"I know full well what the word means," the Grandmagister replied in a level voice. "I say again, neither the Library nor its Grandmagisters have ever subjugated this community."

"Then you lie," Brokkle shouted.

Craugh turned then, his face a mask of frozen rage. Green embers swirled from the tip of his staff. The dwarves and elves and humans stood as well, hurling epithets and threats among the dwellers for the disrespect that they showed the Grandmagister.

The dwellers who stood so boldly along the railing suddenly drew back from the wizard. Four of them pulled back so far that they had to step back into the seats that surrounded the discussion area.

Without turning, the Grandmagister lifted a hand and said, "Please. I'll handle this."

Craugh halted, but his jerky movements showed his exasperation and the amount of restraint he had to exercise. "Better you than me, Grandmagister. I'd turn the lot of them into toads and be done with the matter." He stamped his staff irritably. "And if they don't cease their yapping, I'm like to do it anyway."

The dwarves growled agreement, and their suggestions for the fates of the dwellers was more bloody and more final. With obvious reluctance and distaste, the dwarves and elves and humans took their seats.

Juhg stared in wonderment at the chaos about to break out around him. The door at the rear of the meeting chamber opened as more people, many of them ships' captains due to get under way that morning, entered. None of them looked happy about the situation either. Of all the Grandmagisters, Grandmagister Lamplighter was one of the favorites.

"Has anything like this ever happened before?" Raisho asked.

"No," Juhg replied, watching the dweller speakers slowly move back to the railing. Some of them even took care to separate themselves from Dilwiddy and Brokkle.

"I know them town dwellers don't much care for the Library or its Gran'magisters," Raisho said.

"They never have. Since the earliest days, dwellers have turned more and more from the Vault of All Known Knowledge." Over the years, Juhg knew from his review of past Grandmagisters' journals, a certain enmity had always existed between the Grandmagisters and the dwellers who lived in town.

Dilwiddy pulled himself up to his full height at the railing and glared around the room. "We asked you here this morning, Grandmagister Lamplighter, so that we might air our grievances over the events of these past few days. We did not invite the ruffians in your employ to attend."

"Why, ye thick-necked, warty-headed mud ape," one of the dwarves exploded, rising to his feet. "If'n ye call me or me friends 'ruffians' again, why, I'll come over there and wallop ye, I will."

"Erolg," the Grandmagister said in a calm voice of reproach. "That will be enough."

"Aye," the dwarven warrior replied. "'Twill be. Because I've already had me a craw full of it come this mornin', what with them little halfers a-frettin' over whether they're going to make their profits or keep their hollow bellies full. They're forgettin' themselves, an' I'll slap some knots on their heads if I have to, in order to get a show of proper respect."

An angry buzz whispered through the ranks of the dwellers.

"If I see Erolg in a tavern any time soon," Raisho said, "I'm gonna stand him to a drink."

"The way you're always ready to fight," Juhg observed, "you should have been born a dwarf."

"Mayhap I was," Raisho said. "Just a really tall dwarf."

Erolg stamped his feet and adjusted the harness of his battle-axe across his back. His chain-mail shirt jangled against his weapons. He pulled on his beard and sat.

"Do you see what this is coming to?" Dilwiddy demanded. "You're putting everyone who lives here at each others' throats."

"The dwellers who live here," a quiet, calm voice stated clearly for all to hear, "have never cared much for the dwarves, elves, and humans who have shared this island with them."

A thin, beautiful elf stood up from the warders gathered to the right of the dwarves. He wore green leathers and leaned in a relaxed fashion on his longbow. A longsword hung at his waist. He moved with the graceful economy of a cat, languid and at ease. His pointed ears showed at the sides of his head under hair the color of split cedar.

Brokkle's eyes narrowed contemptuously. "Do I know you?"

"No," the elf replied. "I do my best to stay out of this town. It's dirty, unkempt, and unclean. You people live nearly as badly as goblinkin."

Angry muttering filled the meeting chamber.

