Shadowglade

by Kay L. Ling

  She closed the cabinet and stood, hands on hips. “This stuff is from the stone age. I need to bring you some newer equipment.”

  As if in response, she heard an odd muffled noise that sounded like someone trying to talk through a mouthful of cotton. She went to the door and looked down the passageway. It was empty.

  The noise came again from behind her, but stopped after a moment. Where was it coming from? She went back to Elias’s desk and heard it again, louder this time. “It sounds close,” she muttered, increasingly baffled.

  She scanned the ceiling and glanced around the room, but there weren’t any air vents, and the room didn’t have a closet.

  The noise began again, and she was sure it was a muffled voice, but it must be a ghost or an invisible person because she was the only one in the room. She tilted her head and listened carefully. The sound was coming from the corner of the room where she and Jules had left their coats.

  And then it dawned on her.

  She ran to the gothic chair and lifted the seat.

  The muffled voice became louder.

  Grinning with anticipation, she pulled out a feather pillow, a piece of animal hide, and the tattered remains of an old green robe.

  And there it was.

  In the bottom of the compartment, a burlap bag bounced frantically, and an angry voice demanded, “Is this any way to treat a rare, valuable book?”

  Lana clamped a hand over her mouth, choking back laughter.

  “You find this amusing? I am stuffed in a dark hole, smothered by pillows and rags—and you laugh? Take me out of here this minute!”

  It was impossible to feel sympathetic toward the ill-tempered book. “You served the Queen of Darkness,” she said in clipped tones. “You should be right at home in the dark.”

  The book mumbled something she couldn’t make out, and then tried a different approach. “Please help me,” it begged in a wheedling tone. “You are wise. You are kind. When I heard your voice a moment ago and realized you were alone, I said to myself, ‘Speak to her quickly before the others return. Surely, she will free you!’”

  Lana looked down at the bag, debating what to do. Elias had insisted on taking the book to Strathweed. Why had he brought it back? Maybe he thought he’d have more time to study it here. Even without printed words, the book had maps and illustrations that could be useful. Hoping she wouldn’t regret it, she reached into the chair and pulled out the bag.

  “I knew you were a reasonable person,” the book said, sounding relieved. “I am seldom wrong about such things.”

  Sitting down in Elias’s chair, she laid the bag on her lap and said sternly, “Here’s the deal: I take you out of the bag and you answer some questions.”

  “Questions?” the book said, its good humor evaporating. “The wisdom of ages has disappeared from my pages. There is little I can tell you.”

  Lana suspected the book still held the knowledge, even though the printed words were gone. “Little you can tell, or little you will tell?”

  No reply.

  Lana took the book from the bag, promising herself she’d make it pay for its bad attitude. She dropped it onto the desk, and it landed with a thud. “So, you don’t remember any spells,” she said, thumbing through the first few pages. “Fine, then tell me about the gnome—the one who owned you before Sheamathan.”

  To her surprise, the book answered, but its tone was contemptuous, “The gnome knew much about gems, but little about spells, and he refused to study the more interesting gems.”

  “By more interesting, I assume you mean gems with dark powers.”

  “You call their powers dark,” the book said cagily, “I call them fascinating. It seems foolish to ignore such powerful gems. Why not try them and see what they do?”

  “Sure, and become a monster like Sheamathan. S used dark powers to make everyone miserable; now no one wants anything to do with her. Some of her former servants come to see her, but only because she’s in a cage and it’s fun to laugh at her.”

  Apparently unable to counter that, the book fell silent. Lana continued to flip through the pages, most of which were blank, but she found one that showed cuff bracelets, bangles, pendants, rings, and necklaces. Hadn’t Sheamathan worn some of these pieces? Elias had taken S’s jewelry to his cave and stashed it somewhere. Lana hadn’t gotten a good look at it. Most of it probably contained malevolent gems.

  Lana tried another question. “How did Sheamathan get you? What happened to the gnome?”

