The Destruction of the Books (48 page)

“The Library is destroyed,” Dilwiddy protested. “I’ve heard reports that only one book in five survived the attack.”

“Yes.”

Dilwiddy raised his eyebrows in surprise. “That figure is accurate?”

“Yes.” The Grandmagister’s shoulders bowed a little at the terrible weight of accepting that toll of destruction.

Juhg reached inside his shirt and took out the journal and small cotton bag of charcoal sticks that he had put there that morning. He hated not having something to work with if an idea hit him so he was prepared this time.

“Then the Library is destroyed,” Dilwiddy said.

“If it were,” Sayrit said, “we would have already been gone from this place.”

Many of the dwellers started frantically whispering among themselves. If the Library were destroyed, if the books were all gone, what remained to hold the elves, dwarves, and humans there? Evidently no one had thought about that in their haste to try to usurp control over the Grandmagister.

“We can rebuild it.” The Grandmagister stood his ground. “We have to rebuild it.”

With a sure hand, Juhg laid out lines, shaping the meeting hall and the dwellers who stood there at odds across the circular area.

“You’ve lost the books.”

The Grandmagister nodded. “We’ve lost a great number of them.”

“Then what good would it do to rebuild a Library only to hold empty shelves?”

“They won’t always be empty.”

“Why?”

The Grandmagister hesitated, then said, “Because they won’t be.”

Interest came to attention within Juhg. He felt the Grandmagister’s answer was part of the mystery that had kept him busy in his own studies the past few days.

“What does he mean by that?” Raisho asked.

“I don’t know,” Juhg replied.

Dilwiddy clearly wasn’t happy. “Grandmagister Lamplighter, I am aware—as are a number of others in this room—that you have journeyed to the mainland on a number of occasions and brought back books you discovered there.”

The Grandmagister didn’t bother to deny the statement.

“In fact,” Dilwiddy said, “one of your Librarians recently brought back a book that led to the attack at the Vault of All Known Knowledge.”

“That is not your concern.”

“Not my concern?” Dilwiddy suddenly appeared apoplectic. “How can you stand there and say that? If those Grymmlings and Dread Riders had come down the Knucklebones—”

“An’ they didn’t,” Erolg growled. “We seen to that, sure enough.”

“No, Grandmagister, with all due respect, I think that anything you do that could potentially harm those who live here is our concern.”

Exasperated, the Grandmagister fixed Dilwiddy with his gaze. “I’ve listened to your accusations and veiled threats long enough.” His voice sounded strong, and his words silenced every whisper in the room.

Dilwiddy looked disconcerted and started to speak.

“No,” the Grandmagister said, holding up a hand. “I’ll not listen to another word. Craugh, if Dilwiddy or Brokkle speaks before I am finished, you may turn them into toads at your leisure.”

Sparks leapt and snapped at the end of the wizard’s staff. “Thank you, Grandmagister. I look forward to serving in whatever small but happy way I might.”

The Grandmagister walked around the table as he spoke, breaking the unwritten rule that both sides debating across the round table would have their own spaces.

“I’ve listened to your complaints for a long time over the years, Dilwiddy,” the Grandmagister said.

Dilwiddy started to speak, glanced at Craugh, and thought better of it.

“You’ve led the complaints about the Library since even before I was made Grandmagister. You’ve whined about the fact that the Library takes a percentage of all the profits that are made by the townsfolk. You’ve stated on repeated occasions that you don’t like the way the Library also gets a percentage of all the goods brought to the island, knowing that the Vault of All Known Knowledge only takes goods that can be used in the pursuit of our work or by my staff.”

That had always been a large complaint.

“You forget yourself,” the Grandmagister said, “and I take my share of the blame for not reminding you.” He turned and gazed around the room. “This place was not given to you to be your home. This island was formed by magic, raked from the bottom of the sea, and made habitable as a place of protection for the Vault of All Known Knowledge. This place was intended as the last bastion of all learning, of all the information the races have managed to accumulate.”

Juhg turned the page and began sketching hurriedly, captivated by the Grandmagister’s words.

“Until Lord Kharrion united the goblinkin hordes and tried to destroy us,” the Grandmagister said, “our races lived apart. We had our separate lives and we had our separate histories. There were occasional cultural fairs and exchanges of information during times when sickness or a natural disaster like drought struck an area. But for the most part, all the races—and even smaller groupings of them—lived away from each other.”

