The Summoner (46 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY‐FIVE

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They rose earlier than usual, eager to get on their way. They left the main road within a candlemark and headed off on barely passable trails. This area was dotted with tumbledown cottages and barns, and then, as they rode further north, these gradually thinned out until there were no signs of recent habitation at all.

This land was rocky, without good planting or pasturelands, and its hillsides offered neither minerals nor gems. Here the tributaries to the Nu River trickled down from the mountains, too shallow for commerce. They rode without encountering another soul. Even better, Tris thought, they saw no more beasts, though they still rode with torches and pitch at hand.

They spent part of the morning following a trail that ended in a wall of rock. Another old trail stopped in an empty field. Dust‐covered, hungry and restless, they followed a barely visible third road. Vahanian dismounted to clear away the underbrush. By the time the sun was high in the 388

sky, they had reached a small stream.

“Well, this should be it,” Vahanian remarked, holding the map in front of him.

“I don’t see anything,” Kiara said, sidling her horse next to Vahanian. Tris noted that their new companion, so friendly the day before, grew more withdrawn as they rode.

“Over there,” Carroway pointed to the overgrown ruins of a stone building.

“Not much of a library, but let’s go see,” Vahanian said, urging his horse on.

Amid the scrub trees and the low bushes, the remains of a tower rose from the ground. A tangle of vines and brambles obscured the building. Broken slates led up to what once were sweeping front steps. An iron gate with a solid door blocked their entrance. Although badly damaged, the wall was still intact.

“This can’t be the right place,” Kiara said in a hushed voice. “The Sister and Sakwi, they seemed so sure…” she drifted off, staring at the scene in disappointment. Carina, who rode up beside her, looked equally desolate.

Tris swung down from his horse and began to pick his way through the scrub toward the gate.

Carroway dismounted also, and joined him as they headed toward the ruins. “What do you think you’re going to find?” Vahanian called to them, as the others tethered their horses.

“Don’t know,” Tris called back. “Maybe nothing.”

Something felt wrong, Tris thought as he made his way toward the ruins. Not dangerous, but strange, as though his senses were in conflict with something his inner sight knew to be amiss.

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There was magic here, old and strong. Something urged him to turn away. A spell? he wondered.

One that would cause enough discomfort to make casual passers‐by choose another road?

“What’s left is too high to climb over,” Tris observed.

“Take a look at this,” Carroway called. Tris looked up to where the minstrel was pulling at loose vines covering a large seal on the iron gate to reveal an inscription.

“What does it say?” Tris asked.

Carroway ran his fingers lightly over the dark metal surface, squinting. “I’m not sure. It’s written in a language I don’t recognize,” he said, bending closer. And there’s a spot down here,” he said, touching an indentation, “where something’s been prized loose.”

“Let me see,” Carina said, and Carroway stepped aside. Carina bent to examine it then stood.

“It’s Nargi,” she said.

“Can you read it?” Tris asked, crowding closer.

“I’ll try,” Carina replied, and leaned toward the plaque once more. “C’sque rut osir, a’tesyr ja kescue,” she read slowly.

“Kuscue” Vahanian corrected, turning toward them. “A’tesyr ja kuscue,” he repeated in perfect Nargi. “It means, ‘I bar this gate.’”

Carina looked up, surprised. “Nargi’s not an easy language. Do you want to take a look?”

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Vahanian made his way through the scrub. Tris and Carroway stepped aside, and the mercenary brushed some dirt from the seal. “lb vossir, e dis‐elon, vi fosset a’ysse, c’sa.” Vahanian read fluently, continuing down several lines of the strange, mellifluous language. “‘With my hand, I bar this gate…’ there’s a date here, back about fifty years ago, I think.”

“The Mage Wars,” Tris said looking up.

—”That none should despoil this place of learning,” Vahanian translated. “Only the seal of the Lady may pass.”

Carina looked at Vahanian. “The Nargi don’t teach their language to outsiders,” she said skeptically. “Where did you learn that?”

Vahanian shrugged and turned away. “Spend two years as their prisoner and see what you learn.”

“The seal of the Lady,” Kiara murmured. “The star pendant,” she said, reaching inside her tunic for the pendant which glowed brightly as she drew it out, shining on her palm. She stepped forward and fitted the star into the indentation.

Around them, everything changed.

Beyond the gate was a massive stone building, four stories high, with a tower that stretched toward the sun. Gone completely was the overgrowth of vines and brambles inside the fence.

