Chapter Thirty-Seven: Hrothgar

The small opening at the top of the mountain was colored with hues of pink, purple and faint blue as the dawn sunlight covered the skies outside the city of Farthen Dûr. Mariah stretched and looked over at her dragon as she pushed her blankets off. Andrar was still curled tightly as he slept and she believed he wouldn't wake any time soon. Feeling refreshed for the first time since she had left Teirm, Mariah slipped out of the cavern down the rungs embedded into the wall. Her bare feet hit the jewel soundlessly.

Mark had gone back down to the stables to sleep, wanting to be near Aluora. He'd insisted he would come up and find them in the morning, but she wasn't planning on waiting for him to show up. On the floor at the foot of the ladder, were her sword and a fresh set of clothes she suspected Orik had sent up for her. Staying quiet, she walked over and checked; indeed they were her size and she quickly slipped out of her night clothes and into the light tan breeches and burgundy shirt.

Picking up her sword and boots, she quietly walked across the star sapphire to the archway. At the top of Vol Turin, she buckled her belt around her waist and tied on her sword sheath. Mariah pulled on her boots and started descending. Once she reached the next level down, she could see Isidar Mithrim sparkling brilliantly above her, as well as the city-mountain's distant base. Mariah paused for a moment, staring upward when a cat trotted up the stairs past her. It paused for a moment on a higher step and looked back at her.

"Solembum," she blinked. "What are you doing here?"

He seemed to smile ferally at her before responding. I believe a better question is, where are you going?

Mariah narrowed her eyes at the werecat and took another step down, looking forward so she wouldn't fall. When she had finally decided on a response and turned to speak it to him, he was gone. Shaking her head, the Rider continued descending the staircase.

Finally, she found the level with Ajihad's study room on it and found one of the guards nearby. "Excuse me," she said, catching his attention. "Could you tell me where I might find Ajihad?"

"Lady Argetlam," he bowed his head for a moment. "Ajihad is in a conference this morning, is there something you need assistance with?"

"I… would like to see my companion, Murtagh."

"I am unsure whether Ajihad is allowing visitors at this time…"

"Please? I only ask a few minutes, I won't stay long. There are guards as well, correct?"

"Indeed." He said, nodding and telling her the way. "I'm sure they will allow you entrance if you give them your weapon during your visit."

"It's much appreciated," she said, smiling. Mariah turned on her heel and walked off; once she was alone she hurried, nearly in a run. She didn't know how long Andrar would be asleep, or Mark. And once they realized that she was missing, they would try to find her. Knowing Mark, if he found out she was sneaking off to see Murtagh, it was going to end with a long lecture.

After some searching, she found the cells where Murtagh was being held. She caught her breath and smiled at one of the guards. "Good morning."

"Lady Argetlam, good morning. Are you in need of assistance?"

She blinked, getting a flashback. They must have all been instructed on how to speak to her earlier. Shaking it off, she nodded. "I wish to see Murtagh. Please."

"Ajihad still has some questioning to do, however he did say if anyone came down that he would allow visitation. I must ask for your sword before you can go in, Argetlam."

"Of course," she said, untying her sheath and handing it over to the guard. He placed it on top of a table. There was a dwarf sitting in a chair who hopped down and bowed.

"This way," he insisted, walking her down the hall. He banged on the wall three times and unbolted the lock. "Just call for us when you wish to leave."

"Delva," she smiled, looking up as the door opened and stepping in. As she suspected, the door shut and locked behind her immediately.

The cell was warm and well lit, with a washbasin in one corner and a writing desk – equipped with quills and ink – in another. The ceiling was extensively carved with lacquered figures; the floor was covered with a plush rug. Murtagh was laying on his back in the bed, reading.

"Mariah?" He blinked, sitting up abruptly. "What are you doing down here?"

"I came to see how you were faring…" she said slowly, looking around the room, amazed. "I was worried it was going to be dreadful. On the contrary, I think you may have better quarters than I do."

"You thought I was stuck in some rat hole chewing on hardtack. I expected the same thing, but Ajihad lets me have all this as long as I don't cause trouble. And they bring me huge meals, as well as anything I want from the library. If I'm not careful, I'll turn into a fat scholar."

She smiled, slipping down into the chair by the desk. "Well, I'm glad it's not horrible… and you're not angry about all of this."'

