Pathfinder Tales--Gears of Faith

by Gabrielle Harbowy

  The second site was equally unhelpful, too large to thoroughly canvass and too rowdy, with a fight just beginning in the arena. Taverns were full of eager gamblers who preferred to spend their money on bets rather than on seats to actually watch the combat; criers were dispatched to all the taverns and dice dens to indicate who had won a particular match. Zae welcomed chaos, but this was chaotic enough that the gnome began to doubt the efficiency of her plan. Maybe she should have turned the map over to the Knights of Ozem and let their numerous, experienced investigators question all the businesses within the circles.

  But, no. Too much activity and the thief would go to ground.

  Of the three sites from the map, the Wise Quarter, the one most freshly circled, was most promising. Assuming again that the cultist who had made the mark was operating with any sort of accuracy, the circled destination could only be the Forae Logos—the vast library which served as home to the Scriveners’ Guild and was considered one of the largest libraries in the world.

  Like all the important buildings Zae had ever seen, the library was daunting and beautiful in equal measure. She found herself thinking of the strangely secretive golem-making cognate with their contraband books as she slid down from Appleslayer’s back in front of the open iron gate. Just the thought of being surrounded by so much knowledge and antiquity was making her fingertips tingle. The smoothness of vellum! The suppleness of leather! The sensual topography of embossed and illuminated pages!

  “May I help you?”

  It should have occurred to Zae that a facility so possessive of its contents might have guards stationed within and around its borders. It hadn’t, but it should have. She felt herself blushing, and smiled up at him as pleasantly as she could. His brown leather uniform and cream shirt almost made him look like the living embodiment of a book, himself.

  “Thank you, that’s very kind. I’m studying here in town and I was hoping to do some research in the library. Is there a ticket stand or a registry to sign in on, or something of that sort?”

  The guard showed little reaction, as if he was familiar with these sorts of inquiries and expected them. He gestured toward a tall stone archway. “You’ll have to tie up your mount first. Just before the arch.” She thanked him politely, patting Appleslayer’s flank, and led the dog over to the hitching posts.

  “It’s just for a little while, Apple.” He licked her hand and sat back on his haunches to wait.

  The guard towers meshed seamlessly with the architecture of the library, and Zae could only assume they had been built together, with the deliberate intent of giving the library its own security force from the start. She extended her senses as she passed through the arch and felt the unmistakable aura of magic. Despite her curiosity, one thing she was not going to do was ask how someone could manage to remove books from the premises under all these watchful eyes and wards.

  The reception desk was a crescent-shaped block of black marble, every inch of it carved with artistic representations of books and reading. Some were rather serious: a scroll with a guttering candle; a weathered scribe copying a thick tome onto a similar but empty page; a brace of ornate quill pens. Others were delightfully whimsical: of these, Zae’s instant favorite was a carving of bare-breasted mermaids frolicking in a bottle of ink. As a result, when she got the attention of the clerk behind the desk, any hesitation she might have felt had been replaced with a happy, genuine smile.

  “Good day,” Zae said. “I’m a student at the Clockwork Cathedral and I’m researching the history of detection spells.” It was the first thing to come to mind, but she knew she had to have a reason to be here. A library with its own personal guard wasn’t going to let just anyone come in and browse the collection for browsing’s sake.

  The dwarven clerk’s blond hair made her contrasting dark eyes look mysterious and deep behind their delicate spectacles. “Please sign in and pay the fee. By entering your name in the register you are affirming that you are not bringing any books into the library, and that you will not remove any. If you want to take anything out, we offer a copying service for a modest fee.”

  Zae signed her name with a flourish and looked up expectantly. The clerk checked her signature and stamped a small glyph beside it.

  “Up one flight, turn left, in the corner along the front wall. Go on in.”

  “Perfect. Thank you!” Zae continued through the next set of arches. She could sense the magic washing over her skin as clearly as if a gossamer curtain hung across the entryway.

