can happen.”

“Tampering with another wizard’s spells is not a simple thing, nor a safe thing.”

The Grandmagister sighed and said, “You’re right, of course. I’ll take this book back to the Vault of All Known Knowledge. We’ll puzzle over it for years, seeking answers when there might not even be a need for them. Or, quite possibly, missing the window of opportunity our having it might give use.”

“Not a need for this book?” Craugh echoed.

Grandmagister Lamplighter looked at the wizard. “It could be a cookbook.”

“A cookbook?” Craugh snorted his disbelief. “And it guarded by goblinkin and a wizard?”

“A very
important
cookbook,” the Grandmagister agreed.

“By the hoary beards of the Old Ones, you’re baiting me, Grandmagister,” Craugh said.

Grandmagister Lamplighter steepled his fingers. “Is it working?”

Craugh fumed and puffed on his pipe in stony silence.

“Seventeen sailors from
Windchaser
gave their lives to get this book this far,” Grandmagister Lamplighter said. “First Level Librarian Juhg almost lost his life getting this book.”

Craugh glanced askance at Juhg.

Juhg nodded. “It’s true. The book was well protected.”

Craugh was silent for a moment. Juhg took his lead from the Grandmagister, who sat silent and still.

“Oh, all right,” Craugh grumbled. He stretched out a hand and murmured a few words in a sibilant language that Juhg was surprised he did know. Craugh held his palm over the book. Tentative blue sparks dropped like snowflakes from his hand to touch the book.

Almost immediately, a roiling gout of red flame flashed up from the book, growing large enough to cover the table in less than a heartbeat.

Juhg felt the heat of the fireball as it rushed upward and was sure that he was going to die.

12

The Trap Is Sprung!

Before he could move to even attempt to save himself, Juhg saw Craugh lean toward the fireball. Firelight carved the wizard’s face clean to the bone. At least, that was the way it seemed at that instant. Actually, the harsh red color of the fire drained Craugh’s skin of color, matching it to the flames themselves till it seemed they met and meshed.

Craugh thrust his hand into the fire. A frenzy of harsh, sibilant language fell from his lips. As Juhg watched, astonished, the flames receded from the wizard’s flesh. Wondrously, Craugh’s skin wasn’t burned and blistered as Juhg had expected.

The flames surged again, though, only this time they butted up against a bowl of force Craugh had evidently conjured up with his magic. The flames licked the sides of the invisible container that the wizard had conjured up.

“Get back,” Craugh advised. “I don’t know if I can contain the energy that’s been unleashed here.”

Juhg sprang from his chair and moved back several feet, instinctively going to the Grandmagister’s side so that he might protect him.
If that is even possible,
Juhg thought, watching the whirling flames inside Craugh’s invisible vessel grow more frenzied and brighter. Even ten feet from the table and the book now, Juhg still felt the heat of the spell rush over him.

Heated winds somehow escaped the prison of force that Craugh had woven around the spell. The wizard’s hat blew off, but almost lackadaisically he caught it on the end of his staff. His gray hair blew back in the fury of the power being expended, and his clothing plastered against his front as though he stood in a gale storm.

Grandmagister Lamplighter gazed helplessly upon his friend. Concern etched his features.

Juhg truly believed the wily old wizard had met his doom. All the majestic power that Craugh commanded seemed unable to release him, and there was no chance for the cunning that so many of his enemies had witnessed just before he had bested them.

“Grandmagister,” Juhg pleaded, pulling on the Grandmagister’s arm. “We need to leave this place.”

“No.” Grandmagister Lamplighter stood his ground. “I will not leave Craugh. He will not let this thing beat him. He’s too prideful and stubborn. But you may go, Juhg. I’m quite capable of standing here on my own.”

Juhg held tight to the Grandmagister’s arm but made no effort to move away. “If you believe in Craugh, Grandmagister, then I believe in him.”
But I think we’re both fools.

Craugh’s hand started to tremble. The quaver ran up his arm and intensified. The old wizard set his jaw in determination. Green fire returned to his eyes.

Then, with a clap of thunder that popped Juhg’s ears, the table beneath the flames shattered. Burned boards and ashes dropped to the hardwood floor, but the flames winked out inches from hitting it.

Craugh drew his hand back and tucked it into the folds of his traveling cloak, obviously aware that he was shaken. “Well, now,
that
was exciting.” He let out a loud sigh that sagged his narrow shoulders.

“What happened?” Juhg asked.

“Obviously the book was booby-trapped.” Craugh glanced around and saw Carason standing nearby with a bucket of water. “You won’t need that water now, Carason, though I feel the need for a mug of mulled wine, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course,” Carason said. “I’ll see to it straightaway.”

“What of the book?” Grandmagister Lamplighter asked, moving closer. He took a lantern from the wall and peered closely at the inches-deep pile of gray and white ashes.

“You’ll want to be careful mucking about in that,” Craugh advised in a hoarse voice. “That was a powerful spell—and treacherous. I wouldn’t put it past whoever worked that nasty bit of magic to render the ashes poisonous to the touch.”

Juhg slipped a knife from his boot, one that Raisho had given him to seal the agreement they had made to trade together. “Let me, Grandmagister.”

“Yes,” Craugh said. “Let the apprentice do it. You still need both your arms, Wick.”

That,
Juhg thought,
is not positive support.
He knelt and dug through the ash and kindling with the point of his knife. To his surprise, he found the book whole, more or less.

“It survived,” the Grandmagister whispered, sounding just as astonished as Juhg felt. “Quickly, Juhg, fetch the book up and let’s see what’s been done. Perhaps we can save most of the pages.”

As carefully as though he were handling a loathsome swamp toad that might leap at him at any second with a mouthful of venomous fangs, Juhg pulled his hand into the sleeve of his cloak and used the material to keep from touching the book. Of course, he knew from studying toxicology that any number of poisons transferred through material—and even a fair number killed by scent alone. Remembering that, he breathed more shallowly.

“Craugh,” the Grandmagister said.

“Hasn’t your curiosity caused enough damage?” the wizard demanded petulantly.

“Doesn’t a book that was filled with such raw magic make you the least bit curious yourself?” the Grandmagister asked.

“Yes.”

“Then tell me if the book is safe to touch.”

Craugh leaned down and pointed his staff at the book. As the wooden length came closer, Juhg turned his face away and closed both eyes. He expected nothing less than getting his head blown off.

“It’s safe enough,” the wizard declared. “And no poison either.”

Quick as a wink, the Grandmagister snatched the book from Juhg’s hand.

Breathing out in relief and feeling more than a little light-headed, Juhg pushed himself to his feet. Movement at the eatery’s front door and windows let him know that the explosive nature of the spell had attracted a crowd.

“The book didn’t exactly weather the spell well,” Grandmagister Lamplighter observed. “The one it contained or the one that you used to banish the trap.”

Craugh brushed at some stubborn embers that still burned orange in his clothing. “It should have been destroyed. I held nothing back.”