The scent of dust and dry parchment tickled Robin’s nostrils. The Great Library of Noviel had enchantments of all kinds to preserve the books, but for some reason that did nothing to change the smell of the place. By rights it should have, but maybe the Head Librarian just liked the smell and had the illusion of it piped in to compensate for the preservation spells.

Robin could respect that, if true.

A small bobbing sphere of light, part of the library system for locating books and scrolls and other library items, hovered near his shoulder. He was deep in the stacks, shelves rising around him like trees in a forest, tall and wooden and glossy with some kind of varnish.

To his left was a honeycomb of scroll containers, hexagonal wooden cubbyholes with tightly rolled scrolls packed inside. He had been here before, when he first began his search, thinking that the older sources might have a better chance of telling him more about Rhyth.

Information on the god was unsurprisingly scarce. He hadn’t been entirely erased, but someone had clearly gone to a great deal of trouble to remove mentions of him. Missing books, missing pages, missing scrolls, inks faded suspiciously to illegibility—Robin had encountered plenty of these and suspected there were even magical interdictions causing his eyes to slide right past the information he was seeking in some cases.

It would be too obvious otherwise.

Still, he had found some fragments and many passages that he suspected spoke of Rhyth but never used any of the god’s names he was familiar with.

Right now he was searching for the location of the Ruins of Isthmael, a city that once flourished at the edge of the world. Well, the edge of this floating continent. It was old enough that the sources he had found so far were written by cultures that didn’t believe in or hadn’t discovered the other floating landmasses that orbited the sun.

Not for the first time, Robin thanked Rhyth for [Tongue of the Fallen Tower]. The ability to speak and read any language was a staggering boon. It might not do much in terms of raw power, but being able to read any of the books here…priceless.

Though it was also an unspeakable temptation. There was so much here! So many fascinating stories. Knowledge of kinds he had never even imagined back on Earth.

Robin let his fingers trail along the edges of a few of the scrolls in their cubbyholes. The edges were feathery and crisp against his touch. Deciding he’d earned a break, he selected one at random and pulled it from its space, unrolling just a bit of it to see what knowledge it contained.

It was a religious tract of some kind, in praise of a sun god. Robin wasn’t familiar with the name, and the language was not one he’d yet encountered. His [Bardic Lore] couldn’t identify it either, but he did manage to get the impression that it was linked to the Dracian family of languages.

‘I find Artu’vak a better translation of that text,’ a voice interrupted Robin’s perusal of the scroll.

The bard looked up. A tall, slim man with an armload of books was looking at him. He was handsome in a bookish way, but there was an aura of sharpness around him that pressed outwards. Robin had the eerie feeling that if he wasn’t careful this man could kill him with a few choice words—death by a thousand papercuts.

He could appreciate that vibe.

‘I was just browsing. A random selection,’ he said.

‘Lucky find.’ The stranger shifted the books in his arms. ‘Well, let me know if you need any help finding something more specific. The wisps are all well and good for obvious requests, but they sometimes lack the specific knowledge of a trained librarian when it comes to hard-to-find information.’

‘And you would be one such trained librarian, I take it?’ Robin felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth.

‘Assistant, only. Tellurian Vance, at your service. I’d shake your hand but I’m afraid I haven’t a free limb to do so.’

‘I’ll take the intent as read, then. You can call me Robin.’ He flicked a glance over Vance. Could he trust him? Maybe test the waters first. Asking about lost gods might be dangerous, but something more general… ‘I’m looking for information on advanced techniques used in conjunction with illusion magic.’

‘Ah. You’re the bard with the tavern that Head Librarian Oththo has been ranting about.’

Ranting? Robin’s stomach sank. He might be further from completing his quest than he thought.

‘That bad?’ he asked. Maybe he could get some information here.

‘I’ve seen worse.’ Vance shrugged. ‘One idiot from the adventurers’ guild annoyed him so bad Oththo turned him into a book. Literally. I can show it to you if you like. If you read it it’s a very unflattering satire of the guildie’s life. Almost satirical, but too biting and mocking to be proper satire. Not the most pleasant of reads, though. It’s still warm.’

‘I’m almost tempted,’ Robin said.

The prospect would be a lot more tempting if it wasn’t clear from Vance’s description that the book was made from the physical remains of the adventurer in question.

