“Do what?” The entryway to the library was not impressive, Phoran noticed—though maybe this was the back door. There was only a small entrance hall edged in businesslike doors and stairways.
“Let Tier take charge, follow where you sh—could lead? You are the Emperor.”
“Sometimes being Emperor is tiring,” Phoran answered, then he grinned. “And it’s always safer to let the Ravens go first into a wizards’ library.” He smiled at Ielian. “It’s all right. They know who I am. I don’t have to enforce protocol among my friends.”
The others had taken the central stairway, so Phoran followed them leaving Ielian to trail behind him. The stairs went up only a single flight to a room that was as impressive as the entryway had not been. The ceiling, far above, was covered with decoratively shaped skylights, which illuminated the huge room.
The library in the palace at Taela held five thousand volumes and was accounted the largest library in the Empire. Phoran estimated that this room alone held ten times that number. The entirety of the walls was covered in bookcases, mostly filled with books, and ladders and narrow walkways spiderwebbed around the walls to provide access to the shelves. On the floor of the room were more bookcases, set so closely together there was scarcely room to pass between them.
Only a small section of the room near the stairway they’d entered by was free of bookcases. Instead, a number of small tables were set up so that library patrons could take the books and read them on padded benches and a couple of carved chairs.
Seraph was holding on to Tier with obvious dismay.
“It appears that we’ll be staying here for a while,” Tier said, sounding mildly amused.
Phoran, bending over to rub Gura’s belly, noticed that they were all leaving muddy tracks on the polished floor.
“Let’s leave this for today,” said Tier, glancing around. “The map shows another of the city gates on the other side of this building. I’d like to set up camp while it’s still light.”
“Why not stay in here where it’s dry?” asked Ielian.
“No,” said Hennea.
“No,” said Lehr. “No one has brought back stories of an empty city, not in all the centuries this has waited here. Perhaps it’s not because no one ever found it—but because no one ever left it.”
“We’ll camp outside of the city,” said Tier. “We might as well go now and pick a good site since it looks like we’ll be here for a while.”
The University Gate was located just where the map had promised. After Lehr’s little speech in the library, Phoran was relieved when the brass gate, like the one they’d used to enter the city, opened at the first touch.
In the end, a campsite wasn’t difficult to find. There was a small pond fed by a creek not a quarter mile from the gate. The ground was free of rock, and there was grazing for the horses. Best of all, sometime while they had been in the library, it had stopped raining.
“We’ll set up a permanent camp, here,” said Tier, in satisfied tones. “Tomorrow we’ll see about building a few corrals so we don’t have to worry about the horses. And a shelter or two to keep the rain off our heads.”
“Except for Hennea and me.” Seraph had already started to pull the packs off her little mountain horse. “We’ll go to the library while you set up camp.”
“Not alone,” said Jes.
Seraph turned to her oldest son and raised a cool eyebrow, and Phoran was caught between being thankful her look wasn’t turned on him and wishing he could use that expression on encroaching Septs—but he’d never managed to learn to raise a single eyebrow, and he didn’t think the expression would look quite the same with both eyebrows raised. Doubtless he would just look surprised.
“Do not forget who and what I am, Jes,” Seraph said icily. “There are weapons other than swords.”
Tier cleared his throat. “We’ll need you at camp, Jes. I’m going to send you and Lehr out hunting. If your mother can kill a troll, I’m certain she can handle a library.”
That night, after the rest of them were sleeping, Phoran found himself restless for no reason he could determine. He set aside his blankets and pulled his boots on. Jes opened his eyes, then closed them again as Phoran walked past him. Toarsen and Kissel were both fast asleep, and he stepped lightly around them because they, unlike Jes, would not have just let him walk off alone.
There was a little rise to the land fifty yards from camp, and he walked in that direction. When he topped the rise, the Memory was there waiting for him.
It was darker than the night and taller than he was. Its oddly gracile form bent down, and thin wisps of something strong wrapped around his wrist.
His sleeves were loose, so it had no trouble pushing one of them up and exposing the inside of his elbow. Phoran hissed as the Memory’s fangs sank deep. He’d forgotten how cold it was, forgotten how much it hurt.
When it had finished with him, he sank to the ground and held his arm cradled to his chest.
“By the taking of your blood, I owe you one answer. Choose your question.” The sexless whisper was no less frightening now than it had been the first time it spoke to him.
“Who is the Shadowed?” Phoran asked.
“He that gives his soul and spirit for power and eternal life. The Hungry One.”
“I know that, that’s not what I meant, and you know it,” Phoran snapped. It would be useless to protest. He should have found a better way to frame his question. There was always tomorrow. He closed his eyes against the dull, consuming ache in his arm. “Give me a name.”
“I give you all the answer I have,” it said, and faded into the night.
CHAPTER 14
Ielian walked beside Lehr, his bow on his shoulder. It was still barely light, and the air was chill.
When they were out of sight and sound of the camp, Ielian asked, “Why me? Why not Jes or Rufort?” Either of them knew twice what he did about hunting.
“You don’t do so badly,” said Lehr, and Ielian took his words for the compliment they were. “Jes is still fretting because Mother and Hennea intend to go to the library on their own today. If I took him, like as not I’d turn around, and he’d be gone. He’s done it before. If there’s danger about, you can always count on my brother—but if it is just work, he gets distracted pretty easily. Toarsen and Kissel won’t leave Phoran—and Papa needs too much help in camp for me to take all three of them.”
“And Rufort?”
“Rufort is a fine hunter, but he takes no enjoyment from it.” Lehr grinned suddenly. “Besides, Papa can use a strong back more than we can.”
“What are we hunting today?”
“I thought we’d find a nice fat deer,” Lehr said. “Since we’ll be here a while, we can take time to preserve the meat.”
Farther from Colossae the trees began to grow closer together, forming a sparse forest.
“I have a question,” Ielian said.
“What is that?”
“Your mother talks about six Orders—and I was taught there are only five.”
Lehr laughed. “I’d forgotten that. There are Falcon, Raven, Owl, Cormorant, Lark, and Eagle. The one you wouldn’t have heard of is Eagle. Mother says that Travelers don’t talk about them much, not even among themselves. Never to outsiders.” His face grew somber. “The Eagle—the Guardian—is different, more difficult to bear.”
“Your mother calls Jes, Guardian, sometimes.”
Lehr nodded. “Jes is Eagle.”
“He’s…” Ielian tried to come up with a polite way to say it and failed.
“Slow?” Lehr offered. “He can seem that way sometimes. Mother says that he’s not always paying attention, that he’s always carrying on a running conversation with the Guardian half of himself. The Colossae wizards created the Orders, and I guess they didn’t do the Eagle Order correctly. The Eagle is supposed to protect his clan—Jes can be pretty awesome in a fight.”