The Song of the Ash Tree- The Complete Saga

by T L Greylock

  “But you removed it from the box.”

  Eska shrugged, though the thrill of the moment in which she had discovered the box’s secret sent her stomach tumbling over itself still. “Someone had to.”

  “And the Baron?”

  “I think he has no idea what, if anything, was in his precious box. To him, the ivory box is merely a priceless relic of the Alescu dynasty. If he knew how to open it, he would have done so in my presence to ascertain the contents were safe.”

  At last Albus’ gaze fixed on Eska, his face grave. “That was a risk. If he had opened it—”

  The memory of that moment and the terror she had felt tightened like skewers into Eska’s temples. “But he didn’t.” She swallowed hard and was glad that at last Albus could see what the evening almost cost her.

  Their gazes remained locked for a long moment, the librarian’s brown eyes full of concern.

  “May I?” he asked at last.

  Without a word, Eska extended her hand. Albus drifted silently around the corner of the long table. His fingers hesitated over Eska’s palm as he took in the disc and the pattern of markings—thin lines of varying lengths and direction, interrupted here and there by both dots and empty spaces, carved into the metal and stained black—and then, hesitation replaced by scholarly purpose, he plucked the disc up by its edge.

  “No, not like that,” Eska said. But it was too late. The disc, strangely malleable despite the appearance of bronze, crumpled, folding in on itself like a threatened hedgehog until it resembled a sixteen-sided die. The librarian stared at it in confusion and surprise. Eska couldn’t resist a grin. “Now you’ve done it.”

  “How did you know?”

  “Well, when one is in a hurry and trying to steal something, one is not often very precise about where one places one’s fingers.”

  Albus frowned and looked Eska up and down. “How on earth did you transport it and keep it flat?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know. And wouldn’t you like me to tell you how to restore it?”

  “It’s unbecoming to gloat, Eska.”

  “I never gloat.”

  It was Albus’ turn to roll his eyes, but so great was his impatience that he handed the strange object back to Eska without another word—and then proceeded to screech in horror as she placed it on the floor and brought the heel of her boot down onto it as hard as she could.

  “I can hardly believe that’s the proper method,” Albus said, aghast.

  “You are undoubtedly correct. But it worked, didn’t it?”

  Indeed the disc was once more a disc, gleaming up at them from the wooden floorboards.

  “I don’t think I want to know how you discovered that.”

  “In a fit of anger, naturally.”

  Albus sighed. “Naturally.”

  “I’m sure you were going to attempt to coax it back with some clever rhyme spoken in sixteen languages.”

  “Nonsense. Metal doesn’t understand language, Eska.” And yet the librarian, for all his seriousness, couldn’t suppress the smile forming on his lips. “Though that would be a beautiful thing to see. You trying to sing to it in ancient Azarian.”

  “Ancient Azarian has no vowels,” Eska said, eyes narrowing.

  The smile grew. “Precisely.”

  Albus turned his attention to the disc, frowning, then, grabbing a shapeless chunk of grey rock from a shelf, he knelt next to the disc. As he held the rock over it, the disc leapt from the floor and clung to the grey stone. Looking up at Eska expectantly, he made a little shooing motion with his free hand.

  “Go on. You know I can’t work with you hovering over me.”

  “Don’t shoo me, Albus. But don’t you need to go home? Sleep? The water chimes must be moments away from sounding the third song of the morning.”

  “Home?” The librarian got to his feet. “I’ve spent the past six nights here. Don’t lecture me. I get far more done when the library is quiet. Why on earth would I waste that time?”

  “I’d hardly call socializing, eating, and sleeping a waste of time. But,” Eska said, holding out her hands to express her surrender as the librarian began to argue, “I know you’ll never appreciate the charms of having actual friends. But if that is what we think it is, I want to watch you work. I want to be here. I’ll be quiet. Promise. As still as a sail on a windless day. You’ll never even know I’m still here.”

  “We both know you can’t sit still for longer than it takes your brain to invent some hare-brained idea and insist you go galloping after it.” Albus ignored Eska’s scowl and looked nonchalantly at the disc, still dangling from the rock in his hand. “Besides, are you not due in court at an early hour?”

  Eska gasped, her stomach plummeting through the floorboards under her feet.

  “I’d hate to see you lose the Bourdillon-Leveque contract all because you can’t keep track of time.”

  Eska rushed to Albus and planted a kiss on his cheek. Hastening to the door and the network of restricted passageways beyond, she called over her shoulder, “I hate you and love you, Albus Courtenay.”

  “Likewise, my lady.”