The Destruction of the Books (24 page)

But never had Juhg heard of a lynch mob forming to come after a Librarian. Still, his past instincts served him well because he immediately chose to flee. He stood.

Before he could flee, the Grandmagister’s hand hit him in the middle of the chest and toppled him back into the chair. “Stay seated, First Level Librarian Juhg. I’ll handle this.”

“But Grandmagister—”

“No.” The Grandmagister’s voice barked authority.

Watching Grandmagister Lamplighter as he squared himself in front of the mob that had shoved through the seated customers, Juhg could not believe that the Grandmagister had ever been as timid as he claimed he once was. Perhaps he was not a physical force or a threat to the sailors quickly approaching them, but he stood firm and proud. He wore the authority of his office well.

Curses and imprecations followed in the wake of the sailors, but none of the farmers or herdsmen or townsfolk who had come for a quiet meal lifted a hand to help. No one went running for the harbor guard.

Juhg sat helplessly. Carason’s had no back way out. There was only one entrance. Except for the stairs that led to the upstairs floor where Carason kept his personal quarters and warehoused supplies. Juhg knew he could flee through the windows and across the r1ooftops of the buildings. He had done that before.

But where would I go then?

Across the rooftops, even quick as he was, he was certain he would only be a target for an archer or a harpooner. No, the group of drunken sailors had come to draw blood and no one could stop them.

“You men will stop,” Grandmagister Lamplighter declared.

In spite of the sheer inebriated state the men were in and the anger that fueled them, the sailors halted.

“Get out of our way, Grandmagister,” a beefy human sailor ordered. “We’ll be after havin’ that one hung from a yardarm, we will, an’ ye too if ye vex us.”

“You won’t hang anyone, Ganthor Hemp,” the Grandmagister replied.

Carason came from the bar at one side of the eatery. He carried a longsword and scabbard in one hand. Without a word, he stood at the Grandmagister’s side. His meaning and intent were clear.

“That—that—
Librarian
of yours,” Ganthor thundered, his beard trembling and spittle flying in his rage, “got honest an’ proper sailin’ men killed chasin’ after a trap he done laid for ’em!”

“A trap?” Grandmagister Lamplighter’s rage was apparent in his flashing eyes.

Juhg was impressed. Even after all their adventures together seeking out books from hidden places along the mainland, he’d seldom seen the Grandmagister so set on following a course of action.

“I’ve not yet heard the events of those sailors’ deaths,” the Grandmagister said, “but I know this Librarian. He set no trap to cost the life of any man. I’ll vouch for him.”

“Do ye, now?” Ganthor roared drunkenly. “Why, from what I hear, that there Librarian came from the mainland. He’s probably workin’ for the goblins like he was afore he come here.”

“First Level Librarian Juhg,” Grandmagister Lamplighter said in a clear voice that contrasted sharply with Ganthor’s angry tone, “was a slave in the goblin mines. He lost his family to those foul creatures, and he spent years toiling with a yoke of iron around his neck while he tried to stay alive and escape.” The Grandmagister took a step toward the human, and it could be plainly seen that he was barely half the man’s height. “Not one of this crowd has ever been in such dire straits.”

Ganthor leaned forward, towering over the Grandmagister threateningly. Carason slipped free his blade from the scabbard, looking grim and deadly earnest the whole time. His message to Ganthor and the others was clear: If any of them touched the Grandmagister, he would spill blood.

And you’re the reason for this,
Juhg told himself.
Whether you mean to be or not, you’re the reason the Grandmagister stands so defenseless before them. You’re not one of these people.

“He’s an outsider,” Ganthor accused.

“He’s been in service to the Library for twenty years,” Grandmagister Lamplighter argued.

“For all the good it’s done any of us.”

“You can’t even begin to understand what a Librarian’s job is,” the Grandmagister replied.

“They’s wastrels an’ thieves by any other name.” Ganthor looked around the room seeking support.

All of the sailors agreed and some of them gave voice that Ganthor should get on with what they came there to do.

Juhg had no doubt that Grandmagister Lamplighter was setting himself up to be killed. Even with Carason at his side, and what little help Juhg himself could provide, the sailors would plow through them like hail through a spring hay crop.