  If she’d had longer—a week, maybe, or a year—to browse the library, it still wouldn’t have been enough time.

  Meticulously organized through some arcane system that Zae couldn’t decipher, the collection was so vast that she quickly stopped being able to distinguish individual books and could only take in the overwhelming scale of it all. The ceiling was lost in darkness, making the shelves seem to stretch upward forever.

  Zae was tempted to pass at least a few hours gawking like the tourist she was. Occasionally a guard or clerk would pass her, but they left her in peace. Now and then she was tempted to ask the way to a particular section, to see what they had on, say, the history of simple machines, or the genealogy and pedigree of sled dogs, or even just recipes that contained tea. But no, her mission was to remain unfocused and open to Brigh’s guidance. What might someone else have been doing in the library? Researching, or hiding in the vast stacks, or having a clandestine meeting, or—

  Zae drew up short and knelt. Around her feet were a spattering of reddish-brown droplets.

  Or fighting.

  Or studying a jar that seeped blood.

  Since finding the remains of Kala’s bloody garments in the alley, Zae had started adding a blood-detecting spell to her complement of prepared spells each day. With a scrap of parchment from a pouch at her belt and a piece of charcoal, she tried it now. The blood was mostly soaked into the floorboard, but there was enough that the magic should be able to identify its former owner. She touched it, cast her spell, and waited.

  The page remained stubbornly blank.

  Zae frowned. She rubbed the blood between her fingertips. Smelled it. It wasn’t ink, or melted wax, or anything else reddish brown that might have spilled in such a pattern. No, it was blood. Blood that hid its history.

  The blood of a dead demigod might not have a history that a mortal would be able to glean, the same way that divination didn’t work around the Bloodstones themselves. Gods were probably too powerful for the spell. That could mean the Bloodstone had been revealed here, and recently enough for the blood to still be damp. This was the spot at which Arazni felt it.

  She stood, stretching, and surveyed the area. A wide aisle separated a section of the stacks from a study area with long tables and chairs. Fireless lamps provided light for reading.

  He had been here. The thief had stood right here with the Bloodstone, and unwrapped it from the container that kept it undetectable, and Arazni had felt it and told her guards. But why here?

  Zae looked around at the tables, but saw none with books still stacked on them. Just her luck that the largest library in the world had to be the most efficient, as well. There were islands of tables throughout the whole floor of the building, and there was nothing particularly private about this one. That meant that if the thief had come here to read up on something—the best guess Zae could make so far—the shelves that interested him must be nearby.

  Zae considered the shelves, her awe now flavored with dismay. Even if she could reach to see the upper shelves, there were far too many books in too strange an order for her to hope to stumble upon the right shelf, much less the right book.

  If that book had even been put away yet.

  She sat at the table, possibly in the same chair in which the thief had sat, and watched the clerks make their rounds. They circled constantly, clearing books and abandoned papers from tables. It seemed each had their own particular circuit, so Zae picked a few books at random and put them on the tabl
e next to hers. She got up and rearranged them to look more abandoned, and then took a small bronze ladybug out of her pocket, sat it atop the books, and settled down to wait.

  A clerk came by within about ten minutes, wheeling a cart with a generous load of books stacked side by side. She looked young—though who could tell with elves—moderately tired, and extremely distracted. Physically, she was striking. One of her eyes was solid white, and her hair was blacker than any Zae had ever seen. She stopped to take the decoy books, and picked up the ladybug. The touch of her fingers made the figure’s wings flutter—and also released a charm spell.

  “Excuse me, is this yours?” she asked Zae.

  Zae looked up from her book and smiled happily. “It isn’t, but it’s really cute, isn’t it? What’s your name?”

  The clerk glanced around quickly, but Zae had kept her voice suitably low. She returned the smile. “Stochan.”

  “Can I ask you a question, Stochan?”

  “Usually you go to the information desk when you need help finding something, but I’m happy to help too, if I can.”

