The Unwilling Accomplice (Book 5) (10 page)

"We were hoping to see the History Book," Pat told him.

"I am afraid humans are not allowed to view the book unless given permission by the royal family," he replied.

"We have the express permission of Princess Telana," Pat revealed.

"Written permission?" the Librarian asked her.

"No. Is that required?" Ruth wondered.

"Absolutely necessary," he replied.

Ruth glanced at her friend. "Should we return to the castle?" she asked Pat.

Pat shook her head. "No, there is another reason I wished to come here." She turned to the Librarian. "Do you have a section on swords?"

"Yes, in the farthest corner away from the door," the elf replied, indicating the area with a wave of his hand. "I am afraid our authority on weapons is currently busy, but would you like me to tell him you would like to speak with him when he becomes available?"

"That would be wonderful, thank you. He can find us in the weapon section," Pat replied. She led Ruth toward the large, free-standing bookcases which housed the books on weapons. They were surprised to find a small female elfling in the center of the aisle. She had her hand raised above her head, her mouth was set in a thin line of determination, and her eyes were focused on a large tome that shuddered and jerked on the highest shelf.

The elfling dropped her hand and the book stopped vibrating. "Drat!" she murmured.

Ruth passed Pat and knelt down beside the girl. "Is there something we can help you with?" Ruth asked her.

The girl looked up and frowned. "Only if you have magic to get that book my daddy wants," she replied.

Ruth stood and examined the height. It was a good twelve feet off the ground. "I think I can," Ruth told her.

Pat frowned and marched up to her. "You may be hurt. Let one of the Librarians manage it," she argued.

"I'm sure it won't take a moment. I may be in my human form, but as Ned says a gargoyle never forgets how to fly, so perhaps climbing is as easy," Ruth suggested.

Ruth grasped the first shelf and scurried up the others. Pat and the elfling tilted their heads back and dropped open their mouths as Ruth reached the book. She had impeccable form, but the bookcase didn't have impeccable weight balanced, at least not to hold a young woman. The bookcase began to tilt and the books slowly slid out of their places. Pat's eyes widened and she threw herself over the girl just as an avalanche of books fell toward them.

Pat expected a lot of pain as the books pelted her, but there was nothing but a bright blue light. She raised her head and saw the books float back to their places and the bookcase right itself. All glowed the bright blue of elven magic, and Pat followed the stream of light to a robed elf standing near her. Unlike the other bare-headed Librarians he wore a white skullcap, but was otherwise attired as they were.

Ruth, still clinging to the bookcase, felt the magic surround her and gently pull her and the book from the shelf. They floated down, she to the floor and the book into the arms of the elfling. The little girl smiled at the man. "Thank you!" she said, and scurried off. An adult male elf appeared at the head of the aisle. The girl waved the book over her head. "Daddy! I have your book!" the girl exclaimed.

He scooped her up and turned to the others. "I hope my little girl wasn't an annoyance," he wondered.

Ruth shook her head. "No, she was very grateful for the help," she told him.

"That's a relief. Now let's go, naughty little girl," the father told his young one.

The pair left and Pat turned to Ruth, who sheepishly smiled at her friend. "Next time I will heed your advice," she promised.

"I hope there isn't a next time," Pat returned.

CHAPTER 12

"A moment, if you will," the male elf spoke up. "I couldn't help but overhear your request, and I may be of some assistance to you. That is, if you would be willing to tell me the history of that sword." His eyes wandered down to the weapon at Pat's hips.

Pat clasped the hilt of the sword and frowned. "What do you wish to know?"

The elf chuckled. "Nothing inappropriate, I assure you, but perhaps you would like to speak of this matter in a more private setting? If you would please follow me." He turned and strolled a few paces to the rear of the room. He paused when he realized the pair wasn't following him, and glanced over his shoulder. "I assure you I mean you no harm."

Ruth gently set her hand on Pat's arm that clutched the sword hilt. "I am sure we can trust him," she assured her friend.

"But we're waiting for the authority on weapons," Pat reminded her.

"I am the authority," the elf told them.

Pat turned to him with a raised eyebrow. "Then you can tell me the history of the sword?"

"Perhaps, but I may need to consult my books, and they are this way," he insisted.

"Very well. We will follow you," Pat told the gentleman.

He bowed his head and led them through the bookcases to the rear of the great hall. At the back wall were several small wooden doors, and they passed through the smallest one that stood on the far left. It led into an office of sorts, though one wracked by an explosion of clutter and chaos. Books were piled in stacks ten high on the large wooden desk, and the women waded through the stacks on the ground, careful not to crunch spines beneath their feet. The walls were covered in charts in so many languages even Pat couldn't recognize some of them, and their subjects varied from astrology to the art of potting a flower. What walls weren't covered by charts were lined with bookshelves filled with volumes and dust.

"Please excuse the mess. I was practicing with my pouch and lost control," the man commented. The two young women opted not to inquire further about male elves and their pouches.

Their new acquaintance waded around to the other side of the desk and seated himself in a chair as heavy as the Uncomfortable Chair, and of similar plain craftsmanship. He parted the stacks of books on the desk to create a hole in the center and gestured to two piles of books in front of the desk. Beneath those piles were two chairs. "Please be seated." The action took a few moments as they girls set aside the volumes and earned their seats. "First I feel I must begin by introducing myself. I am the Head Librarian of the Feora Library. Most of my fellow Librarians and the patrons refer to me as Head, but I prefer Tolen."

"What does it mean?" Ruth asked him.

"Bald. My hair was so light that when I was born I appeared bald," he revealed. He chuckled as the two young women glanced at one another. "The Elven language is very beautiful, but the words hardly stand up to the sound."