He couldn’t imagine the Grandmagister taking such a firm stance, although they had faced down horrible foes in the past. Their major endeavor in those times had been to flee and escape whenever possible, which most of the time had been the case. At other times, Brant and Cobner had been with them, as well as other agents who the Grandmagister had enlisted to his cause, and the Library’s, over the years.

Juhg stood, intending to give himself over to the sailors and hope that they came to their senses.

Without turning around, the Grandmagister stuck an arm out and blocked Juhg’s path.

“No one here much cares for ye or yer little Library,” Ganthor stated with a mocking sneer. “Ye’re a parasite what thrives off superstition an’ what ye can suck outta these good people here. I ain’t the only one what thinks that.”

“Then you’re a fool,” the Grandmagister declared. “And all those who think that way are fools with you.” He looked around the room, somehow seeming taller than he was. “Greydawn Moors was put here to house the Library, to hold dear the knowledge that Lord Kharrion and the goblinkin tried to take from the hands of humans, dwarves, and elves in those long-ago Dark Years. You people who live here have been blessed to never know the hardships of the mainland. Those of you who have crewed aboard the ships know that I speak only the truth.”

“Speak fer yerself,” Ganthor roared. “I’ve come near to spillin’ me life’s blood more’n once a-carryin’ out them orders what comes from the Library. I’ll never—”

“You’ll never,” the Grandmagister stated in a voice that might have blown fresh off the ice of the Frozen Sea, “have to worry about such an event again, Ganthor Hemp. You’ll never crew aboard a ship from this island again. As is my rightful decree as Grandmagister of the Vault of All Known Knowledge and executor of the estate of the island of Greydawn Moors, you are banned from ever setting foot from this place again. You shall live out your days on this island, never to go forth and risk seditious and treasonous acts against the Library, and never to hold a position that would require the trust of the Vault of All Known Knowledge. Your fate will now and forever be sealed with that of this place.”

For a moment, silence echoed across the eatery. Then the whispers started as the patrons as well as the sailors recovered from the astonishment of the Grandmagister’s order.

Everyone knew of the power of the Grandmagister, and there were even tales of past Grandmagisters who had caused some to be locked up for a time for heinous acts. But no one had ever been made an outcast on the island and a prisoner at the same time.

“Ye can’t do that,” Ganthor roared. A quaver of fear sounded in his voice despite his bluster.

“It’s been done,” the Grandmagister said in a level, unemotional voice. “All of the good folk here are my witnesses.”

“Aye, I witnessed it,” Carason said. “And all those who work for me or who intend to keep eating at this establishment heard it as well.”

Ganthor turned back to the crowd of sailors pressing at his back. “We don’t have to take this. It’s just a lot of guff an’ hogwash. Ain’t nobody happy with the way the Grandmagisters have been runnin’ things. Them that come before this ’un was at least human an’ knew their places. We sure ain’t gonna have to listen to no halfer who’s gotten bigger’n his britches.”

Most of the sailors raised their swords in agreement, but Juhg noticed that a few of them had started slinking away.

“Well, then, halfer,” Ganthor sneered, turning back to the Grandmagister, “what do ye got to say about that?”

“Only this,” a deep, stentorian voice announced. The words carried throughout the eatery from the front door, and they brought with them a sense of the power and regal bearing of the speaker. “Would the Grandmagister like you better as warty toads or as bigmouth bullfrogs?”

“Craugh!”
someone croaked.

Gazing through the sailors and the wide area they’d left open behind them that led to the door, Juhg saw the individual standing in the doorframe. Juhg recognized the man at once.

At six and a half feet tall—and that was without the pointed hat that made him near a giant—and slender as a reed, the wizard Craugh was imposing and threatening simply standing idle. He was not idle now, nor was he mentally self-involved as he often was unless in deep conversation with the Grandmagister.

Worn russet-colored traveling leathers draped an innocuous brown homespun shirt that had seen better days and a pair of dark green breeches. No one knew how old Craugh was. Stories went back a hundred years and more, even though he was human and should have been long dead. Magic, it was well known, added years to a human’s life. Provided, of course, that those forces didn’t kill a wizard outright, or sooner rather than later.

