"This can't be the right place," Kiara said in a hushed voice. "The Sister and Sakwi, they seemed so sure..." she drifted off, staring at the scene in disappointment. Carina, who rode up beside her, looked equally desolate.
Tris swung down from his horse and began to pick his way through the scrub toward the gate. Carroway dismounted also, and joined him as they headed toward the ruins. "What do you think you're going to find?" Vahanian called to them, as the others tethered their horses.
"Don't know," Tris called back. "Maybe nothing."
Something felt wrong, Tris thought as he made his way toward the ruins. Not dangerous, but strange, as though his senses were in conflict with something his inner sight knew to be amiss. There was magic here, old and strong. Something urged him to turn away. A spell? he wondered. One that would cause enough discomfort to make casual passers-by choose another road?
"What's left is too high to climb over," Tris observed.
"Take a look at this," Carroway called. Tris looked up to where the minstrel was pulling at loose vines covering a large seal on the iron gate to reveal an inscription.
"What does it say?" Tris asked.
Carroway ran his fingers lightly over the dark metal surface, squinting. "I'm not sure. It's written in a language I don't recognize," he said, bending closer. And there's a spot down here," he said, touching an indentation, "where something's been prized loose."
"Let me see," Carina said, and Carroway stepped aside. Carina bent to examine it then stood. "It's Nargi," she said.
"Can you read it?" Tris asked, crowding closer.
"I'll try," Carina replied, and leaned toward the plaque once more. "C'sque rut osir, a'tesyr ja kescue," she read slowly.
"Kuscue" Vahanian corrected, turning toward them. "A'tesyr ja kuscue," he repeated in perfect Nargi. "It means, 'I bar this gate.'"
Carina looked up, surprised. "Nargi's not an easy language. Do you want to take a look?"
Vahanian made his way through the scrub. Tris and Carroway stepped aside, and the mercenary brushed some dirt from the seal. "lb vossir, e dis-elon, vi fosset a'ysse, c'sa." Vahanian read fluently, continuing down several lines of the strange, mellifluous language. "'With my hand, I bar this gate...' there's a date here, back about fifty years ago, I think."
"The Mage Wars," Tris said looking up.
—"That none should despoil this place of learning," Vahanian translated. "Only the seal of the Lady may pass."
Carina looked at Vahanian. "The Nargi don't teach their language to outsiders," she said skeptically. "Where did you learn that?"
Vahanian shrugged and turned away. "Spend two years as their prisoner and see what you learn."
"The seal of the Lady," Kiara murmured. "The star pendant," she said, reaching inside her tunic for the pendant which glowed brightly as she drew it out, shining on her palm. She stepped forward and fitted the star into the indentation.
Around them, everything changed.
Beyond the gate was a massive stone building, four stories high, with a tower that stretched toward the sun. Gone completely was the overgrowth of vines and brambles inside the fence. The lawn around the Library was neatly tended, surrounded by ancient trees and a small, well-planned garden around a placid reflecting pool. The iron gate creaked inward on its massive hinges and the front door of the tower opened. A sprightly white-haired man nearly danced to the opening, his arms spread in greeting.
"Come on in," he said, welcoming them. "You're late, quite late, but we've been expecting you." And then abruptly, as if interrupted by a tap on the shoulder, he turned peevishly to one side to address empty air. "I've had enough of your silliness for one day. Now off with you!" He turned toward Tris and the others again. "Don't let him bother you," he said, with the air of an embarrassed parent. "He's really quite harmless. Do come in."
Tris moved forward, but Vahanian placed a hand on his shoulder. "I'm not sure 'harmless' is the right word," he cautioned. "He's talking to thin air."
"Not exactly," Tris said, chuckling. "There's a ghost, just off to his right. It's been poking him the whole time, rather pesky."
The man in the doorway brightened. "Goddess of Light! Someone else can see him! Please, please come in," he entreated, gesturing in welcome. "I'm Royster, a keeper of the Library."
Tris led the wary group into the darkened hallway. Jae squawked nervously from his perch on Kiara's shoulder. As they stepped inside, torches flared into brilliance on both sides of the passageway. Brown-robed figures assembled in the hallway, until a company of about twenty stood before them.
"These are my brothers and sisters," Royster introduced, then laughed aloud. "No, no—not blood family. We are acolytes to the Sisterhood, and our charge is to protect and maintain all this," he said with a grand sweep of his hand. "We are the Keepers."
Tris bowed in greeting. "I am Martris Drayke, grandson of Bava K'aa, the sorceress," Tris introduced himself, "and these are my companions," he added, introducing each in turn. "I've come to find a way to defeat a dark mage who killed my family. Carina seeks a cure for King Donelan's mage-sent illness. Kiara must speak for her own Journey, but the Sisterhood itself sent her here. Can you help us?"
Royster jumped as if poked and scowled at the empty air on his left. "Now stop interrupting!" he admonished the ghost. "They'll get to that. Don't be so impatient!" Exasperated, he turned his attention again to Tris. "Perhaps," he said, with a cunning smile. "Mageborn, are you?" he asked, peering closely at Tris.
"Just learning," Tris admitted.
"Don't let him kid you," Vahanian muttered under his breath. "If he's just practicing, I don't want to be around for the real thing."
"At the doorway, you could see Kessen," Royster said. "You are a spirit mage?"
Tris nodded. "Both the Sisterhood and the spirit of my grandmother believe you can help me with my training."
Royster stroked his beard. "You stay out of it," he snapped to the ghost. "You're just partial to him because he can see you. Well you're no treat to look on, let me tell you." He looked back to Tris, his blue eyes twinkling.
"I bet I can," he said spryly. "Make yourselves at home," he said, with a spring in his step as he turned and beckoned them to follow. "Plenty of room for all. First a room and a bed, then some food, then more than enough time for the books. You, hush up," he snapped as an aside to the ghost.
"Do you see anything?" Tris heard Berry ask Vahanian as they followed the sprightly librarian deeper into the huge building. Jae squawked nervously. The other Keepers melted into the shadows as silently as they had emerged, and Tris might have wondered, without his mage sight, if they were also ghosts. Royster, on the other hand, was definitely mortal. He was a thin, slightly built man barely taller than Carina, with unruly white hair and a full beard. What he lacked in size and bulk, he made up for in energy, since he seemed always in motion and moved with a sprightly glee that made him seem younger than his years, although Tris guessed him to be nearing his sixtieth summer.
"Just trouble," Vahanian admitted. "I've seen enough ghosts already for a lifetime."
"Me, too," Berry agreed. "Do you think there are vayash moru here?"
"Now that's a pleasant thought," Vahanian replied darkly.
The rooms that opened off the hallway were dimly lit and cavernous, filled with towering shelves of ancient tomes, leather-bound volumes, carefully wrapped bundles of scrolls and sheaves of flattened parchment. The wisdom of the mages, Tris thought in awe. Hidden for a lifetime. His curiosity drew him toward those ancient volumes, and Kiara, Carroway and Carina looked as excited as he did, while Vahanian appeared decidedly uncomfortable. Berry fairly bounced with enthusiasm.