CHARTERSTONE
Chapter Two
The Librarians
*****************
In the ice visions flicker
Of paths to wander, on and on
Speak the future, voice of the Clayr
Speak the future and tell me my path.
*****************
"You were attacked? By who? How?" Talis cried, as they walked down the stairs and Eimeth informed her of the Gore Crow's sudden combustion.
"That is what I am trying to find out," she said wearily. "I need to search the Library for anything about Dyrim's Mirror. Hopefully I, or one of you, can look in and See what this threat that looms over us all really is."
"I didn't think that really existed," said Talis. "I have only heard the faintest of tales about it; really, it's got none for itself, just the odd mention in writings of the Beginning and the Nine Bright Shiners and all that."
"I have really nowhere else to turn," said Eimeth. "It is either try to find out something on my own or wait until this necromancer sends another attack against me. And...well, you know what that might mean."
Talis blinked. "Of course. I will assign one of the librarians to assist you, Eimeth. But be warned, because there may be nothing there at all that can tell you where Dyrim's Mirror is."
"I can do nothing but try," said Eimeth. She could hear Mogget snickering at her from inside her pack, so she bounced it up and down until the laughter stopped.
"That was quite unnecessary, Abhorsen," spat Mogget, clawing his way out and perching on her shoulder.
"I thought you were asleep," replied Eimeth coolly. "We are going to the Library now, cat, so look sharp." Talis watched them both with wide eyes; though she had been to Abhorsen's House on several occasions, she had only heard of the Abhorsens' bizarre servant and never actually met him. Eimeth had to give her credit for not making a fuss about the sarcastic little fuzzball.
And if Mogget knew she thought of him that way, he would scratch her fiercely, she thought with a grin as she followed Talis down the stairs and through several old wooden doors. An elderly, stern-faced Librarian met them at the head of the stairs. "I understand you seek the mirror of Dyrim," she said, her ancient voice cracking.
Eimeth recognized the Wallmaker's sword Binder hanging at the side of the ancient woman; the Chief Librarian hardly looked strong enough to lift it, much less use it. Yet she did not doubt the old woman's strength when they tested each other's Charter Marks, as was proper introduction between members of the Blood. The fire in the Mark nearly burned her fingers, and it was all she could do not to snatch them away.
"May I introduce you to Chief Librarian Yirae, Abhorsen," said Talis firmly. The Chief Librarian looked Eimeth up and down once, eyes resting briefly on Mogget, and then turned on her heel and strode down the great spiral staircase.
"I do not know if what you seek can be found in this Library," said Yirae over her shoulder. "A good place to start would be the First Records. Therein lie the earliest tales of the Nine Bright Shiners, and though we have lost much of that ancient knowledge, what little there is may be of help to you."
"Thank you, Chief Librarian," said the Abhorsen.
Yirae nodded once, and left the room abruptly, without another word. "The sendings will assist you if you need anything," said Talis. "Just call."
Eimeth nodded to her, and sat down as Talis followed the Chief Librarian out. A bundle of scrolls, heavily spelled to prevent decay, already awaited her on the desk. "Well," said Mogget, "I see that this will take rather a long time."
"So you're a Clayr now, too?" asked Eimeth absently, skimming the top of the pile. "It will take less time, servant" --Mogget's fur bristled at her sarcastic use of the word-- "if you assist me and tell me if you find anything that might be useful. You may assume your other form for this task, since I doubt the Clayr wish their manuscripts to be damaged by idle claws."
"Very well, mistress," said Mogget, matching her sarcasm bit for bit. He jumped lightly off of her shoulder onto the floor, changing into the albino dwarf as he went. Taking the second scroll from the pile, he lay stomach down on the floor and began to read.
It was slow work. Very little about the individual Seven was recorded; only their creation of the Charter seemed to merit any notice. Neither Eimeth nor Mogget had found anything useful in almost two hours of searching, when suddenly Mogget's head pricked up and he began to read out loud.
"The origins of the Nine are shrouded in mystery," he read. "Yet their characters at the time of the Creation of the Charter are remembered still, and much can be found on the subject" --both Eimeth and Mogget snorted at that-- "the summation of which follows. Hmm...Ranna was a quiet and peaceful individual, able to calm the wildest of hearts...spirit of tranquility... Mosrael... powerful, raised the Dead back to a semblance of life.. Kibeth... roamed the Kingdom, never still for a moment... No, we aren't looking for Ranna, Mosrael, or Kibeth... there we are, Dyrim. Dyrim, the third of the Nine, supplies a part of the power of the Clayr, for he makes the future clear to those who inherit his power. Though the power of the Clayr lies in their blood, Dyrim used material objects and spells to See rather than pure natural ability, though he did possess a great inherent aptitude for this type of magic. The greatest of these tools is the Mirror. Legend speaks of the Mirror with awe, for it could See the future, the past, and the present, as well as into the hearts of men. With this mirror the wielder can know the greatest and the foulest imaginings within a single mind. The mirror amplified Dyrim's greatest power--the ability to know a person, to make their soul open to him -truly the hearts of men spoke to him and told him all their secrets."
Mogget stopped reading and looked up at Eimeth. "Does it say where the mirror is hidden?" she asked.
"No, it does not," replied Mogget. Carefully he flipped through the pages of the book, skimming the further sections about the Nine. Eimeth tensed slightly as he reached the Eighth, but the little albino gave it hardly a glance. "It does not say, Abhorsen, but there is a map drawn on the very last page. And there are markings all over it, with the names of the Nine where they lay in rest. I would surmise that the mirror resides with Dyrim, in the mountains a few leagues north of this glacier."
