by Frank Morin
The secret library was her calm sanctum. There she could relax and immerse herself in history and learning. The subjects she studied might be onerous, but she loved the pursuit of knowledge.
The hunt for answers to the questions of patronage, unclaimed, and Tallan only knew what else drove her. She'd felt rushed before, but with Anika captured, time was gone. Would Ilse try to kill Connor outright, or try to force him to help her in some desperate plan? Either way, Jean could easily see pitched battle at the Carraig.
She was starting to despair ever escaping any other way.
The secret library was small, unlike the inner library Ailsa had led her to so many weeks before. It felt more like an intimate study, with a single fireplace, two overstuffed chairs, and a small table. It contained only one bookshelf, which held the four tomes Evander let her read. She inhaled sharply as she scanned the shelf.
A new book had been added. Treatise on the goals and underlying mission driving the foundation of the Carraig.
With eager fingers, she picked up the tome and settled into one of the chairs by the fire to dive into it. The language was archaic, but its title suggested it might hold more of the deeper truths they needed so badly.
The last book had revealed much about Tallan, and she'd been surprised to learn that Donleavy was not the original capital of Obrion. She doubted many of the students understood that the Carraig was built atop the ruins of the original capital city, which had been destroyed in the Tallan Wars. She had found many references to the ancient Queen Dreokt, who had ruled for centuries, and who had been universally feared.
As she worked through the dense language of the new tome, her excitement grew. On the second page, she found the first nugget. As she studied the unfamiliar terminology, the door opened. Only Evander ever came there, so she rose to greet him with a curtsy.
The giant gave her a tiny bow in greeting and approached, towering over her as he glanced at her place in the book. She no longer feared his presence. She sensed no animosity, and as always, wanted to know more about the mysterious giant. His scent of leather and fresh-turned earth helped put her at ease, as did his gentle smile, but she longed to ask him about who he was really.
She suspected he didn't interact much with people, but behind the wall of his confusing Sentry-speak, she sensed that he enjoyed their visits. She hoped to find a way to get him to open up more and confide in her.
"Can a road taken in haste be thoroughly enjoyed?" he asked in his deep voice.
"I wish I could take more time," Jean admitted, "but I never get enough."
"History relinquishes its memories with a begrudging hand."
Jean pointed at the section she had just begun studying. "Do you know what this means?"
Evander hesitated and his black-eyed gaze bore down on her with somber weight. "A hunter may enter the den of a bear if his strength is sufficient to take the prize, but he risks much that would be avoided had he chosen a safer path."
She had held enough almost-conversations with him in recent weeks that she was getting the knack of interpreting them. "So crossing a threshold is a way to reach for a greater power, but there are dangers in attempting it?"
He gave her a little bow and turned to leave. "Tread with care, young one. This knowledge may destroy the one you seek to set free."
"He'll take the chance if he must."
"Does the river choose to flow when the dam bursts?"
"Please, tell me more," she begged, taking a step after him.
He hesitated, and for the first time she caught a hint of doubt in those deep, dark eyes of his. "Among your allies the key to this knowledge already lies hid, but your search may yet uncover unknown gems."
After he left, she played the cryptic conversation over in her mind. He might have actually been trying to tell her something, but seemed nervous to speak openly. They were treading through ancient secrets, like traversing an underground crypt. Anything that made the mighty Evander nervous should terrify her. The problem was, she needed to understand before she could know, and by then it might be too late.
Chapter 58
Kilian burst into the workroom where Hamish was again testing the smash packer. He'd determined that he could squash an entire day's worth of food small enough to fit into a single pocket. Verena, who was studying crystals through the close view goggles, didn't seem impressed.
"We have a problem," Kilian announced, his expression grave.
"The kitchens denied my request for another pallet of sweetbreads?" Hamish asked. He needed that food for research.
"We have a real problem." Kilian never understood the deeper truths about food research and anti-hunger planning. He held up a tiny parchment. "We just received word from Ilse."
Verena rushed over, the close view goggles pushed up on her head. "What happened?"
"Someone found out her location. Anika and Margrit were taken by Rory."
"Oh no," Verena gasped.
"It's worse. Ilse says Connor might have had a hand in the betrayal."
"He wouldn't!" Hamish exclaimed.
"It's unlikely," Kilian said. "But Ilse says she's going to give Connor one more chance. He has to help them free Anika and leave with them, or she will treat him as an enemy."
"That's not fair," Hamish protested. "Bad things happen, but she can't make it his fault."
From what they had learned of the setup of the Carraig and the situation there, Connor was in a very difficult spot. They couldn't ask him to sacrifice himself to free Anika. He'd already given his life once.
"From Ilse's recent reports, the situation is deteriorating," Kilian said. "The intrigue is growing more complex and the opposition desperate. It is time to remove him."
"So if he doesn't agree to help her, she'll kill him?" Verena exclaimed, looking terrified, but furious. "I won't allow it. I already lost him once."
"We need to send her another letter," Hamish suggested.
Kilian shook his head. "Not possible. Ilse's gone to ground. Another bird might be tracked and give away her position. There's no communication until after the mission is complete."
