Lord of the Libraries Read Free

wasn’t watchin’ where he was steppin’?”
    A chorus of “not-mes” sprang up. The offender didn’t step forward.
    Varrowyn wasn’t used to having to ask twice. Fouling up earned a sharp rebuke, but not immediately taking responsibility for fouling up when he asked earned a quick knot on the head when he caught the perpetrator. And he always caught them. The dwarven captain also wasn’t used to anyone in his command making such a mistake, but there were humans among the elves and dwarves tonight.
    “Wasn’t us, Varrowyn,” Anell said quietly. He was a young dwarf, but he’d been blooded in the battle for the Vault of All Known Knowledge.
    Over the last month, Varrowyn had seen the young warrior age years. The quick and good fun of youth was gone, replaced by a haunted soberness.
    “Then who?” Varrowyn demanded. “I got goblinkin lookin’ to make a landin’. I ain’t got time for somebody to be blamin’ forest creatures. I know they’s been settled down by the warders.” He scowled at the humans, who didn’t always come graceful to woodcraft.
    “Was these two,” a voice in the back stated.
    A slender elven warder in a hooded cloak pushed two small figures forward.
    “Please,” one of them whispered. “We meant no harm. We only wanted to see.”
    Surprise drew a curse from Varrowyn, who seldom cursed except during the heat of battle, as he studied the two the elven warder had
rousted from the forest. They were barely three feet tall, dressed in gray robes, and cowered with their heads tucked down into their shoulders like they were second cousins to turtles or baby chicks trying to hide their heads under their own wings.
    “Dwellers,” one of the humans snarled in derision.
    Varrowyn knew that many among the elves, dwarves, and humans didn’t have respect for the dwellers. Slight of stature and prodigious of appetite, egotistical and stingy (all of this through a combination of birth and upbringing), dwellers were cowards at heart.
    The Old Ones’ magic had brought the dwellers into the world and given them the responsibility of caring for the Vault of All Known Knowledge. As the books had been destroyed under Lord Kharrion’s orders, the world had fallen into dim and cold ignorance. Reading and writing vanished, along with histories and scientific knowledge. Nothing was spared. Oral traditions could only keep so many things alive. On the island, the dwellers of Greydawn Moors taught their children to read so they could serve in the Great Library.
    Unfortunately, over the years and the generations, the dwellers in Greydawn Moors had come to resent the human Grandmagisters who had orchestrated the cataloguing and restoration of the books that the Unity had successfully transported to the island. The dwellers had chosen to step away from their duties and concentrate instead on mealtimes and finding ways to fill their coin purses through secret trade with the mainland. They sent fewer children to the Library, and those children spent less time there as well.
    As a result, the dwellers earned only derision and scorn from the dwarves, elves, and humans who lived on the island. All of them still gave everything they had to offer.
    Some of the dwarves had sworn their lives and the lives of their children for generations to the protection of the Great Library. The elves had sworn on as warders to care for the island and the creatures that roamed it. Because they were so drawn to the sea, humans had agreed to operate the navy and pirate fleets that protected the island.
    Other warriors made derisive comments as well.
    The two dwellers stood tight against each other, fidgeting and nervous. The small hands of each caught at the robe of the other. One of
them carried a book and a Librarian’s bag containing writing utensils and inks.
    Children, Varrowyn realized. He quieted the warriors with a terse command.
    The silence fell immediately, broken only by the sweep of the oars out over the water.
    “What