Dilwiddy backed up as the Grandmagister came to a halt near him. The fat dweller glanced fearfully at Craugh, who watched the Grandmagister with a mixture of pride and wariness.

“For nearly one hundred and fifty years,” the Grandmagister said, “I’ve served the Vault of All Known Knowledge. I’ve labored with reports, catalogues, and repair work. I’ve learned old languages as well as dead ones. I’ve celebrated past successes and wept over the heartbreak of defeat with races who were gone long before the Cataclysm, with authors who were elves and dwarves and humans.”

Pride touched Juhg as he realized he knew exactly what the Grandmagister was talking about. He’d felt the same way a number of times. A glance at Raisho revealed that the young sailor was mesmerized by the Grandmagister’s words.

“I did not know,” the Grandmagister said in a softer voice, “how much all of those races were alike in some ways—in the best of ways and in the worst—until I read the books about their lives and dreams.” He stared at Dilwiddy.

The dweller looked away and wouldn’t meet the Grandmagister’s gaze.

“There were even people like you, Dilwiddy,” the Grandmagister said. “Small-hearted people with narrow minds and a greedy nature. Not all of them were bad people. Just self-involved.”

Dilwiddy hung his head.

The Grandmagister turned his attention back to the crowd. “I listened to Sayrit speak this morning. And Erolg and Captain Artoona as well.” He paced, stepping away from Dilwiddy and Brokkle. “I heard their words and their pride in their accomplishments, in their dedication to the promises their ancestors made on their behalf.” He paused. “I took pride in the knowledge that I know these individuals as friends.”

Juhg turned the page and blocked out the faces of the three the Grandmagister had named. Only then did he realize that the ship’s captain had indeed been Artoona of
Jeweled Dragonfly,
a pirate ship that had taken prizes on a number of occasions out in the Blood-Soaked Sea.

“I’ve always been loath to exercise the powers I have as Grandmagister of this place when dealing with the townsfolk here, but if I choose not to exercise those powers now, I know that I will be remiss in my duties.” The Grandmagister stopped and looked around the room. “Dwarven warriors and elven warders and human sailors died up in the Knucklebones Mountains only a few days ago. They gave their lives fighting for promises made by their ancestors, without ever truly experiencing the same circumstances that propelled their ancestors to make those agreements in the first place.”

No one spoke inside the meeting hall. Juhg’s charcoal almost sounded loud against the journal page.

“I’ve seen how dwellers live along the mainland,” the Grandmagister said. “Many are still in slavery. I was sold as a slave in Hanged Elf’s Point when I first journeyed from Greydawn Moors. First Level Librarian Juhg lost his family and was a slave himself in the goblinkin mines. He wore shackles for years. His ankles still bear the scars.”

Juhg felt Raisho’s eyes on him then and realized that he’d never told the young sailor about his years spent as a slave. He focused on his work in the journal, distancing himself from the memories the Grandmagister’s words dredged up.

“Dwellers live and die in poverty and pain there,” the Grandmagister said. “They weren’t given the opportunity to safeguard the books in the Vault of All Known Knowledge, as were your ancestors.” He paused. “As were
you
.” He gazed around the room and Juhg watched as all of the dwellers were too ashamed to meet his eyes. “And here you are this morning, brazen enough to tell me and these loyal friends of the Library that the Vault of All Known Knowledge is an imposition to you.” He drew in a deep breath. “How dare you even think of not rebuilding.”

No one said anything.

“Without the mandatory schooling required by the Library of every dweller on this island, your children would only be an ocean away from a life of servitude, pain, and disaster. And when they got too infirm to work, the only future they would have would be a goblin’s stewpot.”

The dwellers sat huddled, their shoulders rounded and their heads down.

“As Grandmagister of the Vault of All Known Knowledge, I hold the power over this island. I decide, after deliberation with advisors whom I see fit to name, what will be done.” The Grandmagister crossed the room and stood in front of Dilwiddy. “I decide who stays here, and who goes. Not you.” He took a breath. “If I choose to, I can have you put on a ship, Dilwiddy, with only the clothes on your back.”

