Raven's Strike (Raven #2)(35)

Jes laughed.

Chapter 5

The pristine antechamber of Seraph's memory was gone. The temple flooring was covered with dirt blown in through the open doors. The furnishings Seraph remembered were gone.

Only when she and Jes entered the great domed chamber with its frescoed birds flying in a circle around a false sky did the temple match her memories, even down to the magelights that illuminated the walls. She wondered how long the lights would continue without the wizard who fed them.

Jes paused to look at the eagle that dominated the sky. "He thought the Eagle was the Stalker, didn't he?"

"No," Seraph said, walking briskly toward a door on the far side of the room. "He didn't know anything about the Stalker at all, except that it was trapped. He knew even less about the Eagle. You know Travelers don't talk about the Eagles because your Order has enough to bear, and the clans try to protect the Guardians from the few things we can. Volis heard whispers of parts of the two stories and put them together with a handful of straw and came out with nonsense."

Jes followed her out of the room.

They found the library and the others, thanks to Jes, who followed the sounds of voices through the labyrinthine series of narrow halls dug into the stone of the mountain.

Though it was a large room, it was sparsely furnished, as if Volis had just begun to fill it. One wall was lined with shelves that were half-filled with books. On the other side of the room were a bench, a chest, and several cabinets. Lehr and Rinnie were parked in front of one bookcase paging through books, Hennea was doing the same thing in front of another.

Hennea looked up when they entered. She saw Jes, humming happily to himself, and raised an eyebrow at Seraph.

Seraph couldn't help but smile at her a little smugly. "Ravens like secrets."

"Papa said," agreed Jes cheerfully.

He walked behind Rinnie and crouched just behind where she sat on the floor, a book opened to a colorful illustration of a Traveler camp.

"That's a karis," he said, pointing at a picture of one of the little wagons. "The Lark, Brewydd, had one of those she rode in because she was very old." He looked up at Hennea. "Very old," he said again, and winked.

Hennea stiffened. Then she turned on her heel, grabbed Seraph by the arm, and tugged her out of the room into the hallway.

"What did you say to him?" she demanded, her usual aura of calmness gone as if it had never been.

In contrast, Seraph felt quite tranquil - an unusual state for her. She enjoyed it.

"His hearing is quite good," she reminded Hennea. "Though he'll pretend he didn't hear us because someone taught him manners." She looked pointedly at Hennea's hand.

Hennea let her go as if Seraph's arm had turned hot as a coal.

"Why are you doing this? Why encourage him?" Hennea asked in a harsh whisper. "You know it's not safe."

"My son doesn't hide from life," said Seraph, making no effort to shield her words from the three people in the next room, who were doubtlessly holding their breath so they could hear better. "You might trust him to know what he can bear and what he cannot. He is not stupid."

Hennea stared at her incredulously. "You are encouraging him."

"I told him nothing but the truth as I know it," said Seraph. "What he does with that knowledge is his business - and perhaps yours." She looked at the other Raven and sighed, putting away her secret amusement. "Life can be so hard sometimes, Hennea; it's easy to forget it can also be wonderful. Don't throw away gifts that come your way."

Deciding she had dispensed more advice than she was comfortable with, Seraph left Hennea and returned to the library, pulling a book out at random.

"Hennea's already been through that shelf," murmured Lehr. "It might be best if you moved over one bookcase. We're setting aside any books that are about the Travelers, and there's a big pile here for books written in languages we can't read."

"Thanks," she said, touching his shoulder. Instead of sorting through a bookcase, she sat on the floor and began going through the pile of books until she came to some she could translate.

To someone who was used to having the mermori libraries at her fingertips, this library was disappointing. Illusionary books were almost as useful as the real thing, and you didn't have to worry about tearing pages. The Colossae wizards had been wealthy and, being - by all accounts - solsenti-style wizards, they had spent their wealth in books. Even Isolde's library dwarfed this one - and Isolde had been one of the lesser wizards.

Seraph paged through a book about the Travelers by someone who claimed to have lived with them for a year. It was full of unlikely events and bits of nonsense that led Seraph to believe that if the author had ever met a Traveler, it was no more than a momentary encounter that allowed him to describe the clothing. There was nothing else factual that she could find.

Hennea came back into the library while Seraph was still paging through the first book.

"Have you decided what we're looking for?" Seraph asked Hennea, as if the conversation in the hall had not happened.

Hennea, having drawn her usual cloak of equanimity back in place, said, "The books about Travelers I think we should take with us so we can take more time to evaluate them. The books of wizardry that have nothing to do with us - I don't know. Most of what is in them is not very useful for us. It seems wrong simply to destroy them, but they are too dangerous to fall into just anyone's hands. There might be some correspondence - though he burned most of his letters after he read them. Keep your eyes open to anything that might point to the identity of the Shadowed."