A Book Worth Reading

"You have met Prince Elbereth?" Headmaster Avery Schell asked Cadderly as soon as the young scholar entered Dean Thobicus's office. The large headmaster rubbed a kerchief across his blotchy face, huffing and puffing almost continually as his bloated body tried to pull in enough air. Even before the advent of the chaos curse, Avery had been a rotund man. Now he was obese, having gone on a gluttonous spree along with several other of the Edificant Library's most prominent eaters. In the throes of the chaos curse, some of those priests had literally eaten themselves to death.

"You must take longer walks each morning," offered Headmistress Pertelope, a neatly groomed, graying woman with hazel eyes that still showed the inquisitive luster more common to a much younger person. Cadderly carefully considered the woman, standing easily by Avery's side. Pertelope was the young scholar's favorite instructor, a wistful, often irreverent woman more concerned with common sense than steadfast rules. He noted her long-sleeved, ankle-length gown, bound tightly about the collar, and the gloves that she had been wearing every time Cadderly had seen her since the chaos curse. Never before had Pertelope been so modest, if it was indeed modesty that kept her so covered. She wouldn't talk about it, though, to Cadderly or to anyone else; she wouldn't talk about anything that had occurred during the time of the curse. Cadderly wasn't overly concerned, for even with the new wrappings, Pertelope seemed her old mischievous self. Even as Cadderly watched, she grabbed a handful of Avery's blubber and gave a playful shake, to the incredulous stares of both Avery and Dean Thobicus, the skinny and wrinkled leader of the library.

A chuckle erupted from Cadderly's lips faster than he could bite it back. The stares turned grave as they shifted his way, but Pertelope offered him a playful wink to comfort him.

Through it all, Prince Elbereth, tall and painfully straight, with hair the color of a raven's wings and eyes the silver of moonbeams on a rushing river, showed no emotion whatsoever. Standing like a statue beside Dean Thobicus's oaken desk, he caught Cadderly's gaze with his own penetrating stare and held the young scholar's attention firmly.

Cadderly was thoroughly flustered and did not even notice the seconds passing by.

"Well?" Avery prompted.

Cadderly at first didn't understand, so Avery motioned the elven prince's way.

"No," Cadderly answered quickly, "I have not had the honor of a formal introduction, though I have heard much of Prince Elbereth since his arrival three days ago." Cadderly flashed his boyish smile, the corners of his gray eyes turning up to match his grin. He pushed his unkempt, sandy brown locks from his face and moved toward Elbereth, a hand extended. "Well met!"

Elbereth regarded the offered hand for some time before extending his own in response. He nodded gravely, making Cadderly more than a little bit embarrassed and uncomfortable about the easy smile splayed across his face. Yet again, Cadderly felt out of his element, beyond his experiences. Elbereth had come with potentially catastrophic news and Cadderly, sheltered for all of his life, simply did not know how to respond in such a situation.

"This is the scholar I have told you about," Avery explained to the elf. "Cadderly of Carradoon, a most remarkable young man."

Elbereth's handshake was incredibly strong for so slender a being, and when the elf turned Cadderly's hand over suddenly, the young scholar offered only token resistance.

Elbereth examined Cadderly's palm, rubbing his thumb across the base of Cadderly's fingers. "These are not the hands of a warrior," the elf said, unimpressed.

"I never claimed to be a warrior," Cadderly retorted before Avery or Thobicus could explain. The dean and headmaster put accusing glares back on Cadderly and, this time, even easy-going Pertelope did not offer any escape.

Again, seconds slipped past.

Headmaster Avery cleared his throat loudly to break the tension.

"Cadderly is indeed a warrior," the robust headmaster explained. "It was he who defeated both the evil priest Barjin and Barjin's most awful undead soldiers. Even a mummy rose up against the lad and was summarily put down!"

The recounting did not make Cadderly swell with pride. The mere mention of the dead priest made Cadderly see him again, slumped against the wall in the makeshift altar room in the catacombs, a blasted hole in his chest and his dead eyes staring accusingly at his killer.

"But more than that," Avery continued, moving over to drape a heavy, sweaty arm over the young scholar, "Cadderly is a warrior whose greatest weapon is knowledge. We have a riddle here, Prince Elbereth, a most dangerous riddle, I fear. And Cadderly, I tell you now, is the man who will solve it."

