The Quest for the Trilogy: Boneslicer; Seaspray; Deathwhisper Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Acknowledgments

  BOOK ONE - BONESLICER

  FOREWORD - “Education Is Overrated, Grandmagister Juhg!”

  1 - The Tavern Brawl

  2 - A Tale of Betrayal

  3 - “We Have a Mission for You, Librarian Lamplighter”

  4 - Marooned in the Cinder Clouds Islands

  5 - On the Menu

  6 - The Goblinkin Chef

  7 - Dwarven City of Industry

  8 - Banished

  9 - Collision!

  10 - “D’Ye See Anythin’, Halfer?”

  11 - Landmarks

  12 - A Daring Plan Is Made

  13 - Walls of History

  14 - Master Oskarr’s Forge

  15 - Unwanted Truth

  16 - Burrowers!

  EPILOGUE - The Razor’s Kiss

  A Note from Grandmagister Edgewick Lamplighter

  AFTERWORD

  BOOK TWO - SEASPRAY

  FOREWORD - Ordal the Minstrel

  1 - Wharf Rat’s Warren

  2 - Quarrel

  3 - The Assassin’s Résumé

  4 - Inside the Safe

  5 - “Is That Your Talking Cat?”

  6 - Caught

  7 - Krepner the Goblinkin

  8 - Escape

  9 - Seaspray

  10 - The Leather-Maker’s Tale

  11 - The Fortress

  12 - At Sword’s Point

  13 - To the Dungeon

  14 - Hiding Place

  15 - Captain Dulaun

  16 - Pursued

  17 - Escape

  EPILOGUE - Safe Harbor

  A Note from Grandmagister Edgewick Lamplighter

  AFTERWORD

  BOOK THREE - DEATHWHISPER

  FOREWORD - The Bowman

  1 - Battleground

  2 - Monster!

  3 - “A Lie Will Get You Killed”

  4 - Innocence

  5 - Vidrenium

  6 - “I’m Grandmagister Of This Library, And I—Ulp!”

  7 - Solutions

  8 - Torgarlk Town

  9 - Trouble at the Big Ol’ Bear’s Tavern

  10 - “Cake! That’s What This Will Be!”

  11 - The Magic Sword

  12 - Never-Know Road

  13 - Laceleaves Glen

  14 - Sokadir

  15 - Lord Kharrion’s Wrath

  A Note From Grandmagister Edgewick Lamplighter

  AFTERWORD

  THE ROVER SERIES FROM TOR BOOKS

  Copyright Page

  For my son, Jeremy Johnson,

  who has always been in my heart.

  The world can be a dark place, but you’ve always

  been one of the lights in mine.

  Love,

  Dad

  Acknowledgments

  To Brian Thomsen, who always keeps an eye peeled for shoals and reefs, and is always good for a tale or two.

  To Lawrance Bernabo, who keeps a light out for traveling literary characters, and whose opinions are valued.

  To Janet Adair, who supports the Rover series with her patronage, enthusiasm, and by sharing her books.

  To Kathleen Doherty, who has always been the perfect hostess and a charming conversationalist.

  To Tom Doherty, whose vision and love of literature allow countless worlds and stories to be born.

  And to Amy, Joe, and Lauren, faithful readers all. Enjoy the adventure!

  BOOK ONE

  BONESLICER

  FOREWORD

  “Education Is Overrated, Grandmagister Juhg!”

  “Having second thoughts, Grandmagister?” a deep voice asked from behind Juhg.

  Startled, Juhg turned and faced the speaker. He hadn’t even heard him approach. But that was usual for the man. Craugh had spent much of the last thousand years skulking in shadows.

  He stood on the loose cobblestones of the street. Dressed in dust-stained russet-colored homespun garments, he didn’t look like a wizard. Instead, six and a half feet tall and skinny as a rake, he looked like a weary traveler, days from his last meal.

