So here they were: a tall, scarecrow of a man with long white hair and beard, robes of such atrocious patterns and colors that even Mistaya winced, and a distracted air that warned of mishaps waiting just past the next sentence he spoke; and a dog that dressed and walked upright like a man and sometimes barked.
He could tell right away that they had something to tell him. It almost certainly had to do with Mistaya.
“High Lord,” Questor Thews greeted him, offering a deep bow.
“High Lord,” Abernathy echoed, but without much enthusiasm.
Questor cleared his throat. “We need a moment of your time—that is, if you have a moment to spare just now—to put forth an idea that we have stumbled upon while attempting to help you through this crisis with Mistaya, knowing how painful it must be for you—”
“Fewer words, Questor!” Abernathy growled, almost dog-like. “Get to the point!”
Ben smiled indulgently and held up both hands to silence them. “I trust this visit has a constructive purpose and isn’t just a misguided effort to advise me where I went wrong with my daughter’s upbringing?”
Questor looked horrified. It was hard to tell with Abernathy; a dog pretty much always looks like a dog, even if it’s a soft-coated wheaten terrier. “Oh, no, High Lord!” the former exclaimed in dismay. “We have no intention of trying to correct you on your efforts at raising Mistaya! We wouldn’t think of such a thing—”
“We might indeed think of such a thing,” Abernathy interrupted. He glared at Questor. “But that isn’t why we are here. As you may eventually find out, I hope.”
Questor glared back. “Perhaps you would rather handle this than I? Would that suit you better?”
Abernathy perked up his ears. “It might. Shall I?”
“Oh, please do.”
Ben hoped the vaudeville act was finished, but he held his tongue and waited patiently.
Abernathy faced him. “High Lord, Questor and I are well aware of the fact that Mistaya’s return is a disappointment and an irritation. We are also aware of what she thinks is going to happen, which is that things will go back to the way they were before she left. You, on the other hand, would like to find some more productive use of her time, preferably something educational and perhaps a bit challenging?”
He made it a question, even though the force of his words made it clear he was certain of his understanding of the situation. “Go on,” Ben urged, nodding.
“We know that she must be disciplined, High Lord,” Questor broke in, forgetting that he had ceded this territory to Abernathy only moments earlier. “She is a willful and rebellious child, perhaps because she is smart and beautiful and charming.”
“Perhaps because she is your daughter, as well,” Abernathy muttered, and gave Ben a knowing look. “But to continue.” He turned the full weight of his liquid brown, doggy gaze on Questor to silence him. “What is needed is a lesson that will teach Mistaya at least something of what you had hoped Carrington would provide. Study with Questor and myself, however educational, has its limits, and I think we may have reached them.”
Questor bristled. “That is entirely wrong—”
“Questor, please!” Abernathy bared his teeth at the other, then turned to Ben anew. “So we have an idea that might accomplish this,” he finished.
Ben was almost afraid to hear what it was, but there was probably no avoiding it. He took a deep breath. “Which is?”
“Libiris,” Questor Thews announced proudly.
Ben nodded. “Libiris,” he repeated.
“The royal library.”
“We have one?”
“We do.”
“Libiris,” Ben repeated again. “Unless I am mistaken, I have never heard mention of it.” He sat back, mildly confused. “Why is that?”
“My fault entirely,” Abernathy declared.
“His fault entirely,” Questor Thews agreed. He looked pleased with the pronouncement. “He never told you about it, did he?”
“Nor did you,” the other pointed out.
“Nor did anyone else.” Ben leaned forward again, irritated despite himself. “How is it we have a royal library I know nothing about? As King of Landover, aren’t I supposed to know these things? Where in the heck is it?”
“Oh, well, that is a long story, High Lord.” Questor looked saddened by the fact, as if the length were an unfortunate accident.
“Perhaps you can shorten it up for me.” Ben smiled. “Perhaps you can do that right now, while I’m still smiling in hopes that all this has something to do with my daughter.”
Questor cleared his throat anew. “Long, long ago, in a time far, far away, there was a King—”
Abernathy’s sudden bark cut him off midsentence. The scribe shook his head. “Now look what you’ve made me do, wizard! You made me bark, and you know how I hate that.” He gestured at the other in annoyance. “Let me tell it or we’ll be here all day!”
He faced Ben. “Libiris was founded by the old King, the one who ruled for so long before you, a man more enlightened than his son or the rabble of pretenders who came afterward. He built it to house his books and those of the Lords of the Greensward and others who had libraries of their own. It was his hope that making the books available to the entire population of Landover would foster a greater interest in reading, something that had been sorely lacking. It was a good idea, and it worked for a while. But complications arose, and the King grew old and lost interest, and the entire effort simply bogged down. Eventually, Libiris ceased to function in any meaningful way. It has, in point of fact, fallen into a sad state of neglect. Enough so that it has ceased to function at all.”
“But you’ve never even spoken about it?” Ben pressed.
“There were other, more important concerns for much of the time during our early years together, High Lord. Such as trying to keep you alive. You may recall that part of your life? Since the birth of Mistaya, I simply haven’t given the matter any thought. There hasn’t been any reason to. Libiris has been closed now for many years.”
He shrugged. “I should have said something before, but it just didn’t seem important enough to bring up.”
Ben found this odd, but given the state of things in Landover, even after almost twenty years of his presence as King, he wasn’t entirely surprised. “Well, now that you have brought it up, what does any of it have to do with Mistaya?”
Questor stepped forward, taking command once more. “It was our thought that perhaps you should send Mistaya to Libiris with instructions to reorganize and reopen it. Such an effort fits well with your other programs regarding education through community service, and it seems to us, Abernathy and me, a perfect project for a young lady of Mistaya’s capabilities.”
Ben thought about it. “You think I should send her there to find out what’s needed and then to undertake repairs and rehabilitation of the books and fixtures and buildings? A fifteen-year-old girl?”
Questor and Abernathy exchanged a quick glance. “I wouldn’t call her that to her face,” Abernathy declared quietly. “And yes, I think she is more than equal to the task. Don’t you, High Lord?” He paused. “It would be a mistake to underestimate her capabilities.”