"That's stupid! What are we going to do?"
"That is the question, isn't it?" Kilian asked.
"We all need to go, to help," Verena said. "Together, we can free Anika and rescue Connor."
Hamish nodded enthusiastically. They'd spent time in recent days fine-tuning their personal flying platforms. His suit was as ready as the Swift. Those noble born Petralists would be caught completely by surprise.
"I cannot go," Kilian said. "I was already preparing to leave for Merkland."
"You're going after Dougal?" Verena guessed.
He nodded. "Dougal is the key. I need to end his reign of terror before he unleashes any remaining rampagers or launches the full might of Obrion against us."
"But we can't leave Connor to die," Hamish protested. He'd been patient only because it had sounded like Connor was safe and ultimately preparing to escape with Ilse.
"No, we cannot," Kilian agreed. "Connor is critical to the future of our freedom."
"Then it falls to us," Verena declared. "Hamish and I must go."
Kilian crumpled the parchment in his hand and allowed a rare expression of frustration. "I hate to risk the two of you. This mission is extremely hazardous, and I need your expertise for the successful pursuit of the war."
"But we need Connor more," Verena said, facing him with that resolute expression Hamish had come to hate. It usually meant she was going to insist on something, despite his objections. This time, he applauded it. "I'm going, Kilian. I don't think even you could stop me."
He gave her that roguish smile that the ladies all seemed to love. "I expect nothing less." Then he glanced at Hamish. "If you allow anything to happen to Verena, I'll kill you myself."
"Hey, that's not fair! What if something happens to me?"
"Nothing worthwhile is ventured without a little risk," Kilian said with a straight face.
"Oh, that's so not fair," Hamish grumbled.
"You both realize I'm standing right here," Verena said, looking annoyed. "And I can shred you both with the weapons packed on the Swift."
"That's why we love you," Kilian said, then his expression turned grave. "You must leave immediately. Use extreme caution, but get him out of there. If you can, rescue Anika and Margrit."
"You would abandon them?" Hamish asked.
"Not willingly, but in war we must make difficult choices." Kilian looked suddenly tired. "Difficult, but necessary. You must save Connor. The others understand the risk. Bring them home if there is any way, but do not allow yourselves to be distracted."
"We won't," Verena promised.
She shared a glance with Hamish and he read in her eyes the same resolution he felt.
They'd level the entire Carraig before they left anyone behind.
Chapter 59
After lunch the next day, Connor found Ailsa, Gisela, and Jean all in the Sculpture House, and they piled into Ailsa's tiny office. He told them about Ivor's announcement, but did not mention that Aifric was a Mhortair Assassin. That was a secret too dangerous to share.
While they digested the news, Jean grimaced. "Now's probably an appropriate time to share with you all that on my last date with Jok, he proposed to me."
"What?" Connor exclaimed.
"Don't act so shocked," Jean retorted. A blush was spreading across her cheek, but she looked angry.
"I'm not shocked he wants you," Connor said. "A man would have to be blind and three weeks dead not to realize you're a better catch than any other woman at the Carraig."
Jean's anger softened, and Gisela smiled at him. "You are a good friend to having for compliments."
"I was just surprised he'd proposed." Connor tried to clarify.
"He didn't propose marriage," Jean said, her flush deepening. "He proposed I become his First Mistress, to be precise."
"They have a title for affairs?" Connor asked.
"Affairs are quite formal for the nobility," Ailsa said. "Are you all right, Jean?"
She nodded. "Even though I turned him down, he persists in wanting to take me on dates. I haven't been able to completely break off from him."
"I'll see what I can do," Connor said. "Shona should be able to stop it."
"Don't," Jean said. "I can handle Jok, and Shona enjoys the potential threat he poses as leverage against you. Don't give her more."
"Have a care," Ailsa cautioned. "Nobles are not known for being patient with commoners, even ones they profess to care about."
Connor could attest to that.
"I sense a growing level of desperation among the high lord representatives," Ailsa said. "Time to act is growing short, Connor."
"I know. I can't delay until the game ends. I can't allow Anika and Margrit to die, and I'm sick of all the lies."
"If you were locked under patronage, the game would be making sense," Gisela said. "From inside the world they live, all is justifying."
"I don't have to live in their world though, do I?" Connor snapped, then sighed. "Sorry, I'm just frustrated."
Jean took his hand in hers. "We all are. The world has gone from crazy to insane. You picked the right name. There don't seem to be any limits any more."
"Sometimes I wish I'd tried to run the night we sensed the watchers back at your mansion," Connor grumbled.
"They never would have let you escape," Ailsa said. "Then your position would be far worse."
Connor barked a laugh, "How could anything be worse?"
"Many men would love to stand in your position, wielding mighty power, with one of the most desirable women in the kingdom begging your favor, and others clamoring for nothing more than the right to share your bed."
"If I don't do something," Connor said. "This game is going to kill me."
Ailsa regarded them each in turn, then nodded, as if reaching a decision. "You're right, Connor. We have assembled all the information we need. Now is the time to act."
