“Why should a library have traps?” Tam said. Mira frowned.
Tarchamus was very protective of his knowledge, as you can well imagine. Worry not-I know all of them, and most are merely illusions
meant to frighten and harry the weak-willed from this place. I’m sure none of you are such cowards.
“Surely,” Tam murmured. He took Mira by the sleeve and pulled her aside. “This doesn’t sit right. None of it.”
“It’s the lost library of a mad arcanist,” she said lightly. She looked out into the library beyond, a faint smile on her lips. “It shouldn’t sit right.”
“Mira.” He turned her away from the rows of bookshelves. “We are far, far from support and there are Netherese agents following us. We don’t have time to search. We need to seal this place and get out.”
She stepped back, out of easy reach. “I’m not one of your Harpers.”
“Perhaps not. But four of these people answer to me-”
“Do they?” she said. “It seemed before you weren’t all that keen on having subordinates. Don’t like people weighing you down?”
Tam bit his tongue-better not to start an argument with her when she was in a mood like this. “Let me get word to Everlund and Waterdeep then,” he said. “And we are out in three days-no more. There’s nothing here worth dying for.”
“Are you certain?” Mira said. “Perhaps Tarchamus preserved some half-remembered relic of Selune. Some secret weakness of Shar. We have no idea what is hidden in those books.” She handed him a stylus. “Not until we start looking.”
You are subjecting them all to danger, he thought. Indulging Mira too far could mean the deaths of all of them-surely she knew. Surely he wasn’t the one who had to stop things. He watched as Mira gathered the half of them with no eye for Loross, directing them to set up camp at the library’s center. She had every one of their attentions.
Beside him, Farideh stared out at the library, chewing her lower lip in a distracted fashion. As tempted as he was to tell her to ignore Mira and go rest, he bit his tongue. There was no amount of resting that would undo the fact that something terrible had very nearly happened on his watch. He wondered whether it would compound the matter to tell Mehen what had happened, or to leave it secret and let Farideh have her privacy.
“Rhand won’t find us,” Tam said.
“I hope not.” Farideh looked over at him. “Do you wonder,” she asked, “who was here before us? And what knowledge they took?” Her voice became softer, “Why none of you have heard of this place before now?”
The library stretched off into the distance, a labyrinth of shadows and lost knowledge, of secrets, good and evil.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THE LOST LIBRARY OF TARCHAMUS
Farideh jerked out of sleep to the cool air of the cavern-library, her skin chill and damp with sweat. Panting, she surveyed the little courtyard in which they’d established their camp-the circle of shelves, the stillness of the library, not a hellwasp or a devil or a ruined wall to be seen.
Only Dahl, perched on a camp stool, holding a mug of something hot and watching her with one raised brow. His gray eyes were softly bloodshot, as if he’d been up most of the night as well.
“Sleep well?” he asked dryly.
Farideh didn’t answer, but straightened her clothes and rebuckled her jacks. Her head ached and her hands were shaking, and she did not have the reserves to deal with Dahl’s surly mood. Not when her brain still trembled with the images of Lorcan being torn apart and Havilar laughing over it.
She pressed her hands to her eyes. Perhaps Tam was right. Perhaps Rhand’s drugs were still undoing her.
“What kept you up?” she asked, standing and straightening her bedroll.
“Nothing,” he said. “It seemed better to start work than to sleep.” He sipped from his mug. “Mira and I stayed up, searching the shelves. Don’t,” he said, when Farideh smiled at the admission. “I am not being pulled into you and your sister’s silly gossip.”
“You are full of so much more silly gossip than either of us,” Farideh said. Havilar might have teased him, but Dahl was the one sorting out her sister’s imaginary love life for his own amusement.
He scowled at her. “We’re marking the shelves we’ve searched with chalk to keep a better record. Pull a book every few levels to get an idea of what’s shelved along that row. Write that down on the slate and put a cross on the end so no one else comes back to search it.”
“I kept a slate fine yesterday,” she reminded him. She hesitated. “Are you ever going to show me the rest of those rituals?” she asked. “You owe me seven more. And you said you’d show me the protective circle.”
Dahl sipped from his mug. “We haven’t got time.”
She waited, but he said nothing else. “Convenient.” She scooped up a slate and stub of chalk before she said anything she would later regret.
Only a few of the nearest shelves had been marked with quick slashes of white. Farideh found an unmarked line and pulled several texts-all very old scrolls to do with military orders that were at least interesting, but not terribly applicable to the world they lived in now-and added her own mark before moving down a row. The scrolls and tomes stretched off into the darkness.
It would take ages to find Mira’s spellbooks, no doubt. And ages more to stumble on the planar magic that she did not know the name or the shape of that might make a path for Lorcan.
You have to figure this out, she thought. He’s going to die if you don’t figure this out.
Perhaps she should tell someone else what she was looking for …
“Well met.” Farideh started at the sudden voice. Havilar came around the corner to stand beside her.
“Karshoj,” Farideh swore. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”
“Was I sneaking?” Havilar said sweetly.
Farideh scowled at her. “Yes.”
“Have you looked at that book I found yet?” she asked. “It’s amazing.”
“I was there,” Farideh said. “I saw it just like everyone-”
“You should be reading it. Everyone should be.”
“Why?” Farideh said sharply. “Is it going to tell me dragons’ toenails are made of gold or hydras sprout from heads or some other nonsense?”
Havilar’s brow furrowed and Farideh let her tirade die. She rubbed her face. “I’m sorry. I’m just … I haven’t been sleeping well, you know? I didn’t mean it. Honestly. I’m sure the book’s plenty interesting, I just haven’t done any sections.”
To her surprise, Havilar only shook her head, as if Farideh were being silly. “I think it does know everything,” she said. “I’ll bet it knows how to make you sleep. You should ask it.”
Farideh waited for Havilar to lash out at her, but she just stood there, giving her sister the same, almost puzzled, look. As if Farideh were the one acting strange.
“Maybe you need some rest too,” Farideh said. She frowned. “Havi, where’s your glaive?”
Havilar shook her head again. “In the camp. Where else? You should see what the Book says about your problem, anyway.” She turned and slipped back in between the shelves, no doubt to seek out more traps.
Karshoj, Farideh swore to herself. She hoped Havilar wasn’t acting strange over her fight with Brin. Because gods knew how that was bound to shake out. If she’d just been a little more careful and not …
Farideh rolled her shoulders against the knot in the middle of her back. Calm, she told herself. Calm. Havi’s keeping busy. She’s rooting out traps. She’s reading that book. Farideh reached for a scroll …