  A wide-brimmed, peaked hat shadowed his face from the noonday sun, but it didn’t completely smooth out the crags years had left stamped upon him. Scars lay there too, from knife and sword and arrow. Still, his hawk’s beak of a nose and his bright green eyes implied power and a relentless nature. He leaned upon the rough staff he carried, hand resting idly on the crook at the end of it. He drew his other hand through the tangled mess of his long gray beard.

  In all the years past that Juhg had known the wizard, Craugh had only referred to him as “apprentice,” as if he were the only Novice Librarian that Grandmagister Lamplighter had ever taken on to train at the Vault of All Known Knowledge. Now, with the Grandmagister’s departure and Juhg’s naming to the position of Grandmagister, Craugh addressed him by his title. Most of the time.

  (Sometimes the wizard still referred to Juhg as idiot and buffoon, and those weren’t meant as terms of endearment. They both missed Edgewick Lamplighter, for reasons each their own, but that didn’t mean they agreed how to proceed without their friend.)

  “I’m long past second thoughts,” Juhg muttered. He drew himself to his full height, still only a little more than three and a half feet tall. He was a dweller, much thinner and more wiry than most. Dwellers tended to be short and stout, and fat in their later years when they could afford to succumb to their innate selfishness. Juhg was pale at present, with fair hair and a youthful appearance. Today, instead of Librarian robes, he wore finery that he felt uncomfortable in.

  “Eh?” Craugh said, holding a hand to his ear.

  Juhg sighed. He hated it when the wizard pretended not to hear him because he couldn’t speak tall enough.

  “I’m long past second thoughts,” Juhg said more loudly, curbing at least three—no, four—sharp retorts that came to mind to address Craugh’s hearing ability as well as his advancing years.

  At the moment, though, he didn’t wish to lose Craugh’s support and—perhaps it would stretch the very nature of the definition to call it such—friendship. As the new Grandmagister negotiating with the important leaders of the dwarves, humans, and elves along the Shattered Coast, Juhg felt inept and very much alone these past few days.

  “Good,” Craugh said, and smiled grimly. “You should be of a more positive mind.”

  “I’m probably on forty-sixth or forty-seventh thoughts,” Juhg admitted. “And that’s just today. After lunch.” In truth, he felt sick. Even so, he felt driven to at least attempt to accomplish the goal he’d set for himself. “I just don’t want to botch this.”

  “Nonsense.” Craugh gazed up at the town meeting hall. “You’ll do fine.”

  Making himself breathe out so he wouldn’t hyperventilate, Juhg checked his journal to make certain it was the right one and he hadn’t forgotten his notes. “I’m afraid they don’t like me.”

  “Poppycock,” Craugh said.

  Juhg felt a little relieved at that.

  “They don’t know you well enough not to like you,” Craugh went on. “It’s your ideas they hate.”

  Those are exactly the words of confidence I was looking to for inspiration. But Craugh’s assessment of the situation, however true it might be, stung Juhg’s pride. He stood a little straighter and looked into the wizard’s insolent gaze.

  “They don’t know my ideas well enough to hate them,” Juhg insisted. “I’ve barely begun speaking.”

  “Then perhaps,” Craugh said, “we should go inside and finish what you have begun.” Without another w
ord, he stepped toward the town meeting hall.

  Sighing again, taking one last look at the ship in the harbor, Juhg followed the wizard. Craugh will lead you to your doom, he warned himself. How many times did Grandmagister Lamplighter tell you about adventures he went on because of Craugh? Dozens! At least that many. And how many times did those adventures nearly get him killed? At least nearly every time. At one point or another.

  In the main hallway, dwarven and human guards dressed in heavily armored leather stood watch over the door to the meeting room. They held axes and swords naked in their fists. All of them were sworn to provide security for the important people they represented. Atop the building, elven warders stood at the ready, their hawks and falcons skirling high in the sky to keep an eye on the countryside and the sea.

  One of the human guards challenged Craugh, swinging the long handle of his axe to block the way. The guard was younger, taller, and broader, and evidently full of himself concerning his fighting prowess.

  “Who are you?” the guard demanded.