  Zae nodded toward the cart. “Do the rounds get that boring?”

  Stochan’s lips pressed together into a coy sort of smirk. “I’d hate to call them boring, exactly, but…”

  “But you’d rather be studying, or out for a pint?”

  The clerk’s demeanor softened. Charm spells had a way of making people feel that someone understood them. “Yes … Or anything, really. It’s a long and complicated family inheritance story, but I have to complete a course of study before I can go off and travel. I’m doing a dissertation on druids and their interaction with the land. It’s not a bad job, though. I shouldn’t complain. They’re paying me to learn my way around this place, and that’s been very helpful.”

  “That’s a good arrangement,” Zae agreed. “Do you work all day?”

  “I started before dawn this morning. I’ll get to go home soon.”

  “Even better. You must be looking forward to finishing up and spending some time outdoors. This place is so deserted—has there even been anyone in this room today? Or am I the first?” While she spoke, she eased the chair next to hers out from under the table. Without putting much thought into it, Stochan took the invitation and sat.

  “You’re not quite the first, but I don’t really notice people. Just books. If someone was doing something unsafe or prohibited, I would notice, but usually all I see are the tops of their heads bent over books when I come by.”

  “Have you put away many books away from these tables today? I’m always so fascinated by the combinations of books other people read. Aren’t you?”

  “Oh, always!”

  “Anything interesting this morning?”

  Stochan tilted her head and twirled a strand of hair around her fingers. “Myths and legends.”

  “Oh, I love myths and legends,” Zae gushed. She was momentarily concerned that she had overacted, but the elf didn’t seem to notice. “Which ones?”

  Fueled by Zae’s interest, Stochan perked up considerably. “I still have them on the cart. Would you like to see?”

  Zae beamed. “Why, yes. Yes, I would.”

  23

  THE GRAND TOUR

  KEREN

  Outside the warehouse, Keren got her bearings by sighting the Starstone Cathedral. Grim and determined, she made her way toward it. Zae had healed her, but she still wore her blood on her skin and in the fabric of her clothes. She had no idea how she looked, only that she was probably far from presentable. For her purposes, it was better that way. She was frayed, and she wanted that fact to be noted and taken seriously.

  One of the guards was familiar, but the other was new. She bowed her head to both of them; they returned the gesture solemnly.

  She found Evandor praying in the chapel, wholly healed, his armor scarred but clean. He greeted her in silence, with just a nod of his head.

  The altar to Iomedae was an oasis from loss as much as a reminder of it. On it lay a short sword polished to a blinding gleam. In her mind’s eye, Keren recalled Evandor’s rage and inaudible scream as the rivulets of what was left of Sula etched tributaries in the stone underfoot. She felt her grief for him and for the order, recalling the way Sula had so easily shown herself worthy of Appleslayer’s trust.

  After a few moments, he looked up from prayer. She straightened at his side. “Sword Knight Malik, I have developments to report.” He motioned for her to lead, then fell into step beside her, and didn’t seem surprised that their destination was Yenna’s study.

  Once inside, there was still no mention of Sula, and Evandor’s hard eyes warned Keren away from opening the wound of his loss. Keren sketched out her night and morning’s ordeal, as well as the previous day’s explosion at the Clockwork Cathedral and how it was related. She answered questions, and showed them the recovered financial sheets and list of names, and told them about the sudden change of plans when her captors discovered the Bloodstone was again in play.

  They took her seriously. Yenna summoned a pair of Sword Knights and gave them the list and instructions to track down all the names on it. Another pair she sent to the warehouse, with Keren providing directions.

  When the rush of deployment quieted, Yenna sat back with a frown.

  “What is it?” Keren asked.

  “These clues are useful, but they don’t fit the behavior of the thief as we observed it in the vault of the Bloodstone.”

  “What’s different?”

