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“In that case, I’ll go on a hunt for some.” She tapped at a drawing. “Do you know what the third symbol means? I couldn’t figure it out.”
“No, but I’m sure Cirie will find it.” Cirie being the head librarian.
“Can you also have her see if we have anything about a warlord called Airiok?”
“I’ll ask but I doubt we’ll find much. The flooding of the lower levels from the swamp destroyed much. Many of the history books didn’t survive the soaking.”
“I’m hoping the warlord’s library will have something for me. I’m going to head there now.”
“Be careful, Fionna.”
“Careful won’t find me answers,” she quipped before signing off.
She ate some more cheese as she contemplated Amelia’s claim they couldn’t kill what possessed Lomar. Kormac wouldn’t like that. Nor did she. But that wouldn’t stop her from seeking out a way to stop this thing before it got loose and murdered everyone.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Midafternoon, Kormac found himself in the library, not a place he often visited—nor did anyone else for that matter, judging by the dust on the spines of the books. As a boy, he’d spent most of his time training. Not just training to fight, which every young male learned, but also how to rule. His father constantly dropped tidbits that he only later realized where valuable nuggets of wisdom.
There are always two sides to a dispute, and you must discern which is the more valid.
Taking advice is a good thing, but if you can’t make your own decisions then you shouldn’t be ruling.
Or his favorite:People might deny it, but they want a firm hand guiding them. At the same time, there is a fine line between governing and tyranny.
Kormac strolled toward a bookcase, the first of three, and read the titles displayed.Guide to Raising Horses in Captivity. The Basics of Husbandry.How-to books on subjects that didn’t interest. The lower shelves appeared to be on fighting and warcraft. In the next bookcase there was a large section dedicated to fables and poems. Who knew there were so many? He’d never indulged in fiction. Too busy dealing with reality.
The last bookcase held a history section that proved to be small and crowded with ledgers detailing the territory expenditures and tax collection. A glance through the books dedicated to the past showed them all to be recent, as in the last two centuries or so. Definitely not old enough to explain why they guarded Risead Pass, and none mentioning Airiok.
As he browsed, Fionna entered. He could tell without even turning. She exuded a presence and emitted a perfume that he recognized instantly.
“I see we both had the same idea,” she stated, coming to stand by him.
“We did. Alas, I’ve not found anything useful. None of these books go back far enough to be of any use to our current situation.”
“Destroyed, removed, or stored elsewhere?” she mused.
“I don’t know. Until now, we had no reason to study the past.”
“It would be odd if no one put down an account of what happened. Most cultures tend to keep a record.”
He swept a hand. “This is it. Accounts on crop yields. Invoices of sales. Births and deaths.”
Fionna craned to look around the small space then, without a word, exited the room.
Where was she gallivanting off to now? Hopefully not back to the dungeon to converse with his charming friend.
He emerged from the library to find her looking at her feet as she paced the length of wall from the doorway of the library to the corner of the hall.
“What are you doing?”
“I’ll tell you in a moment.” She slipped past him to go back into the library, and he whirled to see her once more watching her feet as she placed them end to end from doorway to bookcase.
“I assume there’s a reason for your odd behavior?”
She glanced at him. “Your library is too small.”
“Given it still has empty shelves to fill, I’d disagree.”