Avery's proclamation added more weight to Cadderly's shoulder than the headmaster's considerable arm. The young scholar wasn't absolutely certain, but he believed he liked Avery better before the events of the chaos curse. Back then, the headmaster often went out of his way to make Cadderly's life miserable. Under the influences of the intoxicating curse, Avery had admitted his almost fatherly love for the young scholar, and now the headmaster's friendship was proving even more miserable to Cadderly than his former, too-strict actions.

"Enough of this banter," said Dean Thobicus in his shaky voice, his speech more often sounding like a whine than normal words. "We have chosen Cadderly as our representative in this matter. The decision was ours alone to make. Prince Elbereth will treat him accordingly."

The elf turned to the seated dean and dipped a curt and precise bow.

Thobicus nodded in reply. "Tell Cadderly of the gloves, and of how you came to possess them," he bade.

Elbereth reached into the pocket of his traveling cloak an action that pushed the garment open and gave Cadderly a quick glance at the elf prince's magnificent armor, links of golden and silvery chain finely meshed and produced several gloves, each clearly marked with stitching that showed the same trident-and-bottle design that Barjin had displayed on his clerical vestments. Elbereth sorted through the tangle to free one glove, and handed it to Cadderly.

"Evil vermin does not often find its way into Shilmista," the proud elf began, "but we are ever alert for its encroachment. A party of bugbears wandered into the forest. None of them escaped with their lives."

None of this was news to Cadderly, of course; rumors had been circulating throughout the Edificant Library since the elf prince's arrival. Cadderly nodded and examined the gauntlet. "It is the same as Barjin's," he declared at once, indicating the three-bottle-over-trident design.

"But what does it mean?" asked an impatient Avery.

"An adaptation of Talona's symbol," Cadderly explained, shrugging to let them know that he was not absolutely certain of his reasoning.

"The bugbears carried poisoned daggers," Elbereth remarked. "That would be in accord with the Lady of Poison's edicts."

"You know of Talona?" Cadderly asked.

Elbereth's silvery eyes flashed, a moonbeam sparkling off a cresting wave, and he gave Cadderly a derisive, sidelong glance. "I have seen the birth and death of three centuries, young human. You will still be young at the time your death, though you might live more years than all others of your race."

Cadderly bit back his retort, knowing that he would find little support in antagonizing the elf.

"Do not underestimate that which I, Prince of Shilmista, might know," Elbereth continued haughtily. "We are not a simple folk wasting our years dancing under the stars, as so many would choose to believe."

Cadderly did start to reply, sharply again, but Pertelope, ever the calming influence, moved in front of him and took the glove, shooting him another wink and subtly stepping on the young scholar's toe.

"We would never think so of our friends in Shilmista," the headmistress offered. "Often has the Edificant Library sought the wisdom of ancient Galladel, your father and king."

Apparently appeased, Elbereth gave a quick nod.

"If it is indeed a sect of Talona, then what might we conclude?" Dean Thobicus asked.

Cadderly shrugged helplessly. "Little," he replied. "Since the Time of Troubles, so much has changed. We do not yet know the intentions and methods of the various sects, but I doubt that coincidence brought Barjin to us and the bugbears to Shilmista, especially since each carried not the normal symbol of Talona, but an adapted design. A renegade sect, it would seem, but undeniably coordinated in its attacks."

"You will come to Shilmista," Elbereth said to Cadderly. The scholar thought for a moment that the elf was asking him, but then he realized from Elbereth's unblinking, uncompromising stare, that it had been a command and not a request. Helplessly, the young scholar looked to his headmasters and to the dean, but they, even Pertelope, nodded in accord.

"When?" Cadderly asked Dean Thobicus, pointedly looking past Elbereth's ensnaring gaze.

"A few days," Thobicus replied. "There are many preparations to be made."

"A few days may be too long for my people," Elbereth remarked evenly, his eyes still boring into Cadderly.

"We will move as fast as we can," was the best that Thobicus could offer. "We have suffered grave injuries, elf prince. An emissary from the Church of Ilmater is on the way, to make an inquiry concerning a group of his priests who were found slaughtered in their room. He will demand a thorough investigation and that will require an audience with Cadderly."

"Then Cadderly will leave him a statement," Elbereth replied. "Or the emissary will wait until Cadderly returns from Shilmista. I am concerned for the living, Dean Thobicus, not the dead."

