Ghassan moved on to details over which he had more control. Is the human called Chane?
Yes.
This troubled Ghassan deeply. Wynn Hygeorht’s choice of companions had always been a concern and an unpredictable influence. How in all of Existence had Chane Andraso walked into the Lhoin’na forest?
Do not allow yourself to be alone with that one, Ghassan warned, and then paused in thought. Do you know why Wynn is there?
Not yet, but ... the Lhoin’na Premin Council has shut the archives.
What? Why?
The territorial Shé’ith—their Serenitiers—guard all entrances rather than sages. Domin Safir and Journey or Marwan were physically barred from entering.
This was too much, so drastic it could not be about Wynn alone. No branch dared deny access to ranking sages from another branch, at least not in such an obvious way. Something else was happening in the upper ranks of elven sages.
They claimed it is for restructuring, Mujahid went on, but I have not seen one archivist or assistant enter access points that I have watched. Only once did anyone pass the guards ... only premins.
Ghassan had no notion of what purpose this severe action served or what had caused it.
When did this happen?
Mujahid paused before answering. I took Journeyor Hygeorht to see Premin Gyâr, as she had an official communication for High Premin T’ovar, who is not present. I left her there, as I did not think it pertinent.
Likely neither had Wynn. Ghassan’s suspicions were already working. There was little chance to learn what that letter contained, but it must have come from the Numan Premin Council if it was for T’ovar—perhaps directly from Sykion. Was there something developing between the Lhoin’na and Numan sages? If so, would they leave Ghassan’s own branch out?
Domin ... how am I to continue if I cannot access the archives?
Ghassan slouched upon the bunk’s edge. Mujahid’s assignment was critical, but more critical was why Wynn had shown up at the Lhoin’na branch. Likely she sought those same archives for good reason, but the message she had brought had cut off both her and Mujahid.
What should I do? Mujahid asked.
Keep me appraised of Journeyor Hygeorht’s activities. Without access to search for what we need, you will continue reporting to me, and only to me, so long as your group remains there. You will report anything you learn concerning the Lhoin’na Premin Council.
Yes, Domin.
And especially, Ghassan added, everything you can learn concerning Premin Gyâr.
Mujahid fell silent.
Is there a problem?
The journeyor of Metaology did not answer immediately. When he did, Ghassan felt the trepidation carried by two words.
No, Domin.
Ghassan let the medallion fall against his chest and sat silent.
Mujahid was frightened of Gyâr, as he should be, though there was no real danger. The Lhoin’na premin of Metaologers was manipulative, ambitious, cold, and cunning, and a bigot. But Gyâr would never overstep guild protocols too far if he caught a “foreign” journeyor snooping about.
Ghassan tucked away the medallion and returned to the open deck. He leaned over the rail, looking ahead for any sign of a harbor along the coastline. As yet, there were none, and he traipsed back toward the aftcastle.
“Captain,” Ghassan called out. “Please make landfall at the first opportunity. I must disembark.”
Chapter 13
Chane awoke to scuffling and hushed voices. He swatted off the blanket and sat up.
Wynn and Ore-Locks were busy about the guest quarters, gathering belongings. Shade watched from the other ledge bed with her nose on her paws. At Chane’s sudden movement, Wynn glanced over.
“We have our own rooms,” she said. “I told Mujahid we’d be out by now.”
Before Chane even straightened his rumpled shirt, Ore-Locks grabbed the chest. Chane hefted his packs and swords. He was still groggy and beginning to wonder what had happened while he lay dormant. Wynn’s manner was not only brusque; her expression and whole demeanor had changed.
He saw no relief in her face in gaining their privacy, let alone in having reached her destination. She looked strained, and her brow suddenly furrowed over some unknown thought. A trace of anger marred her soft features.
“I am hungry,” Ore-Locks said.
Chane realized it had been more than a day since the dwarf had eaten anything besides apple slices. Hopefully, Wynn had found something for herself and Shade.
But then he found himself distracted as he stepped out into the passage.
Since entering the Lhoin’na forest, he had felt watched, continually prodded, as if something unseen sought him out. Now he stood inside of a living place. Much as the ring dulled his awareness and hampered his heightened senses, he dared not take it off until they left this land.
Wynn nodded ahead down the passage and looked to Ore-Locks. “Those two doors on the right. Soon as we’re settled, I’ll show you the meal hall.”
She opened the nearer door and held it for Chane. Ore-Locks seemed about to argue, but dropped the chest by the door and headed off to the next one. Chane entered and found the room identical to the one they had left—minus Mujahid’s paraphernalia. After Wynn and Shade followed, he waited until he heard Ore-Locks’s door close. He then dropped the packs, quickly slid the chest inside, and closed himself away in privacy with Wynn.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
Wynn sank on the far bed ledge. Shade crawled up beside her, though it was a tight fit, and nosed Wynn’s hand.
Chane’s head had not fully cleared, and perhaps the nagging prod of the forest’s presence wore on his patience, as well.
“Wynn?”
She raised only her eyes to him. “The archives have been shut.”
Chane took a quick step. “What?”
She recounted everything from when she awoke to the two Shé’ith expelling a pair of Suman sages. Chane turned aside and dropped down hard on the opposite bed ledge.
“Armed guards? You told me it is impolite to openly carry weapons inside a guild branch.”
“It is,” she answered dryly. “And yet.”
No doubt something in Wynn’s delivered message had caused all of this, though it seemed extreme to cut off everyone just to keep her out.
“Has this ever happened in Calm Seatt?” he asked.
“I don’t know of this ever happening at any branch,” she answered. “Domin Tärpodious oversaw categorical restructurings, when holdings in some sections outstripped space. But he closed off one section at a time, not the whole archive.... And no city guards or constabularies were called in.”
Wynn appeared to grow weary before Chane’s eyes. She ran her hands over her face, pushing back her hair, looking small and defeated. Even the anger drained from her features. Chane began to fume in her place.
Why did Wynn’s own superiors keep going to ever greater lengths to hinder her? The twisted world at large had never been worth Chane’s concern. Now he saw the same taints inside the guild. If not for Wynn, he would have had no part of it anymore. That dream of a better life in her world almost died within him.
“When did this happen?” he asked.
“Just after lunch.”
“What did you do all afternoon?”
She got up and went for her pack, digging out a new journal.