And he’d thought descriptions of the Necronomicon were bad.

‘So what does a body have to do to get on the Head Librarian’s good side and not get turned into a book?’ Robin angled for a bit more useful information.

‘A new book for the library goes a long way,’ Vance said absently. ‘Bonus points if its one the Head Librarian has been wanting for his own pleasure or research. There aren’t many of those left, though. Not just anyone can access the inner stacks.’

‘Tell me about it,’ Robin commiserated. ‘I know there are sources in there that have to have some of the information I’m looking for but—’ He shrugged eloquently.

‘You’re not getting in without first getting into Oththo’s good graces. We’ve all been there. And no,’ Vance said firmly as Robin’s face got a canny look on it, ‘I will not fetch the information or you with my access. You want it, you work for it.’

‘I’m sure there’s something you want that I could provide in trade,’ Robin wheedled. Might as well try.

‘You’ll have an easier time seducing Oththo.’

Robin snorted a laugh. He’d only known Vance for a few minutes, but he could already tell when the other man was joking. Sharp sense of humour, and dry enough to pair with a white wine.

‘I don’t suppose you know what the Head Librarian is currently researching?’

‘Not off the top of my head. It’s usually one or another lost cultures. I suppose I could find out, if you made it worth my while.’

Robin perked up a bit. Vance wanted something. This was seeming less and less like a chance meeting.

‘I might be able to do that, depending what it is you want.’ Robin carefully rerolled the scroll in his hand and returned it to its spot in the honeycomb of cubbyholes.

‘I’ve heard you were part of a group that had an encounter with a living dungeon. I’d just like to get your thoughts and recollections down.’

That was not what Robin had expected. A sharp thrill of unease darted down his spine. Did anyone suspect Ruprecht was still alive down there? He’d had a few interactions with the dungeon via the magic stone he’d smuggled back to the surface, but aside from the regular questions they faced on returning to the guild, this was the first anyone had really asked what had happened down there.

‘I can probably manage,’ Robin forced himself to say breezily. ‘What is a bard for, if not the recounting of tales?’

‘Does that mean you’ll do it for free?’

Robin could see enough humour in Vance’s eyes to know he was joking.

‘What bard performs for free?’ he scoffed. ‘Come now.’

‘Worth a try.’ Vance grinned ruefully.

‘Fair,’ Robin agreed. How could he not? He’d tried for more on lesser grounds.

A surge of emotion, excitement hot and sharp, suddenly surged through him. For a moment, it left Robin disorientated before he realised it must be coming from his familiar.

‘Are you alright?’ Vance was looking at him oddly.

Frell. The contact must have shown on his face. He was usually quite good at keeping his reactions neutral when Rerebos contacted him. Or was Vance just that perceptive? He could be. Not what he needed right now. Rerebos was still a secret.

‘Completely fine,’ he said, projecting as much ease as he could. ‘Just realised the time.’

Robin felt a pulse of irritation along the bond with his familiar. Rerebos was getting impatient. The little dragon must have found something trailing the gang that was harassing Robin.

He sent back a soothing pulse. Hopefully Rerebos would realise it meant he would be back soon. It would be nice when their bond deepend to the point that they could communicate telepathically over long distances.

‘I’m afraid I have an engagement I need to get to soon, but I could meet you here tomorrow, if that works?’ Robin glanced at Vance.

‘I have too many duties tomorrow, but perhaps in the evening? I could meet you at your tavern, after you finish your performances for the evening?’

‘You’ve done your research,’ Robin said slowly.

‘As does any librarian worth their salt.’ Vance inclined his head slightly. ‘Does that work?’

‘That should be fine. I’ll go over my memories and see what extra details I might be able to dredge up.’

‘I’d appreciate that.’ Vance smiled. ‘I’ll let you get on with it. Until tomorrow night.’

Robin waved Vance off as the other man walked away. Conflicting thoughts warred back and forth as he made his own way out of the library and back toward the tavern. Here he had a potential lead on getting on the Head Librarian’s good side, but to do so he had to give an interview to a very sharp individual about a topic that was, in part, wrapped in lies and secrets.

Was it a coincidence? Or was Vance actually angling for something? It wasn’t impossible that he might be working for Zahn, or someone else with a vested interest in using Ruprecht for their own ends.

Might have to tread carefully here, just in case.