To Cadderly's amazement, Thobicus did not argue.

They adjourned the meeting then, on Headmaster Avery's suggestion, for there was an event scheduled in the Edificant Library that day that many wished to witness and which Cadderly flatly refused to miss for any reason.

"Come with us, Prince Elbereth," the portly headmaster offered, moving by Cadderly's side. Cadderly gave Avery a somewhat sour look, not so certain that he wanted the haughty elf along. "One of the visiting priestesses, Danica Maupoissant, of Westgate, will perform a most unusual feat."

Elbereth gave a quick glance at Cadderly it was obvious that Cadderly did not want him along smiled, and agreed. Cadderly knew, to his further dismay, that Elbereth honestly enjoyed the fact that accepting Avery's invitation would bother the young scholar.

They came into the great hall on the library's first floor, a huge and ornate, thick-pillared room lined by grand tapestries depicting the glories of Deneir and Oghma, deities of the building's host religions. Most of the library's priests, of both orders, had turned out, nearly a hundred men and women, gathered in a wide circle around a block of stone supported on cross-legged sawhorses.

Danica kneeled motionlessly on a mat a few feet from the stone, her almond eyes closed and her arms held out before her and crossed at the wrists. She was a tiny woman, barely five feet tall, and seemed tinier still when kneeling before the formidable solid block. Cadderly resisted the urge to go to her, realizing that she was deep in meditation.

"Is that the priestess?" Elbereth asked, a tinge of excitement in his voice. Cadderly snapped his head about and regarded the elf curiously, noting the sparkle in Elbereth's silvery eyes.

"That is Danica," Avery replied. "She is beautiful, is she not?" Indeed Danica was, with perfect, delicate features and a thick mop of strawberry blond hair dancing about her shoulders. "Do not allow that beauty to deceive you, elf prince," Avery went on proudly, as though Danica was his own child. "Danica is among the finest fighters I have ever seen. Deadly are her bare hands, and boundless is her discipline and dedication."

The sparkle in Elbereth's admiring eyes did not diminish; those shining dots of light shot out like tiny spears at Cadderly's heart.

Preparation or no preparation, Cadderly figured it was time to go and see his Danica. He crossed through the onlookers' circle and knelt before her, gently reaching out to lightly touch her long hair.

She did not stir.

"Danica," Cadderly called softly, taking her deceptively soft hand in his own.

Danica opened her eyes, those exotic brown orbs that sent shivers up Cadderly's spine every time he gazed into them. Her wide smile told Cadderly that she was not angry about the interruption.

"I feared that you would not be here," she whispered.

"A thousand ogres could not have held me from this place," he replied, "not today." Cadderly glanced back over his shoulder at the stone block. It seemed so huge and so solid, and Danica so very delicate. "Are you certain?" he asked.

"I am ready," Danica replied grimly. "Do you doubt me?"

Cadderly thought back a few weeks, to the horrible day when he had entered Danica's room and found her barely conscious on the floor, after having slammed her head repeatedly against a similar stone. Her wounds were long gone now, healed by salves and the magic of the library's mightiest clerics, but Cadderly would never forget how close Danica had come to death, nor would he forget his own terrible feelings of emptiness when he feared that he might lose her.

"I was under the curse's influence then," Danica explained, easily reading his thoughts. "The mist prevented me from attaining the proper concentration. I have studied Grandmaster Penpahg D'Ahn's scrolls . . ."

"I know," Cadderly assured her, stroking her delicate hand. "And I know you are ready. Forgive me my fears. They do not come from any doubts about you or your dedication or your wisdom." His smile was sincere, if strained. He moved near, as if to kiss her, but backed away suddenly and glanced around.

"I would not want to disturb your concentration," he stammered.

Danica knew better, knew that Cadderly had remembered the gathering about him and that his embarrassment alone had pulled him away from her. She laughed aloud, charmed as always by his innocence. "Do you not find this alluring?" she asked with mock sarcasm to comfort the nervous young man.

"Oh, yes," the young scholar answered. "I have always wanted to be in love with one who could put her head through solid stone." This time, they shared a laugh.

Then Danica noticed Elbereth and abruptly stopped laughing. The elf prince stared at her with his penetrating gaze, looked right through her, it seemed. She pulled her loose robes tighter about her, feeling naked under that stare, but she did not look away.

