“I didn’t-” Mar subsided when the Wolfshead raised her hand.
“No one told me,” she said. “Except you, yourself, when I thought about what you have done. Found documents left carelessly aside for centuries. Found the secrets of tribes and cities lost for generations. When Marked were wanted, you Found them.” Dhulyn Wolfshead paused, tapped herself on the breastbone, causing tiny bells tied into the laces of her vest to chime. “When a Seer was wanted, you Found her. You told Parno where to find the Green Shadow when it was in Lok-iKol-ah, you thought we’d forgotten that. Even now, you know where to Find the information that we need.”
“But that’s research…” Gun let his protest trail away. He could not use that lie again-not even to himself.
The Mercenary was shaking her head. “You forget, I’ve been trained as a Scholar myself, though it was not the life for me. I know how research is done, and the kinds of answers it produces. And how swiftly. And how many important answers in one person’s lifetime. What you do is not research. Your books may have told you what to look for, they couldn’t have told you where. You are Finding.” When Gun still hesitated, the Wolfshead went on, her voice rough but warm. “Come now. The time for secrets is past.”
“I’ve never…” Gun took a deep breath. He’d never convince anyone unless he could speak clearly. “I meant to tell you, after Lok-iKol, it’s just… I’ve always kept it secret. I’m a Scholar. It’s all I ever wanted. Even before the Jaldeans turned against the Marked, I never wanted to be…”
“Do you think I wanted it?” The Wolfshead was quiet but firm. “Untrained and half useless as it is? The world is not what we want, but what we make.” She paused, as if that word had some special significance for her, before continuing. “I wish your world was the Library carrels, the shelves of books, and the under-Scholars fetching ink and pens. Once I wished that for myself… I know how precious it is. But you are needed for more than that now. Wish for it or no, you will have to come out of your Library now and join the rest of us out here on the edge of the knife.
“You are a Finder, Scholar Gundaron. I am a Seer. Neither of us wants this. But we are what we are.”
Gundaron hung his head, aware as if from a distance that he was shaking it ever so slightly, wanting to deny her words. But Dhulyn Wolfshead was right. He lifted his head and found the Mercenary’s cool gray eyes ready to meet his. Next to her, leaning his hip against the table’s edge stood her Partner, Parno Lionsmane, the left corner of his mouth lifted. Beside them sat Mar, her blue eyes darker than usual with concern. When his eyes found hers, she smiled, her face lighting as if from within, and for an instant his heart stopped beating as the breath caught in his throat.
He would have to come out into the world. But he wouldn’t be alone.
“What do you want me to do?” he said. He’d thought his voice would shake, but it rang out firm and true.
“The Tarkin’s mind is lost. I would like you to Find it.”
Gun’s heart sank like a stone into a lake turning to ice. “The Tarkin? But how? I’m not trained. To Find something like that…”
“How did you Find the Green Shadow?”
Of course she would think of that. Library-trained, Dhulyn Wolfshead the Scholar. Her mind would work like his. Gun looked at them, Mar smiling, the two Mercenaries watching with guarded faces. He had to tell them, he realized. It would change everything, he would lose all the ground he’d gained, but he would have to tell. No more secrets. No more lies.
“I can Find the Green Shadow,” he began. “Because it… it touched me.” He looked up again into the silence. Mar, white-faced, lips trembling; Parno Lionsmane, the killing look back in his face, a knife in his hand. Dhulyn Wolfshead… Dhulyn Wolfshead calm and nodding?
“I’d lost some memory,” Gun said. “There was time I couldn’t account for, so I looked for it, and when I Found it…”
“You Found the Green Shadow. I Saw,” the Wolfshead said. “When One-eye was questioning me. The Green Shadow was there, looking through your eyes.” Parno Lionsmane made as if to move forward, but stilled at the Wolfshead’s raised hand.
“But it only looked through my eyes, I swear it! It never lived in me as it did Lok-iKol.” Relief at having finally told them warred with fear that they would not believe him.
“And when it comes back?” Lionsmane’s voice was a snarl.
“It can’t.”
“How can you be sure? Convince us.” Dhulyn Wolfshead spoke with the voice of command.
How to make them understand? “It’s not Marked. I’ve hidden myself. It can’t Find me.”
“Dhulyn, we can’t be sure,” Parno Lionsmane said.
But the Mercenary woman was nodding. “Yes, we can. He is probably the one person we can be sure of. Who better to hide, than the one who Finds?” She looked up at her Partner and took hold of his sleeve. “The boy’s right. It was not the same. I Saw it in him, and I Saw it in Tek-aKet, and it was not the same.” She frowned and then looked at Gun once more. “Still, the Green Shadow has touched both you and Tek-aKet. Can you use that link somehow to Find the Tarkin?”
Could he? Did he dare? He looked at Mar’s face, calm now, but wary. If he didn’t try, would she ever smile at him again?
“I’ll need Mar’s bowl.”
“Now, Scholar Gundaron,” Dhulyn Wolfshead said, stepping back from the scrying bowl and setting the empty water pitcher on the little desk under the window. Gundaron took his seat at the small round table, set his hands flat beside the bowl, and looked down.
“I have Seen this,” Dhulyn Wolfshead said, her hand on her Partner’s arm.
Gun took a couple of deep breaths and focused on the water. He’d found Tek-aKet before, but that was just… the water shimmered, and the image broke. Gun steadied his breathing and tried again.
Parno Lionsmane sighed and Gun jumped in his chair.
“I’m sorry,” the Mercenary began, but Gun held up his hand.
“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “All I’m getting is the Tarkin in his room.”
Mar put her hands on his shoulders. “Relax,” she said. “Try again.”
Gun blinked, his eyes suddenly threatening tears. He dragged in another breath and let it out slowly.
It’s not water, it’s a bright page of paper. What should he write there? The story of Tek-aKet. Suddenly he’s back in the Library. Of all the lines on the floor before him, he needs to choose one in particular. Dark red it should be, the color of carnelians. He frowns. It’s there, but it’s stained, as if someone spilled green ink on if and didn’t clean it off fast enough. He shudders; the last thing he wants to do is follow anything green. He takes a deep breath, looks around him at the ghosts and shadows of other Scholars and steps out, following the red line. Concentrating on the red. He walks swiftly now, down the main aisle, shelves and scroll holders branching off to left and right. The place is enormous, the silence broken only by the sound of his bootheels on the wooden floor.
He turns a corner and the thread of color is gone. The floor is covered in a thin carpet. The shelving is darker, too thin to carry the weight of the countless tomes on it. He reaches out a tentative finger. It’s cold, painted metal. He turns around. The shelves behind him are exactly like these. There is no sign of the Library he came from.
There is a red mark like a small square of paint on the spine of one of the books. Gundaron looks around. There are similar marks on other books as well. Clean red marks with no green stain. He sets off again. This is only a Library. There is nothing to be afraid of.