Realms of the Arcane - Brian M. Thomsen [1]
The abbot allowed himself a slight smile at this.
"He has only your welfare at heart, Wes. But, I have a more immediate task for you, too. The reading room in the north corner of the library hasn't been used for a while, and there are some scholars arriving tomorrow. I'd like you to go make sure the room is ready for their use."
Wes beamed at the abbot. "Yes, my lord. At once." He ran off toward the oldest part of the library.
The abbot watched him go, a knowing look on his gaunt face…
* * * * *
On his way, Wes stopped by a storeroom and grabbed another broom and some dusting cloths. He looked at the mop and bucket in the far corner, but quickly decided to leave them there.
Cleaning tools in hand, he found his way to the disused reading room. He opened the door and coughed loudly as a cloud of dust rose. There were cobwebs everywhere, and Wes wondered where he should start.
Right by the door seemed as good a place as any. He soon was busy sweeping and dusting and trying not to choke or sneeze, battling the flying dust for each breath of air. The room was starting to look like it might be usable by the morning.
Brother Frederick stuck his head in.
"What are you doing here, boy? I told you to finish cleaning up the dining room. Have you done that?"
"Ah… no, Brother… but…"
"But nothing. Go and do it, NOW!"
Wes stood in the middle of the room, a stunned look on his face.
Brother Frederick turned a deep shade of crimson. "I said, NOW! Are you deaf?"
"B-B-B-But, the lord abbot told me to clean this room," Wes blurted out before Brother Frederick could interrupt again.
Whatever response Brother Frederick was going to make was bitten back at the mention of the abbot. The monk's face returned to its normal florid hue. ~~
"Very well. Once you have finished here, go straight to the dining room and get it clean."
He stomped off without waiting for a reply.
Wes got back to his cleaning and worked his way around the room. After almost an hour, he was very tired, and he leaned against a solid timber bookshelf mounted on the stone wall. The bookshelf and wall moved slightly under his weight.
He leapt back with a start.
Curious, Wes took a close look at the bookshelf. He glimpsed straight cracks in the stone wall behind it. A secret doorway leading… where?
"Well," he thought aloud, "I need a break from cleaning. I'll just see what's behind the door, and then get back to it."
He closed the reading room door, and then put his shoulder to the bookshelf and began to push. The shelf moved reluctantly at first, as though the door hadn't been opened for a long time. Wes pushed it far enough to squeeze through. Once inside, he blinked, finding himself in a small room lined with shelves. The shelves were stacked with books, scrolls, and more than a few piles of loose sheets.
Wes was very careful not to disturb those.
A wedge of light from the reading room illuminated a small reading desk and a solid oak chair, together in the center of the room. There was also a soft glow throughout the room, some sort of magical light.
His cleaning tasks quickly forgotten, Wes glanced gleefully around the room, plucking up the courage to pick something up and read it…
Wishing You Many More
David Cook
From the port of Luthcheq on the Bay of Chessenta
Greetings Grand Conjurer Torreb, and a fine birthday to you!
I cannot believe my fortune! To think that I should hear of you, fellow student, and upon your birthing day, too! It's me, Fannol Pavish from the Academy. I was 2nd initiate to your 1st. It has been so long ago, and after your injustice, we never kept in touch. In fact, I fear you may have forgotten me. I know that I, busy as I am, barely have time to relish the memories of those days. I am sure you, who were always so energetic and ambitious, can scarce find the time for idle reminiscing, especially on what must be such an unhappy topic.
I remember how you chafed at our theorizing, always wanting to do something with your spells. Just remember, I was the