"What is this place?" Rosalyn breathed.

Stan chuckled indulgently. "That's exactly the reaction I had when I first came here," he admitted. "The old man," he gestured at the skeleton, "called it the Silver Library. Back then, it was…"

"Was what?" Rosalyn asked, although she had a feeling she already knew.

Rather than answer, Stan walked up to one of the shelves. Taking a handkerchief from his pocket, he started to rub vigorously at the side of one of the panels. Ari and Rosalyn gathered around to see what he was doing. Although he couldn't clean it up properly (it had been tarnished for far too long), when he finally stepped away, there was a small area of what had obviously been silver at one time. The two humans looked around in growing awe.

"Is this all silver?" Ari asked as though he was afraid to ask.

Stan nodded. "The shelves, the floor, that desk. The torches used to burn silver, too, but I'm not sure that magic works anymore. Bring the light over here, slave Ari." He resumed leading them through the endless maze of shelves. "Although, I don't see why they wouldn't, since the books are still intact."

"We are going to be able to find our way back, right?"

Stan stopped again to glare at Rosalyn. "Maybe we should leave a trail of bread crumbs," he said snidely. "Of course, we are. What do you think, I'd get lost in my own home?"

Ari looked around in wonderment. "You used to live here?"

Stan nodded. Although he professed to hate being questioned, he actually loved it when people implied that he knew something they didn't. "How did you think I got so smart?"

"Wow, you're smart?" Rosalyn said. "I never would have guessed." She mentally cursed herself as Stan grinned happily. She really had not meant to start again. It was just habit. She did not care enough about Stan to continue the incessant controversy. She really, really didn't.

Really.

As expected, Stan tried to pick a fight again, but Rosalyn resisted the desire to fight back. Ari sighed patiently as Stan started to pout. He so enjoyed their arguments. At least, he was in a somewhat better mood. It had really bothered Stan to meet someone who was almost exactly like him in every way. But learning that he and Illisaith were surprisingly little alike after all seemed to have restored his usual good spirits.

Well, spirits, anyway. There wasn't much good about Stan. He was far too evil to tolerate being good anything. Although, one did have to wonder about him. He did fight evil, after all.

The increasingly sulky and puerile attacks on Rosalyn's mental faculties finally ceased when Stan announced that they had arrived in the general vicinity of the book he was looking for and decreed that he and Ari would take one side and Rosalyn could take the other.

"And what am I supposed to do for light?" she demanded.

Stan shrugged. "You're a Hero," he said mischievously. "I'm sure you must have all sorts of resources to draw from."

Her Hero powers, of course. She toyed with the notion of using them teach him a lesson, then remembered that she no longer cared. She had officially declared it. With a scornful glare at Stan's retreating figure, she turned to her half of the shelf and tried to summon some kind of light. "So can you at least give me a general idea of the title?" she asked as she triumphantly held up a bright little sphere.

"Probably something to do with magic travel, or teleporting," he answered after a few moments consideration. "Maybe portals or gates…And pull out anything you find on the Stone Circles, too. I doubt there's anything in those, but I don't want to disregard one and have it be the one we needed."

Rosalyn closed her eyes painfully and finally just gave in. "You talk too much."

A paused followed during which the sound of Ari failing not to laugh was the only noise. She could almost hear Stan glaring at him. At last, he decided that he'd much rather squabble than upbraid his slave. "If you don't want to listen to me, don't ask stupid questions," he pointed out. He almost sounded cautiously hopeful…

"Not that it helps. You talk anyway." She reached up to pull out a book that looked like it might have the word "gate" in the title, although she wasn't sure since it was in a different language. She heard Stan grumble something unintelligible.

"You should thank me, too, horse-face," he said, happily. "I could just keep my grand knowledge to myself. Instead, I have chosen to enlighten you lesser beings."

Rosalyn started to think of something to say, but a title distracted her. "What does…wa…wash…ahh…watash...ee no…uh…"

"Watashi no Tamagoyaki?" Stan asked, rattling off the title as though he'd been born to the language.

"Uh…sure…" Rosalyn agreed dubiously.

"What is a book of poetry doing over here?" Stan muttered as he slid under the shelf and startled Rosalyn. "It means 'My Omelet'," he translated, choosing to pretend he hadn't noticed in favor of acting superior. He changed back into three dimensions and took the book off somewhere, calling for Ari to bring the light.

"You're kidding," Rosalyn called after him. "That's a stupid title."