"That is Prince Elbereth?" she asked with what little breath she could find.

Cadderly considered her for a long moment, then turned to regard Elbereth. The gathering be damned, he thought, and he bent back in and kissed Danica hard, forcing her attention away from the elf.

This time, Danica, not Cadderly, was the flustered one, and Cadderly couldn't be certain if her embarrassment came from the kiss or from her own realization that she had been caught staring a bit too intently at the visiting elf.

"Go back to your meditation," Cadderly offered, afraid of what the growing number of distractions might do to Danica's attempt. He felt childish indeed that he had let his own emotions take precedence at such an important moment. He kissed her again, a light peck on the cheek. "I know you will succeed," he offered, and he took his leave.

Danica took several deep breaths to steady herself and cleanse her mind. She looked to the stone first, the obstacle that stood in the way of her progress as one of the leading disciples of Penpahg D'Ahn. She grew angry at that stone, putting it in the light of an enemy. Then she left it with a final mental threat, turned her attention to the wide room around her, the distractions she had to be rid of.

Danica focused on Elbereth first. She saw the elf prince, his strange eyes still staring her way, and then he was gone, a black hole where he had been standing. Avery went away next, and then those standing beside the portly headmaster. Danica's gaze shifted and locked on one of the many huge archways supporting the great hall. It, too, disappeared into the darkness.

"Phien denifi ca," Danica whispered as another group of people disappeared. "They are only images." All the room was fast replaced by blackness. Only the block remained, and Cadderly. Danica had saved Cadderly for last. He was her greatest supporter; he was as much her strength as her own inner discipline.

But then he, too, was gone.

Danica rose and slowly approached the enemy stone.

You cannot resist, her thoughts called out to the block. I am the stronger.

Her arms waved slowly before her, weaving in an intricate dance, and she continued her mental assault on the stone, treating it as some sentient thing, assuring herself that she was convincing it that it could not win. This was the technique of Penpahg D'Ahn, and Penpahg D'Ahn had broken the stone.

Danica looked beyond the block, imagined her head crashing through the stone and exiting the other side. She studied the depth of the block, then mentally reduced it to a parchment's width.

You are parchment, and I am the stronger, she mentally told the stone.

It went on for many minutes, the arm dance, Danica's feet shifting, always in perfect balance, and then she was chanting softly in a melodic and rhythmical way, seeking complete harmony of body and spirit.

It came so suddenly that the crowd barely had time to gasp. Danica fell forward into two quick steps. Every muscle in her small, finely toned frame seemed to snap forward and down, driving her forehead into the stone.

Danica heard nothing and saw nothing for a long moment. Then there was the blackness of the meditation-dispatched room, gradually fading back into images that the young monk recognized.

She looked around her, surprised to see the block lying on the floor in two nearly equal-sized pieces.

An arm was around her; she knew it was Cadderly's.

"You are now the highest-ranking disciple of Grandmaster Penpahg D'Ahn!" Cadderly whispered into her ear, and she heard him clearly, though the gathering had erupted into a wild burst of cheering.

Danica turned and hugged Cadderly close, but couldn't help looking over his shoulder to regard Elbereth. The serious elf prince was not cheering, but clapping his graceful hands and staring at Danica with clear approval in his sparkling silver eyes.

*****

Headmistress Pertelope heard the cheering from her room above the great hall and knew that Danica had successfully broken the stone. Pertelope was not surprised; she had seen the event in a dream that she knew was prophetic. She was glad of Danica's continuing success and growing power, and glad, too, that Danica would remain by Cadderly's side in the coming days.

Pertelope feared for the young scholar, for she alone among all the priests at the library understood the personal trials Cadderly would soon face.

He was of the chosen, Pertelope knew.

"Will it be enough?" the headmistress asked quietly, hugging the Tome of Universal Harmony, the most holy book of Deneir. "Will you survive, dear Cadderly, as I have survived, or will the callings of Deneir devour you and leave you an empty thing?"

Almost to mock her own claims of survival, the headmistress noticed then that her sharp-edged skin had again sliced several lines in the long sleeve of her gown.

Pertelope shook her head and hugged the book tightly to her fully covered body. The potential for insight and knowledge was virtually unlimited, but so, too, was the potential for disaster.