The lawn around the Library was neatly tended, surrounded by ancient trees and a small, well‐planned garden around a placid reflecting pool. The iron gate creaked inward on its massive 391

hinges and the front door of the tower opened. A sprightly white‐haired man nearly danced to the opening, his arms spread in greeting.

“Come on in,” he said, welcoming them. “You’re late, quite late, but we’ve been expecting you.”

And then abruptly, as if interrupted by a tap on the shoulder, he turned peevishly to one side to address empty air. “I’ve had enough of your silliness for one day. Now off with you!” He turned toward Tris and the others again. “Don’t let him bother you,” he said, with the air of an embarrassed parent. “He’s really quite harmless. Do come in.”

Tris moved forward, but Vahanian placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’m not sure ‘harmless’ is the right word,” he cautioned. “He’s talking to thin air.”

“Not exactly,” Tris said, chuckling. “There’s a ghost, just off to his right. It’s been poking him the whole time, rather pesky.”

The man in the doorway brightened. “Goddess of Light! Someone else can see him! Please, please come in,” he entreated, gesturing in welcome. “I’m Royster, a keeper of the Library.”

Tris led the wary group into the darkened hallway. Jae squawked nervously from his perch on Kiara’s shoulder. As they stepped inside, torches flared into brilliance on both sides of the passageway. Brown‐robed figures assembled in the hallway, until a company of about twenty stood before them.

“These are my brothers and sisters,” Royster introduced, then laughed aloud. “No, no—not blood family. We are acolytes to the Sisterhood, and our charge is to protect and maintain all this,” he said with a grand sweep of his hand. “We are the Keepers.”

Tris bowed in greeting. “I am Martris Drayke, grandson of Bava K’aa, the sorceress,” Tris introduced himself, “and these are my companions,” he added, introducing each in turn. “I’ve come to find a way to defeat a dark mage who killed my family. Carina seeks a cure for King Donelan’s 392

mage‐sent illness. Kiara must speak for her own Journey, but the Sisterhood itself sent her here.

Can you help us?”

Royster jumped as if poked and scowled at the empty air on his left. “Now stop interrupting!” he admonished the ghost. “They’ll get to that. Don’t be so impatient!” Exasperated, he turned his attention again to Tris. “Perhaps,” he said, with a cunning smile. “Mageborn, are you?” he asked, peering closely at Tris.

“Just learning,” Tris admitted.

“Don’t let him kid you,” Vahanian muttered under his breath. “If he’s just practicing, I don’t want to be around for the real thing.”

“At the doorway, you could see Kessen,” Royster said. “You are a spirit mage?”

Tris nodded. “Both the Sisterhood and the spirit of my grandmother believe you can help me with my training.”

Royster stroked his beard. “You stay out of it,” he snapped to the ghost. “You’re just partial to him because he can see you. Well you’re no treat to look on, let me tell you.” He looked back to Tris, his blue eyes twinkling.

“I bet I can,” he said spryly. “Make yourselves at home,” he said, with a spring in his step as he turned and beckoned them to follow. “Plenty of room for all. First a room and a bed, then some food, then more than enough time for the books. You, hush up,” he snapped as an aside to the ghost.

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“Do you see anything?” Tris heard Berry ask Vahanian as they followed the sprightly librarian deeper into the huge building. Jae squawked nervously. The other Keepers melted into the shadows as silently as they had emerged, and Tris might have wondered, without his mage sight, if they were also ghosts. Royster, on the other hand, was definitely mortal. He was a thin, slightly built man barely taller than Carina, with unruly white hair and a full beard. What he lacked in size and bulk, he made up for in energy, since he seemed always in motion and moved with a sprightly glee that made him seem younger than his years, although Tris guessed him to be nearing his sixtieth summer.

“Just trouble,” Vahanian admitted. “I’ve seen enough ghosts already for a lifetime.”

“Me, too,” Berry agreed. “Do you think there are vayash moru here?”

“Now that’s a pleasant thought,” Vahanian replied darkly.

The rooms that opened off the hallway were dimly lit and cavernous, filled with towering shelves of ancient tomes, leather‐bound volumes, carefully wrapped bundles of scrolls and sheaves of flattened parchment. The wisdom of the mages, Tris thought in awe. Hidden for a lifetime. His curiosity drew him toward those ancient volumes, and Kiara, Carroway and Carina looked as excited as he did, while Vahanian appeared decidedly uncomfortable. Berry fairly bounced with enthusiasm.

Royster led them to a dormitory‐style group of rooms, each with a stiff bed, a chair, a nightstand, a fireplace and a small table for study. There were enough rooms for them all, but Berry gratefully accepted Carina’s invitation to share.