"It's a stupid poem," Stan yelled back. "Something about making an omelet out of tomatoes and octopi…"

"Sounds like something you'd write," Rosalyn muttered. She watched him go out of sight before she went back to the books. She had been slowly becoming aware of something, and now that Stan was out of sight, it hit her hard. She could still tell exactly where he was. This was a feeling that had been slowly getting stronger since they had healed Ari in the Highlands. She didn't really notice it while he was still where she could see him, but now that he was gone-

"Can I help you, my dear?" asked an ancient, papery voice. Rosalyn squealed and turned, her rapier already half out of its sheath before she realized she had been ambushed by an old man. His skin was the color and texture of aged parchment, and what hair he had left was whiter than Rosalyn's magic. He wore a set of threadbare grey robes as though their meager weight would pull him over at any moment. His eyes were a hazy white, and Rosalyn was startled to realize that he was blind or close to it. He didn't quite look her in the face when he spoke.

He let out a dry, rasping wheeze of what was supposed to have been laughter. "Beg pardon, my dear. I didn't mean to startle you."

"Oh, no," Rosalyn said quickly, shoving her rapier back it sheath. "I'm sorry. I didn't know there was anybody else here."

The old man waddled forward slowly to pat her on the shoulder. "It's alright, my dear. I know I must look like an ghost to someone so young." Rosalyn wasn't sure how to respond to that, so she smiled half-heartedly. The old man smelled strange, almost like cloves and something she could swear was embalming fluid. He made her nervous, and she couldn't imagine why. It almost felt like there was a ghost near.

"Who are you?" she asked, and kicked herself for her tone.

The old man didn't appear to notice. He wheezed again, and replied, "Anders, my dear. They used to call me Anders. So what can I help you find?"

"Oh, um…" Rosalyn wasn't exactly sure that he could help her find anything, but it seemed rude not to tell him. "Uh…My friends and I are…well, we have to find a way into…the Diablerie…" Saying it aloud to someone, it suddenly sounded ridiculously absurd.

"Ah," Anders said understandingly. He nodded his head and motioned for her to follow. "You're a few shelves off, my dear."

"Oh, because my friend said it would be there…" she trailed off as she realized that she had just unthinkingly called Stan a friend. It was a little late to change her mind, now, though. Oddly enough, she could have sworn she heard the old man mutter, "Since when did he have friends…?"

"Well, that's the start of it, yes," he agreed. Rosalyn dismissed what she thought she had heard as being her imagination.

"So how big is the travel section, then?"

Anders stopped in front of shelf and started scanning the titles. He gestured vaguely with his right hand. "See that broken column?" It was just barely visible in the gloom and distance, but she judged it to be at least fifty feet away. "Just this side of it. And about eight shelves deep, seven in a few places."

Rosalyn breathed a disbelieving sigh. "All that is just travel?"

Anders removed a book and pushed it into her hands. "My dear, there is no such thing as 'just' anything. This is travel through the ages, places you never want to see, places you should do anything to go to, the art of travelling both magical and astral…it's all here. This is the largest compendium of knowledge in the world, and I don't just mean our small part of it."

Rosalyn looked down at the book thoughtfully. It wasn't printed in a language she understood. "What's astral mean?"

Anders patted her arm again. "Perhaps you should let your friend tell you about it some time. I think I hear him returning with that boy of his. Adieu, my dear Rosalyn." It was several seconds before she remembered that she hadn't introduced herself.

"What are you doing all the way over there?" Stan demanded, rounding the corner of a shelf with Ari in tow.

"Oh…uh…found the book, I think…" She held it up for his inspection. As he took it, she told them both about her unnerving encounter. When she mentioned meeting the old man, Stan looked thoughtfully at the shelves. When she got to the part where he introduced himself, Stan looked at her quickly and glared for most of the rest of her narrative. By the time she was finished, his glare had changed slightly into a suspicious stare. "What?" she demanded.

It took him some time to answer. "…Nothing…I just don't recall telling you his name…"

"Uh…you didn't," she said, though not as scathingly as she had intended. The encounter and Stan's reaction to it was making her a little scared. She looked to Ari for moral support, but he was watching Stan who was now looking around warily.

Suddenly, Stan grinned and yelled out, "Hey, old man! Don't forget our bet! You still owe me twenty sukel for outliving you!" His words and laughter echoed ominously through the cavernous archive. His laughter always carried an evil undertone, but the echo coupled with his apparent loss of sense made him sound every bit the Great Evil King he constantly claimed he was. Ari shuddered and took a few steps back, but Rosalyn held her ground. It was almost scary to be reminded what Stan really was like that. No, there was no almost about it. He was so immature that it was easy to forget he was really an evil demon bent on world domination and/or destruction. It never failed to terrify when he suddenly reminded them so effectively.

