The Broken Sphere by Nigel Findley Page A

mumbled. “A very interesting request. You know …” His face suddenly lit up. “Do you know, I recall someone making a similar request, oh, it must be almost two years ago now. A purple gentleman with things on his face.” He put his hand against his chin with his fingers pointed down, and wiggled them.
    Teldin stared, then he smiled. “Did the gentleman give you a name?”
    Fazin shook his head quickly. “I think he was in too much of a hurry,” he said, “and I didn’t want to press him, if you know what I mean.”
    Teldin nodded slowly. So Estriss was here, almost two years ago, he mused, researching the Spelljammer.
    Or, at least, some illithid was, he quickly corrected himself. The odds favored Estriss. From what others had told him about run-of-the-mill mind flayers, another illithid would probably have just taken what it wanted and killed Fazin in the process. But it wouldn’t do to count on that fact.
    “Did the gentleman find the books he wanted?” the Cloakmaster asked.
    Fazin nodded. “Two of them,” he confirmed. “He was quite impressed with them.” He shrugged. “He read many more as well – he was quite a demanding patron, I’ll tell you that – but I recall he, um, ‘said’ that only two were worth the parchment they were scribed on.”
    That sounded promising, Teldin thought. “Could you please bring me those two books, then?” he asked.
    “Certainly, certainly, right away.” Fazin indicated a leather-upholstered wingback chair. “Make yourself comfortable. This won’t take long.” And with that he turned and scurried away.
    Teldin watched his retreating back with a half smile. Gnomes, he thought. They’ll do anything for you … if you can get them to do anything at all. He settled himself down in the chair Fazin had indicated – it was surprisingly comfortable, he found – and waited.
    He didn’t have to wait long. He guessed it was less than five minutes before the gnome reappeared in the doorway … empty-handed.
    Teldin sighed. “What else do you need me to write down?” he asked tiredly.
    Fazin looked confused for a moment, then shook his head. “No, it’s not like that at all,” he explained. “The books you wanted aren’t in the stacks.” Teldin blinked. “Not on the shelves where they’re supposed to be,” the gnome elaborated.
    “Has someone borrowed them?”
    “Borrowed them?” Fazin asked in outrage. “Let people borrow them? Never. All the books here are so important we’d never let them outside the building, no matter how much people requested us to change our policies —”
    “Anyway,” Teldin interjected forcefully.
    Fazin stopped and visibly changed mental tracks. “Anyway,” he said, “the books are missing. Stolen, probably, or maybe lost.”
    Probably the latter, Teldin corrected mentally. “Do you often lose books?”
    “Not often,” the gnome stated. “Misplace, yes. Lose, no. And the number of misplaced books will go down when we bring in the new indexing and retrieval system —”
    “But at the moment,” Teldin cut him off, “the books are …”
    “Gone,” Fazin finished for him. “Not here. Not available. So sorry.”
    “Both of them?”
    “Both of them.”
    Teldin thought about that in silence. How likely was it – really – that both of the most valuable books about the Spelljammer were accidentally missing, and simultaneously at that? It was remotely possible, but far from probable. How much more likely that somebody who was also searching for the mysterious ship had decided owning the books would be much more convenient than reading them in some library waiting room? He slumped in his seat. He’d put so much hope in his quest to Crescent, he realized, even more than he’d thought. After all, wasn’t the Great Archive supposed to be the largest repository of knowledge anywhere? And now the two books he wanted were missing ….
    Wait a moment, he thought. Paladine’s blood, two books Two books