Juhg watched the events unfolding, hypnotized as if he were watching an avalanche take shape and slip toward the final, fatal plunge. All of the old aggressions between the races were coming to the forefront. Those prejudices and jealousies had been a constant problem since the island had risen from the sea floor.

"I would have your name," Brokkle stated.

A small smile fitted itself to the elf's beautiful lips. "I am Sayrit Threld, leader of the Brotherhood of the Falcon. My kith and kin have served the Vault of All Known Knowledge from its inception, and we will continue to do the same as long as blood yet remains to us."

"I will remember that name," Brokkle threatened.

"It would be better for you if you did," Sayrit said.

The implied threat caused Brokkle to draw back a little.

"You dwellers-" Amused at his own forgetfulness, Sayrit glanced in the Grandmagister's direction and inclined his head. "I beg your pardon, Grandmagister Lamplighter. There are exceptions to any rule."

"Sayrit," the Grandmagister said, "please don't-"

"I fear I must," Sayrit stated. "It was not easy for my kin and I to leave the forests and come here today. But once we found out what these ... petty beings hoped to do here today, I found I could not stay away. You know me, Grandmagister. You know how much I hate even coming to this place, where these people wreck the natural habitat with their filth and want and ignorance."

"When an elf gets mad at ye," Raisho muttered, "ye'd best be listenin' as attentive as ye can. Ye get one mad enough an' ye're not listenin', that elf's apt to leave a blade or an arrow stickin' out of ye somewhere."

Juhg knew it was true. Of all the races in the world, the elves tended to be the most solitary. They considered themselves above the other races, and they disliked great gatherings, even of their own kind. An elven city usually took advantage of natural divisions in trees, along rivers and streams, to carve out individual places for themselves.

Where a dwarf or a human killed out of passion-out of anger or jealousy or fear-an elf was most likely to kill a being in cold blood. Death was a decision, not a response. In the annals of the elves, human and dwarven populations were sometimes killed to the last man or woman to open up territories or protect lands they had elected to serve as guardians. Horror stories of the vengeance of elves existed within the histories of dwarves and humans.

"When the decision was made to save the books of the world," Sayrit said, "and this place was chosen as the location of that great repository, all the races were asked to provide for the common defense and good of that effort. The dwarves agreed to stand as the Library Guardsmen and to protect Librarians, the tomes of the Library and the townsfolk in the lands surrounding the Library. The elves assigned kith and kin to manage the island's natural resources and to place the monsters in the Blood-Soaked Sea. The humans brought here agreed to serve as seafarers, to safeguard the waters of the Blood-Soaked Sea and conduct the trade and the spying necessary to keep the Library secret and safe from the rest of the world."

Quiet rolled over the meeting room.

"The only thing dwellers were asked to do was to maintain the Library," Sayrit said. "The dwellers who lived here on the bounty of this island were supposed to see to it that their children learned to read and spent some time in the service of the Vault of All Known Knowledge."

"An' eat," one of the human sailors accused.

Laughter followed the comment, but Juhg could still hear the anger and animosity in the sound.

"Over the years," Sayrit continued, "the number of dwellers who went to the Library changed. Every child was still required to learn to read, but soon only one child out of a family had to serve time as a Librarian. Then the length of that service was renegotiated so that the one-in-a-family member put in less than a third of the years that were initially required."

"We have lives," Brokkle said. "There are things here that require our attention. Our businesses. We were asked to give up too much. All that reading..." He shook his head. "What do you really think was gained by all that reading?"

Sayrit's voice grew sharp. "Enough!"

Brokkle leaned across the railing, having to stand on tiptoe because the railing was more a human's height than a dweller's. "What we gave up..."

Smoothly, in the space of an eye blink, Sayrit fitted an arrow to his bowstring and released the shot. The shaft, fletched in the blue-purple feathers of a falcon, sank into the rich oak of the railing only inches under Brokkle's nose.

