Spear of Destiny by James Baldwin (little bear else holmelund minarik .TXT) 📕

I tried to think of some way that wouldn’t work—but couldn’t think of one. “I’m game. Let’s try it.”

“I’ll do it later,” Karalti said. “I need some time alone. To hunt… and to take a bath. But I’ll be back. And don’t worry about me, okay? I’m not going to throw a tantrum or anything. I’m just sad, and I need to feel sad for a while. But after that, I’ll be fine.”

“I believe you.” I smiled faintly. “You don’t mind if I still call you Tidbit? It’s not patronizing?”

“I’ll always be your little Tidbit. And you’ll always be my rider. Good luck at the library.” She pressed a warm thought toward me, almost like a kiss, and withdrew.

Chapter 32

Vulkan Keep’s library was built into a large cavern, kept dry by the geothermal warmth that radiated from the belly of Mt. Racosul. What seemed like miles of shelves receded into the depths of the mountain, which was clearly lit by rows of smokeless mage lights. After all the practice I’d been doing in Myszno, I could slowly read the sign at the front check-in desk without help: ‘NO pipes, matches, sparks, witchcraft, or loitering’.

“Oh! Hi, Kythias!” Rin called to the red-haired young man seated at the desk, reading a book with his feet up. He startled at the sound of his name and looked over, and when he saw us, he hurriedly straightened up and set his feet on the floor.

“Rin? You and Count Dragozin know one another?” Kythias glanced between us with sharp, hawkish brown eyes. He was Lysian, like Rutha, but his pointed ears had been docked and rounded to look more human. “What a surprise to see you again, my lord.”

“Believe me when I say you will never be as surprised about that as I am.” I gave him a flippant salute. “I’ve got some books to return. And we’re here to raid your Meewfolk archives again.”

“The locked shelves? Certainly.” He gave Rin a sly look. “You’ve wanted to get your shiny silver nose into that section since you arrived in Taltos. Been making friends in high places, have you?”

“I was Hector’s friend before he became a Voivode.” Rin stuck her tongue out at him. “It’s good to see you again. How’s life in Vulkan Keep?”

“Quiet. Which is exactly what I was hoping for after the howling circus that is the Royal College dormitory.” Kythias rose, dusting himself down. “I have my own room, my own bed… it’s heaven. I thank the Maker every day I no longer have to share a bath.”

“You guys know each other?” I asked them.

“Oh! Yes! Kythias used to be a librarian at the Royal College, where Kanzo took me to study,” Rin replied, breezing past me into the library. “He was always my favorite. So sassy.”

“She only likes me for my devilishly good looks. The eyes, the hair, the rippling washboard abs,” Kythias deadpanned, collecting his keys.

“The way you threw out that pair of third-years trying to smoke smashweed in Study Room G,” Rin giggled. “I thought you were going to rip those guys in half.”

“I have larger, stronger friends for that sort of work.” Kythias went and got one of the book carts, wheeling it ahead of Rin toward the back of the library. “And knives. I mean, who needs friends when you can have knives?”

“Here here,” I said. “Knife life is best life.”

The locked section was basically a prison for books. Behind a barred gate stood seven rows of tall shelves, each one carrying dozens of massive tomes. Each book had thick leather or wooden binding with an iron loop hammered into the spine. A heavy-duty chain ran through them, padlocked at each end of the bookcase. They also smelled amazing: they had books from all over Artana here, but the old Meewfolk books were written in perfumed red ink made from the Dragonsblood tree. It smelled like vanilla and smoke and amber mixed together.

I breathed in deeply. “Man, I love how this place smells.”

“Indeed. Like dead trees and flayed baby dolphins,” Kythias quipped, as he began to open the padlocks.

“Nooo, don’t tell me that!” Rin slapped him as he grinned down at her.

“Very well: no lecture on how dolphin vellum is made. What are you looking for today?” He gestured to the shelves. “I might at least be able to help you both get started.”

“We’re trying to learn whether the Meewfolk built some historical artifacts, the Warsingers. If they did, we need to learn what happened to the schematics used to make them,” I replied. “We also need information on Sandworms. The great big fuckers that live in the Bashir Desert.”

“Warsingers?” The archivist frowned, pacing along the shelves. “The suits of armor worn by the gods, during the Fall of the Aesari? Why would you want to look up those old stories?”

Rin bobbed her head. “Because they’re real. They predate the Aesari Empire, too. They were built during the Drachan Wars.”

Kythias shot her a sharp look. “I find that hard to believe. There are stories of them, but most scholars don’t put much stock in the myths.”

“Everyone alive in Archemi today owes their survival to the Warsingers and the people who built them,” I said, cutting off Rin’s wordless stammer. “They turned the tide against the Drachan.”

“Hmm. I haven’t seen anything about other than vague stories,” Kythias said. “They’re generally described as being larger than the gods. I don’t exactly know how big a god is, but I struggle to see how something of that size made of metal and stone wouldn’t just fall apart under its own weight.”

“Well, they pulled it off somehow. And now we’re trying to figure out how they did it,” Rin replied. “I’ve seen one. It’s huge. It could walk in the river below Vulkan Keep and be able