When they reached the outskirts of the city, Lorn spied the road leading up Library Hill. It was a good, wide avenue built of paving stones and lined with grey brick. Weeds had sprung up along the sides of the road, but the way itself seemed well-travelled. The various structures on the hill came quickly into view, including hastily constructed storage houses and stables, all probably built by Breck and his men. The great library itself soared above the other structures. From the base of the hill, Lorn craned his neck to see it all, marvelling at its grace. At the tip of its highest turret flew the flag of Liiria, blue and tattered, defying the rain. It was said that the library held all the knowledge of the world, and that no human mind could count the number of books and scrolls kept within its walls. It was said, too, that a great thinking machine had been built to contain all the ideas, built by the genius librarian Figgis to catalogue the massive collection. Was there really such a thinking machine, Lorn wondered? And if there was, what else could such a thing do?
But these were questions for another day, and would never be answered unless his velvet tongue persuaded Breck to help him. For the first time since coming to Koth, Lorn felt afraid. He followed young Aric up toward the waiting library. The road wound its way around the hillside, giving different vistas of the horizon and highlighting the remarkable architecture of the place. As they drew nearer the pinnacle, Lorn saw for the first time the outlines of guardians posted near the entrance and pacing along the grounds. The library’s transformation into a fortress included arrow slits carved into the towers and a huge clearing near the large oak doors, which looked as if the hand of a giant had scooped away the trees and rocks to give the defenders of Koth a greater killing field. The doors themselves had been fortified with additional timbers which criss-crossed the portals, held in place by a cagelike mesh of stout metal. Iron bars covered the windows, while stacks of logs braced the lower portions of the walls. Men with pikes milled near the gatelike doors. Other men, similarly dressed in the garb of Royal Chargers, stood watch on high, newly made battlements and catwalks. The sight made Van give a low whistle.
‘Amazing,’ he murmured as he surveyed the work. ‘I’m impressed.’
So too was Lorn, who hadn’t imagined the library so well defended. There was no doubt that its high perch gave it a great advantage, but Breck and his men had dedicated themselves to making the place impregnable.
‘It needs to be like this,’ said Aric. ‘There are only a couple of hundred of us, plus some others from the city who help with the chores and such. We take in as many people as we can. Just about anyone willing to help is welcome.’
Tonight, the welcome included a call from the guards up ahead. Aric replied with a shout. The men with the pikes kept position near the doors while another of their party hurried forward.
‘Aric,’ he greeted. ‘It’s good that you’re back.’ He frowned at Lorn and Van. ‘Who are they?’
‘They’ve come to help,’ Aric explained. He reined in his horse and let his fellow Charger take the steed’s bridle. ‘This is Akan and his daughter. They’re from Norvor. He fought Jazana Carr.’
The man nodded at Lorn. ‘You are welcome here, sir. Anyone accustomed to fighting that witch can surely lend us a hand.’ He peered through the rain at Van, started to smile, then groaned, ‘Great Fate Almighty. Vanlandinghale.’
Lorn looked at Van. ‘You know this man?’
Van’s face tightened as he said, ‘I do. Hello, Murdon. It’s been a while.’
‘Maybe not long enough,’ said the soldier. He was about Van’s age and carried himself with the same swagger. ‘I never thought you’d come back. What happened? Did Jazana Carr run out of gold?’
‘Call it a change of heart,’ said Van.
‘I should call it treason.’
‘Murdon, he wants to help us,’ said Aric. ‘We could use him. He was a Royal Charger.’
‘I know what he was,’ said Murdon. He continued to eye Van. ‘Where’s your uniform? Did you sell it?’
Van patted his saddlebag. ‘Right here. I’m still a Royal Charger, Murdon. You heard the boy — we’re here to help.’
‘The old man and the baby, too?’ asked Murdon. Then he laughed and loosed a smile. ‘All right, no grudges. You’re welcome here, Van. We could use you. But Breck will want to see you first.’
Lorn carefully got down from his horse. ‘Good, because I need to see him right away.’
‘Were you a colonel in Norvor, sir?’ joked Murdon. ‘Because you give orders like one.’
‘It’s important,’ said Lorn. He did his best to measure his tone. ‘Your commander will be interested in what I have to say about Jazana Carr.’
As he dismounted, Van looked at Lorn strangely. ‘What are you talking about?’
Lorn ignored him. He told Murdon, ‘It can’t wait. I need to see Breck tonight.’
Murdon’s bottom lip twisted while he evaluated the stranger. ‘Maybe,’ he mused. ‘Breck will probably want to see you anyway. Leave the horses and come with me.’
Lorn did as Murdon asked, and while he and Van followed Murdon and Aric toward the library, a guard at the door attended the horses while his comrade pulled back the timber barricading the door. Murdon and Aric helped him swing wide the huge towering portals, which had been made many times heavier by their reinforcements. Suddenly, the great library sprawled out before them, beckoning to Lorn as he stood on its threshold. An expansive ceiling glowing with lit torches vaulted overhead, the canopy a wide tunnel of plaster and ornate woodwork. As the doors shut behind them, the iron hinges sang like a musical instrument through the grand hall. A few soldiers — and even some women — paused to gape at the strangers, but mostly the hall was empty. The great hall split off into numerous directions, dazzling Lorn with its complexity. Murdon, however, knew his way perfectly and soon had taken them into an artery of the main chamber, where a ceiling of normal height and plain plaster reminded Lorn of his own modest castle in Carlion. Here the walls were mostly bare except for some ornately worked sconces and a tapestry depicting a group of scholars huddled over piles of dusty books. It was the only piece of art in the hall, and it struck Lorn that it had some value to Breck, who had obviously sold off all other such objects. Next to him Van seemed ill at ease, his eyes looking downward in embarrassment whenever they passed other soldiers. Lorn jabbed his elbow into Van’s chest.
‘Stand tall,’ he whispered.
For a moment Van looked annoyed, but then he squared his shoulders and raised himself up.
‘Murdon, are you taking us to Breck?’ asked Lorn.
‘I’m going to tell him you’re here and that you want to speak with him,’ the soldier replied. Just then he reached an open room, an old study from the look of it. Murdon stopped at the room and bid Lorn and Van go inside. ‘Wait here,’ he told them. ‘Aric, come with me.’
Murdon didn’t wait for them to ask more questions. With Aric on his heels he left and disappeared down the hall. Lorn looked at Van, then into the study. As he entered the smell of must and old parchments rushed up his nose. Everywhere in the room were old books and manuscripts, piled high on the big wooden desk and the plain chairs, even on the floor. A tall bookcase against the wall threatened to burst with papers. Lorn cleared off one of the chairs, then unstrapped Poppy from his back.
‘Not what I expected,’ he said. He took squirming Poppy from her harness and set her down on the chair, balancing her on her little feet. Van fingered through the books against the wall.
‘This is amazing. There are books here from all over the continent.’ He pulled one loose and thumbed the pages. ‘This one’s from Dreel. See? The words read from right to left.’
Lorn grimaced as he patted Poppy’s bottom. ‘I think she’s wet.’