  “Whoever our thief was, he knew our defenses and evaded them all. That sort of premeditation and research suggests a very specific interest in the Bloodstone, and a purpose for it once the theft was done. It doesn’t match with someone who comes here afterward and lingers, unwrapping the Bloodstone all around the city. If he had a buyer, it would have changed hands by now. If he had a use for it, he would have used it.”

  Keren leaned forward. “Will you let us see the vault? Maybe by combining your clues with the Gebbites’ clues, we can piece something together. If innocents are being killed because of our actions, please at least let our actions count for something.”

  Yenna shook her head. “Our investigators—”

  “Haven’t seen what we’ve seen.” Keren forced herself to stay perfectly still, meeting Yenna’s gaze.

  For a long moment, Yenna and Keren studied each other in silence. At last the priestess bowed her head and sighed. “So be it. Gather your companion, Crusader Rhinn. I’ll take you myself.”

  * * *

  The slight disorientation of teleporting was nothing compared to the disorientation of the sudden shift in climate. Where Absalom had been breezy and a bright sun had shone overhead, Keren now found herself in a barren wasteland. Uneven rocks made footing treacherous, and the air was completely stagnant, with no hint of breeze to soothe her skin or moisture to wet her lips.

  “What country is this?” Zae breathed.

  “Come.” Yenna started off in what seemed an arbitrary direction. Zae climbed up into Appleslayer’s saddle, and the dog and Keren walked side by side, picking their way carefully over loose stones that seemed to be entirely without dirt or other foundation to hold them in place.

  Zae had updated them with her findings at the library, but that had only concerned Yenna further. If such planning had gone into the theft, why was the thief—or the thief’s buyer—researching it now?

  “Shields, wards, and camouflage from ground and air,” the priestess said. She sounded almost bored, as if she were showing a vacant house to a prospective buyer. For a moment, Keren felt uncomfortable about their insistence upon seeing the vault. But only for a moment. They were neck-deep in this, after all, so it was only right.

  At a grand gesture from Yenna, golden light poured across the ground like a liquid sunrise. In its wake, golden glyphs remained, shimmering on four of the rocks. She stepped on them in a particular order, and before them a pathway began to sink away from the surrounding stone, creating a ramp downward unt
il a human standing at its end would be faced with a smooth wall of stone and dirt taller even than herself.

  “The thief had to be able to call holy energy?” Keren asked.

  “In principle, the stones can be activated in order without it, but they would be quite difficult to find. The stones are only the first half of the trap. Here at the entryway, there is one chance to activate the lock. If it is not activated within a certain time, or a first try is unsuccessful, the stones give way to a pit filled with holy water. Please stand back until I open the door.”

  Keren watched carefully, but Yenna was equally careful to block the mechanism with her body. Though the vault was empty, and perhaps could not be used again now that it had been breached, the priestess still guarded its secrets. The door, with its facade of rock and dirt, swung inward, and Yenna gestured for them to follow.

  “How many people, besides the guards, know how to get in here?” Keren asked.

  “Five,” Yenna answered. The door swung closed behind them, plunging them into momentary darkness. Zae’s eyes adjusted first, and she made a small, curious noise. When Keren’s vision followed, she could see three stone steps down, leading to a well-lit path straight ahead, roughly the same width as the doorway through which they had entered. A smaller, unlit dirt path branched off to the right.

  “All of us who know are sworn to Iomedae. If any key-keepers or guards had turned, they might keep secrets from their fellows, but not from their patron goddess. We renew our sacred oaths each day. I’m confident that the breach came from outside.”

  Her tone invited no argument; one was on the tip of Keren’s tongue regardless, but she kept her silence. In a place as dangerous as this, she wasn’t about to argue with her only guide.

  “Ahead, the path leads to a door with a complex lock. The door is a decoy. Behind the lock is not floor, but a pit, and within the pit is death. But first, the stairs must be traversed and then deactivated. They contain pressure plates that must be pressed; to circumvent the stairs triggers a trap, and to fail to deactivate the stair also triggers a trap. Come, all of us abreast.”