Finbarr cheered her a little, however. They found him down in the archives, which consisted of the maze of cellars that had been carved out of the living rock beneath the library. He was sitting at a table in a small cavern whose walls were lined with racks of ancient scrolls. The table was completely bare except for a stylus, two neat stacks of paper, one with writing and the other awaiting use, and some half-dozen scrolls, neatly rolled and tied. Finbarr was reading from another ancient document by the light of a brightly glowing ball of luminescence that hovered dutifully and with perfect steadiness above his head.
“Still wasting your time with this old rubbish, I see,” was Eliseth’s dismissive greeting. Aurian half expected the Mage to jump—he had seemed so preoccupied when they entered. But he simply sighed, and placed the scroll on the table, where the two rolled-up ends immediately tried to spring together. “Stay!” Finbarr commanded in a sharp voice. The scroll gave a quiver, and promptly flattened out in the correct position.
Finbarr turned to regard them with a piercing blue gaze. He was very thin, and his clean-shaven face had the typical bony angularity of the Magefolk. His long brown hair was streaked with gray, but his face was neither old nor young, and his eyes twinkled. “Hail, O Lady of Thunder, Mistress of Storms,” he intoned mockingly. “Have you come to blast me with a blizzard of icy contempt, or are you just going to rain on me and ruin my day?” He winked at Aurian, who tried to stifle a giggle.
Eliseth cursed. “Finbarr, one of these days your so-called wit is going to get you into trouble,” she snapped. “You’re about as much use as these wretched old scrolls of yours!”
Finbarr shrugged. “At least my scrolls are pleasant company,” he said, “though not undemanding. I take it that the reason for your totally unprecedented visit to this sanctuary of learning and wisdom is to introduce me to this beauteous young lady.” He gave^Aurian a kindly smile.
“You know who she is, Finbarr.” Eliseth was scowling. “That renegade Geraint’s brat.”
Aurian stifled a small sound of protest, clenching her fists.
With a swift movement Finbarr pushed back his chair and squatted before Aurian, bringing his tall lanky frame down to her level. He lifted her chin with a gentle finger and looked deeply into her eyes. “Child, you’re going to hear a lot of that kind of nonsense within these venerable walls,” he said softly. “Just let it pass. Geraint’s only fault was pride, and the same applies to all the Magefolk who would blacken his name.” He shot a flinty look at Eliseth. “I’m not saying that what he did was right, but the same disaster could have happened to any of us. Take no notice of what people say, child, but be prepared to learn from his errors—and ours, for what Geraint did was hardly unique. History is filled with similar examples—the Cataclysm, for instance, when ancient Magefolk warred amongst themselves for power. They came perilously close to destroying the world with the four great Artifacts of Power, and—”
“For goodness’ sake, Finbarr, spare us the lecture!” interrupted Eliseth,
Aurian was shocked by her rudeness, but Finbarr seemed unsurprised. He continued ro address his words to herself, as though the Magewoman’s ill-tempered outburst was of no importance. “I hope, my young friend, that you will never let Eliseth teach you to scorn the knowledge that is so important to us all. If we study our history, it teaches us not to repeat mis-takes. I know that Eliseth is in charge of your training just now, but when you’re allowed to, come back and talk to me. I can teach you other things apart from magic, and I’ll always be here to answer your questions. I always keep a welcome for civilized company. And now, I don’t believe that Eliseth told me your name?”
“It’s Aurian.” She managed a smile for him.
“Mine is Finbarr. I’m Meiriel’s soul mate, and I hope you’ll be seeing much more of us as time goes on. In the meantime, here’s my advice: apply yourself diligently, keep out of trouble _and don’t let the Lady of Misrule here grind you down.”
“It’s time we were going, Aurian,” Eliseth interrupted icily.
Finbarr grinned. “See what I mean? We’d better do as she says, or she’ll have us neck-deep in hailstones in no time!”
“Blast you, Finbarr!” Eliseth snarled. “Don’t you dare try to be funny at my expense!”
“Sorry, Eliseth.” To Aurian, the Archivist did not look at all repentant. “Goodbye, Aurian—for the present.”
The introduction to the other Magefolk was much less satisfactory. The twins simply treated her with dismissive contempt, and Aurian felt very uneasy in their company. There was something unsettlingly strange about them that she couldn’t quite place. They both had the appearance of beardless young men and both were fair, but Davorshan had a surprisingly coarse and stocky frame for one of Mage blood. His short-cropped blond hair had a distinct gingerish cast, and his colorless eyes were framed with pale lashes.
Aurian found it almost impossible to look him in the eye, for the anonymous coloring seemed to automatically divert her gaze elsewhere. What was worse, he seemed to be very much aware of the fact, and she suspected that he used it deliberately to unnerve people.
Davorshan’s brother, D’arvan, was completely different in appearance—so much so that it seemed impossible that they could be brothers, let alone twins. His pale, flaxen hair was shoulder length, and his bone structure was so finely carved and fragile-looking that he seemed ethereal in appearance. His beautiful face looked almost feminine, and his deep, luminous gray eyes had long, sweeping dark lashes that many a maid would have sold her soul for. He hung back behind his brother, saying nothing and letting Davorshan do all the talking. Had Aurian been more mature and confident, she might have suspected him of being painfully shy, but as it was she found him cold and fey,
“What do they do?” Aurian asked Eliseth timidly, as they left the twins’ quarters.
The Magewoman shrugged. “The Gods only know. They’re of Mage blood—their father was the famous Water-Mage Bavordran, and their mother was Adrina, the Earth-Mage. Miathan is certain they must have power, but whatever it is, it hasn’t surfaced yet. We think that because they are twins, they’re so tajagj^d up in each other’s minds that the power cannot be released. Davorshan shows some aptitude for Water-magic, but he seems fascinated with physical methods of control, rather than magical ones. His mind is full of pumps and pipes and aqueducts and so on. We keep telling him that such stuff is for Mortals—we have other methods at our disposal —but we cannot break him of the nonsense. As for D’arvan— he can’t spit without his brother’s help! I’ve told the Archmage that it’s a waste of time, but Miathan insists that we keep trying with him.”
Eliseth did, however, seem to think a lot of the last Mage, Bragar. His discipline was Fire-magic, as Geraint’s had been, and Aurian had been looking forward to meeting him. Her enthusiasm died as soon as she saw him. Bragar was gaunt-faced and completely bald. His dark eyes, like Eliseth’s, were devoid of warmth and expression, giving him a reptilian appearance. His aura was as dark as his purple robes, and Aurian, young and inexperienced though she was, could feel the cruelty of his nature shadowing him like the blackest of wings. He looked down at her over his high-bridged nose as though she were some species of insect, and his voice, when he deigned to speak to her, was sardonic and patronizing. He made Aurian’s flesh creep, and she vowed to herself that she’d keep out of his way. She already knew that she possessed her father’s talent of Fire-magic, and the thought of studying under Bragar filled her with fear.