"I am… a little. I do wish I could leave," he said. "Then I realize that I would probably stay in here most of the time anyway… people would recognize me if I left this place."

"At least you wouldn't be locked away like a vicious dog," she said.

He grinned, "Is that what you think I am?"

"No, of course not. It's just so strange here; I didn't know what to think when they said they were taking you prisoner."

"I hope they didn't hassle you, they have no reason to worry about you. They didn't, did they?"

"No, no." She shook her head. "No trouble at all… they didn't even try to search Mark's mind either. I did ask them not to, but I honestly didn't think they would listen."

"He's the one they should have checked. I know that he knows more than he's letting on."

Mariah cracked a smile, "He is, but he won't ever let anyone know that."

They sat in silence for a moment, observing one another. She couldn't help but notice he seemed at ease, for the first time since she'd met him he appeared calm and content. His eyes narrowed at her a little, "Are you enjoying yourself here?"

"Yes. I finally managed to get the dirt and blood scrubbed out of my hair, which is relief enough in itself. They treat us well… too well almost. And I've learned a lot in the past day, more than I probably wished to know. I heard Arya is being healed, which is good. It sets my nerves at ease to know that the thing we rushed here for most is being taken care of. I still cannot figure out Ajihad however…"

"He seems like a smart man," Murtagh said, lacing his fingers together. "And a good leader, but despite the best intentions I do not believe that he is fully in charge."

"He's not. There is a dwarf king, Hrothgar… there are many more dwarves here than humans. And they don't particularly like either of us Riders. We're outnumbered, completely. They do however, like the dragons well enough."

"How is Flayme liking all the attention then?"

Mariah laughed, "He actually changed his name, to Andrar."

"I didn't know dragons could do that," Murtagh chuckled.

"Apparently he decided he can." She looked around the room again, her smile fading. "I don't believe it matters you know…"

"What?"

"That your father was Morzan." Her eyes flicked back to him, noticing him tense. "I don't believe blood matters… it's your actions that define you, not your lineage."

"It does impact the way people see you however."

"Maybe it's because I knew you before I knew who you were… but I don't believe that. You are nothing like your father was…"

"You didn't know my father."

"I have heard stories about him however… and what Brom told me… well, nothing can be worse than that. Mortal enemies do not hide the truth with pleasantries. If you were anything like your father, I believe you would have stayed with Galbatorix in the Empire… the night you saved us you would have killed us on sight instead of attacking the Ra'zac-"

"How is Eragon?" Murtagh cut in.

"He's fine…" she insisted. "…Murtagh."

"Your brother is probably worried about you, since you decided to sneak off this morning, you should go." He said, standing.

Mariah rose to her feet, "Why are you so insistent that I leave?"

"Because you're being foolish. A foolish girl who is not yet sixteen who doesn't know what she means when she says that my lineage doesn't matter."

"It shouldn't," she insisted. "And don't call me foolish… I know more than many others ever will."

"And still much less than many others do," he told her.

"If you wanted to you could have killed us. You knew Brom killed your father, if you were anything like him you would have murdered us after knowing that we were his kin."

"I would never kill you," he said. "I don't kill people for petty reasons like that…"

Mariah blinked. "I don't believe it when you tell me that."

"Then don't. Just remember that though you may think one way, many others will think differently and if you are not in good company, saying things as such aloud will be costly."

"Are… you worried?"

"Yes. You can be more foolish than Eragon, much more foolish."

"Stop saying that," she said, her eyes turning glassy with tears.

Murtagh shook his head, "It's true. Like right now, why are you still down here talking to me when you know full well they are looking for you?"

"Because I wanted to make sure you were alright," she said.

"I appreciate it," he said, taking her hands, feeling bad about nearly making her cry. "But I don't want you in trouble because of me. Thank you for visiting me."

Mariah blinked up at him and nodded.

His eyes flicked back to their hands as he ran his thumb across her skin. "Those burns left scars. I'm so sorry about that. It's my fault it happened in the first place."

She looked down at the back of her hand and tried to remember what had caused the burn spots on her hands. Then she remembered the embers from the fire being scattered, from when he and Eragon had been fighting. "Oh. I'd forgotten about that already. You don't need to be sorry, it wasn't your fault."

"Thank you, Mariah," Murtagh said, cracking a vague smile. "Go ahead and go. I'll see you again soon enough."

