First Level Librarian Randorr Cotspin had survived the attacks. Probably by hiding beneath his bed, Juhg believed, though he didn't begrudge the other Librarian his health. However, now Randorr was the chief proponent among the Librarians who spoke beneath their breaths against Juhg and the Grandmagister's decision to have him working on the Library book project instead of helping them to salvage books.

For himself, Juhg longed to be gone from the Library, far away from the Knucklebones Mountains and away from Greydawn Moors. But he couldn't leave while the Grandmagister needed him. And he couldn't leave until he'd properly told the story of how the Library was destroyed. Left in the hands of a Librarian other than the Grandmagister, Juhg felt certain he would be named and vilified as the cause for all the deaths and loss. Despite the fact that he was willing to leave the Library, pushed by his own reasons, he didn't want to let someone else write the history of the attack and judge him harshly for his part in the unfortunate events.

At least, Juhg told himself, he couldn't leave at this moment. But later, after the book was finished and the Grandmagister accepted his efforts, Juhg planned to be gone the first chance he got.

Watching the ruins of the Library, having to capture the images in the book the Grandmagister had given him to work on, was almost too much. He didn't have many good memories of his younger years. With the Library's destruction, he felt an emptiness inside, as though they were being stripped away.

Juhg had put some thoughts and sketches into his personal journal for later reference because he'd wanted to capture those ideas and images in the moment they occurred, rather than try to reconstruct them later. The duplication of effort slowed him somewhat, but he knew from past experience that he'd be better able to write what he needed to when the time came to do that.

A tern cawed behind Juhg, drawing his attention for a moment.

There, in a crevice behind him and to his left, a nest of baby terns made up of twigs, grasses, and small pebbles sat in the shadows. Their world, Juhg thought, wouldn't change because of the damage that had been done to the Library. They would continue to live and mature and raise nestlings of their own that would one day do the same.

But that isn't necessarily true.

The realization trickled through Juhg and brought fatigue and dismay. Craugh had said that enemies would come one day, now that the attack had taken place.

Those enemies certainly numbered goblinkin among them. And once goblinkin chose to destroy a people and a place, the creatures destroyed everything. Goblins knew no other way to behave. Several towns that had held out against Lord Kharrion's forces and had cost several goblinkin lives had been put to death to the last male, female, and child.

The goblinkin had poured salt and foul corpse drudge (a jelly made from the bodies of their victims combined with toxic mushrooms and poisons) into the earth where those towns had stood before the houses and meeting halls had burned to the ground. In some of those places, even hundreds of years later, vegetation had still not returned.

If the goblinkin learned where Greydawn Moors was, if they learned that the Library was there, Juhg had no doubt they would travel there to destroy the island and all who lived there.

He looked to the west, out into the fog-shrouded expanse of the Blood-Soaked Sea. To the north, ships filled the harbor at Greydawn Moors. Pirate vessels as well as fat-bodied merchant vessels shared harbor space. Several members of those crews had journeyed up the mountain to help with the Library. Of all the peoples who knew of Greydawn Moors and the secrets held upon the island, only those who served as contacts with the mainland and stood as defenders against potential discovery showed the greatest allegiance to the Vault of All Known Knowledge.

But the presence of those sailors here leaves the harbor unprotected. And it leaves the sea unpatrolled.

The island's greatest defense had lain in the fact that no one knew it existed. That was gone. Whether or not the Dread Riders and Grymmlings knew where the island was, the powers behind them knew of its existence now. After seeing the efforts the unknown enemies had gone to, in order to destroy the Library, Juhg felt certain that they wouldn't give up trying to finish what they had started.

Unless they believe the Library is already destroyed.

Quick as that thought entered Juhg's thoughts, he pushed it right out again. Craugh's magic had shattered the spell. Whoever-or whatever-had crafted the spell, had opened the gateway, and had marshaled the armies of Dread Riders and Grymmlings had to know that someone had closed the gateway.

No doubt existed that another attack would take place. Only the amount of time between those attacks remained unknown.

Juhg turned his attention back to his work. The quill slid smoothly across the paper, despite the erratic jumping of his thoughts and the certain fear that vibrated within him.

The book took Juhg nine days to write, three days longer than the Grandmagister had expected. Thankfully, Grandmagister Lamplighter chose to be satisfied with the extra effort and time rather than remonstrate about it.

Juhg had slept only when he could no longer keep his eyes open. Even those times were brief because nightmares chased him awake again nearly immediately every time.

During those days and nights, Juhg occupied himself with nothing more than writing. He wrote with his right hand and his left, utilizing the seldom-seen skill of ambidexterity that he possessed.

