Abel hadn't woken in three days.
Looking back, Sebastian wasn't quite sure how he managed trekking up the remaining kilometers of the mountain while supporting Abel's deadweight. It wasn't that she weighed particularly much, but Sebastian knew he wasn't the strongest of men. Perhaps it had been mere adrenaline and determination that had finally gotten them both to Halorium.
Whatever it had been, he'd done it.
The first village on the outskirts of the capital sprawled before him, the thatched roofs covered in blindingly white snow. Not too far, he could spot the enormous fortress that jutted intimidatingly from Mount Halum. With Abel in his arms, he tried to take it all in, but it was difficult to muster a sense of accomplishment. Not with the way Abel's breaths rattled in her chest.
"We're here," he muttered to her. "I've got you."
Once he found relatively cheap lodging at some dodgy little place called Fleetfoot's Inn, he put Abel in the small bed in their even tinier room. He slumped on the ground next to her, counting out the remainder of the coins that he'd made from selling Imogene's possessions before he'd left Eilibir. There wasn't much. Especially not if Abel needed a healer.
What had he dragged Abel into?
It took an embarrassingly long time for Sebastian to light a meager fire in the ashy grate before he went off in search of the one person he had a chance of knowing in Halorium who could possibly help them. Hopefully without a payment requirement.
He fingered Norham's letter in the pouch strapped to his waist and walked down the claustrophobic staircase to the thick-waisted innkeeper who sat behind the bar.
Nerves settled in the pit of his stomach, and his elbow slipped in some amber residue atop the bar. Sebastian scowled at the wet mess on his sleeve. "Ugh!"
The innkeeper ignored him.
"Uh. Hello, sir? I was hoping you could direct me to the public vaults of the Halorian Library?"
The innkeeper sipped from a rather large tankard and peered over its rim at Sebastian like he was nothing more than a fool on a fool's errand. Which was ironic, considering he was the one who didn't seem able to keep his inn in sober-working order.
The older man huffed. "Yeh think a scruffy son like yehself can get into the Ice Fortress?"
Sebastian was certain the man guffawed into his drunken tankard as if to mock him. With a frown, he pulled out the letter Norham had written for him and held it out. "I'm meant to deliver this to Mister Lambert. He used to work at the library. He may still."
"Hollace Lambert, yeh say?" The man finally set down his tankard with an unnecessarily jarring bang. Some of its contents sloshed over the sides, and Sebastian deduced it had probably been the innkeep himself who had made the previous mess his clothing had sopped up.
The man's eyes narrowed, bleary gaze studying Sebastian from his tangled, windswept hair down to the muddied, sloshing boots that scuffed across the wooden planks of the inn's floors. "What's a boy like yeh wantin' with the Master Scholar of the library?"
Sebastian balked. "Master?" The innkeeper's accent was thick; perhaps he'd misunderstood. Then again, trust Norham to leave out the most important details of a journey. In fact, Norham was probably having a right laugh about it all. "You mean Mister Lambert is in charge of the entire library?"
The old man snorted. "Yeh ain't worth Lambert's time. Only the top o' top get in." He grabbed his tankard and turned his back on Sebastian. "Yeh won't even make it past the Iced Guards."
"You're wrong." Even Sebastian was startled at his confrontational tone. But he thought of Abel, who was ill upstairs in a rundown inn, and his mother, who deserved answers for her death. He straightened his shoulders. "I am worthy. At least, I hope to be."
The innkeeper chuckled to himself, eyes glinting from either mirth or inebriation. Possibly both. Sebastian sighed. "If you're not going to help, at least tell me where I can find a healer."
"Same answer," the man scoffed. "Yeh ain't gettin' past the guards."
"You mean to tell me there are no qualified healers outside the walls of the fortress?"
"Not unless yeh believe in the healin' properties of cow dung an' nettles."
Sebastian rubbed a hand over his tense jaw. This was getting him nowhere. "My friend is sick. I need someone to help her. Please."
"Aw. So yeh've got yehself a girl." The innkeeper snorted and clucked his tongue. "Fine. Tell yeh what, boy. Head over to Tuddle & Totts. Try survivin' that madness, an' maybe there's somethin' to yeh yet."
