Wynn hooked her boot under the headless corpse of a small woman. The body was so heavy that she struggled to roll it over. A crude, half-flattened fold of canvas was strapped to the corpse's back with lengths of rope. She set aside her crystal as she knelt and pulled Magiere's old dagger.

She cut the canvas free, preserving as much rope as possible. Black fluids oozed from the stump of the woman's neck when she jostled the body. Wynn turned her eyes away, but her gaze fixed upon the dark robe and blue tabard. She tried not to imagine what had happened to these people when Welstiel and Chane first found them.

Wynn pulled cut rope from under the corpse, and oily black fluids smeared over her fingers. Her stomach rolled.

Finish up!

Bile and dried fish welled in Wynn's throat.

"Be quiet!" she gasped and then gagged. "This is bad enough without you in my head, making it worse!"

Chap grumbled and traipsed to another body, clawing it over onto its chest. He tore at its rope harness, trying to pull more canvas free. Wynn closed her eyes but still shuddered as she wiped off her hands on the body's robe.

When her eyes opened again, Chap stood before her with a mouthful of canvas. He turned away for the far passage in the chamber's corner. Wynn grabbed the crystal, rope, and canvas, and scurried after him. As they stepped out into the library, the crystal's light spilled over the ends of the tall stone casements.

Chap dropped his canvas by the corridor's arch, as did Wynn. But when she stepped between the nearest shelves, she could not help a shiver of thrilled anticipation. She and Chap were alone and unobserved in a place that would have taken years-or decades-for her guild to catalogue. But her awe passed quickly when she remembered how all this knowledge had come to be here.

She was surrounded by decaying texts penned by ancient undeads, like Li'kan.

Chap lifted his muzzle, turning as he scanned the upper shelves.

Wynn felt overwhelmed by the task she faced. There was so much here, and this was only one row among many, so how could she choose what was most important to take? Her stomach rolled again.

Look first for languages you can read. Second for those you at least recognize. Focus mainly on the books. Bound texts will be older, made with materials that later grew scarce.

"Yes," she said, nodding. "But books will be the weakest, worn down with time. Pages might fall apart if touched-unlike the scrolls that have been protected by their cases."

This thought raised uncertainty. All this should have been done by her betters-the most skilled of cathologers among her guild. She was barely a journeyer, let alone a master or domin among that order of sages. But she was the only one here.

And if you spot any mention of "night voice" in any language, take that text over any others… and those of tongues that appear to predate our current era, even if you cannot read them. Translation might be possible when-

"Could you make this any more daunting?" Wynn asked.

Chap glanced up at her. Sorry.

She followed him deeper into the row as they both peered among scroll cases, books, sheaves, and even small boxes by the light of her crystal.

And so, while Magiere, Leesil, Sgaile, and Osha rested unaware, Wynn hurried in her search, scanning for anything that hinted at secrets of a lost past.

Anything that might unlock the mystery of events that had shattered the world so long ago.

Magiere stood on the castle's front steps at dawn with large snowflakes drifting down from a white sky.

They had fashioned a makeshift hammock for the orb with cut-up canvas and rope, and scavenged leather as well from the baggage of a robed undead. With the latter, they rolled up two heated crystals from the floor brazier. Though the leather smoldered and smoked a bit, at least they needn't worry about dried dung for fires.

Wynn looked bleary-eyed and exhausted as she dragged out two canvas-wrapped bulks too heavy for her to lift.

Magiere turned a suspicious glance toward Chap, and the dog quickly looked away. It wasn't hard to guess what the two had been up to while the rest of them slept. Still, what else could she expect?

The library contained so much more than Wynn's selected burden. Who else might ever find this castle again, anytime soon? Perhaps what the sage had gathered would uncover something worthwhile.

Magiere looked out across the white courtyard to the iron gates. One still stood ajar where she'd left it. The prospect of another journey weighed her down, but it was better than staying here even one more day.

She and Leesil had whispered far into the night, turning from hopes for the future to planning their route home. They had no maps, but as long as they traveled due west, they should emerge somewhere over the Everfen, the vast swamplands south of Droevinka. From there, they could head northwest toward the coast, skirting the swampland's northern edge.

Leesil thought if they stayed along Droevinka's southern border, they could pass into southern Belaski without hindrance, but Magiere had her doubts. If Droevinka's noble houses were still warring over who would put their own on the throne of the Grand Prince, no corner of her homeland was safe. Outsiders might be cut down by any side as a potential threat-or just for convenience.

And though desperate for word of Aunt Bieja, Magiere knew her home village of Chemestuk was too far off any sure path.

Leesil had left Bieja money and a letter in the hope that she'd head for Miiska. Aunt Bieja was as stubborn as any woman in Magiere's line, but she was no fool.

Magiere sighed, tired of worrying. Once they reached Miiska, Wynn could send word to Domin Tilswith in Bela, and Magiere would find some way to track Bieja, if her aunt wasn't waiting there. Then they could all rest in peace while deciding how best to safely deliver the orb in the hands of the Guild of Sagecraft.

The wind picked up and snowflakes began to slant in their downward course.

"Another blizzard brewing," Leesil muttered.

"Yes," Sgaile agreed. "We must move quickly and reach camp."

The two crouched, and each pulled one of the orb's hammock loops over his shoulder. Leesil also grabbed the rope sling holding the leather-wrapped fire crystals.

"Wynn, put your hood up," Magiere said as she turned about to heave up one of the sage's bulky bundles.

Wynn scowled but did as she was told, then suddenly slipped back through the castle's cracked doors.

"What are you doing?" Magiere called.

Wynn emerged once again, stumbling awkwardly under the weight of a sheaf bound between mottled iron sheets. Magiere remembered it sitting on the study floor.

"Enough!" she said. "You can't bring every parchment in the place."

"This must come!" Wynn insisted. "It may be a journal… written by the others who were once here with Li'kan."

Magiere didn't care for that idea and wondered what had happened to those others. Why had they left Li'kan behind? And how had they managed to leave at all, when the white undead had remained leashed by her hidden master through the centuries?

"Oh, give it to me," Magiere grumbled, taking the iron sheaf.

She almost dropped the sudden weight, and Wynn gasped. Magiere managed to tuck it safely under one arm.

Osha heaved up Wynn's other bundle from the library. The young elf managed well for one who'd taken an iron bar to the head. He frowned and spoke softly in Elvish to Sgaile.

"I know," Sgaile answered.

"They have rites to perform," Wynn explained, "for the caste members that Li'kan killed."

Leesil frowned, glancing sidelong at her. "To camp first… then we'll see how bad the weather gets."

Sgaile looked beyond the gates to the open plateau. "Yes, our purpose comes first."