“Amazing how fast these things deteriorate,” Sue said.
“Remarkable considering you haven't opened the door in years,” Mordon said, “I wonder if you stopped coming once you caught a little fright.”
“They don't give me a budget for things like this. And as I said, these books are banned. No one wants to pay for their upkeep.”
I trudged through the mayhem, noticing the tell-tale signs of where bodachs had nested, where the bogart had used a jar of oil to draw on the wall. They'd been locked up for years, feeding one off the other. Bouncing Anna a little, I considered the perfect storm of Sue, of his probable lack of funding, of the timing of the bans. Above all else I counted the traces of the creatures and weighed the proportions in my mind. It was a perfect ecosystem.
“Sue, what was the last book you placed down here?” I asked.
“What? Oh, yes, let me think. It was a journal. Came in a batch of donations. I told them I couldn't display that journal, but they insisted they wouldn't have it in the house.”
“And you didn't give it back?” Mordon sounded annoyed.
“It was one of the pure humans. I bowed and scraped and grovelled. The same as you would if he controlled your stipend.”
I made my way back to the others. “And what did you do with it? Did you open it down here?”
Sue scratched his ear. “I suppose I did. Every book, even in the Special Collections, gets recorded and stamped.”
“Was it shelved?”
Sue wrung his hands. “Ah, no. But it should have done.”
“And if it had been shelved, where would it have gone?”
He was more than happy to show me the shelf, a place on the far wall which had been touched the least of everything. Actually, the entire row of books were unmolested. Sue pointed to the two books it would have been squashed between, then started to pile all the healthy books into his hands, muttering to himself the entire time.
“Petition to the Council and claim vandalism,” I said. “The bodachs couldn't have survived so long without a sentient connection, which is what the bogart provided. And the storage ghosts kept the bogart company so he wouldn't run off.”
Sue blinked at me, silent, wide-eyed. The tip of his left ear started to twitch and his cheeks reddened.
“That's my opinion, and I'll write down the names of a couple people who can provide official reports. They'll come complements of me if you drop my name.”
The only acknowledgement I had that he'd heard me was the faintest nod. He was starting to make me nervous.
“Can I check this out, too?” I asked, holding a thick book with the title Before The Veil Fell, A Beastiary.
“Keep it, keep it. No one will know.”
Sue wouldn't let us leave so quickly. According to him, as well as to Mordon, I needed a restorative to brighten the color in my cheeks before I should set foot back outside. Belatedly I realized the gnome assumed that Anna was mine and felt that a new mother shouldn't be put under a good deal of strain. Over a glass of sherry, I showed Mordon the book I'd been given.
“Before The Veil Fell, A Beastiary. Interesting. I'd always thought of the veil as a word to describe a policy, not a literal thing.”
I mopped a bit of sweat off Anna's forehead. “Like the Iron Curtain?”
“Yes, except it was a division between magic and lamb. You'll catch the occasional reference to it here and there, but there isn't a lot of talk about it as an actual thing. People don't even agree on when it happened. If this is a legitimate account, it has exciting possibilities. I'm jealous. I've looked up and down for a book like this, and you've found it so easily.”
“Oh, I don't know about that. I had to die, be resurrected, kill a monster, stand trial, save the Wildwoods, and see the monster I killed resurrected.”
“Tut tut, I was there with you for a lot of that,” Mordon said. “What are you waiting for? Open it up.”
I perched the book on my knees. Anna was making my stomach too hot and my back sore, but she was finally sleeping after the way we'd upset her with the bogey busting. Guess she didn't like being denied the obviously-unalienable right of sucking on my sweaty shirt. The book's leather felt odd under my fingers, unlike anything else I'd ever handled before. Very soft. Very alive.
The first words stood as clear as day on the page before us, in a strange script in a language which was far more foreign than it was English. Of course, I realized now, if the book was old then it would be in Middle or Early English, and Mordon would have a better hope of reading it than I would. When I was about to ask him what it said, the letters morphed and the words became clear.
The first page made my stomach lurch.
The true tale of the destruction of Dinnune Wair and the formation of the Veil. Cease reading now unless the reader be worthy of the words held within.
“Whoa, Mordon, what—?”
I showed Mordon the page. He sat beside me with an arm over my shoulders, stroking my skin with his fingers. His brow creased, his other hand caressed down the length of the page. Then he turned the soft, white parchment over. Earlier we'd debated if we should wear plastic gloves to protect the book, or bespell our hands to protect ourselves. We'd decided that this book already had protections on it, and to not do anything which might interfere with them.
“Do you feel this?” He slid my hand against the spine. “That is dragon hide. And not any dragon hide. The hide given freely and with blessings. Beautiful.”
“Or disturbing.”
