The Quest for the Trilogy: Boneslicer; Seaspray; Deathwhisper Read Free Page A

gathered.”
    â€œMake your point, halfer,” a human merchant said. He was dressed in finery and accompanied by a dozen armed guards. Age and success had turned him plump and soft. His hair was black but the color looked false. Jeweled rings glinted on his fingers. “For two days, you’ve stood up there and ranted and raved about the Library’s existence, which”—he turned to address the crowd—“I think nobody really cares about.”
    A few in the audience agreed with him.
    â€œI’d heard the Library existed only a few years ago,” the human continued. “There was some mention of a battle against a man named Aldhran Khempus. Supposedly, there are two libraries, in fact.”

    â€œYes,” Juhg said, “there are.” He had discovered the second while rescuing Grandmagister Lamplighter and searching for The Book of Time .
    â€œIn the past,” the merchant said, “simply owning a book was enough to get you killed not only by the goblinkin, but generally by anyone who found you with one.”
    â€œThe times are changing,” Juhg said.
    â€œYou’re only here,” the merchant continued, “because you want the people here to help aid in your defense from the goblinkin. I’ve heard they’ve sent raiding parties out to your little island.”
    â€œThey have,” Juhg admitted. “Those goblinkin raiding parties haven’t succeeded in reaching Greydawn Moors. They never will. The island’s defenders will never allow that to happen.”
    â€œHow many dwellers are among those defenders?” the human taunted.
    â€œDwellers,” Juhg said, “aren’t warriors. We were charged by the Old Ones to become the keepers of the Great Library.”
    â€œThat’s what you do?”
    â€œYes.”
    The human held up his hands in fake supplication. “Then why did you call us here, telling us that the fate of the world rested in our hands?”
    â€œBecause it does,” Juhg said.
    â€œHow?”
    Leaping from the stage, Juhg opened his backpack, took several books from it, and walked to the elven warder and surveyed him. “You’re a Fire Lily elf from the Joksdam Still Waters.”
    Oryn was unimpressed. “A number of those present know who I am.”
    Opening the book, Juhg flipped to one of the illustrations that showed the wide river that wound through what had once been Teldane’s Bounty but was now the Shattered Coast. “But I know the history of your people. I know what Joksdam Still Waters looked like when it was whole, when it was a place of beauty and not a place of dead trees and cities.”
    The picture was in color, elaborately inked and designed to catch the eye. It showed an elven warder on a leaf boat sculling the waters and battling a sea troll three times his size.
    Reverently, Oryn took the book. “Kaece the Swift,” he marveled. The other elven warders crowded in around him to peer over his shoulder.
    â€œYes.” Juhg had deliberately ordered the story of Kaece the Swift copied. “This is his story, Oryn. His true story. Before Lord Kharrion came among the Fire Lily elves and destroyed them.” He changed his language to the elven tongue. “And it’s written in the language of your people.”
    Cautiously, Oryn flipped through the book, stopping at several other pictures. All of them were in color, which had drawn a lot of complaints from Juhg’s overworked Library staff, but he’d wanted to make a good impression.
    â€œYou know his story?” Oryn asked.
    â€œI’ve read it,” Juhg said.
    â€œThere have been few like him.”
    â€œI know.”

    Oryn looked at Juhg with new respect. “You have read this?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œCould you”—he hesitated, because elves were haughty beings and didn’t like being beholden to another—“read this to me?”
    â€œI