'Myth, my lord? What is myth? Are a myth? Is it a myth that Cassandra still lives, free from her illness after sixteen years?"
Akeela reached for his brandy. "Figgis, please..."
'Stop," snapped Figgis, snatching the bottle and shoving it aside. "Don't hide in your bottle. Just listen to me, let me explain." He took up the book again and showed the passage to Akeela like he was a child.
"This term, hidden place across the desert. I misread it sixteen years ago. I thought the Jadori text referred to Jador. But it doesn't, don't you see? It means Grim-hold."
'There is no Grimhold, Figgis."
'How do you know? You didn't really believe in the amulets until I brought one back for you. Isn't that proof enough, my lord? If the amulets exist, then why can't Grimhold exist as well?"
'A place of monsters? You dream, my friend."
'A place of magic, my lord. Led by a witch. Look at Cassandra and tell me you don't believe in magic!"
'I can't look at Cassandra," said Akeela sourly. "Thanks to that damn curse."
Figgis smiled. "Ah, but now your exile from her might be coming to an end. Think about it, my lord.
We always knew there must be another Eye of God. Now we may have found it. Can't you see that?"
Akeela nodded. It was implausible, but he saw the possibility in Figgis' theory. It made sense, or at least some of it did. There vvas no reason to doubt that the hidden place referred to in the Jadori manuscript had been Grimhold all along, but that still left dozens of questions unanswered. 'If you're right," said Akeela, "then who is the wife of Kadar?"
Figgis looked puzzled. "What do you mean?"
'Kadar's wife, remember? The Jadori manuscript says that the master of the hidden place wears the Eye, and that his wife wears the Eye's twin. So then who is Kadar's wife?"
'You remember things quite clearly when you want to," said Figgis with a grin. "The truth is, I don't know. Maybe I read the whole thing wrong. Maybe the master of the hidden place isn't Kadar at all." A light went on in his old eyes. "Maybe," he said softly, "the master of Grimhold wears the other amulet!"
Akeela rolled his eyes. "Don't be stupid, Figgis. Why would a witch have a wife?"
'I don't know," confessed Figgis. The question deflated him a little. "But we're close to getting answers, I know we are." He patted the book. "This has been a giant breakthrough. I feel it."
A wave of dizziness suddenly swept through Akeela, and it wasn't the drink or the lateness of the hour. Seeing Figgis so excited stoked a bad memory. He recalled with awful clarity a similar conversation sixteen years ago, one that had resulted in his separation from Cassandra. But now Figgis was offering hope once again, and it tantalized Akeela.
'Figgis, I can't live with this being a joke," he said softly. "Sixteen years I've waited, and I can't wait another day. I have to know that this is real."
'My lord, be fair. I've only just started researching it."
'I don't care," said Akeela. "Find out all you can about Grim-hold and its location, but be quick about it. I want that amulet, Figgis. And I don't want to wait a moment more than I must."
'All right, Akeela," she said gently. "If you believe it, then fine. Figgis must know what he's doing."
There was a long silence behind the partition. At last, Akeela's disappointed voice said, "I thought you would be happier about it, Cassandra. We're talking about being together, finally after all these years."
'I am happy, Akeela," said Cassandra, brightening. "I'm just... surprised."
'Yes, I know it's hard to believe. But Figgis is confident. It's a lot to explain, but he believes he's been misreading his texts all this time. He thinks Grimhold really exists, and that they have the Eye." Akeela's tone grew excited again. "It's not madness, Cassandra. This time we're close. I feel it!"
Cassandra gave a silent sigh. It was madness. She decided to ply him with gentle lies.
'I believe you, Akeela," she said. "But what now? How will you find the amulet? How will you even find Grimhold?"
'Figgis will research it. But I won't depend on that. If Grim-hold lies beyond Jador, then the Jadori will know where it is. They will tell us its location."
Cassandra sat up straight. "Will they? Why?"
'When they see our army marching toward them, they will tell us."
'Fate above, Akeela, you don't mean it!"
'I mean every word." Akeela drifted closer to the partition. "I will be with you, Cassandra. I will, and no Jadori filth or freaks from Grimhold will stop me. If they have the Eye of God, they will give it to me!"
"No!" shouted Cassandra. She swung out of bed and put her face to the partition, close enough to smell Akeela's liquored breath. "You're talking about a massacre, Akeela. I won't allow it!"
'I'm talking about us being together! Gods and angels, can't you see that?"
'I won't let you murder people, Akeela. Not for me!"
'Then for me!" Akeela hissed. Enraged, he put his fist through the partition, splitting the fabric like paper. His hand shot out and grabbed Cassandra's nightgown. For the first time in years she saw his face in the near perfect darkness. His eyes V^assandra was deep in a dream when she heard the voice, it came from a great distance, first as part of her dream, then as something from the wakened world, calling to her. She struggled against the bonds of sleep, searching her consciousness for its location.