When Tris headed back into the corridor after washing up, Carina was just starting down the hall. “Cat got your tongue?” she asked, falling into step beside him.

Tris smiled. “Amazed by all this, I guess.”

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“Me too. Compared to this, the library in Isencroft is a sitting room,” Carina agreed. ‘

“Are you coming?” Carroway called from a few steps ahead. “Unless I’m mistaken, that’s food I smell. Good food.”

Tris grinned. “I keep thinking about that first inn where we stayed. It looked solid and disappeared in the morning. Now we’ve got to the Library that didn’t look like it was here, and turned out to be solid after all.”

“Just as long as the food is real,” Carroway quipped. “I’ve learned to do without on this trip, but I’ll always appreciate good food and a crowd with an ear for stories.”

The aroma of fresh stew led them to the tower’s kitchen and dining hall. Rows of tables and chairs filled the large chamber. Several of the brown‐robed Keepers were busy fixing supper.

Royster, bent over a large cauldron, looked up as Tris approached.

“We don’t often get company for dinner. The soup should be ready, and there’s bread and cheese enough.” Royster looked to the side in irritation. “Hush. You’re a ghost and ghosts don’t eat, so what do you care?” he said to his unseen companion.

“I think that sounds wonderful,” Tris admitted gratefully. “We’ve been living on trail meals.”

“Bring your plates up, all of you,” Royster called, beckoning to the others.

Royster seated himself across from Tris and Carroway. Carina and Kiara found seats with them, while Vahanian took his food to the other side of the table and Berry followed. Jae found a spot on the edge of the table, settled his leathery wings contentedly, and pulled at a piece of cheese.

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In turn, the travelers told their stories to the librarian. When they finished, Royster nodded.

“If the knowledge you seek exists anywhere, then you will find it here,” he said. “That is why the Sisterhood took such care to hide this Library. In the right hands, the knowledge stored here can do great things.” He paused. “After the Mage War, the Sisterhood could not bring themselves to destroy the Library, so they hid it, so that its secrets might not be abused.” He looked around, as if imagining the dark building bustling with students.

“Only the most senior and trusted of the Sisters have access,” Royster explained. “That pendant is not given lightly. There have only been a few outside the Sisterhood who are so honored, and as for the Sisters,” he continued, “they most often come by transport spell.” At that, Kiara shivered.

“No thanks,” she said, setting down her drink. “The Sister wrho sent me on my journey used a spell like that to take me from one place to another. It was… unnerving.”

Royster smiled indulgently. “It does take some getting used to. Fortunately, the Sisters come to us, so we Keepers have no need to travel.” He finished his food and mopped up the last drops with a sop of bread. “Vayash moru who are long known to the Sisterhood bring us provisions and news of the outside,” he continued. “Some of them have studied at the Library for hundreds of years. Their loyalty to the Lady is absolute.” He paused. “I have been told to expect the Sisters. They will sense your coming. I believe you will have the first of many tutors, my lord Summoner, come morning light.”

“Aren’t the Sisters taking a chance leaving you here?” Vahanian said, leaning back. “I mean, you’ve got all the time in the world. What’s to keep you from being the next Obsidian King?”

Royster chuckled. “I imagine the good Sisters had that very thought.” He jumped as if poked and glared to his right. “Yes, of course I was

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going to get to that,” he scowled. “Be quiet.” He looked back to Tris and the others. “I believe, in this case, I was chosen as much for what I’m not as what I am. And I am not a mage.”

Vahanian looked skeptically at Royster. “Let me get this straight. We’ve come all the way so that Tris can be tutored m magic by a librarian?” Royster chuckled. “Basically—yes.” “Maybe you’d like to take over the sword training, while you’re at it?” “Nope. But you’re missing something.” “What’s that?” Vahanian asked, annoyed. “You could never be sure that mages weren’t trying to gain power for themselves, with all this knowledge and lore. That is why the Sisterhood have permitted so few to enter. But me,” he shrugged. “I can’t take it, and I couldn’t use it.” His eyes narrowed, like a card player going for the big bet. “On the other hand, we’ve had a lifetime among these books. We know them all. Each of us,” he said, gesturing to include his silent companions, who filed in to take their own dinners, “has a specialty, an area of magic we have studied most of our lives. Healing,” he said with a nod of his head to Carina, who looked up sharply, “battle magic,” he said, catching Vahanian’s eye, “spirit magic,” he added, looking to Tris. “Just like your own walking, talking index. Memorized quite a bit, too.”