  Drawing himself up to his full height, Craugh fixed the man with his stare. Displeasure and anger clouded the wizard’s face. Lambent green sparks jumped and swirled at the end of his staff.

  “I am Craugh,” he declared. And his voice filled the space in front of the door like a blow.

  Immediately, the guard paled and took a step back, clearing the way. He broke eye contact. His hand shook on his axe. “Forgive me. Please don’t turn me into a toad.”

  The reputation the wizard had for turning people into toads when they irritated him was known far and wide around the mainland. It was rumored that he had increased the toad populations in some areas by whole communities.

  Craugh passed on without another word.

  Juhg started forward as well, but was blocked instantly by the guardsman’s axe. Looking up at the guard, who had seen him both days before when he’d gone into the meeting hall, Juhg blinked in disbelief.

  “Who are you?” the guard challenged, sounding fiercer than ever. Evidently he felt he had to regain his status with his companions.

  “You know me,” Juhg said, exasperated.

  “Show me your bracelet,” the guard ordered. Copper bracelets stamped with trees, ships, and mountains had been issued to those who were allowed into the meeting.

  “I’m the Grandmagister,” Juhg began, starting to push back his sleeve to reveal the bracelet. His wrist was bare. Feeling stupid, he remembered that he’d left the bracelet in his room aboard the ship.

  “Well?” the guard demanded, as if sensing weakness on Juhg’s part.

  “I’m the Grandmagister,” Juhg said again. “I don’t look any different today than I did yesterday or the day before.”

  The guard leaned in more closely, obviously wanting to intimidate Juhg with his greater size.

  Juhg, who had grown up as a slave in a goblinkin mine, who had carried the left legs of fellow slaves who had died in the mines back to the harsh overseers to prove the hapless individuals had indeed perished, was not intimidated. He had fought wizards (though not because he wished to), battled goblinkin (only because running hadn’t been an option at the time), and faced incredible monsters (drat the luck he sometimes had when he thought about it). Juhg was not impressed.

  Although Grandmagister Lamplighter had freed Juhg from the goblinkin slaves and taken him back to Greydawn Moors during one of his adventures, the Grandmagister hadn’t ever been able to free him from his anger. Two days of being largely ignored and sometimes ridiculed hadn’t set well with him.

  Before Juhg could stop himself, he caught the human’s big nose in a Torellian troll nerve pinch and squeezed. Torellian trolls had at one time been known for their torture techniques. Lord Kharrion had made extensive use of them during the Cataclysm.

  The guard yelped in stunned and pained surprise. Paralyzed by the grip the Grandmagister had on his snout, the burly human dropped to his hands and knees and quickly begged for mercy.

  Shocked at what he had done, aware that the guard’s companions were closing in on him with edged steel, Juhg released his hold and stepped back. “I am the Grandmagister,” he said again.

  “I don’t care who you are, bub,” one of the other human guards growled, “no one lays a finger on one of Lord Zagobar’s personal—”

  Craugh raised his staff and brought it down sharply. Green lightning flew from the bottom end of the staff and shot along the hallway floor. Several of the armored guards cried out or cursed. Many of them jumped and rattled their armor. A few of them fell—splat!—on their backsides.

  “He’s with me,” Craugh declared, glaring at the guards. “Does anyone have a problem with that?”

  “Of course not,” the guards all replied in quaking voices. “Go right inside. Sorry to be any trouble.”

  Juhg heaved out a disgusted breath as he trailed in the wizard’s wake. A wizard should not get more respect than a Librarian. But that was the way it had always been. After all, Librarians couldn’t turn malcontents into toads.

  Behind him, one of the dwarven guards took off his hat and enthusiastically smacked the fallen human guard with it. “You stupid miscreant! You could have gotten the lot of us turned to toads!”

  Juhg had to hurry to keep up with the wizard. They passed through the rows of seats, most of them filled with those who had come to the meeting. They still glared at Juhg with a mixture of awe, disbelief, and resentment. Several were openly hostile. After all, during the thousand years that had followed the Cataclysm, most of them had thought all books were destroyed.