Sebastian wasn't sure what to think of that. The name of the place alone sounded like a strange joke. "What sort of madness?"
"Yeh'll see. Some Halorians venture from the fortress walls now an' again. Mostly young guards hopin' to find a lady friend."
"Are you not considered a Halorian, then?" Sebastian asked, for he'd thought he was in Halorium, the capital of Rainier.
The innkeeper laughed outright, slapping his hand on his thigh. "Yeh're funny. I'll give yeh that. I suspect I'm as much a Halorian as the hair on yehr big toe. Now, get goin'. Yeh're takin' up bar space, an' the fortress's gates shut at moon's height."
It wasn't until after Sebastian had stepped out of Fleetfoot's Inn that he realized he had no earthly idea where to find this Tuddle & Tott's place. Although, if it was truly as mad as the innkeep explained it to be, it shouldn't be too hard to find. Sebastian frowned into the cold night that pressed around him. He didn't particularly care for tomfoolery and madness; in fact, this late-night search would better suit Abel. He had an uneasy feeling that Tuddle & Totts was the sort of establishment that Abel would have turned upside down with nothing more than her coy smile.
Sebastian glanced behind him at the inn before heading down the street. Hopefully, he'd be able to spot some of the Iced Guards of Rainier that the innkeep had claimed liked to spend their time off in the village. Young guards in search of female company sounded seedy enough for a name such as Tuddle & Totts.
Sebastian snorted to himself.
He'd made it all of two steps before the small hairs on the back of his neck stood straight up. Someone watched him. At least, that's what it felt like. Abel had forced him to play her own barbarous version of Hide & Seek enough times as children. Sebastian paused, trying to calm his breaths.
He had never been the seeker.
A cold breeze ruffled the ends of his traveling cloak against his boots, and he nearly jumped. "Stop being ridiculous," he muttered.
Raucous laughter exploded from an alley to the right, accompanied by the sound of shattering glass. Sebastian released his breath. Well, that sounded rowdy, indeed.
He turned towards the sound and slammed directly into a brick wall. Except the brick wall was moving. And swearing at him.
"Oy! Watch it!" the brick wall, which was actually a man, scoffed.
"Sorry," Sebastian stammered as the stranger sauntered down the alley, still grumbling. Beneath the man's white, fur cloak, he could just see a silvery protective layer of what looked like overlapping fish scales. When the man passed by a flickering, lit torch, the scales glinted and shimmered, reflecting the light from the flames and nearly blinding Sebastian in the process.
Armor.
An Iced Guard.
Sebastian followed him to where he had disappeared beneath a molding wooden-planked sign. The torch illuminated the fading drawing of a miniature woman with a fish's fins and tail, balancing on the edge of a lily pad. He read the name on the sign: Tuddle & Totts.
"Well, that was surprisingly simple."
Sebastian peered beneath the sign and into the doorway where the guard must have gone. The building's structure itself seemed to have grown directly out of the road and, after growing too tall, it had started to lean towards the right. The smell that wafted from the dingy-looking pub tasted of burned sugarcane and stale beer. Something inside clashed and broke again.
Madness, indeed.
"Comin' in, love?"
Startled, Sebastian stared as a large-busted woman emerged from the shadows of the doorway. There was something about her features that was distinctly horse-like. Even her long, chestnut hair flowed down her back and over her shoulders like the most well-kept mane. Her red-stained lips split into a grin as she appraised Sebastian.
He stammered. "Yes? I think so. I'm looking for Hollace Lambert. Or someone who perhaps knows him."
Though the woman's grin widened, her dark eyes tilted and narrowed. Sebastian tried not to shuffle his feet under her scrutiny. A short, tinkling laugh escaped her parted lips at his nervousness. "Try your luck 'round back."
Sebastian craned his neck to see where she pointed. There was a short alley between Tuddle & Totts and a dilapidated stable that seemed to be in a state of recent repair. A lone horse snorted and whinnied.
"Er, thank you."
Her eyes followed him as he approached the mouth of the alley. It made goosebumps erupt across his neck. The alley was short and narrow, colliding into a dead-end made from the back of a butcher's shop if the stench of the alley was anything to judge by. Sebastian wrinkled his nose and turned to examine the empty wall of the Tuddle & Totts pub. He glanced around, not quite sure why that barmaid had sent him back here in search of Lambert. No one appeared to be back here.
