The Destruction of the Books (38 page)

Craugh slept, his chest rising and falling in the dim glow of the lanterns.

Juhg looked at the dwarven warrior closest to him. “How bad is it?” he asked.

The dwarf gave Juhg a haunted look. “Plenty bad. Bad as I’ve ever seen. Got dead strung all through the halls. A lot of ’em’s Grymmlings an’ Dread Riders, but we left plenty of ours among ’em.” He shook his shaggy head. “This here place, why, after today it’s filled with blood that’ll never come out of this stone.”

The imagery made Juhg shiver. “I’m sorry for your losses.”

The dwarf nodded. “We all lost today.”

17

The Account

The sound of footsteps woke Juhg.

Panic flared to life within him as the two dwarven warriors shifted. As one, they stepped into the shadows of the stairwell. Only then did Juhg notice that the lanterns they had placed on the floor had gotten positioned with deliberate care to illuminate the stairs in both directions and allow them hiding places in the shadows.

The dwarves lifted their weapons. Juhg knew that only from the sounds, and only then because he knew the dwarves would only move for that reason.

The footsteps halted. The distinct sound of metal scraping leather echoed into the empty silence of the stairwell.

“Juhg,” a voice whispered.

Recognizing the familiar voice, Juhg smiled and said, “Raisho?”

“Aye. Tell them dwarves what’s down there that ye know me afore they get too anxious. Tell ’em Varrowyn passed me on down.”

Forcing himself to a standing position, feeling the pain and agony that accompanied that effort, Juhg said, “He’s a friend.”

“Tell him to come on ahead,” one of the dwarves said.

Juhg still didn’t know the names of either dwarven warrior who guarded him. “You heard him, Raisho.”

“Aye. That I did. Just ye keep in mind that I ain’t comin’ empty-handed. I’m bringin’ a basket of victuals. Weren’t so much dust a-hangin’ in the air down here, why, ye’d probably have smelt it long before ye heard me.”

Despite all he’d been through and everything he had seen, Juhg was surprised to find he was hungry. Thirst he’d acknowledged some time ago, before he’d somehow dropped off to sleep. Even in the mines, he’d maintained something of an appetite. He supposed after all those years the feeling was more survival instinct than anything else.

Raisho stepped into the soft golden glow of the lanterns. He carried his sword in one hand and a small lantern in the other.

The dwarves revealed themselves, stepping from the darkness.

“Varrowyn yet lives?” one of the dwarves asked.

Nodding, Raisho said, “Aye. From the looks of him, he’s a right enough hard one to kill. An’ looks like plenty tried him tonight. He’s shed some blood, probably more of someone else’s than his own, but he’s upright an’ in charge of the Library’s defenses.”

“Where’s the food ye was talkin’ of?” one of them asked.

Raisho sheathed his blade, then reached around for the burgeoning backpack he’d carried down. “Knew I’d be feedin’ dwarves. Brought enough to feed a small army.” He grinned and drew himself up to his full height. “Or a short army at the least.”

“Human.” One of the dwarves jerked a thumb at Raisho as he talked to the other. “All that extra room from the neck up is just wasted space.”

Grinning at them, Raisho knelt and opened the pack like a merchanter revealing his wares. “I’ll be sure to mention that to the wizard when he wakes. If’n he don’t remember it all on his own. In me travels, I’ve seen men what could remember somethin’ said around them while they slept.” He shrugged good-naturedly. “An’ a wizard? Somebody like Craugh? Why, I bet he’d come closer to rememberin’ somethin’ like that more’n anybody I’ve ever seen.”

The dwarves exchanged nervous scowls.

Raisho spread a feast across the landing, setting it all on a thin woolen blanket he’d brought, leaving the items on the cheesecloth wrappings. Fruits, breads, cheeses, and smoked meats emerged from the pack. He added two skins, one of water and one of wine.

The dwarves, one at a time, helped themselves.

Juhg took a square of cheesecloth Raisho had unwrapped from a loaf of dill limebread and cut portions of meats and cheeses, added fruits and sections of bread, and wrapped the food. He placed the makeshift bag back in the pack.

“For Craugh,” Juhg explained. “For when he wakes.”

“Ye’ll eat, too,” Raisho said. “I didn’t trek all the way up the Knucklebones, survive a handful of battles, an’ descend into the bowels of the earth in the middle of the night just to feed a couple of thankless dwarves.”

The dwarves offered unkind and cutting remarks.