  The book remained silent.

  “Cat got your tongue?”

  “I have no tongue.”

  “And no sense of humor, either.”

  “I no longer wish to speak to you. You are as weak as the old gnome and unworthy of my attention.”

  “Hey, I was your best friend when you wanted my help,” Lana said. “Maybe I should put you back in the bag.”

  “That would prove your unworthiness.”

  “No, it would prove you annoy me.”

  She turned the page and gasped at the illustration: a staff like the ones in the hidden room. After studying it, she turned the pages with growing excitement and found three pages of shields with coat of arms. Had Elias seen these drawings? Probably not, or he would have said something when they found the real ones. She counted the shields; there were forty.

  Hearing footsteps, she looked up to see Elias and Jules. She could hardly wait to show them the drawings.

  Elias’s smile changed to a look of dismay when he saw the open book. “Oh no,” he groaned. “You’ve taken that wretched thing from the bag.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d mind. I heard a muffled voice. It took a while to figure out what it was.”

  “It’s all right,” Jules said, sounding more amused than upset. “It complained so much we gave up and brought it back. It found our habits annoying. I hum while I shave, and Elias mumbles in his sleep. And of course, its binding was being ruined by the damp cave.”

  “It complains here, too,” Elias said, “but not as much.”

  Lana laughed. “I’m surprised you guys didn’t throw it away.”

  Elias shot her a “don’t tempt me” look. “It’s a valuable book that should be kept in a safe place,” he said grudgingly.

  “You’re right. It really is valuable.” Lana spun the book around so Jules and Elias could see the shield illustrations. “Look familiar?”

  Jules let out a whistle. He and Elias dropped into the chairs in front of the desk, and Jules pulled the book toward them. “We didn’t see this. We went through the book too quickly.”

  “It shows forty shields, and we only found sixteen,” Lana said. “I wonder if we’ll ever find the rest.”

  “You’d think there would be more staffs, too. Maybe one for every shield,” Jules said.

  “Look, the book has an illustration of the staff.” She reached over and turned to that page.

  “You have seen these artifacts?” the book demanded, making Lana jump. She quickly recovered herself, and remembering the book’s snide remark at Strathweed, repeated it, mimicking its sarcastic tone. “Why should I tell you? Even if I could remember. And perhaps I do not!”

  Jules and Elias laughed at the familiar quote. The book muttered something unintelligible and lapsed into silence.

  Lana closed the book and studied the inset gems. “Do you think these gems on the cover serve any purpose? I mean, aside from being ornamental?”

  “I wouldn’t think so,” Elias said, “Why do you ask?”

  “Well, S didn’t need gems on the cover to make her spells work. She wore lots of jewelry with gems, and she had infused powers. And anyone capable of using this book would have plenty of gems.”

  “Yes, so they’re ornamental. Why would you question it?” Jules asked.

  It felt strange to speculate while the book was listening. “Remember what the book told us? ‘When Sheamathan found me, I was weak and lifeless.’ If Sheamathan brought it to life, so to speak,
how would she go about that? Gem powers in some form, right? The process could have involved putting gems in the cover.”

  “That’s an interesting theory,” Elias said.

  Jules looked skeptical but didn’t say anything.”

  “The choice of gems might affect its personality.” Lana touched a few of them cautiously, since she wasn’t sure which had dark powers.

  “If you’re right about this, the book will never admit it,” Jules said.

  Lana gave the book an evil grin. “I’m thinking about giving it a lobotomy. If my theory is wrong, and the book isn’t any more cooperative afterward, there’s no harm done. Except I’ve defaced a rare and valuable book.”

  Jules rubbed his chin absently, looking worried. “If the gems make the book sentient, taking them out could pose a problem.”

  “I plan to switch some, not remove them all. The book will still be sentient.” She winked at Elias and Jules. “Probably,” she amended, letting a note of uncertainty creep into her voice. “Maybe,” she said more doubtfully still. “Umm, actually, it’s hard to know what would happen.”

