Armageddon's Children - Terry Brooks [147]
The Elven community was quiet, most of the people either in bed or on their way. The sky was overcast and shed only a little light, so Kirisin was forced to rely on his Elven senses to help him pick his way through the blackness. The air was still and warm, the night cloaked in silence and hushed expectancy. He moved cautiously down the narrow paths that led to the Belloruus home, picking his way and listening for sounds that would alert him to another’s presence. He heard none, and he arrived at the edges of the King’s home without incident.
Crouching in the bushes at the prearranged spot, just beyond the perimeter where the guards patrolled, he waited for midnight and Erisha.
Several times it occurred to him that no one knew where he was. If anything happened to him, no one would know where to look for him. It was a chilling thought—that the Elven King might do something to silence him—but he could not help thinking about it in light of what he now knew about the man. If he were willing to risk endangering the Ellcrys to protect his daughter, he wouldn’t have much trouble finding an excuse for removing a troublesome boy.
It made him wonder. Would Erisha have gone back on her word and betrayed him to her father?
He was still wondering when she appeared out of the darkness, dressed as he was, a shadowy presence in the gloom. “This way,” she whispered, putting her mouth right next to his ear. “The guards won’t see us. Their eyes look elsewhere for the next few minutes. Hurry!”
He followed her through the trees, doing his best to place his feet exactly where she did, casting anxious glances all about—for the Home Guard and whoever or whatever else kept the King safe. But no one appeared and no alarms sounded, and in only minutes they were at a side door that gave soundlessly at Erisha’s touch and admitted them into the Belloruus house.
Kirisin stood just inside the doorway, breathing hard despite himself.
Erisha had stopped in front of him, apparently listening, making sure that it was safe. Satisfied, she took his arm and pulled him ahead. They went slowly, passing through rooms lit by tiny candles that gave just enough light to permit them to find their way without falling over the furniture. Once or twice, Erisha stopped and listened anew before proceeding. They reached a door that opened onto the stairway that led to the library housing the Elven histories and started down. Erisha was carrying a smokeless torch now to light their way. The air grew cooler and the silence deeper. They went down several flights until they reached the bottom level and stood in a small anteroom with a worktable and several chairs. A pair of doors were set into earthen walls shored up with beams and siding.
Erisha walked to the door on the right and opened it carefully, thrusting the torch inside for a quick look. Satisfied, she turned back to Kirisin and beckoned him forward. They entered the room, which was filled with shelves and cabinets crammed with books and papers, all marked by printed labels and numbers. Erisha moved to the back of the room, casting about as she went, searching. She stopped finally and pointed to a set of books that were ancient and dust-covered, bound in leather and labeled in gilt. She took down the first two volumes and passed one to him.
“These are the histories,” she whispered. “Do you want to carry them outside to the table?”
He shook his head. “Let’s stay in here.”
Together, they sat cross-legged on the wooden slat floor, placed the torch between them, opened the books, and began to read.
It was a long, slow process. The order in which the contents of the books had been recorded was confusing; it didn’t seem to be chronological or by subject. The writing