“Raisho,” Juhg admonished, “these warriors fought long and hard. Don’t speak ill of them.”

“Aye.” Raisho looked at the dwarves and nodded. “I know that they did. We all did.”

“We?” Juhg repeated.

“Aye.” Raisho cut a slice of limebread, covered it with firepepper cheese and topped that with a wedge of puckerpear so green and tart it would have dried the mouth all on its own. “Them Dread Riders an’ Grymmlings spilled down the Knucklebones, Juhg. They met the rescuers what come up the mountains to help out. Several of them would-be rescuers was caught unawares. I hadn’t seen the bodies ahead of me, I’d probably have gotten caught standin’ still meownself.”

Juhg tried to digest that. “How bad is it?”

Raisho’s eyes showed a haunting pain. “Bad enough, scribbler. Bad enough so that ever’body what took part in them battles ain’t gonna ever forget what they seen an’ done up here in these mountains.”

“How many came?”

Hesitating, Raisho said, “Enough. Enough to get the job done.” He paused. “Most couldn’t believe the bell was ringin’. Nobody ever heard it ring afore.”

“Were the Dread Riders and Grymmlings stopped before they reached the town?”

“Aye. Dead in their tracks, most of ’em. Heard there was more of ’em for a while, but they up an’ disappeared.” Raisho gestured to the food in Juhg’s hand. “Eat. Gotta get yer strength back up. Got a lot to do around here.”

Juhg took a bite of the sandwich. The combination of flavors filled his mouth but didn’t take his attention away from the stories he knew Raisho had to tell.

*   *   *

Seated with his back to the wall, Juhg ate from the small store of food Raisho had forced on him while the young sailor talked. Eating, Juhg had learned, kept Raisho talking.

“I was in a tavern when I heard the bell,” Raisho said. “At first, I didn’t even know what it was I was hearin’. But the tavern keeper, he knew what it was an’ he told ever’one.” He hesitated. “I got to tell ye, not ever’ person in that tavern took up arms to come a harin’ up the Knucklebones to spend their blood protectin’ the Library.”

“No,” Juhg said. “I don’t think anyone here expected they would.”

“Some of ’em, why, they didn’t believe what they was hearin’. But others, now, why, they wanted no part of it. Took themselves off to their own ships an’ homes an’ such. Some was confused because they’d always been told danger would come from the Blood-Soaked Sea.”

Raisho continued talking and serving Juhg food. The young sailor told stories of the action he’d seen, describing encounters between the elven warders and their animal companions and battles staged by the dwarves as they’d hacked their way up the Knucklebones to join their comrades as reinforcements. The Dread Riders and Grymmlings had spilled down the mountainside quickly, overtaking some of the Librarians and running headlong into the arriving rescuers.

There were no stirring tales of dwellers who had joined in the battles.

“For a time there,” Raisho said, “it didn’t look like the arrivals from Greydawn Moors would be enough to hold the Dread Riders and Grymmlings back. Looked like the town was gonna get sacked. For ever’ one that was killed, seemed like two come runnin’ out of the Library to take the place of the last one.” He tore a piece of limebread to pieces in his hands and ate a chunk. His eyes glazed over in memory. “They was about to overcome the line what held the mountain an’ prevented ’em from goin’ on down into Greydawn Moors. Then a fierce wind seemed to draw up from outta the Library an’ pulled most of them back inside.”

“That was Craugh,” Juhg said. “He broke the spell. He thought the invaders would be drawn back to wherever they came from.”

“Well, it didn’t pull all of them back,” Raisho said. “But them what was left, why, they put up a decent enough fight, but they couldn’t stand. Them elven warders, they didn’t come up the mountain to get defeated. Fightin’ fair ain’t something they believe in, not like for a dwarf. For them elves, it’s all about survival. An’ dwarves? Why, they won’t back down from nothin’.”

“That’s why dwarves were asked to provide protection for the Library,” one of the dwarven warriors said with a trace of pride.

“Aye,” Raisho said. “An’ I’ll grant ye that, right enough. But there’s also a reason why so few dwarves sign up aboard pirate ships in the Blood-Soaked Sea. That’s for the humans what’s sworn to protect the Library. We all got our battlefields.”

“How badly damaged is the Library?” Juhg asked.

Raisho looked down at the rubble that had partially filled the stairwell below. “Like that. An’ worse. Don’t know how big the Library is ’cause I ain’t ever been here afore tonight, but from what I’ve seen, aye, it’s been damaged all over. Above ground and below.”