'Cassandra, wake up."
Her eyes fluttered open, only to be greeted by impenetrable darkness. Startled, she glanced around.
There was no candlelight. Her windowless chamber coiled about her like a noose.
'Wake up, Cassandra. Wake up."
'I am up," she replied, realizing only then that the voice was Akeela's. It seemed to fill the darkness.
She sat up, shaking her head. Her dream had been so vivid, yet now she could scarcely recall it. Sheturned toward the partition separating her from her husband, asking groggily, "Akeela, what is it? What time is it?"
'It's late," replied the disembodied voice, "but it doesn't matter. I've found it, Cassandra. I've found the other Eye of God!"
Cassandra gasped. Was she still dreaming? "What?"
'The amulet, Cassandra. The second Eye!"
'You've found it?" she sputtered. Panic took her breath away. "You have it?"
'Not yet. But now I know where it is. Figgis has located it."
'Are you sure?" she asked dreadfully. After all these years, the news was unbelievable. "I mean, where is it?"
Akeela's voice was like a bell. "Grimhold!" He chuckled in delight. "Grimhold, Cassandra! Can you believe it?"
'Grimhold?" Cassandra had to keep herself from laughing. "Akeela, Grimhold doesn't exist. It's a myth. Great Fate, don't you know that?"
'I'm not a child," Akeela growled. "Grimhold isn't just a myth. It exists, beyond the Desert of Tears.
It's somewhere past Jador."
It was all too much for Cassandra, whose head began to swim. What little she knew of Grimhold was confined to fairy tales and bedtime stories, and she thought Akeela thoroughly mad for believing it was real. But believe it he did; she could hear the conviction in his voice.
were closed but his mouth was turned in a snarl. "I've lived without you long enough, Cassandra. I won't live like this a minute more!"
Cassandra stared at him, wild-eyed. He didn't know that her curse had been a hoax, yet in his rage he had risked her life. "Akeela," she said evenly, "let go of me."
Slowly he opened his fist, letting the cloth of her gown slip away, but his fingertips lingered on her, brushing her. Cassandra didn't move. She stared at him, watching the twisted longing on his face. For a brief second his fingers drifted above her breasts...
And then he pulled away.
'We will be together, Cassandra," he said. "No matter what it takes."
Letting his words linger in the darkness, he left her without a word of good-bye. Through the ruined partition Cassandra watched his shadow depart. She put a hand to her chest; he had torn her gown. She could still feel his touch on her skin.
'Murder," she whispered. She glanced around the black chamber, wondering what to do. Akeela was thoroughly mad. She had seen it on his face and could do nothing to cure him. But she couldn't let him lead a massacre. Somehow, she had to stop him.
And there was only one person who could help her.
T JLhe day after his meeting with Akeela, Figgis closed the library. He did not explain his reasons to Gilwyn or Mistress Delia or to any of the library's many dependents. He merely closed the main door and locked it, putting up a sign obscurely stating that the library would reopen as soon as possible. There was no word of warning-it was simply done. And Figgis, who was always cheerful despite the many ailments of his age, quickly became an obsessed curmudgeon, locking himself in his study with piles of books and manuscripts. He had told Gilwyn he was on a very urgent mission for the king, and that he needed to do his research in peace. Warning the boy to stay close and not ask any questions, Figgis would bellow for Gilwyn to bring him books and to search through the endless racks of maps for strange, little-used charts. And when he wasn't in the study, which was rarely, he was in his catalog room, consulting with his thinking machine. He took all his meals alone, forgetting to eat until Mistress Delia brought him food, and even after three days he did not divulge the purpose of his work. Gilwyn quickly grew suspicious of his mentor. He had never seen Figgis so driven, and it frightened him. The old librarian worked like a man possessed, and Gilwyn could barely begin to guess as to the task King Akeela had given him. He worried that something was very wrong in Koth. He worried also that Figgis would expire from the strain. But he voiced none of his concerns. Instead he was Figgis' loyal apprentice. He delivered the maps and manuscripts without complaint and was at the librarian's side instantly whenever he wascalled. For all Figgis had done for him, Gilwyn knew he owed the man service.
On the afternoon of the fourth day, a surprise visitor arrived. Gilwyn was loading up his cart in the main hall when he heard the insistent pounding at the door. At first he ignored it, thinking one of the scholars was begging entry. But when the knocking finally grew to a crescendo Gilwyn stopped what he was doing and stomped to the door as quickly as his bad foot would carry him. Angry, he threw the latch and reached for the pull.
'Can't you read?" he asked before the door was half open. "We're closed."