"All right, thank you, Murtagh," she said.

He dropped her hands and smiled slightly, "Until later then." Walking over, he smacked his fist against the door, "Guard!" The door opened after a moment and she stepped out. "Bye Mariah."

When she arrived back at the dragonhold, she came face to face with Mark at the head of the stairs. She blinked at him and swallowed.

He looked her up and down once, seemingly satisfied she was unharmed. "A dwarf is here… he was sent to retrieve you for Orik it seems… I wouldn't keep him waiting any longer."

"What are you going to do?" Glancing over, she saw Eragon talking with him, Zar'roc strapped to his belt.

"Stare at the wall and wait for you to come back, just go." He insisted. Mariah shook her head and quickly strode over to the pair.

"Ah, Argetlam." The dwarf bowed, "Good. Knurla Orik waits for you." He turned and scurried off back down the stairs she'd just walked up. Exchanging a look with Eragon, she climbed onto Andrar's back before he took off after Saphira. Together they spiraled down the city-mountain's base. As soon as they landed by one of Tronjheim's gates, Orik ran to Saphira's side.

"My king, Hrothgar, wishes to see you. Dismount quickly. We must hurry."

She jumped down out of the saddle and caught Eragon's stride, following the dwarf into Tronjheim. Mariah expertly ignored stares from people along the corridor. "Where are we meeting Hrothgar?"

"In the throne room beneath the city. It will be a private audience as an act of otho – of 'faith'." Mariah promised herself that she would force Mark to teach her as much dwarvish as he knew after she got back to the dragonhold. "You do not have to address him in any special manner, but speak to him respectfully. Hrothgar is quick to anger, but he is wise and sees keenly into the minds of men, so think carefully before you speak."

Once they entered Tronjheim's central chamber, Orik led the way to one of the two descending stairways that flanked the opposite hall. They started down the right-hand staircase, which gently curved inward until it faced the direction they had come from. The other stairway merged with theirs to form a broad cascade of dimly lit steps that ended, after a hundred feet, before two granite doors. A seven-pointed crown was carved across both doors.

Seven dwarves stood guard on each side of the portal. They held burnished mattocks and wore gem-encrusted belts. As they approached, the dwarves pounded the floor with the mattocks' hafts. A deep boom rolled back up the stairs. The doors swung inward.

A dark hall lay before them, a good bowshot long. The throne room was a natural cave; the walls were lined with stalagmites and stalactites, each thicker than a man. Sparsely hung lanterns cast a moody light. The brown floor was smooth and polished. At the far end of the hall was a black throne with a motionless figure upon it.

Orik bowed. "The king awaits you." Mariah watched him but when he didn't move, she walked forward into the throne room. The doors closed behind them, leaving them alone in the dimly lit room with the king.

Well this is cheerful. She said, glancing up at her dragon.

Most definitely not. Underground like this feels very unnatural; I don't like it in the least. No sky visible at all… winged creatures aren't meant to be under the earth like this.

Their footsteps echoed through the hall as they advanced toward the throne. In the recesses between the stalagmites and stalactites rested large statues. Each sculpture depicted a dwarf king crowned and sitting on a throne; their sightless eyes gazed sternly into the distance, their lined faces set in fierce expressions. A name was chiseled in runes beneath each set of feet.

They passed more than forty statues, then only dark and empty alcoves awaiting future kings. They stopped before Hrothgar at the end of the hall.

The dwarf king himself sat like a statue upon a raised throne carved from a single piece of black marble. It was blocky, unadorned, and cut with unyielding precision. Strength emanated from the throne, strength that harked back to ancient times when dwarves had ruled in Alagaësia without opposition from elves or humans. A gold helm lined with rubies and diamonds rested on Hrothgar's head in place of a crown. His visage was grim, weathered, and hewn of many years' experience. Beneath a craggy brow glinted deep-set eyes, flinty and piercing. Over his powerful chest rippled a shirt of mail. His white beard was tucked under his belt, and in his lap he held a mighty war hammer with the symbol of Orik's clan embossed on its head.

Eragon bowed awkwardly and knelt. What are you doing? Mariah asked, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye and merely looked at the king, standing straight, unmoving.

Uhm… bowing?

Why?

He's… the king?

Dwarf king. Not Dragon Rider king… even if there was such a thing… would you bow to him? I don't see the need.

