“It’s just … how long have you been here?” Icelin asked.
The seneschal smiled. “Do you mean, how long have I been here in this room, or how long have I been with King Mith Barak? In truth, I have lost count of the years. No future exists here, only the past.”
She spoke matter-of-factly, but a pang struck Icelin’s heart. No thoughts of the future-Icelin knew something of living that way. “Since I’ve been in the library, I’ve thought I heard voices, whispers,” Icelin said. “Was that your voice?”
“Not me.” The woman reached out and ran her fingers gently over the book spines on the nearest shelf. “You’re hearing their voices.”
“The books?” Icelin stammered. “You mean they-”
“Many of them are no more than what they appear,” the seneschal said. “Others are living entities, sleeping for centuries at a time, stirred awake by the breath of life-the presence of a seeker of knowledge.” The seneschal removed a tome from the shelf and pressed it to her chest reverently. She spoke a word Icelin didn’t understand, and then she returned the book to the shelf. “When they sense such a person, the pages whisper and sing, and the ink may as well be blood in living veins.”
Caught by the seneschal’s voice, Icelin couldn’t take her eyes off the woman’s face. For the first time, fear of the library and this ancient spirit shivered through her body. The fire cast long, ominous shadows on the walls. Whispers that had lingered at the edge of her consciousness grew louder, more insistent. Icelin didn’t want to listen to those voices, not like this. Whatever secrets she heard, she would never be able to forget.
“You’re frightening her, spirit,” Zollgarza spoke up. “Cease with your romantic prattle and make yourself useful.”
Icelin blinked and freed herself from the seneschal’s penetrating gaze. She dipped her head, rubbing her temples, which had begun to throb.
“Forgive me,” the seneschal said, bowing. “Understand I mean you no harm. It has been a very long time since I spoke to another person like this. I fear I am out of practice.”
“No, it’s all right.” Icelin stifled a groan. She’d let herself be trampled on by a ghost-albeit a very powerful one-and had to be rescued by the drow. Ruen would be appalled.
She’d been trying not to think about him or worry about where he was at that moment. Likely, he was with one of the dwarf patrols. He might even be fighting right now. If a drow slew him, she might not find out for several days.
Stop it, she told herself. You’re here to find the sphere.
“Very good,” the seneschal said. “You have strong mental discipline for one so young and afflicted.”
“You can read my mind?” Icelin’s head snapped up. “You might have mentioned that earlier!”
“Again, forgive me.” The spirit smiled wider. “Please don’t be uneasy. I doubt any thought you entertain would surprise me.”
“What about the other books-spirits of books-in the library?” Icelin said. “Can they read thoughts too?”
“No,” the seneschal replied. “Their intellects are not so well defined. They are objects of power, presence, and memory, but only in the most primal sense. I was surprised you heard their voices so soon. However, you are not without power yourself, and as I said, they are drawn to the true seeker.”
“Is that why they remain silent to me, spirit?” Zollgarza said, smirking. “Because I am not a ‘true seeker’?”
The seneschal stared at Zollgarza coldly. “Lost child, what you seek cannot be found within this room.”
Zollgarza met her stare with a look that made Icelin shiver. “Pitiful specter, you have no idea what I’m looking for.”
“I see the emptiness in your soul,” the spirit countered. “Memories gone … pieces of yourself you long to reclaim.”
A strange thing happened then. Zollgarza’s cold mask cracked at the edges, and through the broken bits, Icelin glimpsed pain-pain and anger so intense she stifled a gasp. He tore his gaze away from the woman’s face, as if he’d also been caught by her power. Meeting Icelin’s eyes, the drow pulled the mask back into place over his features.
I saw something I wasn’t supposed to see, Icelin thought. A weakness or a desire-what was it the drow sought? Was it somehow tied to the magic that cloaked him? Judging by the mask Zollgarza had adopted, he would not speak of those desires, especially not to her. Not that it mattered. She had her own desires and her own task to complete.
“I’m ready now,” she said, addressing the spirit.
“Very well.” The spirit put a hand out, though she did not touch Icelin. “Know before you begin that great power surrounds you. There are dangers here, as well as treasures.”
“What sort of dangers?” Icelin asked. Gods, what now?
“I told you some of the books possess souls. Like any living thing, they are capable of compassion and deceit, of manipulation and regret. Some will give up all their knowledge and secrets for a kind word, while others will use any means to deny and destroy you.”
“Can’t you tell me which one is which?” Icelin said, feeling helpless.
The seneschal smiled sadly. “Can you tell that of any living being? Like the depths of any soul, they are changeable, mysterious, and sometimes frightening. Never forget to use your judgment, and you won’t go astray,” she advised. “When you are ready, tell me what knowledge you seek.”
The knowledge she sought-Icelin didn’t have to consider the question long. “The Arcane Script Sphere,” she said. “If I’m going to find it, I need to know more about it. Are there any written accounts of it in the library?”
She expected a long delay while the seneschal explored her memory. Efficient as Icelin’s mind was, the older the memory, the longer it took her to recall all the details. She started in surprise when the seneschal answered her question almost immediately.
“There are four such texts in the library,” she said. “One of these I am forbidden to share.”
“Why?” Zollgarza interjected, surprising Icelin again. She hadn’t expected him to show interest in what she asked the seneschal. Then again, he was seeking the sphere as well.
The spirit’s lips compressed in a line. She repeated, stiffly, “It is forbidden.”
Or perhaps they contained knowledge the drow could use against Iltkazar if they obtained the sphere, Icelin thought. “Can I examine the other texts?” she asked.
The seneschal lifted her hand. Two books floated down from a high shelf and settled in the air in front of her. To Icelin, they appeared to be mundane tomes, but the spirit’s warning rang loudly in her mind, so she assumed nothing. “A Contemporary View of the Arcane and The Goddess Touch, by Ignatius Meifarl,” the seneschal recited, “which contains the most detailed account. I have also included an untitled collection of observations on various powerful artifacts, including treatises on the Crown of Horns and the Death Moon Orb. There is a passage discussing the Arcane Script Sphere written by the archmage Dantheliz Thorn. The other text is protected under glass. When you have finished with these, I will show you how to read it.”
“My thanks,” Icelin said. Her fingers itched to snatch the texts out of the air, but she thought that would be impolite.
“Perhaps you’d like to read by the fire?” The seneschal made a sweeping gesture, and the books sailed across the room and made a neat stack on a table by one of the wingback chairs. A blanket lay folded beside the chair. “If you require anything further, simply call for me.” With that, she vanished as soundlessly as she’d appeared.
Icelin followed in the wake of the flying books and sat down in the chair. The leather cushion was wide enough for her to tuck her legs up, and she draped the blanket over them. The blanket and the fire chased away the chill, and the flames provided ample, if wavering, light to read by. She picked up the first book and opened the cover. As soon as she did so, the whispers lingering at the edge of her hearing quieted. Perhaps they were trying to be polite while she gave her attention to one of their fellows. Icelin smiled slightly to herself at the thought.