Juhg couldn’t believe that. Images of the Library lying in ruins filled his head, but he couldn’t bring himself to believe that they were true. The Library had been built to last forever.

No,
he corrected himself.
That is incorrect thinking. The Vault of All Known Knowledge was built to last long enough to give its treasures back to the world. That’s all. It was only meant as a repository, not a permanent place.

But Grandmagister Lamplighter hadn’t felt that way.

“Did you see the Grandmagister?” Juhg asked.

“Aye.” Raisho nibbled at a bit of sweet honeydew cheese crusted in crushed walnuts and olives. “Talked to him meownself. Let him know I was plannin’ on lookin’ ye up, makin’ sure ye was all right. It was him assigned a Librarian to guide me till I could find me own way.”

“The Grandmagister was all right?”

“Seemed to be. Worn an’ a little ragged, mayhap. He was organizin’ salvage parties when I left him.”

“‘Salvage parties’?”

“To get them what survived up outta the Library. Some of ’em got trapped in places when the mountain come apart. An’ they’re savin’ the books, of course. Gettin’ all them books up outta places is harder than bringin’ up Librarians an’ dwarves.”

Removing so many books from the Library, Juhg thought, will be an awesome task. But where will they all be kept?

Reaching inside his cloak, Raisho said, “The Gran’magister asked me to give ye something.” He pulled out a full-sized journal bound in cloth.

Juhg took the journal and automatically searched for the title and author. Neither existed. He flipped the journal open and found page after page of the best paper made at the Vault of All Known knowledge. Only First Level Librarians got to use that paper.

“What is this?” Juhg asked.

Handing over a small leather pouch, Raisho answered, “The Gran’magister, he said to tell ye to make a record of ever’thin’ that went on last night.”

“Last night?”

“Aye.” Raisho shook his head. “It’s mornin’ already, Juhg. Didn’t ye know that?”

“No. I didn’t.” Down in the bottom of the Library, there had been no way of keeping time.

“Was well past mornin’ when I come down here,” Raisho said. “That’s why I knew ye’d prolly be hungry.”

Juhg looked at the blank pages inside the book. He felt the weight of the task settle on him. For a moment, he felt inadequate. Writing something like this was a job meant for the Grandmagister. Not a Librarian who had willingly left the Vault of All Known Knowledge.

“The Gran’magister,” Raisho said, “he said to be sure an’ tell ye that ye weren’t to hold nothin’ back. Put it all down like it happened. ‘Just like it happened,’ he told me to tell you. Said a lot of people would blame him for the Library gettin’ destroyed after last night, an’ he wanted it put down fairly. He also said he was to blame some’at. Told me he’d rather not have any Librarian other than ye to make that record. Because ye was the fairest one he knew. An’ ye was there when it all happened.” He clapped Juhg on the shoulder. “Ye ask me, Juhg, I’d say the Gran’magister’s givin’ ye quite an honor.”

Grandmagister Lamplighter’s trust in Juhg brought tears to the young Librarian’s eyes. He hid his emotions in the shadows that clung to the stairwell landing.

“I know,” Juhg whispered. “But you don’t know what he’s asking. I don’t think the Grandmagister knows what he’s asking.”

Raisho took a deep breath and let it out. He was silent for a space. “All the time that I’ve known ye, I’ve known ye to be fair an’ honest. Mayhap that’s all the Gran’magister is askin’ for, too.”

Juhg thought back over what had transpired, how evil had been set loose inside the Library.
It isn’t the Grandmagister who’s to blame for this. It’s me.

“Apprentice,” a weak, croaking voice said.

Startled, Juhg looked over at Craugh.

The wizard had managed to find the strength to roll his head to the side and gaze at him. “Wick charged you with a duty. He doesn’t give such things lightly. He finds it hard not to do things himself. He prefers to do them himself, rather than pass them along. He and I share that failing. Nor does he make a habit of asking people to do things they aren’t capable of. He knows you can do this, and he trusts you to do it right. To do it accurately and fairly.”

“But this,” Juhg said, his voice so hard and thin it came out as a whisper, “this is my fault.”

“No,” Craugh said. “We are all to blame for this. And even then, the blame can only be small. The trap was well laid and even better executed by those who made certain it fell into our hands. Don’t you discount the skill and canniness of those who created this vile business. That would be a disservice to your master. And to yourself.”

“If I had not found the book…”