  The book let out a moan. Lana almost felt sorry for it.

  “I like your plan,” Elias said, looking genuinely intrigued by the idea.

  Lana sat back in her chair. “I’d remove malevolent gems and replace them with benevolent ones.”

  Jules and Elias exchanged conspiratorial smiles. “Phorish!” they said in unison.

  Lana burst out laughing. “Good idea! A few yellow ‘happy stones’ might do wonders for its disposition.”

  Elias chuckled appreciatively. “I have an ample supply.”

  “I’ll decide what other gems to use, and then I’ll operate.” Lana rubbed her hands together and grinned like a mad scientist.

  The book moaned louder than before. “I have been kidnapped by savages.”

  Chapter 17

  “Savages!” Lana said. “How can you call us savages after the things your mistress has done?” She stuffed the book back into the burlap bag, wishing that had the same effect as covering a birdcage for the night, but covering the book definitely didn’t silence it.

  “Ignorant scum! Conniving thieves!” cried the book.

  Lana carried the book to the gothic chair, lifted the seat, and dropped it in. “You may want to rethink your loyalties . . . and change your attitude before I change it for you with a pair of pliers.” She heaped everything on top the way she’d found it and slammed the seat shut.

  Muffled curses rose from the depths of the chair.

  Elias grimaced. “Any change in personality would be an improvement.”

  “I really think it might work,” Lana said, sitting down again. “I feel certain gems have something to do with the book’s sentience and personality.”

  “Is it a gem-related insight?” Jules asked.

  “I think it might have been; the idea hit me so forcefully.” She glanced at the gothic chair where the book’s muffled voice continued to drone. “How long can it keep that up?”

  “Typically, ten or fifteen minutes,” Elias said. “Longer if you make the mistake of replying.” He stood. “But we needn’t stay here and listen. Jules and I have a job for you.”

  Something about his tone suggested he was up to something, and when he and Jules exchanged amused looks she was certain of it. “A job?” she asked warily.

  “As you know, we just set up your Ministry office,” Jules said. “We planned to put you to work there this weekend.”

  Elias was smirking now. She pretended not to notice. “Okay, I’m up for that. What do you want me to do?”

  “You’ll be handing out supplies,” Elias said.

  “What kind of supplies?” There was more to this job than they were letting on. She just couldn’t guess what.

  Elias said, “Clothing we found in storage—tunics, trousers, white shorts that must be undergarments, sleeveless shifts—probably nightdresses. Judging by the breghlin’s current uniforms, S didn’t issue new clothing until their garments fell apart.”

  “But before we give them new clothes, they must agree to something,” Jules said.

  “They must have a proper bath, with soap and a stiff bristle brush,” Elias said, his green eyes twinkling. “Before it started raining, Jules and I had been discussing the breghlin’s stench. After it rained and many got soaked, they smelled a great deal better. When we found the new clothing yesterday, that settled the matter. It’s time for baths and new clothes.”

  Looking pleased with himself, Jules said, “Yesterday I asked Xenon, Oliver, and Ben to round up some old barrels. We put three behind the equipment barn, three behind the maraku barn, and built wooden gutters and downspouts to fill them.”

  “The baths will begin shortly,” Elias said cheerily, “With threats on our part and grumbling on theirs.”

  Lana pictured a breghlin in a barrel, trying to scrub off years of filth, and she couldn’t keep from smiling. “You’ll need to change the water a lot.”

  “The first two barrels will be for washing, the third for rinsing,” Jules said. “When the water gets dirty, we’ll bring fresh barrels on a cart.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” She had a feeling that getting a breghlin into water would be about as easy as bathing a cat.

  Elias said, “Before heading out to bathe, they’ll get clothing from you. Give out undershorts, tunics and trousers, and a nightgown for the females. We don’t have many combs and brushes. They’ll have to share.”