  Lord Kharrion’s campaign, besides taking over the world, had been directed toward the destruction of every book that had been written. During the war with the goblinkin, none of the elves, dwarves, or humans had known Lord Kharrion was searching for The Book of Time, which had been lost. The Book of Time was indestructible.

  The fact that Kharrion had also been Craugh’s only son remained unknown by all except Juhg.

  Craugh stopped so suddenly that Juhg nearly tripped over his own feet while trying to stop. The wizard turned around and gestured Juhg to the front of the great hall.

  Juhg stood for a moment. “I thought perhaps,” he said quietly, “you might like to say a few words.”

  “No,” Craugh replied.

  “But you came such a long way.”

  “To hear you.”

  After two days of arguing and attempting to justify his existence, Juhg felt hollowed out. I should have run for the ship, he told himself.

  Impatiently, Craugh waved him to the front of the room. Lamps lit the stage there, filled with lummin juice, which the glimmerworms of Greydawn Moors produced, and which burned more cleanly and efficiently than whale oil or tallow. That fuel had interested several of the merchants among the crowd and lent proof to Juhg’s statement that he was from another place.

  But a Library? When Juhg had first told them that, even though most of them had heard the rumors that had spread when the Vault of All Known Knowledge had been destroyed almost eight years ago, they had looked upon him with derision.

  He was a dweller. By their standards, since dwellers couldn’t or wouldn’t fight, didn’t produce anything worthwhile, and on the whole were known for their greedy and selfish ways, he couldn’t possibly be in charge of such a great thing as the Vault of All Known Knowledge. In fact, Grandmagister Lamplighter had been the first to ever hold that office who wasn’t human.

  “Go,” Craugh admonished, shooing Juhg along as he would a child.

  Reluctantly, Juhg walked to the front of the assembly. He felt the cruel stares boring into his back. His feet felt leaden and everything in him screamed, Run! But he didn’t. He was following in Edgewick Lamplighter’s footsteps and forging a path of his own.

  Grumbles and curses arose all around him, sounding as unforgiving and throaty as the Lost Sea, which had been trapped in an underground cave in the Krelmayne Jungles. Even though the lake and the surrounding cave systems had been
filled with savage predators that had no eyes and hunted by vibration, Juhg thought he would rather be there again at Grandmagister Lamplighter’s side in the sinking dinghy once more than facing the hostile crowd.

  At the stage, Juhg climbed the stairs, then walked over to the lectern, which hadn’t been cut to dweller specifications. He had to climb up on two wooden boxes to reach the proper height.

  The audience laughed at Juhg, not with him. A few disparaging comments about short people and dwellers reached his sensitive ears. His face flamed slightly, but it was as much from anger as from embarrassment.

  “Greetings,” Juhg said bravely. And he smiled just the way Barndal Krunk had suggested in his book, Oratories of Those Who Would Be Listened To. It didn’t work and he felt stupid standing there grinning like a loon. He also tried imagining the audience was sitting there in their underwear, but that didn’t work either. He was fairly certain several of the poor sailors of the nearby Twisted Eel River didn’t own underwear. And imagining the fierce Blade Works Forge dwarves in their underwear was just too horrible to contemplate.

  Now, for the first time, utter silence filled the great hall.

  Juhg tried to find Craugh out in the audience, hoping to find a friendly face to focus on. If that’s the friendliest face you can hope to find, he told himself, you might just as well hang yourself on this stage.

  “As many of you have come to know these past two days,” Juhg ventured on, knowing that there were some among the assembly now who had only arrived, “I am Grandmagister of the Vault of All Known Knowledge, the Great Library that was built near the end of the Cataclysm to save the books from Lord Kharrion’s goblinkin horde.”

  “Dwellers is worthless!” someone roared from the back. A chorus of boos followed.

  Patiently, Juhg waited for the remonstrations to die away. He gripped the edges of the too-wide lectern. “I sent heralds to gather you all here,” he went on, “in the hope of presenting my vision of schools along the Shattered Coast.”