Before Eragon could answer, the dwarf stirred as if awakening from a long sleep. "Rise, Rider, you need not pay tribute to me." He stood, straightening next to Mariah. "Âz knurl deimi lanok. 'Beware, the rock changes' – an old dictum of ours… And nowadays the rock changes very fast indeed." He fingered the war hammer. "I could not meet with you earlier, as Ajihad did, because I was forced to deal with my enemies within the clans. They demanded that I deny you sanctuary and expel you from Farthen Dûr. It has taken much work on my part to convince them otherwise."

"Thank you," said Eragon. "We didn't anticipate how much strife our arrival would cause."

The king accepted the thanks, then lifted a gnarled hand and pointed. "See there, where my predecessors sit upon their graven thrones. One and forty there are, with I the forty-second. When I pass from this world into the care of the gods, my hírna will be added to their ranks. The first statue is the likeness of my ancestor Korgan, who forged this mace, Volund. For eight millennia – since the dawn of our race – dwarves have ruled under Farthen Dûr. We are the bones of the land, older than both the fair elves and the savage dragons." Saphira shifted slightly and Andrar audibly snorted.

Hrothgar leaned forward, his voice gravelly and deep. "I am old, humans – even by our reckoning – old enough to have seen the Riders in all their fleeting glory, old enough to have spoken with their last leader, Vrael, who paid tribute to me within these very walls. Few are still alive who can claim that much. I remember the Riders and how they meddled in our affairs. I also remember the peace they kept that made it possible to walk unharmed from Tronjheim to Narda.

"And now you stand before me – a lost tradition revived. Tell me, and speak truly in this, why have you come to Farthen Dûr? I know the events that made you flee the Empire, but what is your intent now?"

Mariah bit her tongue as Eragon answered for them. "For now, we merely want to recuperate in Tronjheim. We are not here to cause trouble, only to find sanctuary from the danger we've faced for many months. Ajihad may send us to the elves, but until he does, we have no wish to leave."

"Then was it only the desire for safety that drove you?" asked Hrothgar. "Do you just seek to live here and forget your trouble with the Empire?"

Eragon shook his head, "If Ajihad told you of our past, you should know that we have grievances enough to fight the Empire until it is nothing but scattered ashes. More than that, though… I want to aid those who cannot escape Galbatorix, including my cousin. I have the strength to help, so I must."

"And you… Lady Rider, who has not yet spoken?"

She looked at the king and blinked, "I wish for something less noble than aiding those in the Empire… though the goal is the same. I wish for revenge on Galbatorix… the Ra'zac and all those in alliance with them for the death of my grandfather. I wish selfishly for revenge and to keep those I hold dear to me safest of all."

Hrothgar held her gaze for a moment, "Honest." Finally, seemingly satisfied with their answers, he turned to Saphira and Andrar. "Dragons, what think you of this matter? For what reasons have you come?"

Tell the dwarf that I wish to protect my little one and in doing so, wish revenge on Galbatorix as well. He's held the Empire captive far too long… destroyed the lives of my brethren scores over. His hands are tainted with so much of their blood I can smell his traitorous filth from here in this room. Even now he holds two of my kin in his grasp. I would free them if I could. I wish nothing more than to tear his throat from his body and watch him bleed in my claws.

A little morbid, don't you agree? Would you rather I paraphrase?

Say what you think you must in order to appeal to the dwarf king… nothing more, nothing less. But that truly is what I believe.

After listening to both dragons' remarks, Hrothgar's mouth lifted in a hint of grim amusement, deepening his wrinkles. "I see that dragons have not changed with the centuries." He rapped the throne with a knuckle. "Do you know why this seat was quarried so flat and angular? So that no one would sit comfortably on it. I have not, and will relinquish it without regret when my time comes. What is there to remind you of your obligations, Riders? If the Empire falls, will you take Galbatorix's place and claim his kingship?" His gaze flicked to Mariah, "Become queen?"

"I would not want the responsibility of such a task. My life shall become difficult enough as a Rider… I would never take the throne, even if begged to take the position. There will always be someone better suited than I for something such as that." Mariah said. "I never want to rule anything other than my own life."

"I don't seek to wear the crown or rule," said Eragon. "Being a Rider is responsibility enough. No, I would not take the throne in Uru'baen… not unless there was no one else willing or competent enough to take it."