"What does Tisule mean?" Pat wondered.

Tolen chuckled. "You must be referring to Edwin Tisule. The word tisule means Wind-breaker," he replied.

"But that is a very pretty meaning," Ruth pointed out.

"It isn't referring to the breeze, but to the sound one makes when one passes gas," Tolen explained. Pat opened her mouth, but he held up his hand. "How that title came to be is best explained by the bearer. For now I would like to focus on why I invited you here." Tolen held out his hand to Pat. "May I see the sword and scabbard?"

Pat hesitated, but an encouraging look from Ruth and she reluctantly passed the sword through the gap in the desk. The elf admired the craftsmanship for a few moments before he brushed his hand over the scabbard with the sword inside. It reverted to its previous ugly state that Pat had first been presented to by Ned. The elf smiled and changed it back to its original beauty.

"A fine piece of elven construction, if I may not be so conceited in saying so," he commented.

"So it is elven?" Pat wondered.

The elf gave a nod and ran one of his smooth hands over the jewels. "There's a certain level of dwarven influence in the stones, but the design and execution are certainly elven," he confirmed. He scrutinized Pat's face. "Do you happen to know the history of this blade? What I mean to ask is do you know how it came to be in your possession?"

"Ned-Edwin has told me it was my father's sword," she replied.

"And your father? How did he come to possess the sword?" the elf persisted.

Pat shook her head. "I do not know. I had hoped I would find some answers in the Library, or perhaps if it was elven-made the History Book would give me some hint of its history."

Tolen stood and turned to a bookcase that lay against the wall on his right. "A brilliant idea, and by chance I have the History Book here in my office. I have-ahem, borrowed it from its resting place," he explained. He paused and turned to them with a sheepish grin. "I hope you won't tell anyone else about my borrowing. It's strictly forbidden, and I am sure you have witnessed how the smallest provocation will lead to a duel. If any were to find I've broken the rules I would be challenged to a dozen duels, and I haven't time for such nonsense."

"We swear it so long as we have a chance to see the book," Pat promised.

"Oh, there's no worrying there. In fact, I believe I have seen an entry discussing that very sword somewhere between three and a half feet and three feet, four inches," he revealed.

"Three and a half feet and three feet, four inches?" Ruth repeated. "Do you not mean pages?"

"No, I mean the distance, and you shall know why soon enough. Ah-ha!" Tolen exclaimed. He pulled out a thin volume that contained only two dozen pages. "Now if you would be so kind to clear a large spot on the floor for me we shall see if I am right."

The young women were confused why such a small book would need room, but they obliged him by moving most of the stacks off the floor and onto the desk and their own chairs. Tolen knelt down and set the book upside down on the floor in front of him. The back cover faced him, but they could see the title was written on it in both human and Elvish. He opened to the first page which in any normal book would be the last and flipped through toward the back-front of the volume.

To the amazement of his guests the pages in the book increased in number so that his flipping never quite reached the end. Tolen flipped aside these new pages so that the viewed pages forced the back cover of the book to rise from the floor. When the pages reached two feet Tolen stood and continued to thumb through the sprouting pages until he reached the three-feet-four-inches. He slowed his thumbing and perused the pages with his eyes, flipping through only after careful examination.

At three-feet-five-inches his finger paused over an entry. "Ah-ha! Here is the mention of the sword. It seems the king of the elves, the father of our own esteemed Theowin, owed a life-debt to the human king of Galaron, King Stephen George Frederick Carrot Albert Galaron, and had the sword commissioned as a thank-you gift. The year was Three Thousand in the Elvish calendar, so that would make it about one thousand years ago."

"The king of Galaron? Then how did my father come to have the sword?" Pat wondered.

"Did your father have any relationship to Galaron?" Tolen asked her.

"I believe he was a former knight of the city, but gave up his commission and ventured eastward where he met my mother at the Temple of Phaeton," Pat replied.

Tolen furrowed his brow. "That helps us very little, and I am afraid the history in the History Book only encompasses the lives of elves. Humans are mentioned only in passing," he told them.

"Perhaps Ned will know," Ruth suggested.

Pat nodded. "Yes. He may know something more of my father that he hasn't already told me." She turned to Tolen and bowed her head. "Thank you for your help, Tolen."

He smiled and returned the bow. "It was a pleasure helping such beautiful ladies."

The pair left Tolen's office and the Library in search of Ned.

CHAPTER 13

Pat and Ruth arrived at the courtyard in front of the castle to find Canto waiting for them. He had a grim expression on his face and strode up to them. "Ned wants to tell us something in his room," he told them.

The young women glanced at each other, and then followed Canto into the castle and up to Ned's room. They found the others were already present and situated around the walls of the room. Fred sat on Ned's bed with his head cradled in one hand. He was ashen pale and his eyes were closed.

Pat looked to Ned who's usually teasing expression was as grave as the grave. "What's wrong? What's happened?" she asked him.

Ned cleared his throat and strode into the center of the room. "Martley came to Fred and myself, and revealed her true self before she escaped us. She is Mary Osgood, wife to Canavar and mother to Cedric Osgood," he informed them.

Ruth gasped while Percy and the other men stiffened. Pat frowned and crossed her arms over her chest. "The wife of Canavar? I knew she couldn't be trusted," she spoke up.

"She is not allied with Canavar, but has her own ulterior motive for protecting us. Specifically, Fred. She attempted to kidnap him, but escaped the guards and us," Ned told her. Fred flinched.

"Tell them the truth," Fred's quiet, strained voice ordered him. He lifted his head and glared at Ned. "The whole truth."

Pat's eyes flickered over to Ned and they narrowed. "The truth about what?" Pat asked him.