  From what Lana had seen, breghlin weren’t big on grooming, so they probably wouldn’t care.

  “The tunics are suitable for male or female and come in a few sizes,” Elias continued. “The trousers come in various lengths and have drawstring waists. You’ll help them find the right size.”

  “Sure. Piece of cake.” She grinned at the image of breghlin lined up at Nordstrom’s sales counter. Giving them clothes had to be easier than getting them to bathe. “Who’s overseeing the baths?”

  “I put two of the most reliable breghlin in charge,” Elias said. “And Jules will check on the bathers periodically.”

  “The males,” Jules said hastily. “I’ll check the males.”

  Elias said, “Lana could oversee the females, but she’ll be too busy here.”

  “Thank goodness for that,” she muttered under her breath. Female breghlin weren’t as hideous as males, but they were strangely proportioned—large through the ribcage with no apparent waist, and too long through the torso for the length of their legs. Like males, they had lumpy skin, ugly facial features, and bad teeth. No one, but no one, wanted to see naked breghlin climbing in and out of barrels. Driving the unwanted image from her mind she said, “Let’s have a look at my new office!”

  They had done an amazing job. Wall-mounted mineral oil sconces provided ample light. A makeshift wooden counter on sawhorses ran across the front of the office. Three wooden desks with chairs stood behind it, their surfaces battered, but polished to a glossy shine. Tall bookcases and wooden storage cabinets like the one in Elias’s office had been placed along the side walls. Stacks of crates lined part of the back wall.

  “What do you think?” Elias asked. “Quite nice, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, it looks great.”

  Two gnomes walked in with more crates of clothes.

  Jules said, “I’ll get you started.” He went behind the counter and she tagged after him. “Let’s arrange everything by size and color. We have gray, brown, and blue. Servant groups used to be distinguished by color, but we don’t bother with that now.”

  “I’ll gather the first group while you set up,” Elias said, whisking out of the office.

  Jules helped Lana carry stacks of clothing to the counter. “It will take a while to find their sizes, and you may need to sell them on the idea of wearing clean clothes. We’ll be sending both males and females. Plan on being here till dinner.”

  “That’s a long time,” she said, her heart sinking at the thought of bein
g stuck in the office all day.

  “I’ll send in lunch. Typically, that’s dark bread, cheese, and herb tea.”

  “Whatever,” she said with a shrug. “Waiting on dozens of unbathed breghlin is bound to kill my appetite.”

  While Jules sorted the trousers into neat stacks, she started organizing the tunics by size.

  “It’s handy they wear the same clothes—males and females, I mean. And there’s no such thing as Sunday best. They wear the same outfits day in and day out. It must get boring.”

  Jules made a comical face. “Who do they have to impress? Can you imagine a male saying to a female, ‘My Dear, you look divine in that new brown tunic.’”

  Lana let out a snort of laughter.

  He laid his hand on his heart and went on, “It matches your eyes, and takes my breath away.”

  “Then the female says, ‘Do these trousers make my butt look fat?’”

  “In my day, women worried about how they looked in a dress, not how they look in trousers.”

  His tone was matter-of-fact, but she found herself asking self-consciously, “Does the sight of a woman in trousers disturb you?”

  “Only if you’re wearing them . . . and not in the way you mean. Actually, seeing you in trousers is less disturbing than seeing you without them . . . wearing only a shirt.”

  She felt her face grow warm. “I didn’t mean to shock you.”

  “It was a pleasant shock, I assure you.”

  They stood looking at each other, mutual attraction crackling in the air like heat lightning, and then he drew her toward him. “We haven’t had much time alone. I’d like to learn more about you.” When she laughed, he said quickly, “Not like that. Well, yes that way, too, but what I meant was I’d like to learn more about your childhood, your family, your friends, and your other interests besides gems.”

  “Same here—I don’t know much about you. I’m curious about your past life, but I don’t want to pry into a painful subject.”

  He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Tomorrow we’ll find a quiet place to talk. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”