His long gray beard trailed down his skinny chest and framed a narrow face that looked sharp as a blade or a prow on a fighting vessel. That face, Juhg swore, could break through ice floes or shear forests. Craugh’s bright green eyes flashed with the power he wielded. He carried a gnarled wooden staff only slightly taller than him and had a crook on the end of it for lifting things.

Without fear, Craugh walked into the eatery. Even the people still sitting at the tables moved away from him in fear. He fixed his gaze on Ganthor.

“You drunken popinjay,” the wizard stated in a heated voice, leaning down to thrust his face into the ringleader’s. “How dare you talk that way to the Grandmagister! Especially
this
Grandmagister whom I have known these many years and know firsthand has risked his life and limb dozens of times over to keep both this island’s knowledge intact as well as its secrets. His efforts have gone far beyond those of other Grandmagisters before him. And there you stand, Ganthor Hemp, throwing accusations like a chittering squirrel high in the branches of an oak tree.”

Ganthor shriveled.

Craugh did not stop until he, too, stood at Grandmagister Lamplighter’s side. Under other circumstances, the sight of the two standing so close together might have drawn laughter. Craugh was nearly twice as tall as the Grandmagister but seemed even taller because of his thin build.

“Well,” Craugh said as he faced the would-be lynch mob, “you’ve heard the Grandmagister’s pronouncements. What are you waiting for?
Begone!
” He stamped his staff against the wooden floor.

The thudding sound resounded throughout the building, growing in intensity. Eldritch green flames jetted from Craugh’s eyes. He raised his empty left hand and threw it out before him.

Wind rose inside the building from nowhere and whirled through the room, blowing out all the candles and banging the shutters on the windows.

Shrieking and yelling for mercy, the drunken sailors ran from the room. They pushed and shoved against each other in their haste to escape the wizard’s wrath, then sprawled into a drunken mass out in the street. They were quickly up again and running as if for their lives.

Perhaps,
Juhg thought as he stared at the wizard,
they are.

The flames exuding from Craugh’s eyes faded. He turned and looked at Grandmagister Lamplighter. His eyes crinkled as he smiled and smoothed his ratty beard. “Bless me, Wick, I think that went about as well as could be expected under the circumstances.”

“It was good that you came when you did, old friend,” the Grandmagister said, smiling as well.

“I daresay, you had the situation well in hand. I should have let well enough alone, but you know how I love to make an entrance.”

Juhg watched as Carason’s staff went about relighting lanterns and candles, and righting overturned chairs and tables. He suspected that the building couldn’t withstand many more such exits.

“It’s been a long times since you last visited,” the Grandmagister said.

“I have missed you, too, Grandmagister. But many events have been happening along the mainland and in the goblinkin countries that needed watching. I have learned a great many things, not all of them pleasant.”

The two hugged, though Craugh quickly worked to regain his aplomb and his pointed hat, which had come dangerously close to falling off. The wizard turned his attention to Juhg.

As always, Juhg had a hard time meeting Craugh’s blazing gaze, even though he and Craugh had always gotten along well together. Still, Craugh was the Grandmagister’s friend, not his.

“And you, apprentice,” Craugh said, sizing Juhg up at a glance, “I heard down in the harbor that you’ve come across a book under strange circumstances.”

“Yes,” Juhg said. Craugh had never called him anything but apprentice since Grandmagister Lamplighter had found him and taken him under his wing. “I was about to tell the Grandmagister the tale.”

“Then you can tell it to us all.” Craugh gazed at the table, eyes lighting on the plate Juhg had left. “Those ruffians interrupted your meal. Get back to it. The sooner you finish, the sooner we can talk at length about this. I have tales of my own to tell. Even with a full day before us, we might not get it all done.”

“I can wait to eat,” Juhg volunteered.

“No,” Craugh and the Grandmagister and Carason said at the same time.

“A traveling adventurer never knows when his next meal might be coming,” the wizard added.

“You’ll need to keep up your strength,” the Grandmagister announced.

“And you won’t want that when it’s cold,” Carason said.

“Seeing the wisdom in a meal,” Craugh said as he reached out and took up a nearby chair with deceptive ease because he was much stronger than he looked, as Juhg well knew, “I’ll take a plate myself, innkeeper.”