“Grandmagister,” Dilwiddy pleaded.

Raisho shifted beside Juhg and whispered, “Can he do such a thing?”

“Yes,” Juhg whispered back, trying to keep everything in perspective. Throughout the years of his association with Grandmagister Lamplighter, he’d never seen his mentor so firm.

The Grandmagister of the Vault of All Known Knowledge had final say over every aspect of the Library, as well as the island. But in all the history of the Library and of Greydawn Moors, no Grandmagister had ever stood in the meeting hall and threatened to deport townsfolk.

In years past, the sailing crews had been carefully chosen. It wouldn’t do for a sailor to jump ship and tell stories about dwellers who could read and write and lived in a huge building with thousands of books.

The Grandmagister turned away from the dweller and faced the rest of the audience in the meeting hall. “I’ll make that offer now. To all of you. Anyone who does not want to stay here at this place will be given passage to the mainland on the next ship headed that way. But you will leave
now
. This instant.”

No one spoke.

Turning, the Grandmagister faced Dilwiddy and Brokkle again. “Decide,” he told them. “Here or somewhere else. Where do you want to spend the rest of your lives?”

“Here, Grandmagister,” Dilwiddy whispered. “Please. I want to live here.”

“So do I,” Brokkle added.

Letting his response hang for a time, the Grandmagister finally nodded. “Fine. Then so long as you support the Library and its mission here, you will be welcome.”

“Thank you, Grandmagister,” both dwellers said.

“This will be an end to the fighting,” the Grandmagister declared. “Erolg.”

“Aye, Grandmagister.”

“See to it that we have a jail established here in town. If there is any more trouble, any more sedition from the dwellers regarding the rebuilding of the Library, I want a place to keep them till we can ship them away from here.”

“Aye, Gran’magister. ’Twill be done.”

“Primary Warder Threld.”

“Yes, Grandmagister.”

“Please take control of our resources in the town, as well as at the Library. I’ll need lists on what we have, what we need, and projections on what we can do if we lose the sea lanes for a time.”

“It will be done.”

“Captain Artoonis.”

“Aye.”

“We’ll need to discuss the need for patrol fleets, as well as supply ships, until we find out where we stand.”

“Aye.”

“And we’ll need to discuss what ports we might chance recruiting more sailors to our cause.”

“Aye, Grandmagister.”

Listening to the Grandmagister give directions, Juhg was astounded. The Grandmagister had always had a quick and able mind, and even over the years that Juhg had known him, the Grandmagister had gotten quicker about his resolve, but he had never seen his mentor as he was now. So … so … in command.

Without thinking, hearing the decisive tone in the Grandmagister’s words, Juhg had turned to a fresh page in the journal. Even as the Grandmagister had spoken to the three leaders, Juhg had taken notes about what each was supposed to do. During their travels abroad, when knowledge and planning where the only things that had kept them alive—with an inordinate amount of good luck thrown in, Juhg had often kept notes to match the Grandmagister’s. That way, if they were separated or one of them lost his journal, they would still have a copy to rely on.

He has a plan,
Juhg realized, watching the Grandmagister in motion. The knowledge excited him, but it also dismayed him. He’d made his choice about leaving. Hadn’t he?

Feeling someone’s eyes on him, Juhg glanced around and found Craugh looking at him intensely. A look of speculation was held in the wizard’s green eyes, but the speculation held a mocking glint as well.

“Sounds as if the Gran’magister’s up to something,” Raisho whispered.

“I know,” Juhg replied.

“An’ the wizard’s sure enough givin’ ye the hairy eyeball.”

Juhg nodded. Part of him wanted to go to the Grandmagister and talk to him. If there was a plan, Juhg wished very much to know what it was.

And then there was the certainty the Grandmagister had spoken of regarding the shelves at the Vault of All Known Knowledge that wouldn’t remain empty. What had that been about?

“C’mon, then,” Raisho said, standing. “Show’s over in here, an’ I’d like to keep on the good side of Cap’n Attikus as long as I can afore we set out. Like as not, he’ll be a-waitin’ in the harbor for word of what went on in here.”

With more reluctance than he wanted to feel, Juhg stood and followed Raisho out of the meeting chamber. Craugh watched him go but didn’t try to get his attention or detain him.