Rich Wulf - Rise of the Seventh Moon

“This way,” the guard said, waving for them to follow.

“Are you sure he’ll be in his office today?” Zed asked.

“What do you mean?” the guard asked.

“All the trouble going on,” Zed said. “I wouldn’t be sitting around reading on a day like this. I’d want to go check on my family.”

“University rules are strict,” the guard said bitterly. “In times of crisis, the headmasters believe it is even more important that we continue traditions as usual. And Ghein doesn’t have any family that I know of. He’s a reclusive sort.”

Zed noticed that the guard walked very briskly as he led them on their way. He frequently looked back to make sure they hadn’t become separated. He finally arrived at a small office deep among the bookshelves and knocked on the door.

“Yes?” came a voice from inside.

“Some visitors to see you, Master Ghein,” the guard said.

“Thank you, good sir,” Dalan said to the guard. “You’ve been most helpful.”

The guard mumbled something unintelligible and fled into the maze of shelves without another word.

“He was eager to be rid of us,” Zed observed.

“I can’t imagine why,” Dalan said with a smug grin. He opened the office and stepped inside.

A small, middle-aged man in a dull gray robe sat behind a desk within the small office. He pulled off his spectacles and studied them calmly. His eyes widened when Omax entered.

“Master Ghein,” Dalan said. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“Who are you?” the librarian demanded nervously. “If you work for Radcul, I already told him I don’t know anything.”

“Radcul?” Dalan asked. He was visibly annoyed to be thrown off track.

“Local crimelord and mercenary boss,” Zed explained. “Listen, Master Ghein, we don’t have anything to do with Baron Radcul and we don’t have a great deal of time. We’re the crew of the Mourning Dawn , and we’ve come looking for Norra Cais. She has information that we might need, and she told us you would know how to contact her.”

“The Mourning Dawn? ” Petra asked. His face turned ashen. “I’m sorry … So sorry.”

“What is it?” Dalan demanded. “Why are you sorry?”

“Norra is dead,” he said. “She was found in her apartment several days ago. Her neck was broken. Radcul’s thugs have claimed responsibility. I know she owed them a great deal of money …”

“But you have your doubts,” Dalan said.

“Norra was too smart for Radcul,” Petra said. “I’m sure she could have avoided him forever. I’m sure he only claimed responsibility to save face.”

“So who killed her?” Omax asked.

“She was researching something,” Petra said. “I don’t know what it was, but I could tell it was important. She was scared. For Norra, that’s saying something. She was never scared of anything. It was the same thing that drove her to journey to the Frostfell.”

Zed frowned. “Damn,” he said with a sigh. “She never told you anything?”

Petra shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he said. His eyes glistened, and he stopped for a moment to catch his breath. “I think she was trying to protect me from whatever ended up killing her.”

“Useless,” Dalan grumbled. “How entirely useless.” He turned and stormed out of the office. Ijaac and Omax followed, but Zed lingered behind.

“I’m sorry for your loss, Master Ghein,” Zed said. “I knew Norra. She must have cared a great deal for you to trust you so much.”

Petra gave a wry smile. “That sort of thing was always relative where Norra was concerned,” he said. “I fear what I felt for her was not mutual, but yes-she trusted me more than most.”

“I wish we could have helped her,” Zed said. He turned to leave.

“Wait,” the librarian said. “Did Norra have anything to do with what happened over the city today?”

Zed looked over his shoulder.

“It’s just that it’s such a strange coincidence,” Petra said. “A bizarre magical weapon attacks the city and you show up almost immediately, looking for her. After everything else, I find it strange.”

“You’re safe here in your libraries, Master Ghein,” Zed said. “Do you really want me to tell you the truth?”

“I suppose not,” the librarian said, looking away sheepishly. “It’s just that …” He looked at Zed intently again. “Were you friends with her?”

Zed smirked. “That sort of thing was always relative with Norra,” he said. “Honestly, I didn’t like her. She was arrogant, abusive, and short-sighted. But when it came down to it, she did the right thing. That’s more than a lot of people can say. I wish I could have been here to help her.”

Petra ducked under his desk to retrieve something, then quickly stood. He moved toward Zed, carrying a thick book. “Here,” the librarian said. “Take this with you.”

“A book?” Zed asked, accepting the thick volume carefully. “What is it?”

“Some obscure thing,” he said. “I’m the only one who remembers it; the library will never even know it’s gone. Norra spent a great deal of time reading it. After a while, she began leaving it here in my office so that no one else would check it out of the library. Maybe it’s important?”

Zed looked at the cover. The Wanderings of Morien Markhelm: A Journey into Argonnessen .

“Maybe,” he said. “Thanks, Master Ghein.”

The librarian said nothing. He returned to his desk and watched with a hollow stare as Zed closed the door. Zed hurried to catch up with the others as they walked out of the library.

“Do you think it was Zamiel who killed her?” Dalan asked.

“I’m almost positive,” Zed said. “Radcul is vicious but stupid. Norra could have evaded him forever. Zamiel tried to kill Eraina and me when we found out he had been altering the Draconic Prophecy. He boasted about killing others who had learned too much as well. Maybe Norra discovered something he didn’t want us to know.”

“To tell the truth, I’m having a hard time feeling sorry for her after what she did to my crew,” Ijaac said. “Feel like a right bastard for admitting it, but there it is. If she hadn’t treated everyone like rubbish, maybe someone would have helped her when she needed it.”

“Ijaac, that isn’t helping,” Zed said.

The dwarf shrugged.

“I blame myself for this,” Dalan said as Zed reached him. “Seren worried that Norra might be in danger, but I chose to fly to Nathyrr first instead.”

“There was no way you could have known, Dalan,” Zed said. “Sharn was much farther away. You only did what seemed logical. Not to mention that Ghein said she was found days ago. You wouldn’t have arrived in time to help her.”

Dalan shrugged, finding little solace in Zed’s words.

“I’m surprised you care so much, Dalan,” Zed said.

“I am not incapable of compassion or regret, Arthen,” Dalan said sharply. “Do you find it so odd that when I cause someone to die it troubles me? What is that you’re carrying?”

Zed held open the book and flipped through pages filled with a mad, jumbled scrawl. “Not sure,” he said. “The librarian gave it to me. Maybe Tristam can make sense of it. To tell the truth, I almost hope it’s useless.”

“Why do you say that?” Dalan asked.

“Looks like a book about the Draconic Prophecy,” Zed said. “I hate prophecy. I hate being told that I have no choice, that what I do doesn’t matter.”

“They say that the Prophecy is never wrong, only misinterpreted,” Dalan said. “To me, that only means the Prophecy is sometimes wrong, but the scholars are too embarrassed to admit it.”

Zed laughed. “I hope you’re right, Dalan.” He considered that for a moment. “Unless the Prophecy says we’re destined to stop the prophet and have long, happy lives. Then I’ll support every bit of it.”