In the goblinkin mines, he had learned to swing a pickaxe and use a shovel with either hand. Although those tasks normally required the use of both hands, he had taught himself to use either hand to guide the effort. Also, picking out gemstones from broken rock required both hands. And sometimes, one hand or the other had been injured, through work or torture. The goblinkin had relished inflicting pain, although they weren't supposed to disable the slaves. Sometimes they had killed victims too injured to work the next day and told their supervisors that the weak dwellers had died rather than be held accountable for their actions.

After handing in the book, Juhg had turned to helping with the excavation of the surviving collections. Often, he'd ended up working alone, foraging down deep into the Library's cavernous depths to bring out particular volumes the Grandmagister assigned him to find. The work was disheartening. So much had been destroyed. His best estimate at present was that the Vault of All Known Knowledge had lost nearly four books out of five, an astonishing percentage.

Even as prepared for the amount of destruction facing the Library as he'd thought he had been, Juhg felt hammered by the devastation and despair that hung over the place where he had spent the only truly good years he had known. Being ostracized by the other Librarians-and the Grandmagister's uncharacteristic ignorance of the matter-further weighed on Juhg.

If not for Raisho, who came and went while running errands for the Grandmagister, Juhg would have been totally bereft of friendship. As it was, Raisho was gone nearly as often as he was around. When Raisho did manage to visit, other Librarians always seemed to interrupt them so much so that Juhg could barely have a decent conversation with his friend. There was simply too much work to be done.

There was, Juhg reflected grimly as he sat along the western wall of the Library's outer courtyard, more friendship offered among dwellers in a goblinkin mine slave chain gang than at the Vault of All Known Knowledge. The ill treatment and pointed disdain offered by the other Librarians, headed up by Randorr Cotspin, proved almost more than Juhg could bear.

Through it all, the Grandmagister never seemed to take notice of his ill treatment at the hands of the other Librarians.

The only bright spot on the horizon was the news Raisho had brought Juhg two days ago that Windchaser was deemed seaworthy enough to once more venture out into the Blood-Soaked Sea. Even the Grandmagister's attentions had finally been drawn from the Library's book salvaging project to the fact that the Blood-Soaked Sea was going unpatrolled.

When Windchaser hoisted anchor and put out to sea, Juhg had every intention of being aboard her. At least, he'd feel more at home among the "pirates" watching the waves for any sign of an enemy fleet.

He ate sparingly of the plate he'd taken from the Library's kitchens. None of the food really had any taste, but he'd learned from his time in the goblinkin mines that meals were not to be missed. For the present, the Grandmagister had the workers on scheduled shifts.

Precious little time between those shifts was allowed for sleep. All the salvage workers neared exhaustion, but now and again a book survived-a remembered favorite of one of the Librarians, or a tome someone had been intending to read, or, most exciting of all, a book that still yet remained to be catalogued or interpreted-that set off a flurry of excitement and renewal of the rescue operation. Unfortunately, those occasions became fewer and fewer.

A group of Novices, their white robes now dirty and torn, sat beneath a cometberry tree that showed white flesh where limbs had been torn off during the attack on the Library. In spite of all the damage, in spite of the fog that clung to the Knucklebones Mountains, bright white and orange flowers with green centers blossomed among the dark green leaves that had survived the harsh treatment.

In a few more weeks, the flowers would produce cometberries, thumb-sized fruits all the colors of a rainbow and possessing the distinct elongated black hoods that grew nowhere else that Juhg knew of. The elven warders who first arrived to care for the Vault of All Known Knowledge and the town that later grew there had transplanted the cometberry trees. The trees stood as physical proof of the promise the elves had made to protect the Library and the Librarians who cared for it.

Chewing his meal, not truly enjoying the food, Juhg listened to the poetry the Novices took turns reading. The volume was one of Haragis the Blind's efforts.

In his time, Haragis had lived a fierce life as a sellsword between warring nations, a human who had spent forty years combatting the foes of those he was paid to fight. He rose from the ranks to become a warrior of renown, a commander of armies, and-finally-the king of a small nation of mercenaries who had carved out a place to raise their families while they fought and died in other lands.

During his rule, Haragis had written many books. He'd learned to read while studying to become a general. His earliest efforts had been accounts of battles he had fought in, of wars he had waged. Then he had turned his attention to volumes of martial arts, of learning the strength of one's own mind and body, then of learning to lead first small groups of men, then armies. Up until the violent and confusing time of the Cataclysm, Haragis' books remained among those most studied by military leaders.

During his last years, though, a traitor had betrayed Haragis. After the death of his first wife, who had sired him a half-dozen sons, Haragis had forged a political alliance through marriage. Only a few days into the marriage, the young woman had viciously attacked Haragis while the old warrior was asleep, succeeding in blinding him in both eyes with the toxic poison of a sea toad before he slew her.