Juhg's heart stopped for a moment. If the shot had been off by as much as a fraction of an inch, the shaft would have ricocheted up into the dweller merchant's face.

"No more," Sayrit ordered. "Your people gave up little. You've always gotten more than you were asked to give. Your ancestors were given the safest place in all the world while the rest of that world fought the goblinkin and died."

"We were given a pretty prison," someone among the dwellers said.

"You don't know what a prison is," Sayrit said. "Most of the members of my brotherhood have not seen any land except this place. They've not seen any animals, save those that we watch over here." He drew in a breath. "This is no prison for a dweller, but it is to an elf who was born with an unbridled wanderlust and a desire to see everything there is in the world."

"No one asked you to stay," one of the dwellers said.

"We were asked," Sayrit said. "We swore oaths that our brotherhood and the other brotherhoods would remain here to protect and watch over this island as protectors, to serve nature strong and healthy enough to provide for the constant demands put on this island's resources."

"You could leave."

"We are bound by our oath. Just as are the dwarves and the humans."

As he listened to the elven warder's words, Juhg realized how much the elves had truly given up to hold up their ends of the arrangement. Dwarves and humans gave up a lot, too, but both of those races could still enter into the service of the sea and rotate out with each other.

The elves never did.

"Those warders in my brotherhood," Sayrit said, "live their whole lives learning how to take care of this place. They don't negotiate to put in less time or shirk their duties. When the Library was attacked, my brotherhood shed its lifeblood to keep the destruction that claimed the Library from rolling down the Knucklebones. Few of you came up the mountain to defend either the Library or yourselves."

The accusation hung heavily in the sudden silence that filled the meeting chamber.

"We are not warriors," Dilwiddy said after an uncomfortable time. "We are not trained to fight."

"I know you're not warriors," Sayrit said. "I spent days burying the warriors that were in that battle in the days that followed. They wore the faces of dwarves and elves and humans."

"A few of them, though," Erolg added, "were dwellers. An' they wore the robes of the Library."

Pride touched Juhg for a moment, but it was quickly consumed by sadness and hurt. Those Librarians had earned the respect of warriors, but the cost had been so high.

"You dwellers," Sayrit said, "have cut back on the time you give the Library. Getting the books organized took longer because of that selfishness. Not as many copies were made, which is going to be even more telling in the days that come with so much lost. And with less time spent reading and dedicating yourselves to the craft that you were assigned to, even less is going to be known about what was lost."

"Our children know how to read," Dilwiddy argued.

"Perhaps," Sayrit conceded. "Perhaps they do know how to read. But many of them have no love of it. You may have taught them the mechanics of reading, but you haven't taught them the passion for doing a job well. They, like you, begrudge any time spent at that craft."

"You could teach your own children to read," Brokkle said.

"I have," Sayrit said.

A buzz of concerned voices filled the room. Juhg noticed that even the Grandmagister seemed surprised by the announcement.

"There isn't an elf on this island that doesn't know how to read," Sayrit declared.

"You presume too much," Dilwiddy said. "Reading is the purview of the dwellers."

"No," Sayrit replied. "Taking care of the Library, learning everything there is in the Library, that is the purview of the dwellers. That is your duty. And you don't live up to the expectations of those who first built this place." He paused. "That's why I started teaching all the warders here on the island to read."

"To replace us?" Brokkle demanded.

"If necessary."

A cry of outrage rose among the dwellers.

Juhg sat, feeling nearly stunned. How was it that the elves had dedicated themselves to learning to read, but no one had noticed? More than that, if the elves had been reading, had they been writing?

"The warders I train don't just learn about a plant or an animal," Sayrit said. "They learn the ecology of those things, the good properties about that plant or animal as well as the bad properties, and they hear how all of that works together. But I don't let them end their education there. I make them learn this island. They have to know where those plants grow and where those animals nest. In order to do that, they have to walk and explore every foot of this place over and over again."