"Are you quite through?" she asked. She was very proud of herself for sounding irritated when she was feeling so shaky.

Apparently, he noticed after all despite her best efforts. He leaned close. "Are you scared?" he asked in a low menacing voice. Well, between that wolfish grin and those canine fangs…

"Of course, not," Rosalyn managed to say disdainfully. Stan raised an eyebrow and glanced down slightly. She was about to be insulted when she realized he was actually looking at her hand where it was tightly gripping the hilt of her rapier. He chuckled venomously; she quickly let go and was abashed to hear it click as it settled back. She hadn't even known she was holding it, let alone that she had nearly drawn it.

Must restore normalcy…

"Why should I be afraid of a stupid fake evil being anyway?" she demanded.

For once, being called a fake did not throw Stan into an enraged paroxysm. Having finally succeeded in utterly terrifying his worst enemy, he was in far too good a mood to succumb to her perpetual prattling. He simply contrived to look highly superior as he gave a baneful sneer.

Rosalyn and Ari looked at each other. In silent agreement, they decided to huddle close together as Stan swept past. They didn't think he would actually do anything harmful, but it never hurt to be too careful. Rosalyn decided she could sacrifice her dignity in favor of her life and loosened her rapier again. Ari did not draw his sword; he trusted Stan a little more than Rosalyn did. But his insides felt like jelly after that display. He wondered if he should he rethink his conviction that Stan wasn't really that evil.

"Okay!" Stan said loudly in his usual caustic tone. The two humans relaxed, and Rosalyn dropped her hand. Stan had the book open as he walked and was squinting to read the pages. "I can't see to read. Slave, get up here." He set the book down on a tarnished table; Ari hastened a bit more than usual to bring the lamp to where Stan could see. "Right, then. I'd kill that old man if he weren't already dead." Stan shook his head. He paused as though waiting for some kind of outburst. When one was not forthcoming, he started to turn, changed his mind, and went back to the book with a renewed sense of self-worth.

"This is not a book about travel," he announced.

"Oh, just great," Rosalyn whined.

"Heh, much as I enjoy seeing you squirm, this is the book we need."

"You just said-"

"That it wasn't about travel," Stan cut her off. "At least, not precisely. It's about the Simulacrum. Let's see…something about mirrors and reflections…blah, blah, blah… Apparently, if it can be accessed from the Diablerie, we can get to it from here as well."

"How?" Ari asked squinting at the meaningless scribbles. He was astounded that Stan's idle boast about being fluent in all languages was actually somewhat true. After a second or two of complete silence, he glanced up slightly to find that he was being glared at by a pair of cold amber eyes. "Uh…Your Majesty," he amended.

Stan nodded tersely. "The Mirror World acts as a divider between the Diablerie and the mortal realms. The spells to create an Image like my would-be clone make a sort of temporary gateway there. Someone who knows how can open a doorway that real things can get through as well."

"Someone like Illisaith?" Rosalyn asked. At Stan's far-too-amused expression, she closed her eyes in exasperation. "Are you telling me that after coming all this way, we have to turn around and go all the way back?"

"No one forced you to come, blockhead."

"Oh, like I was going to leave poor Ari alone with you."

Ari rubbed his eyes; his shoulders shook with silent laughter. He was glad Rosalyn and Stan were arguing again, as strange as that sounded. The cold silence the Hero had been maintaining towards her rival had grown increasingly cumbersome. It had put Stan on edge not to be able to get a rise out of her, and Ari had suffered for it. He knew Rosalyn was still less pleased with Stan than usual, but this was a start towards getting things back to normal, at least.

As they walked past the desk that belonged to the ancient skeleton, Ari noticed something. "Hey, look," he said, pointing. "Was that there when we came in?"

At first, Rosalyn thought he was talking about the bony cadaver. Then she noticed Stan's expression soften and become quietly thoughtful as he walked over to where a crumpled and yellowing envelope stuck out from under what had once been its fingertips. He opened it carefully and grinned as he displayed a few bills totaling twenty sukel and a note written in a barely legible scrawl that read, "Cheater."

As they climbed the rope they'd lowered to reach the library, Rosalyn and Ari agreed that they had never been happier to see the last of a place.