Despite the best efforts of healers, the old king remained blind. But as he recovered, he learned that the kingdom that had betrayed him with the assassin wanted the seaport the mercenary nation controlled. As a result, Haragis had declared war and brought the nation to its knees, warning anyone who might take up arms to defend the country that he would make war on them as well.

Haragis placed two of his sons on the thrones of both countries and ruled through them. Then his writing had changed as his interest turned to poetry. Haragis' passages were among the most vivid and heartrending of any epic poems ever put to paper.

In particular, his collection simply called Travels was one of Juhg's favorites for two reasons. Juhg had found the book among those uncatalogued in the Library shortly after his arrival. Travels had been his find, and he kept a copy of it in his personal effects that the Grandmagister had agreed to hold for him until his return from the mainland. But Travels also told Haragis' story when he'd been taken as a slave by the goblinkin for a time.

During the early days, when he had first learned to read and then to enjoy the stories and knowledge trapped between the covers of the books in the Vault of All Known Knowledge, Juhg had taken solace from Haragis' story of how he had fostered a slave rebellion and freed himself from the goblinkin.

Juhg ate and lost himself in Haragis' words, finding himself slightly irritated at the reading the Novices gave the work. He told himself he had no reason to fault them so. Once he had lacked as much as they did now. Time and exposure to the languages would take care of their failings.

Still, Juhg would have preferred to hear Haragis' words in the man's native language, filled with rolling r's and the growling k's so that a listener could hear the rasp of steel and the thunder of armor meeting armor on a battlefield. Haragis' action was real, not prettied up as so much of the fighting was in the volumes in Hralbomm's Wing. Men died in the mud, in each other's arms, and alone at the hands of brutish goblinkin and other evil creatures.

Knowing he couldn't force himself to eat another bite, Juhg pushed away his plate and sat with his back against the battlement along the wall. He peered out to the west, where the sun threatened to break through the dark gray rain clouds that had remained constant throughout the day. Thankfully, their luck had so far held and no rain had fallen. Tarps covered several stacks of books already catalogued and awaiting transfer to secure areas. Still more tarps awaited in case they were needed.

Closing his eyes, Juhg almost went to sleep. If only he could remember some pleasant event that was untainted by the carnage of the past few days, he felt certain he would have slumbered.

"Apprentice."

At first, Juhg thought his imagination was playing tricks on him. He recognized Craugh's voice, but the wizard had been scarce around the salvage operation. From what Juhg gathered, Craugh had sought out other sources for information about the attack, but even those efforts had to be circumspect. Few wizards, and all of them-At least, Juhg corrected himself in light of recent events, it was believed all of those wizards who knew of the Vault of All Known Knowledge-friends of the Library, knew about the island.

"Apprentice." Craugh's voice sounded sharper. "Are you sleeping?"

Juhg rolled over and peered down.

Craugh stood there in his robe and peaked hat. He frowned. "Are you awake?"

Not certain of what was going on, then suddenly seizing upon the idea that perhaps something had happened to the Grandmagister, Juhg swung around so that his feet dangled over the wall. He noted that Craugh's presence had drawn the attention of all those nearby.

"Has something happened to the Grandmagister?" Juhg asked.

"No."

"Oh." Juhg blinked. Then he peered toward the Library and saw that work continued as normal. If something had happened to Grandmagister Lamplighter, that would not be the case. Juhg glanced back at the wizard. "Then what do you want?"

"To talk with you," Craugh answered.

"About what?"

Craugh hissed in disapproval. "I am not of the habit of letting everyone know my business."

Those words further enticed the listeners, causing some of them to lean closer to them so that they might better hear the conversation they eavesdropped on. The wizard hadn't enjoyed much better treatment at the hands of the Librarians than Juhg had.

Craugh turned with solemn disdain toward the surrounding Librarians, dwarves, elves, and sailors. In his hand, his staff blazed bright green light. The eavesdroppers made haste to return their attentions to their own conversations, their meals, or the work they were doing.

Juhg couldn't imagine any reason the wizard would want to talk to him. He sat still and silent atop the wall.

"Well, apprentice," Craugh prompted.

"I'll come down." Juhg shifted, preparing to lever himself over the edge of the wall and clamber down the stone.

"Stay there. I'll come to you."

Juhg looked at the wizard. The wall stood fifteen feet tall. Climbing up or down, using the minuscule finger- and toeholds made possible by the placement of the stones and the gaps in the mortar between, was a challenge even for an elf. Few dwellers except for the very young or those who remained fit could make the climb. Even Juhg, with only a book for an encumbrance, found the climb challenging. He watched the wizard.