Hrothgar warned gravely, "Certainly you would be a kinder king than Galbatorix, but no race should have a leader who does not age or leave the throne. The time of the Riders has passed. They will never rise again – not even if Galbatorix's other eggs were to hatch."

A shadow crossed his face as he gazed at Eragon's side. "I see that you carry an enemy's sword; I was told of this, and that you travel with a son of the Forsworn. It does not please me to see this weapon." He extended a hand. "I would like to examine it."

Eragon drew Zar'roc and presented it to the king, hilt first. Hrothgar grasped the sword and ran a practiced eye over the red blade. The edge caught the lantern light, reflecting it sharply. The dwarf king tested the point with his palm, then said, "A masterfully forged blade. Elves rarely choose to make swords – they prefer bows and spears – but when they do, the results are unmatched. This is an ill-fated blade; I am not glad to see it within my realm. But carry it if you will; perhaps its luck has changed." He returned Zar'roc and Eragon sheathed it. "Has my nephew proved helpful during your time here?"

"Who?"

Hrothgar raised a tangled eyebrow. "Orik, my youngest sister's son. He's been serving under Ajihad to show my support for the Varden. It seems that he has been returned to my command, however. I was gratified to hear that you defended him with your words."

Eragon nodded, "I couldn't ask for a better guide." Mariah smiled in agreement.

"That is good," said the king, clearly pleased. "Unfortunately, I cannot speak with you much longer. My advisors wait for me, as they're are matters I must deal with. I will say this, though: If you wish the support of the dwarves within my realm, you must first prove yourself to them. We have long memories and do not rush to hasty decisions. Words will decide nothing, only deeds."

"We shall keep that in mind," said Eragon, bowing again.

Hrothgar nodded regally. "You may go, then."

"Thank you King Hrothgar," Mariah insisted, still not too keen on bowing to him.

They turned and proceeded out of the hall of the mountain king with their dragons. Orik was waiting for them on the other side of the stone doors, an anxious expression on his face. He fell in with them as they climbed back up to Tronjheim's main chamber. "Did all go well? Were you received favorably?"

"I think so. But your king is cautious," said Eragon.

"That is how he has survived this long."

In Tronjheim's center, under the sparkling Isidar Mithrim, Orik said, "Your blessing yesterday has sturred up the Varden like an overturned beehive. The child Saphira touched has been hailed as a future hero. She and her guardian have been quartered in the finest rooms. Everyone is talking about your 'miracle.' All the human mothers seem intent on finding you and getting the same for their children."

Mariah's face turned red and she flicked her gaze to Eragon, who looked alarmed. He was furtively looking around him. "What should we do?" He asked. She started gnawing on her tongue, trying to work out a good string of curses for him for being so foolish.

"Aside from taking back your actions?" asked Orik dryly. "Stay out of sight as much as possible. Everyone will be kept out of the dragonhold, so you won't be disturbed there."

Saphira nosed his arm before padding down one of Tronjheim's four main tunnels, heading for the dragonhold. Mariah glanced up at her dragon and he snorted, looking after her. I think it best I go along with Saphira. You will draw less attention to yourself without me following after you. Enjoy the day, and please restrain yourself from murdering the boy. I'll ask Saphira to clarify what has transpired. Without another word, Andrar lumbered after the dragoness.

"I'd like some breakfast. And then I'd like to see more of Tronjheim; it's such an incredible place. I don't want to go to the training grounds until tomorrow, as I'm still not fully recovered."

Orik nodded, his beard bobbing on his chest. "In that case, would you like to visit Tronjheim's library? It's quite old and contains many scrolls of great value. You might find it interesting to read a history of Alagaësia that hasn't been tainted by Galbatorix's hand."

Mariah's eyes widened at the thought of a library, suppressing her anger towards Eragon for the moment, deciding it would be better to address it later with Saphira present. "Please, could you show us the way?" She asked eagerly.

"Very well."

After they ate, Orik guided them through myriad corridors to their destination. When they reached the library's carved arch, she stepped through reverently. Mariah instantly felt at home. It reminded her of the forest, rows of graceful colonnades branched up the dark, ribbed ceiling five stories above. Between the pillars, black-marble bookcases stood back to back. Racks of scrolls covered the walls, interspersed with narrow walkways reached by three twisting staircases. Placed at regular intervals around the walls were pairs of facing stone benches. Between them were small tables whose bases flowed seamlessly into the floor.

