“I have to go.”
She was off before he uttered another word, picking up her skirts and hurrying back through the trees to the table where Yirrie and Elator sat talking and laughing with others. Her heart pounded a wild beat as she approached the table, her gaze cutting over the merrymaking. Elator caught her eye and lifted his tankard in greeting, then went back to his conversation with the elf at his left. Yirrie hadn’t noticed her at all.
Snow veered to the right and headed back into the village where she had one thing on her mind—a visit to the Master of Archives.
Chapter 9
Snowwasn’tsureifshe would find Master Harwin. All she did know was that he wasn’t at the festival again that night. In fact, he rarely participated in them. When he did, it was to record some monumental event that everyone knew was coming. Like the introduction of an Elder who was taking the place of another who had passed on to the Otherworld.
She pushed open the door, the bell tinkling her arrival. It was dark inside save for one lone candle in a wall sconce behind the desk. She stood there in the silence for a long moment listening to the faint tick of a clock somewhere out of sight. Finally, she approached the desk.
“Master Harwin?”
The door on the left was ajar and caught her attention. She stared it, certain it was closed before she approached the desk. It was unlike Master Harwin to leave the door open.
The door on the right remained closed. The one in which she had entered earlier that day to ask him about the dark wizard and share a cup of tea. She hesitated, unsure what to do.
It was expressly forbidden for her—or anyone—to enter the archives without permission from Harwin. At least, that’s what she had always been told. She wasn’t certain the archives were behind the left door but it was an assumption. Where else would he keep all those books and scrolls and histories and diaries?
She stepped up to the door on the right and gave a swift knock. Then stepped back and waited.
Her heart pounded and her pulse thrummed deep within her. Something seemed amiss, but she was uncertain as to what she was feeling.
The door on the left beckoned.
When Harwin did not answer, she took a tentative step around the desk and halted. Her heart was loud in her ears. So loud it drowned out the ticking clock.
Taking a deep breath, expelling it, she took a tentative step toward the door. Then another and another until she was standing in front of it peering through the opening into soft shadows illuminated by flicking firelight.
“I shouldn’t,” she whispered.
Her hands were in fists at her sides and she glanced around. The other door remained firmly closed. Closing her eyes, she connected to the world around her, reaching out with her senses. All was quiet. Nothing stirred within the confines of the Master’s home.
She reached for the knob, opening the door fully. A slash of yellow-orange light filled the doorway and spilled into the quiet, darkened entryway. She blinked against the sudden brightness. From where she stood, she saw a bookshelf lined with books of all sizes.
One step and she would be inside the archives. One step and she would know what was behind that mysterious door.
She stepped inside and pulled the door closed behind her with a click. Standing there, she took in the room.
It was large. So large, her mind could not understand how it fit. On the outside, his home was tiny. But this room was cavernous and filled to the ceiling with rows and rows of bookshelves. How would she ever find the answers to her questions in this vast amount of books?
But it wasn’t just books he had. He also had items on the right side of the room. Swords, armor, murals painted of battles long past, an odd-looking wooden chair that, in her mind, resembled an ancient throne. All of that was on the opposite side of the room from the shelves. As though he was not only a collector of knowledge but a collector of history. These must be the magical things Master Harwin mentioned.
Something drew her to the right where all the items were housed. She walked down the aisle, looking at each of them as she passed. Over each item was a nameplate identifying the item.
Over the sword wasSword of the First Elven High King.
Over the armor a similar one readingArmor of the First Elven High King.
The label above the ancient throne was simply labeledThrone of the First Elven High King.
She didn’t know who the High King was. The elves had stopped using a royal hierarchy and instead had the Elders who were the most wise and the leaders.
Onward down the aisle, she paused to look at each and every artifact with wonder and amazement. She had no idea all of this was stored here. She wondered if Elator or Yirrie knew about it.
At the end of the aisle, there was an empty spot where a round object had once been. The label readDark Mirror.
She gazed at it a long, hard moment, her heart beating so hard it hurt.
