Brax sat on a hard, wooden chair facing his interrogator. He could call her nothing else, certainly not the name she'd given him—Melethiel. She'd asked him question after question after question, each of them more perplexing than the previous.
"What color is an iris?"
"Purple with some white."
"Does a horse run on two legs, or four?"
"Four."
"Do chickens lay eggs or clovers?"
Brax covered his face with his hands. This was ridiculous. They'd been sent to the Library of Filamir to get answers, not to waste their time with pointless questions.
"Do you know the answer?" she asked gently.
"Of course I know chickens lay eggs instead of clovers!" Brax yelled, despite his every intention to remain calm. He rested his hands on his knees, digging into his kneecaps with his fingertips. The pain was a good distraction.
As the elf studied him, a beam of sunlight burst through the window, setting her hair alight with silver sparkles. Her eyes bored into his. Brax stared back just as intently. He refused to break eye contact first.
She fluttered her eyelashes twice, then sat back in her chair with a smile. "You may enter the library, Brax."
"I passed the test?" He was incredulous. "If that was all it took, then why does the library have a reputation for refusing most who seek its knowledge?"
She leaned forward and rested her clasped hands on the table. "You are a warrior, are you not?"
Brax nodded.
"I wasted your time. I asked you questions beneath you. I annoyed you, didn't I?"
Brax's jaw was set. He didn't want to answer that question.
"And yet you didn't raise a hand to me. You didn't tell me how to do my job. You respected me and my position." The elf's smile grew. "That is how you passed the test."
"You don't want anyone causing trouble here."
"We do not. I believe we are safe with you inside our walls."
Brax thought of his companions; he hoped they had fared as well as he did. Tace had a temper that outmatched anyone Brax had ever known.
"Your friends won't receive the same test," Melethiel said.
"Were you reading my mind?" Brax asked angrily.
"No, of course not." She chuckled. "Everyone who comes here has their own test to pass. Some are easier than others. Yours, as a matter of fact, was quite simple. We weren't worried about you. I only wanted to be sure you would not strike out in anger if annoyed. Sometimes the keepers of the knowledge aren't as forthcoming as seekers would like."
"Seekers?"
"You are a seeker," Melethiel said. "Everyone who comes here comes seeking answers. Our keepers do their best to assist them. You might think knowledge is a bunch of boring old facts, but in reality, knowledge is about digging deeper inside yourself."
Brax was a practical man. He believed he and his companions only needed to find a book about Drothu. It wouldn't take long, and then they could be back on the road again. But if what Melethiel said was true, their task might be more complicated.
"I don't understand," he admitted. Something about Melethiel made him comfortable. He felt he could tell her anything, and she wouldn't judge him.
Melethiel's silver hair continued to sparkle in the sunlight streaming through the window. Her eyes, the color of cornflowers, danced in merriment. "Most do not understand the library until they have experienced it," she said. "I have great confidence you will know its secrets, if you only give it time."
A knock at the door stopped him from asking another question.
"We are done," Melethiel said. "You may enter."
The door opened, revealing the guide. Tace, with a scowl on her face, and Ademar stood behind her.
"I'm to take you to your chambers," the guide said.
"Goodbye, Brax," said Melethiel.
"Will I see you again?" Brax asked before he could think about whether it was the right thing to do. He knew elves had the power to set a glamour over themselves, muddying the mind. But somehow, this was different. He felt fully in control over his emotions.
"Perhaps." Melethiel motioned toward the door with long, slim fingers. "Go now, seeker. I hope you find what you came here for."
Brax stumbled out of the doorway. Before he could turn around for one last look at Melethiel, the guide closed the door. "Follow me."
The three walked in silence behind the guide. Brax snuck another look at Tace. Her lip was curled, her eyes narrowed. Her questioning must not have gone as easily as his. Still, they hadn't denied her entry. Ademar looked as calm as always.
"When do we start?" Brax asked Tace. He was still annoyed with her for not bothering to tell him she spoke his language. He'd spent weeks since they killed the xarlug struggling to understand the orc language.
"As soon as they allow," Tace answered, her tone curt.
"Tace." Ademar put a hand on her forearm.
She shrugged him off. "Don't."
"What did they ask you?" Ademar pressed.
She muttered a long string of words in the orc tongue, then glared at Brax before turning forward again. Brax had managed to understand only one word: "mother." Why would they ask about her parents? Either his orcish was worse than he thought, or her session with the inquisitor had been even stranger than his.
"Excuse me," Ademar said, tapping their guide on the shoulder. "When will we be allowed to begin our research?"
"As soon as you like. You have already been assigned a keeper, Frensia. Shall we skip settling in your chambers and head to the heart of the library?"
"Yes," the three said in unison.
Brax was relieved to know the other two were as eager as he was to get on with their research. The sooner they learned about Drothu and the xarlug and what might lie ahead, the sooner he could go home to Soleth. His duty would be done—he would have made up for what his people had done to the orcs. Then again, did he even want to go home?
The guide turned left down another corridor, which ended in an expansive room with soaring ceilings. Bookcases stood everywhere. They were freestanding, against the walls—they even formed the bases of the spiral staircases. There wasn't a surface left without a bookcase to cover it.
"I've never seen so many books," Brax said. "I didn't even know…"
Ademar turned to him with a smile. "These are the books simply for pleasure reading. The real tomes, the ones with the answers we seek, are kept under guard. Our keeper will be the only one to access them."
"Where is this Frensia?" Tace asked, tapping her foot impatiently.
"I am here."
The voice was languid, blanketing Brax in complete calm. He turned toward it, and saw a tall, thin being with gray skin and huge black eyes staring at him from the other side of a table. Frensia's head was bald, though Brax couldn't tell if it had ever sported hair, and whatever race this being was, Brax wasn't familiar with it.
Ademar bowed to Frensia. "I'm Ademar. This is Tace and Brax. We are mere seekers. Will you help us?"
Brax bowed quickly, too, thinking that if Ademar did it, he should as well. But Tace just crossed her arms over her chest and eyed Frensia suspiciously.
Frensia motioned to the stack of books on the table. "I have already gathered the books we need to find the knowledge you seek."
"How do you know what we need?" Tace asked, anger practically writhing in her words.
Frensia's gaze settled on Tace. "Your interview, in particular, was of interest. I think I know what you are seeking."
Tace stepped back into Ademar. "I thought those interviews were private?"
"They will remain between you, me, and your inquisitor, unless you choose to fill your companions in." Frensia pulled the first book off the stack. "Now, do any of you know how to read ancient Wru?"
"I don't." Brax couldn't help but laugh. He could barely read in his own language. That was for scholars, not warriors.
"No." Tace flopped on a chair opposite Frensia, as if defeated. "You'll have to help us."
Ademar rested a hand on Tace's shoulder, and for once she didn't push him away. Brax watched them, curious again about the nature of their relationship.
"Very well then," Frensia said. The helper opened the book, and they began to find the answers they'd come to the library seeking.