The austere faces of armored knights greeted him. Gilwyn stiffened when he saw them-three men, all similarly garbed in silver armor and crimson capes. They wore no helmets, but each man bore a scabbarded sword. They were a daunting trio, and the one at the center was the most frightening by far.
Unlike the others, his cape was trimmed with silver and held with a golden clasp, and he had colored ribbons on his armor at the shoulders, denoting him as a man of rank. His jet hair was combed back slick against his head, its color mimicked by his meticulously trimmed beard. A pair of dark eyes smouldered in his stern face.
"I don't give a damn if you're closed, boy," he boomed. "Didn't you hear us knocking? Or are you deaf as well as-His insults suddenly stopped as he spied Gilwyn's clubbed hand. Embarrassed, he cleared his throat. "I am General Trager. I want to see your master."
Gilwyn was stunned. "General Trager?" He stared at the man stupidly. "Really?"
Seeing Gilwyn's awe, the general puffed a little. "Yes, it is I. Now step aside."
'Of course," said Gilwyn. He had only seen the general once or twice before, and only then from a great distance while watching the knights drill on the grounds around Lionkeep. Now that he was in the man's presence, Gilwyn was tongue-tied. He stepped aside for the soldiers, then remembered Figgis'
strict or ders not to be disturbed. The general crossed the threshold and looked around, nodding.
'So, this is what King Akeela has spent a thousand fortunes on, eh? Very nice."
'You've never been here, General?" Gilwyn asked. The idea shocked him. "Never once?"
For a moment General Trager seemed perturbed by the question. But he indulged Gilwyn, saying, "Oh, a long time ago, yes, when I had time for such nonsense. But it's grown since then." His men followed him into the entry hall as he continued to study the structure. There wasn't much to see in this part of the library, just stone walls and torches, but the general seemed intrigued by it. He rapped on the wall with his knuckles, testing its soundness. "I've always though that Library Hill would make a good location for a fortress. Such a commanding position."
His underlings nodded.
'Good construction," the general added. "Now, boy, where is that waterhead Figgis?"
'Uhm, well, Master Figgis is in his study. But he asked not to be disturbed."
'He will see me. Which way is the study?"
'Right down that hall, sir. But really, I don't think he'll take to being disturbed. He's on a project for the king."
General Trager sighed dramatically. "The king and I are closer than two toes in a stocking. I'm here on the king's business. Now be a good boy and take me to your master."
'Well, all right," Gilwyn stammered, unsure what to do. Figgis might be very cross, but he knew there was no way to disobey the general. "This way, sir," he said as he walked down the hall.
General Trager and his silent entourage followed. But before they had taken ten paces, the general noticed Gilwyn's uneven gait.
'You limp, boy. What's that shoe you wear?"
'Figgis made it for me. Before I started wearing it I couldn't walk without a cane."
'Remarkable. Your foot is like your hand, then?"
'Yes, sir," replied Gilwyn. He didn't know how much he should tell the man. "Since I was born."
Figgis hissed in annoyance. "Tell Akeela I'm doing the best I can. Sending you down here to nag me won't hurry things."
'I'm not an errand boy," huffed the general. "I have important news to discuss." He paused, turning toward Gilwyn. "But it isn't for everyone's ears." Gilwyn grimaced. "I'll go then, Figgis?" The general said, "Quickly."
'Very well," Figgis relented. "Gilwyn, leave us for a few minutes. Why don't you go and find those maps I asked for?"
'All right," said Gilwyn. There was no sense arguing, so he left, careful not to close the door behind him. He took a few steps away from the study, rounded the corner again toward the main hall, then quietly doubled back and cocked his ear to listen. Muffled voices came to him, amplified by the stone corridor. General Trager was talking, his tone loud and clear off the stonework.
'There's no time, Figgis. Akeela's made his decision. I'm organizing my divisions now and will lead them myself."
'Divisions?" shrieked Figgis. "How many men are you taking?"
'Enough to overpower the Jadori, be assured. If they stand in the way of finding Grimhold, we'll destroy them."
'No! There's no reason to invade!"
'It's not your decision. Akeela wants it this way. He wants that amulet, and he'll brook no failure."
Amulet? Gilwyn seized on the word.
'Trager," Figgis continued, "the Jadori aren't a threat to anyone. You know that. You can tell that to Akeela."
'Akeela doesn't want a repeat of our last fiasco, Figgis. That's why he's sending an army. If the Jadori know where Grimhold is, we'll make sure they tell us."
There was a long pause in the conversation. Gilwyn pressed closer to the wall, straining to hear.
'I need more time," said Figgis. His voice was quieter now, almost despondent. "If I can find out more about Grimhold, maybe I can convince Akeela not to invade Jador. Maybe I can prove to him there's no need for an army."