Eimeth took the book and skimmed the map. "That is not far from here, by Paperwing. But I expect that it will be difficult getting into Dyrim's resting place."
"I expect it will," said Mogget. "It might be advantageous to bring help." He was a cat again; Eimeth had not seen him change. She followed his gaze to the door and saw a young girl standing there, not blonde and blue-eyed like the rest of the Clayr but black-haired like Eimeth herself.
"And who are you?" said Eimeth coolly, beckoning her to enter.
The girl's cheeks reddened, but her steps did not falter. She bowed slightly, and Eimeth returned the courtesy with a nod of her head. "I am Mirel, Abhorsen. Your niece, by Marita and Kadel."
"Ah. You've gotten much bigger since the last time I saw you," said Eimeth, closing the book and standing up. In truth she did not remember this Mirel. Kadel was her third brother, who had disdained to live in Abhorsen's House, and she did not keep in touch as well as she ought to. "Are you fostering here?"
"Yes, me and my brother Thadiran," replied Mirel. "One of the Paperwing Flight told me you were here. I doubt she guessed that I didn't really know you. But I wanted to meet you anyway."
Eimeth looked at Mogget. Help? she mouthed silently. The girl caught her words and flushed red again.
"Well, it is nice to meet you," said Eimeth, collecting her bells from the table and patting Mirel on the shoulder. As she approached the girl, she glanced at her, their eyes meeting for a moment. Eimeth stopped, her mouth dropping open.
"What is it, Abhorsen?" said Mirel sharply.
"You look very like... like someone I used to know," said Eimeth. She shook her head and brushed past the girl.
"Like Tallie?" said Mirel softly. Eimeth turned around and stared at her.
"Yes, as a matter of fact. Who told you that?"
"Grandmother," said Mirel. "She visits us often. I think she gets tired of the House. She says that both Tallie and I look like her mother, your grandmother."
"She would be older than you," said Eimeth. "But she never even reached the
age you are now." And this, Eimeth felt, was too much to say to a niece that
she did not even remember meeting before. How curious that two girls should
look so very much alike, but have such different paths in life. Mirel would
grow up a spoiled Blood, she thought, like the rest of them, while her Tallie,
her Taliel, named for the Abhorsen before Eimeth, never would grow up at all.
Mogget hopped onto her shoulder, and she realized then that she was gripping
the door handle so hard that her knuckles had turned white. "Calm down," he
said.
"Ah... the Wallmaker relict," said Mirel. She was not so very young, Eimeth realized. Seventeen or eighteen. Only a few years younger than Adiel. "Father said it wasn't supposed to leave the House."
"Try telling him that," said Eimeth, striding out of the room. To her dismay, Mirel followed her.
"Does it have a name?" she asked, easily matching Eimeth pace for pace.
"It does. It is Mogget," said Mogget nastily, "and IT does not appreciate being referred to as if IT is not here."
"I'm sorry," said Mirel. "I never met a bound spirit before." The ensuing glare from both Mogget and Eimeth was enough to chasten her, and she fell silent, but it was not enough to frighten her away from them.
She followed Eimeth and Mogget out into the Library proper, shadowing them as Eimeth spoke to one of the Deputy Librarians about taking the book about the Nine, and then trailed them all the way up to the Starmount Gate. "I can help you," said Mirel at last.
"You don't even know what it is I am doing," snapped Eimeth, her patience sorely tried by now.
"I heard enough. You are going after Dyrim's Mirror, aren't you?" said Mirel. "I've been to the cave. Never inside, but I know where it is." She shuddered suddenly. "You can feel...something...from all the way out on the cliffs below it."
"It will be easier to find, mistress," said Mogget from within the pack. His muffled voice was almost drowned out by the chill wind blowing across the terrace. "I don't want to spend any more time in this cold than I have to."
Eimeth looked out at the white cliffs, and patted the book in her satchel. After a long moment she sighed. "Very well. Get your flying gear and you can show me where this cave is. But you will stay outside with the Paperwing and come nowhere near the actual interior."
Mirel dashed off and was back in a surprisingly short time. "I left a note for the Guardian of the Young, too. So they don't wonder where I am." She scrambled into the Paperwing behind Eimeth, and clutched Mogget on her lap as Eimeth whistled the spells to lift them off the ground.
She hadn't been lying, Eimeth realized, because as they drew closer and closer to the cave, she could feel--to use the girl's own word--something in the mountains below. At last Mirel pointed downwards, to a gaping black hole atop a seventy-foot cliff. There was just enough room outside the entrance for the Paperwing to land, though cutting it so close made Eimeth uneasy.
"Now stay here," she ordered the girl. "Do not leave the Paperwing." Mirel nodded, looking rather unhappy, but she did not protest. And so Eimeth and Mogget warily sidled into the cave, bells and claws at the ready.
They had not gone in five steps before Eimeth smelled the acrid tang of Free Magic in the air, and all the light blacked out around them. Then the familiar feel of the Charter wrapped around her consciousness, and a light, far in the corner, beckoned them to come. Disobeying her command to stay put, her feet began to move forward towards the light. The feeling of the presence she had felt before grew stronger and stronger, until finally she could move no farther and fell to her knees.
"I think we found him," said Mogget.
****************