"Be careful," Jean cautioned. "I mean, I agree, but there's still Evander's threat and Shona's promise of declaring our families daor."
"We'll find a way." Connor shared her dread, but he couldn't submit to Shona, not until he exhausted every other possibility.
Ailsa rose, came around the desk and swung open a concealed panel embedded in one of the overloaded bookshelves. As she worked the lock on the steel safe set into the wall she said, "Before lifting the hammer, one needs three things: a clear vision of the intended outcome, knowledge sufficient to implement the plan, and the tools to do so."
The little door swung open on silent hinges and she extracted a small canvas sack. "Come with me."
She led them out of her office and down to the vault where the wealth of power stones were stored, then closed the door behind them, plunging them into darkness. Connor activated a bit of limestone and she nodded her thanks.
"Why did you lead us down here?" Jean asked.
"It is unlikely our conversations are ever listened to, and there is shielding built into the outer walls of the building, but for this conversation, we need the extra precaution."
She placed the sack on the worktable where they prepared the daily rounds. "Connor, you have the knowledge. I believe the vision of what must be done will become clear very soon." Opening the sack she continued softly, "Thus you need but the tools to succeed."
Connor leaned forward, intrigued as she extracted a beautifully carved statue, barely larger than the sandstone pendant he had only recently obtained from Ivor.
"Soapstone," she said solemnly as she placed onto the table a dull gray stone, carved into three interlocking, translucent cubes. When he leaned forward for a closer look, he noticed water bubbling in the heart of the stone.
Ailsa next revealed a polished blue stone, carved in the shape of a clenched fist under rippling flames. "Marble."
An exotic bird with wings extended came next. "Quartzite."
The final statue was shaped like a Sentry tower. "Slate."
Jean leaned closer. "They're beautiful."
"They be sculpted," Gisela whispered, her eyes as wide as lanterns.
Ailsa nodded. "They are indeed."
"But, you'll get in trouble, won't you?" Jean asked.
Aunt Ailsa's warm laugh helped dispel some of the tension from the vault room. "Oh, my dear. That is the least of our concerns."
Connor drew forth the sculpted sandstone pendant. It seemed wrong to keep it hidden. Ailsa smiled to see it, as she had when he had told her Ivor had returned it.
"My boy, you face dire times and you may well need the power these stones can offer."
He reached out to touch the slate tower and his finger tingled with the suppressed power concealed in the beautiful carving. Even though he stood in a steel clad vault, removed from the earth, he sensed the ground below and was confident that if he grasped that statue, he could make a connection from almost anywhere. It was thrilling, but the magnitude of power compacted into the stone reminded him more than a little of the explosive power of diorite coiled to destroy, and he pulled his finger away.
Ailsa watched him closely. "Don't attempt to use one of these except in a moment of ultimate need, for they open the way to a threshold that, once you ascend through, you can never come back."
Jean inhaled a sharp breath. "That's the connection!"
"What?" Connor asked.
"That term. Threshold. I saw it today in the book I'm studying. Evander warned me there are dangers, but I hadn't yet figured out how one even attempts to enter a threshold."
"The term is ascend," Ailsa said, and her cautioning glance took them all in. "The knowledge of thresholds is an even more closely guarded secret than the sculpted stones that allow powerful Petralists to access them. Evander was right to warn you. Few Petralists possess the strength of tertiary affinity to even approach a threshold, but those who do, if driven by a sculpted stone, can ascend to far greater powers."
Connor t
hought back to Camonica's obscure reference to thresholds and Aonghus's warning. They knew the secret, but had either of them ascended?
"What happens if one ascends through a threshold of power?"
"It is a major event," Ailsa said. "I have seen only one ascension. The Petralist is forever changed, and they are pushed to the uttermost limits of endurance. The one I witnessed nearly died, and was as weak as a kitten for days afterward."
"Doesn't sound like a good idea then," Connor said.
"On the contrary, when they recovered, not only had they unlocked abilities previously impossible for their elemental affinity, but their primary and secondary affinities were also far stronger than they had been."
"That makes it sound worth the risk."
"There are other dangers," Ailsa cautioned. "For today, know that a threshold offers the promise of great power, power that might mean the difference between life and death." She paused, and it was hard to draw his gaze away from the little statues. "Do not attempt a threshold lightly. The dangers are real."
"I won't," he promised, but he kept thinking about the potential gain. That indeed might be the key to victory. Connor surveyed the four statues on the table. "That's why sculpted stones are such a closely-guarded secret."
"Exactly. Few know the true reason, and you must all swear to keep the secret."
Jean and Gisela agreed immediately, and Connor shrugged. "I'm keeping so many secrets now, I'm going to need a few more personalities to keep them straight."
He took up the little statues, returned them to the sack, and hefted it. "Thank you, Aunt Ailsa. I hope I won't need them until we find a time to discuss the benefits and dangers in more detail, but I'll keep them just in case."
"A wise choice." She pulled from the very back of a shelf containing their few unprocessed granite rocks a little leather bag. She handed it to Connor, and inside he found bags of powdered granite and basalt.