Countless books and scrolls were stored in the room. She hadn't seen so many since Ajihad's study, before that, in Teirm at Jeod's. And one shelf put Brom's collection back in Carvahall to shame. "This is the true legacy of our race," said Orik. "Here reside the writings of our greatest kings and scholars, from antiquity to the present. Also recorded are the songs and stories composed by our artisans. This library may be our most precious possession. It isn't all our work, though – there are human writings here as well. Yours is a short lived – but prolific – race. We have little or nothing of the elves'. They guard their secrets jealously."

"How long may I stay?" asked Eragon, moving toward the shelves.

"As long as you want. Come to me if you have any questions."

Mariah immediately hurried off to find something to read through. Her eyes darted along the spines of the books and their covers, overlooking some of the more ornate ones. Finally, she found a thin volume that looked neglected pinned between two silver-embossed black leather books and retrieved it. Her fingers skimmed over the worn, tattered pages and her eyes flashed over the words.

"How is it you picked the same one I did first?"

She spun on her heel, blinking at Mark. "What?"

"You picked that one up first. I did too," he said, smirking a little at her.

It was then that Mariah realized there was something wrong with his face. She reached up and snatched the glasses off his nose and examined them.

"I need those."

"Since when?"

He folded his arms, "Since I can't read clearly without them."

"You've never needed them before."

"I didn't know I needed them until now."

"Where did you get them?" Mariah asked, handing them back. He held them in his hand, looking down at her.

"Where did you go with Eragon?"

"To see Hrothgar."

"I hope you were polite. He is the king after all."

"I was, don't get snippy with me."

"I don't believe you. I'll have to go ask Eragon how well you behaved, is he here too?"

"Somewhere, I lost him at the entrance." Mariah said, looking around. Her eyes focused a ways off and spotted his blonde hair. He was standing next to a bookcase, with two other people nearby him. "The Twins."

Mark's face hardened and he pocketed his glasses before striding over.

"-gladden us more than if we could assist, in some small way, your path to glory. No repayment would be necessary, though if you saw fit to share some scraps of your own knowledge, we would be satisfied."

"Do you think I'm a half-wit?" Eragon demanded harshly. "I won't apprentice myself to you so you can learn the words Brom taught me! It must have angered you when you couldn't steal them from my mind."

"We are not to be trifled with, boy! We are the ones who will test your abilities with magic. And that could be most unpleasant. Remember, it only takes one misconceived spell to kill someone. You may be a Rider, but the two of us are still stronger than you."

"I think you're forgetting that he doesn't come alone," Mark said, setting a hand on Eragon shoulder and stepping in front of him, the gap between him and the Twins closing rapidly. "There may be two of you, but there is also one of me. If you threaten Eragon again, well… you said it yourself. One misconceived spell can kill someone."

The two of them narrowed their eyes up at Mark. "We expect your answer tomorrow. Make sure that it is the right one." They said to Eragon before stalking deeper into the library.

Mark spun on his heel, looking at Eragon, "What did you do now?"

"Nothing, they stalked me in here and started going on about their magic group…"

"Stay away from them."

"They're the ones testing us on our magic tomorrow Mark, it's going to be difficult to stay away from them."

"Then I'll just have to go with and make sure they don't kill you. We're going, now. Get moving." He said, jerking his head toward the exit. Eragon scrambled ahead, Mariah following behind, winding through the bookcases until they found Orik sitting on a bench, busily polishing his war ax.

"We'd like to return to the dragonhold."

The dwarf slid the haft of the ax through a leather loops at his belt, then escorted them to the gate where Saphira and Andrar were waiting. People had already gathered around the dragons. Ignoring them, Mariah lifted herself into the saddle, pulling Mark up with her, and they escaped into the sky.

Âz knurl deimi lanok. – Beware, the rock changes

Forgive my absence as of late however, I am now done with exams for school

and have nothing else to do, besides work, which won't cut into my time nearly as deeply as my classes did.

I'll update again soon. I'm going to read Inheritance as well, as soon as possible. I have a few others I'm in

desperate need of reading, so it's about fourth on the list right now. Clockwork Prince is first - it's due back

to the library in two days. I have yet to open it.

Thanks for reviewing and liking the story, I work hard on it and I'm glad you enjoy reading it as much as I do writing it.

With Love, As Always,

Mariah