Death's Sword Book 1: Finding and Seeking

Chapter 3, part 1: Day 5

Westizal had hardly left the library in ten days. It had taken him nearly half a day to gain access in the first place, even at his most persuasive - and generous. He was looking tired and drawn, worn down by both the long hours of study and the effort of casting the same spell, time and again. It was a simple spell, but vital to his endeavours. It enabled him to reading the writing of the dra'ana. 

 Staren kept very close by, even though he was very bored with the library. Very bored indeed. The kynstar knew that his friend was possibly too weak to defend himself adequately after his efforts each day. Staren had given himself another task, too, in addition to that of bodyguard; it was he who chivvied the wizard back to the task in hand, turning him back from wandering down some interesting side-channel of research. Like he was in danger of doing now. "These records are really quite fascinating," Westizal was saying, "They go back well beyond any human records that I have seen. This one covers some events during the reign of Dra'ag III, roughly two centuries before the humans made the passage here. It seems that..."

"That you are getting off the track again," cut in Staren, neatly. "Two centuries before the passage is two centuries and more before the staff was created, let alone when it dropped out of circulation." His tone was crisp and dry, showing little of the boredom he was feeling. Westizal signed and rubbed his eyes, "Yes, I suppose you're right, of course. I wish I had more time to read these records, though, or that I could take them home with me." The kynstar snorted at this idea. "Fat chance you have of the wet-backs parting with these goods. They value them more than they do their eggs." That was one of the points that the kynstar despised about the dra'an; the dra'an laid many eggs, then abandoned them to their fate, even cannibalised them. The kynstar females laid a clutch of three to five eggs in warm sand and guarded them jealously.

Reluctantly, the wizard set one metal cylinder down and picked up another. He pulled the central tab and began to read as the record uncoiled, revealing inscribed pictographs. Staren pulled a stool to himself with his tail and sat down once more. He set several of the cylinders spinning about his head, then stopped, guiltily, and brought them to rest again on the table before him. The wet-backs would not be amused by such cavalier treatment of their precious records, if he was seen. The cylinders began to shoot into the air and return to their slots in the various racks around the visitors. Best not let the place get too untidy, thought Staren, or the wet-backs might get unhappy about that. Although what they could do against Westizal and I combined, I don't know. He remembered the shock and terror in the mind of the shopkeeper who had thought to enslave the wizard. He rocked with silent mirth.

About three hours later, Westizal leant back on his stool and stretched, arching his back. "I wonder how our muscle-bound friend is making out at home. I hope he isn't letting the place get in a mess. I'd hate to get back and have to clear tuigrahan out of every corner," said Staren. The mage didn't hear him. He seemed in some sort of daze, almost a trance. "There's a very strange description here, of a place referred to as the Chamber of the Star, which is bound up in some sort of prophecy. It seems that when the moons are in the correct conjunction.."

"The tuigrahan females do the dance of the eight veils there. Yuk," cut in Staren again. "What does it have to do with your search?"

"You can be a hard task-master, lizard. Nothing, apparently," replied Westizal. "I also doubt that Zmnt will be inviting any monsters into the castle and it is proof against most uninvited guests." His tone conveyed a reproof for casting doubts on the warriors' abilities. "How about a dragon?" asked the kynstar, "I'm not there to talk to one if it happened to show up, remember? Or a hrhzak? What would you do if all your books were destroyed?"

"No dragons have been sighted for over four centuries, Staren, you know that. Even the dragon of the Chi'in Empire appear to have died out. I also think Zmnt could deal with even a hrhzak, aided as he is by the mirrors, or anything else short of a full-scale assault or an alliance of powers. In case you hadn't noticed, I am trying to hurry my research, just in case anyone realises I'm absent and tries to take advantage of that fact. As for my library, my copyists should have delivered most of the works to the College of Naming Incantations at Edo-Hywhen by now." The wizard sounded tired, running his fingers through his curls as he spoke. Staren croaked a dry laugh. "Except for the juicy items, of course. Do you really trust that college? Do you really think you could reclaim them if the originals were destroyed?" Westizal fixed the lizard with a hard stare,

"Even though I had handed over the books to the College, at one level they remain mine. They are linked to me by that, and I to them. That gives me some power over them. Besides which, you don't think I'd just march in there looking like this and demand them back, do you?" The kynstar took in the black face, the white robe with the red hieroglyphic W on each shoulder, and shook his head. "Good," continued the wizard, "Now, why don't you take a stroll outside and terrorise a few innocent dra'an, leaving me in peace for a while, hmmm?" Staren yawned, his human illusion-face showing a fine set of teeth. "I could do with some fresh air," he said laconically, uncoiling from his chair and heading for the exit.

Staren stepped out of the library onto the terrace, then strolled over to one of the columns that supported the roof. He leant nonchalantly against the stone pillar and gazed lazily about the plaza that lay before the library building. It was strangely deserted, with only a handful of dra'an moving about on the far side. Even the canals looked to be empty, with none of the usual barge traffic. The kynstar didn't like the feel of this. There was a distinct scent of tension in the air. He cast out the net of his mind, searching for other minds and their thoughts. He felt the thoughts of the librarians and dismissed them. Westizals' mind, a different colour to those of the dra'an, was likewise screened out of his search. 

 He stretched the net wider, beginning to strain at the limits of his powers. He felt a babble of many minds in one building. It was too far to pick up any details, like trying to distinguish individual conversations in a busy restaurant on the far side of the street. Unsatisfied and worried, he limped back into the library, with a prickling along his spine as he went. He prepared a telekinetic shield to defend himself but nothing happened. No arrows were fired. No spears were thrown. Once inside the library, he hurried up the stairs and along the galleries until he reached Westizal. "Something's going on outside," the lizard reported, "I think the dra'an may be preparing to ambush us when we leave." Westizal lifted his eyes from the scroll he had been reading and struggled to focus them on his friend. "What? Are you sure, Staren?" the wizard asked, still obviously in something of a daze. 

 "No, not certain, they're at the very edge of my range. It has all the signs of it, though," the kynstar replied.

"I wonder at what magic they have," mused the human, rubbing at the stubble on his cheeks above the line of his beard. "Well, I'm nearly finished here anyway. We'll leave later and try to avoid any trouble," he said, picking up a cylinder and resuming his studies. 

 "If they've spent a ten-day preparing for this, I doubt we'll get out without trouble." Staren's voice was grim. "They will know you are a pretty high-ranking mage and they might have me pegged for a kynstar. They'll have dredged up some magic from somewhere." Both knew that the dra'an had very few magic-workers of their own and none of the mental powers of the kynstar. More worryingly, however, they also tended to have a high resistance to spells and sometimes hired mages from other races, usually humans. Staren was also concerned about his friend; he looked exhausted, a greyish pallor existing below the dark skin-tone of his face. Would he prove too tired to cast any more spells until he had rested? 

 The lizard-man moved over to his bundle of goods lying on the floor. Unrolling it, he took out the scabbarded sword that lay within, then retied the remaining items within the cloak. He wished that he had his bow but that was back at the inn. The librarians took a dim view of people bringing weapons into their library. The town guards didn't like armed humans moving about within their town, either. Staren buckled the sword-belt about his waist, humming tunelessly as he did so.