“Shh,” Mordon said and started to read, “ 'In the year of our Lord 1066, in a place which shall remain unnamed, these things occurred. Lanval Cardan, whom I called Father until his recent actions, wishes for it all to be forgotten and has pursued his crusade to cast all memories into the hellish void created solely for destroying every trace of the darkness which shadows the light of our Lord the Christ.' ”
His voice softened to nothing and I followed the words with my own eyes.
... By so relating the contents of this volume I am branding myself as both a traitor to humankind and a disgrace to a family to which I am beloved and cherished. This is the tale of many peoples who once went by many names, the people who the victorious have now called Demons. This should be the tale of those more worthy who have given their last breath, or the brave who yet live in darkness and fear, but I am unable to write any tale except my own.
While these words were but errant thoughts on my guilt, I was called Issa Cardan but with these words scorched into the hide of a lamb, I have become Aethel the Sorceress. I would not forsake my allegiance to my father but for that he sees demons where there are none and is blind to the devil who so whispers in his ear.
He does not yet know that I am the wolf within his flock.
It is so cold this morning that my fingers redden and tingle, and it is such an early hour that the well is frozen and Cei has yet to shatter the ice. He is to descend the chain and use his axe, instead he wakens before the others and heaves stones which have once chipped the bucket. Twice before have I risen in advance of Cei and on this morning, I commit my deeds to eternity. Time will name me fool or savior.
Wise or unwise, I have done these things and done them for Mordren whom I love and who keeps my heart. Mordren is champion of Caledin, King of the Dinnune Wair Drakes. He, by which I refer to Mordren not his King, is as short as I am tall, and powerful in his chest, and he is young for a drake though he is wiser and more cunning than those several times his length in years. They say the same of me, which is what drew him to me when we met years ago at a holy spring which has since met destruction with the razing of Dinnune Wair. Mordren visits me at my father's house at Venilis because I foresee what the future may become and how to ensure or prevent it.
“Mordren? It's very similar to …”
“Yes, it is my name. Perhaps an older version, perhaps merely said differently.”
He kissed my temple, his way of telling me that he wouldn't answer any questions for n
ow. I continued to read the pages.
This is no divine gift such as those the muses possess, rather it originates from intellect and perception which should belong to a man not a woman. And a young woman, one who has promised to forsake knowledge of cruder pleasures in order to obtain the gentle gifts of reading and writing. I must be wicked, for I enjoy both, and my father would banish me if he knew. Nor can he read this book in which I write this confession, for the hide binding its cover is dragon hide taken from a young and possibly foolish dragon who is a dear friend of mine. His name is Thessen, he will outlive me for a long time to come and this book will outlive us both. This book will soon read as a beastiary and I suppose it is one. The ink on this page is purchased from the great white bears in the Wilderness, mixed with apple-gum and blackener. It is difficult to write with, and as challenging is the griffon feather which I use as a quill.
Secrecy must be foremost in my considerations, for though no one may destroy this book nor read in it ill-intent owing to the various charms which have been worked upon it, it will alarm any casual observer by its strangeness. I shall take a pilgrimage. I shall say it is to attend one holy place or another but in truth I will follow the path of those whom I have either saved or damned by my grace or folly.
“This is the start of the separation between our worlds,” Mordon said. “And now we have our answer for why you found this book so easily.”
“Which is?”
“This is Aethel's book. Her essence is within it. What other book matches that description and also found you?”
A wash of white-shock ran through my veins. “Skills of the Thaumaturge. And when I met Thessen, he … he liked me on sight, do you remember? And he knew that book. Why is this all coming to me?”
“That is a question you should try to uncover, but do not expect to ever know the answer.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Anna began to wriggle and my own stomach growled.
“Shall we return home?” Mordon asked. “I think the streets have quieted so we can identify followers easier.”
“Yes. I'll carry the books. Will they fit in the diaper bag? Good. That way one of us will have free hands.”
We had just set foot on the walkways in the market when I heard a shrill shrieking noise which seemed to come from everywhere. It took us a little while to realize that it was an alarm.
“Barnes was talking—” I started to say but realized it was too loud for Mordon to hear. “A test? A drill?”
Thunder filled the market, making me jump until I saw the noise was from security doors rolling down the doors of the various levels. Before we could go back, heavy bars slammed down the library front, locking us out. Mordon leaned out towards the open spaces in the market, then looked back at me. He took me by the hand and set a quick pace.
The clatter and clamor of the roll-down doors shook through the walkway beneath our feet. Stalls stood deserted, some of them packed up with little nick-knacks remaining, others not packed at all, just as if someone had asked their neighbor to watch the stall while they got a bottle of water. Those who sold in the market didn't need to take their evacuation notice from a drill. Whenever there was danger in the area, they were quick to spread word as if it was as easy as passing a cold. I'd watched them migrate and leave before and was glad to have missed this show.