Craugh waved the staff before him. Sparkling surfaces, each measured with exactness, appeared in the air but never quite took form. They existed only as shimmering suggestions of steps. The wizard walked up the invisible staircase he'd created.

Everyone in the courtyard stared in open-mouthed astonishment or displeasure as Craugh ascended to the top of the wall.

Juhg knew the sight reminded the viewers of the tragedy that had only so recently struck them, and the display also underscored the difference between themselves and the wizard. They could never aspire to the magical arts.

Craugh stopped atop the wall only for a moment, acting as though ignorant of the stares that followed him. He waved again, and shimmering surfaces took shape on the other side of the wall, leading from the wall down to the flower gardens below.

"Walk with me, apprentice." Craugh started down the magical stairs. His boots struck small glimmering sparks from the steps. "I would talk to you in private."

19.

The Dark Legacy of the Cataclysm Unease ran through Juhg like lummin juice through a stubborn lock as he gazed after the wizard descending the magical stairs outside the Library's courtyard. Gazing at Craugh and feeling the natural fear of wizards and all things magical, Juhg wondered how he would feel living as a toad in the flower gardens outside the courtyard walls of the Library.

With no little trepidation, he pushed himself to his feet, took up his personal journal and bag of quills and inks, and reluctantly slid a foot out onto the shimmering steps he couldn't quite see. The surface felt surprisingly firm and not fragile. He put his weight on the step.

"Come along, apprentice," Craugh growled impatiently from a point halfway to the ground.

Juhg mustered all his courage. It helped that he was so fatigued that he couldn't feel the normal fear he would have when confronting the wizard.

"I'd like to know what this is all about," Juhg said, shamed by the way his voice broke when he tried to sound assertive.

"As would I." Craugh reached the ground and stepped in among flowering shrubs taller even than his pointed hat.

The flower gardens around the Library's north, east, and west sides weren't there just for show. Several of the shrubs possessed thorns and strong branches that would dissuade horses or other creatures from coming too close. The outer perimeter was impenetrable, the trees, vines, and bushes growing so closely they were as interlinked as a fence. The elven warders maintained the gardens, guiding the growths with their hands and with magical spells.

Librarians and guests to the Vault of All Known Knowledge were free to roam the inner third of the gardens, the only part of the gardens that wasn't impassable. Benches constructed of deliberately bent trees overhung with vines, fountains, and pools that flowed with natural springs and cisterns that fed down from the mountains, and statuary from a hundred different courts and cities and nations that had once existed along the mainland before the Cataclysm decorated the gardens and made walks in that area very interesting.

Juhg reached the bottom of the magical stairs. A tingle ran along the back of his neck. When he glanced back, he saw the shimmering steps disappear completely. There was no going back; he was trapped in the garden with the wizard.

"I've talked with your friend, apprentice." Craugh spoke without turning around. He put his hands behind his back as he walked. His hat swiveled as he took in the sights.

For just an instant, Juhg thought about objecting to the wizard's casual reference to the fact that none of the other Librarians chose to be his friend. The only friend Craugh could be referring to was Raisho. The young sailor returned to Greydawn Moors only that morning and wasn't expected back until the morrow.

"What of it?" Juhg asked.

Craugh stopped and turned around. His brows knitted together in accusation. "You have developed a most vexing nature, apprentice."

Juhg swallowed and came to a sudden stop on suddenly quaking knees. It took everything in him not to turn and scamper into the brush out of the wizard's withering gaze.

I, Juhg told himself, am surely going to be a toad before morn.

After a moment, Craugh sighed. "Please don't be afraid of me."

"I'm not," Juhg snapped.

"You are," Craugh insisted.

"Not half as much as I should be." Even as the words left his mouth, Juhg knew that he hadn't exactly said what he'd wanted to.

"Agreed," Craugh growled.

"That's not what I meant." Juhg drew himself up on shaking knees. He remembered all the evil and dangerous things he had faced over the years, first as a slave in the goblinkin mines, then as a Librarian at the Grandmagister's side along the mainland. I will not be afraid. I will never again be as afraid as I was down in those mines. It was a promise that he had made to himself several times after the Grandmagister had freed him from the chains.

Craugh shook his head. "I have neither the patience, the time, nor the understanding for peckish behavior, apprentice."

"And I don't want to talk to you and think that I might be turned into a toad at any moment."

Craugh grinned mirthlessly. "Well, I think that you should think that."

Without a word, before he even knew what he was about to do, Juhg turned to walk away. No! he told himself. This is a mistake! But he kept walking, surprised at his own impudence.