Page 86 of Crown of Ashes and Awe

Shadows moved beside the raised figures as I strode to the back wall, my feet following the grooves of many feet before me. I wasn’t surprised when two small patches of heartstone were where I expected them to be. Everything was so perfectly identical.

I tucked my glow stone between my teeth and stretched out my arms to connect the patches. I breathed in and out, in and out, then quietly squealed with delight when the keyhole presented itself. With the stone still between my teeth, I pulled the dragon key from my neck and pressed the back of it into the grooves that aligned with it.

The door to the library opened. The grind of stone against stone was surprisingly quiet given the size and weight of the block, but it didn’t move as smoothly as the one at home—like squeaky hinges on a door that hadn’t been opened in a while.

The stone floor was cold, and dust stuck to my one bare foot when I stepped through. I closed my eyes and pointed, guessing which books would be on the shelf to my right. Then I removed my glow stone from my mouth and held it up to look.

I was wrong. The shelf was there, but empty.

I stalked down aisle after aisle. Just like home, the space would mimic a wide garden with pillars instead of trees, dust instead of grass. But in this one, all the flowers were gone.

Zelan’s words repeated in my head.“He took it. They know he took it…when he took everything else.”

Demius had taken the key…and the books. The library in the canyon might be filled with sacred tomes that had to be protected from the world, but they were also stolen!

Reluctantly, I forced myself to leave those familiar surroundings. Even without the papers and books, it felt like home. But until I decided how long I would keep Demius’ secret to myself, I had to get out of there before someone caught me and took that decision out of my hands.

Just feet from the door, something caught my eye. A piece of paper on the floor, wadded up and forgotten. I carefully opened it and read the single word written there.

Unworthy.

I smiled. My Demius had been here all right. It was one of his favorite pronouncements. If I didn’t do the work expected of me, I’d be unworthy of the next assignment. I just wondered who at the palace had earned his displeasure…

41

AN OLD MAN AND A FIRE

With secrets bubbling in my chest, I trailed my hands along the reliefs one last time and returned to the straight stairwell. I retrieved my slipper and stepped into the hallway once more, still intending to complete my mental map of the palace.

A few steps further and the glow of the dragon key died. Twenty more steps and I heard the crackle of a fire. No voices, no puttering noises. I was surprised that a place so grand would have so few people about, but if these were the servants' quarters, those servants would be working elsewhere.

Light seeped into the corridor from an open arch, and with it, the sound of a man muttering. The palace wasn't abandoned after all.

I inched up to the opening and took a peek. An old man was on one knee, his hands braced on the arms of a chair. A cane lay just beyond his reach on the floor. I hurried to him, put my hands on his ribs just below his arms, and lifted. His gasp was weak, but he took advantage of my help and hefted himself onto the chair, righting himself before he bothered to see the source of that help.

His eyes found mine, and he froze.

I took a step back. "Forgive me if I startled you.”

His smile was slow in coming. His cheeks wrinkled like paper. "I have never seen you before.”

“I’m…visiting.”

“Have you a name?”

“Asper.”

“Asper,” he repeated. “I wonder why you have not fled with the other younglings, to spend your last days where you will.”

"I confess," I whispered, “that I am not so sure we are dying.”

"Oh? Indulge me.” He patted the seat of the chair beside his, then steepled his fingers with his elbows on the arms of his chair.

I took advantage of his open nature and sat. He might be generous enough to answer some questions.

"First of all," I began, "I won't believe it until I ask Moire for myself. After all, the prophecy was given thousands of years ago. The chances of her words remaining intact are slim. And they say she has chosengevrimany times and has lost the memory of many of her visions. Maybe she doesn’t know the answers to my questions.”

“Perhaps others will have remembered.”

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