Ceylas had just returned when Nelalwe, thick book clutched to her chest, gestured to us. There was a nervous tension in her body as she pointed to a dark corner of the stacks that was out of view of most of the library’s inhabitants. Ceylas gave her an odd look, then glanced between Cambrin and I. “What’s she want?”
“She has something to show us,” I told her with a grim smile. “I suppose if we’re taking this chance then we’re taking this chance.” I piled the other books up on the table and reached for the one Cambrin had been reading but he shook his head, keeping it clutched in his right hand.
By the time we’d put the books on a returns cart, Nelalwe had disappeared, but we found her in the hidden alcove she’d indicated. She was nervously pacing, the book still clutched to her chest. As we arrived she gave a sigh of relief and waved us to the small selection of low chairs that ringed a coffee table. The area was heavily shadowed but as soon as she’d placed the book on the table she flicked her fingers and a small collection of dim dancing lights started floating around our heads giving off a soft yellow glow.
“Come, come,” she said, waving us forward despite the fact that we were already sitting on the edges of our chairs, eager to see what she’d brought.
“What is it?” Ceylas asked. She’d taken a seat beside her brother who had put the book he’d been holding into the cushions of the chair between them.
Nelalwe fixed Ceylas with a look. She tilted her head and the fancy hat, adorned with flowers, tipped slightly, falling off kilter against her horns. “Are you one?” she whispered, staring intensely at Ceylas who squirmed under the gaze.
“One what?” she whispered back.
“A traveller,” Nelalwe whispered, the word practically purred from her throat. Ceylas nodded, her eyes wide as the archivist’s lips opened in a big, toothy grin showing a row of square teeth. “Good, good. Come and see,” she said, turning to the book.
It was easily the size of the New Yorker but hundreds of pages thick and bound in a strange black hide. The edges of the pages were painted in gold leaf. Across the centre of the book a thick leather strap, stamped with bronze clasps and edged with detailed sketches and markings was held closed with a heavy lock. There was no title or creator on the cover or spine of the tome. Nothing at all to identify it but a perfect replica of the Tree of Melvanis, shimmering in silver, green, and an array of colored flowers.
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Nelalwe traced the tree with her fingers. Then she leaned close to the lock, put her lips up against the place where a key would go and whispered a word of power. The whole book shimmered with intricate swirls of rainbow energy that danced over the etchings and along the leather until culminating at the lock which clicked open.
“This,” Nelalwe said, carefully turning the pages of the book, “Is the first Bible of Balance ever scribed. It is said that Melvanis himself dicatated these words to the very first traveller. It is kept sacredly protected, for those that worship Life and Power outnumber Balance three-fold. Should one wish to sway the fates in their favor one need only tilt the balance a single degree and all is lost.”
Ceylas seemed less curious now. She raised an eyebrow as she sat back in her seat. “A bible?” she asked, “You brought us here for a bible?”
Nelalwe ignored her, instead giving her attention to Cambrin who seemed enthralled at the idea. He’d sat even further forward in the chair so that he could reach out to the book. “May I?” he asked, gesturing to ask if he might touch the work. Nelalwe dipped her head in acquiescence. He pulled it slightly more toward himself and began carefully turning the pages. He skimmed through the contents and stroked the parchment like one might stroke the soft fur of a puppy.
The more Cambrin read, the more furrowed his brow became. I tried to read over his shoulder but only caught snatches of information before he turned the page. He was clearly a much faster reader than I could ever hope to be. Long minutes passed and Ceylas grew restless again. Nelalwe had been equally entranced by the pages but she glanced up at the window of the library.
“Goodness, it grows late. I will be missed if I do not go down for dinner.” She made to close the book but Cambrin placed his palm firmly on the pages.
“No, please,” he cried. “I need more time.”
“I cannot stay, and if you three were to remain it might be noticed.”
“Just me then,” he said. “Ceylas and Lo’Kryn are bound to both be ready to eat anyway and it is not uncommon that I might miss a meal in favor of taking too long at study here.”
Nelalwe seemed to hesitate, clearly torn. Sensing that Cambrin really did need more time with the book, that it was somehow important, I decided to try leaning a little. “Archivist, you said yourself that our meeting today was important.”
She nodded. “An omen,” she said, the soft rasp of her voice barely a whisper.
“An omen of Melvanis,” I agreed. “Surely you could leave the book with Cambrin a few hours. He will guard it with his life, as a traveller should.” (Persuasion (advantage): 19+2=21)
She looked between me and Cambrin a long moment before eventually nodding her head. “I will return before midnight. That is all the time I can give you,” she said to Cambrin.
That would give him a little over a half-dozen hours to glean what he could. I reached down and put a hand on his shoulder. “Please, Cambrin. Don’t get too distracted. We want to get home. Focus on that.”
He lifted his gaze to mine and gave a solemn nod. “Right,” he said. “Focus.”