Page 34 of The Cradle of Ice

But that was not Rami’s intent.

“I shared a truth,” the Klashean prince said, “now I must ask for one in return.”

Kanthe exhaled with relief. “Anything.”

Rami sat up, turned, and faced Kanthe. “Why did you all come here? You claimed your self-exile was to escape persecution for traitorous acts that were falsely laid at your feet.”

Kanthe’s limbs went cold. He came close to dropping the pipe and had to clench it harder. A few bits of glowing ash fell from the pipe’s cup. None of them had shared the true reason why their group had ended up here. Apocalyptic portents were rarely welcome, especially during times of war. That had been proven true back in Hálendii, where all their attempted warnings only led to bloodshed and death.

Rami leaned closer. “The reason you truly came here?” His eyes glowed brightly, shining with a sharp cunning that he had kept hidden until now. “What does it have to do with the moon?”

18

CARRIED THROUGH THE gardens of the Imri-Ka, Frell took in deep breaths. Each inhalation of fresh air cleared his head. The spinning world resettled into some semblance of order.

Still, his body refused to obey him. He felt the iron grip on his arms and legs by the four Dresh’ri who bore him, but his limbs could not fight them off. He couldn’t even raise his head, which hung crookedly from his shoulders, bobbing with each step through the perfumed grounds.

Gravel crunched under sandals. Tailored bushes rushed past him. Thorns from purple empyrean roses snagged at his robe. Water burbled in stone fountains. Lanterns glowed in the shadows of the high-walled courtyard.

He spotted others in byor-ga habiliment who scurried from their path, servants who surely knew better than to speak about what they had witnessed.

The group finally reached a tall marble archway in the center of the gardens. A pair of knights flanked the entrance, holding the chains of massive war dogs, who snarled in threat. But none of them made any effort to stop or question the cadre of Dresh’ri led by Zeng ri Perrin.

Frell was hauled past the threshold, but a pair of black iron doors blocked the way. Zeng lifted a white staff, embossed with ancient sigils, and the doors swung inward, welcoming the return of the librarie’s guardians.

By now, the fresh air had cleared enough of the numbing alchymy for him to focus more acutely. Beyond the doors, the group entered a small stone antechamber. It appeared to have no exit. The seven Dresh’ri crowded in tight, making room for a latecomer, another member of their order.

No one spoke.

Zeng shifted over to a lever on the floor, grabbed it, and hauled it down. The ground bumped, then shook. Frell had enough control of his body to gasp as the floor began to descend, accompanied by the sound of rushing water.

Frell could not stifle his amazement.

Some pressure-fueled artifice …

Still, he should not have been surprised. The Klashean alchymists outstripped all others when it came to sophisticated mechanisms and innovative craftworks.

As the floor dropped, an elongating well stretched above him. The stone walls were polished smooth, impossible to climb.

It reinforced Zeng’s earlier warning: You will never leave.

The torchlight from the entrance overhead had become a dull, distant glow by the time their descent halted. Another iron door opened. A familiar and welcoming smell greeted him. The scent of dust, dried leather, and dusky parchment. It was as familiar as home. He knew what they were about to enter.

The Abyssal Codex …

Frell was carried down a short hall and into a lantern-lit cavernous space. His breath caught in his throat. He gaped at the sheer breadth of the place.

The domed ceiling rose so high that its apex vanished into shadows. Shelves climbed nearly as tall, densely packed with tomes and sealed scrolls. Ladders scaled those heights. A few cowled scholars perched on the rungs. They were illuminated by tiny lanterns strapped to their shoulders. Across the vast expanse of the place, small stars twinkled in the distance, marking other Dresh’ri.

Despite his pounding heart, he could not help but be awed, even humbled. The shelves vanished into the distance, overwhelming his senses. This librarie dwarfed even the one at the Bad’i Chaa, which had been massive.

As he was hauled along, he could not determine if the space was once a natural cavern or if it had been dug out of the rock. The shelves seemed to radiate out from a central core, which he was being carried toward.

His eyes rolled all around, trying to take it all in. He wished he had control of his neck to better view the extent of the Codex. Curiosity competed with fear.

Then the shadows shredded overhead. A flurry of tiny black wings swept down upon them. Their group was assaulted by a high-pitched squeaking; their robes were spattered by foul droppings. Then the horde dashed away in a coordinated eddy.

Frell tried to follow their path back into the shadows, recognizing the winged creatures.