While we walked I thought of my used trinkets and considered my best tools should we be attacked. The wind brushed against my legs and I knew that I hadn't yet exhausted all my magic yet. If it were more powerful! But it would never be as strong as average. In one sense that was a good thing because people stood to underestimate me. Still, I wanted to rely on it as a last-ditch effort. Mordon would be my first line of defense. After him, I did have the trinkets. The fact that they were occupied would be as much of a trouble to those around me as to me myself. So long as I didn't release the bogart.
The wind swirled around me and for an instant I closed my eyes and trusted Mordon to lead me where he would. I let the magic act as an extra sense, a little like intuition, a little like touch, and I floated through it down and throughout the market. Its range was extensive. By spreading thin, it could cover a third of Merlyn's area. Now what was in that area was the concern. People. Perhaps a dozen, it was hard to be sure, grouped into four clusters, standing guard at the exits.
Very quickly I realized this was a trap. The people who would help me had been evacuated, the alarm triggered to cut off escape routes. The way out through the armed men. I put my lips to Mordon's ear.
“Have to hide!”
“Trouble?”
“People. Lots.”
Mordon's lip curled and I felt his skin thicken with the impending shift to his dragon form.
“Don't. I can't. Anna.”
His eyes flickered down to the bundle which was red with anger. Belatedly I realized I could cushion her ears from the noise by making the air stop moving. Sound was vibration. Pressure carried through the wind. Soon she calmed, and I made a similar cushion of air for Mordon and myself. The sound became a dull alarm. The disadvantage was that all noises were muffled, but what else was to be done about it?
Mordon reached down my neckline and I withdrew, surprised. He smiled and showed me that he'd been grabbing my necklace which I wore against my skin. A second later, he held up my invisibility ring and motioned I should wear it. While I was working it off the chain, Mordon disappeared. When I next saw him, he was in his red dragon form and cutting through the air.
As far as dragons go, drakes are small by comparison. However, Mordon was on the large side of the drakes. He was skillful on the wing, which was all that allowed him to fly in between the walkways in Merlyn's. Had he been any larger or even a bit less experienced, he would be in considerable danger of either taking out the walkways or having a walkway take out him. Which is why I fumed and shook an invisible fist at him.
I hadn't been sure if the ring would work on Anna, too, but it did. A trinket was always worth whatever was paid for it, and this ring had been expensive. I slunk against the wall where I could watch the area for people coming. My skin itched, thickening, threatening to become scales. Some of the drake women could pack their infants around in their mouths, but I didn't want to take the chance that I would grip Anna too tightly. Taking care of her in human form was hard enough.
Mordon hadn't made his move yet, but just sitting and waiting was frustrating. Particularly when this was about me. I'd never been good at keeping my nose clean, nor at doing the sensible thing. Which compounded my frustration because Anna needed me to do both. But more than that, I couldn't keep still. I paced, paced, paced. Mordon was going to get into a confrontation and a growing part of me needed to be beside him.
By the time I had found an ideal perch in the center of a floating platform where a confectioner and candy-seller had abandoned their sweet-salty-spicy merchandise Mordon had engaged his first group. Four figures, blurry from the distance, were casting spells and dodging back from Mordon's tail and flaming breath. I took aim and started to toss the pebbles which held bodachs. If the pebbles would survive, or if they would hurt Mordon if they struck him, I didn't know. But several seconds later, dark streaks started to cause their mayhem. They'd be a pain to track down, if any of them decided to stick around.
The problem took care of itself when reinforcements arrived and the people brought the bodachs down with brutal ferocity. I winced to see this, and Mordon appeared to be taking greater caution when he saw their fate. Once I was out of the pebbles, I decided to keep hold of my actual trinkets. They were worth more than the chance at hitting anything from this height.
They appeared out of no where. Four big men in heavy leather armor surrounding me. I'd been blind to their presence, and even as I stared at them I wondered if they were there at all or if they'd been nothing but an illusion.
For a split-second I knew I could dive off the walkway and hope that my wings shifted before I crashed, but I couldn't risk Anna's life lik
e that.
Before they could press in against me, I faked a run for one of them and dodged instead under the seeking arm of another. They were fast with their spells and one struck my leg. Instantly all my muscles stiffened and I could not move, trapping me.
Terror welled in my stomach. I wanted to yell for help, but even my throat locked. Taking my last hope, I sent my magic to Mordon, hoping he'd get a message. What happened was the air screamed out my distress.
For a second the men clapped their hands over their ears, then one of them took a gloved hand and boxed me on the back of the head. The noise stopped. My stiffened body tilted to the right and started to fall, tipping off the walkway soon to go down into the nothingness between us and the next deck below.
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