"Aye," one of the human captains spoke up. "Just as I train ever' man on my ship to repair an' rebuild ever' stick on her. I've got crews what could build new ships if we've a mind to an' we end up without a ship at some time."

Erolg stood. "We train constantly, always ready for the enemy. Ever' warrior what counts is in our numbers. An' if'n it should someday come to it, our wives an' daughters have been trained to fight as well."

"Now," Sayrit said in a sarcastic tone, "here is the lot of you, daring to tell Grandmagister Lamplighter that you're done with serving the Library and have no intentions of helping him rebuild." He shook his head. "Over the last few years, your births have exceeded the allotted numbers. Your population continues to grow, despite my warnings and instructions to the contrary. Those numbers endanger the balance that the warders have worked diligently to create for years."

More grumbling tumbled into the quiet pause that the elven warder let hang.

"If you should decide-truly decide-not to help the Grandmagister rebuild the Vault of All Known Knowledge," Sayrit said, "then you will be left on your own. The warders won't help you. We won't tend the forests and your fields. We won't hunt predators that prey on your livestock. We won't clean the wells and streams that you all work so hard to foul." He shrugged, an eloquent expression that showed exactly the contempt he held for Brokkle and Dilwiddy. "I'd venture to guess that within two generations, you will be destitute and dying of starvation and malnutrition."

"If'n ye ain't dead afore then," Erolg said. "As fer the dwarves, we'll let ye fight yer own battles, should anyone else find ye. We'll gladly go a-rovin', looking fer the treasures most of us have had to give up on by agreein' to stay here."

"You'll also have to build and sail your own ships," the human captain said. "For I'll have no more to do with you. Going into business for myself will be a lot more profitable for me and my crew than splitting profits with the likes of you."

Stunned, Juhg looked out over the assembly hall. Dilwiddy, Brokkle, and the other dwellers who had banded together to challenge the Grandmagister could not have counted on the responses given by the elves, dwarves, and humans.

"Well, now," Raisho said, grinning, "that'll give 'em something to think about, now, won't it? Let the land become an enemy to them again. Strip them of their protection and their profits."

Dilwiddy stood with a sour expression. He glanced down at the arrow that stood out from the railing in front of Brokkle.

"Grandmagister Lamplighter," the Chief Speaker said.

"Yes."

Gazing at the Grandmagister, Juhg knew that he was as shocked by the turn of events as everyone else.

"Is that how you plan on dealing with us?" Dilwiddy demanded.

"Begging the Grandmagister's pardon," Sayrit said. "The Grandmagister had no part in the planning of this. We've talked among ourselves since you first started this little rebellion."

Dilwiddy seized the railing before him in both hands. His fat face turned purple with anger. His jowls quivered. "You are trying to enslave us. You're no better than the goblinkin."

"That's not true." The elven warder stood straight and tall with one hand on his bow. "Your greed and your lack of initiative have enslaved you. Just as you've shirked your duties to the Library-which I would not have allowed to happen, nor would I have put up with the burgeoning population numbers the Grandmagister has-you've also shirked responsibilities to yourselves. You were put here on this island just as we were. Most of you have chosen to pursue selfish goals."

"Grandmagister, I have to protest. Are you going to let this ... this ... person continue to harangue us so unmercifully?"

Grandmagister Lamplighter started to speak, but the elven warder hurried on.

Sayrit gazed around the room and talked quickly, with more passion than before. "Many of you chose to pursue no goals at all. That's why you sold off your rights to the lands Dilwiddy and Brokkle and other dwellers now control. You were given the right to live on this island for free, to build homes, to raise your families. Instead, you squandered those rights to dwellers among you who took advantage of your own foolhardiness. Your ancestors took whatever paltry sums Dilwiddy's family gave them all those years ago, then waited while Dilwiddy's family made deals with the dwarves to build houses that were later rented to your ancestors. Houses that all of you still pay on, even now."

Juhg knew that the elven warder's assessment was true, but no one in Greydawn Moors talked about what had happened or how landowners and renters had come into being.