Raven's Strike (Raven #2)(91)

"While he had her the Stalker was the happiest of men, but, since she was his brother's creation, her days were numbered from her birth. When she was an old, old woman, the Stalker went to his brother and pleaded that the Weaver would break the power of destruction, the Stalker's own magic, that she might not die.

"But this was something the Weaver could not do. If he broke this power, then he would destroy them both. Because for the All that Is to exist, the power of creation can never overwhelm destruction.

"Since the Weaver had not saved her, his most perfect creation, the Stalker vowed that all of the Weaver's creations would be destroyed. But he stayed his hand while his wife yet lived, because he could not stand to lose her one moment before he had to.

"As she lay dying, his wife gave her husband a drink the Weaver had prepared, and the Stalker fell asleep as the last breath left her mouth."

It was a romantic story, but the Scholar told it the same dry fashion Jes had used to recite his lessons - perhaps with even a shade less enthusiasm.

"The Weaver knew that without his brother, his powers would also destroy the All of Being, so he drank the same potion the Stalker had drunk. They slept, the Weaver and the Stalker. And while they slept, the Weaver dreamed a weaving to cover them both and protect his creations from them when they next awoke."

The Scholar quit speaking.

"That doesn't sound like the end of the story," Seraph said.

"The story of the Weaver and the Stalker will not end until the All of Being ends," said the Scholar. "And at that time there will be no one to tell its end."

Hennea sighed and started to say something but was stopped by noise from the stairway.

Gura was the first to reach them, whining and wagging his tail and trying to wriggle his way onto Seraph's lap. Since he outweighed her by a couple of stones she was hard put to save herself until Tier hauled him off by his collar.

"Gura, down," he said, and the dog dropped to the floor and looked repentant for a moment. Seraph sat up and rubbed his side with the toe of her boot, and he wagged his tail cheerfully.

Jes had come with Tier, and the Guardian was staring at the Scholar, who had not changed his expression - or his focus on Hennea.

"Where are the others?" she asked.

"I left them cooking steaks at camp. Since we'll be here a while, Lehr brought down a buck. Jes and I came to get you for dinner." Tier glanced at the illusion, then he looked again, frowning. "Your friend is welcome to come with us."

"Thank you," said the Scholar, turning toward Tier as if he'd just noticed him. "But I do not need to eat, and I may not leave the library." He paused. "It is good that you stay outside of the city. The dead walk the streets at night."

"It's an illusion," Hennea told Tier. "One of Hinnum's."

"It told us a story," said Seraph. "I think you ought to hear it. Scholar, would you tell the story of the Weaver and the Stalker?"

"Of course."

When the Scholar finished, Tier rubbed his jaw, and said, "So the Stalker wasn't something created by the wizards here?"

"No," said the Scholar.

"The stories are wrong," Seraph said.

"So why did the wizards leave?" Tier asked Seraph. "Why freeze the city this way? Why is the library the only thing that isn't frozen in time?"

"There was nothing here for them. It was part of the price for what they had done. They could not bear to lose the library forever."

Hennea frowned. "If they didn't create the Stalker, what had they done?"

For the first time, the smile fell from the illusion's face and left something very old peering out of the young eyes. "They killed the gods," he whispered; and then he was gone as if he'd never been.

The Guardian growled.

Back at camp, Tier told the story of the Stalker to the others, as they cooked venison over the fire. As far as Seraph could tell, he used the same words the Scholar had twice used.

"I thought the Stalker was supposed to be evil," said the Emperor, feeding the last of his fire-roasted meat to Gura, who accepted it with more politeness than enthusiasm. The dog had discovered during their trip that Phoran and his guards were not as hardened to pleading eyes as his usual family and had been making use of this new power throughout supper.

"That's what the stories I've always heard say," agreed Seraph.

"So it isn't the Stalker that caused the fall of the Elder Wizards?" Lehr leaned back on his elbows and stared thoughtfully at the fire.

"Ellevanal told me the Travelers killed their gods and ate them." Seraph braced her elbows on her knees and leaned her chin on her hands. "My father just told me there were no gods, but Hennea - and the Scholar - say the gods are dead."

"I don't know where I heard it," said Hennea, and Jes rubbed her shoulder gently.

Hennea had been quiet since they left the library, but then, being a Raven, that wasn't unusual for her. Seraph would have dismissed her suspicions that Hennea was upset about something, except Jes had been fussing over her.

"The Shadowed is evil," said Lehr with conviction. "He killed a whole town, a town larger than Redern. He killed Benroln, Brewydd, and all of Rongier's clan. He taught the wizards of the Path how to steal Orders."