Something small caught his attention. Details had always been his forte. A small indentation in the stone of the pub's wall just below his chest. Curious, Sebastian stepped closer and reached his hand out towards it. He knew this symbol. Shaped like a slender writing utensil, carved lines feathering out at its end. It was the same one he'd always seen above the brass lock of Norham's front door.
He fingered the carving. "The Black Quill."
"Say that again."
A strong hand slammed into Sebastian's shoulder blade. His forehead would have hit the stone wall if his wrists hadn't hit it first. Sebastian gasped, half-choking in shock.
"Er--The Black Quill?"
"Literal arsehole." The hand pressed him more firmly into the wall. "Who are you?"
Sebastian recognized the gruffness of the voice as the Iced Guard who had sworn at him earlier. He struggled against the guard's hold, trying to turn and face him. "Are you Master Lambert?"
"No." The guard's hold didn't waver. "Is he expecting you?"
"Maybe?" It was hard to sound confident with his cheek pressed against a wall. "I have an urgent letter. I would like to hand deliver it to him."
There was a beat of silence. "You have the look of one from Soleita." The way the guard spoke the name of the sunny, tropical island changed his entire rough accent. Almost as if a smoother accent lay beneath it, trapped beneath the harshness of Halorian weather. "The sun does not shine so brightly here."
It seemed as if, even here in the supposedly diverse capital of Rainier, his darker coloring was still considered a rarity. Sebastian half-rolled his eyes. "I'm from Eilibir. Unthreatening by nature. Unless you're a fish, of course. You can release me, I would think."
The guard didn't release him, but he did yank Sebastian around so they were finally face-to-face. Though, there wasn't much to see as the guard had his white hood pulled lowly over his brow. "How do you know of the quill?"
Sebastian glanced from over the guard's shoulder and back to his cloaked face. "My tutor. Norham Verilibros." He paused. The guard seemed to hesitate as if he recognized the name of Sebastian's eccentric, old teacher. "Do you know him?"
The wall behind him moved.
Startled, Sebastian stumbled forward as the wall pushed outwards without warning, shoving him into the guard. Sebastian turned and stared as an otherwise hidden door appeared before him. The symbol of the quill lay carved into the door where a doorknob should have been.
Tuddle & Totts. Maddening, indeed.
"Well, bring him in, then," a kind, gravelly voice said from the other side of the door. "Hospitality has never been an attribute of yours, Caged Sparrow."
The guard swore and pushed Sebastian forwards. "I've always hated that name."
A bouncing man stepped forward, caught Sebastian by the elbow, and led him through the door all on the balls of his feet. His jovial, round face shone with delight when he looked back at Sebastian. A shock of thick, silver hair lay neatly atop his head, and with his silver spectacles perched atop his nose, he appeared older than he acted.
"Now, what is it you wanted to give me, son?"
Realization swept over Sebastian. "You're Master Lambert?"
"Why, of course I am! And since you have made quite the introduction of yourself already, why don't you go ahead and give me the letter you have determined to be more important than my evening of frivolity and debauchery."
Sebastian moved to pull out the letter from the pocket of his tunic, but Lambert slapped his hand away. "Not here, boy! There're eyes everywhere, and not just the ones stuck to the beautiful faces of people and animals."
"Er, alright."
It was beginning to make more sense how crazy old Norham claimed to know the master of the Halorian Library. Perhaps they were both a bit delusional.
Lambert dragged Sebastian by the arm down a dark, hazy hallway. From the other side of the thin plaster wall, Sebastian could hear the clinking of glasses and the muffled voices of loud, singing patrons. The hallway, however, smelled strongly of burning incense, not cider and mead, and as they passed a rustling, red curtain that hung from the ceiling, the red-haired horse lady winked at Sebastian from the shadows.
Master Lambert must have seen her, too. "Amelin, prepare my usual room. I have a guest to attend to this evening."
The horse-like lady nodded. "O' course, sir. I'll have tea an' food brought up."
It wasn't until they had reached this private room that Sebastian realized Caged Sparrow had disappeared. Maybe he had continued on to his own night of frivolity and debauchery. Lambert released him with a hearty slap to the back, and Sebastian staggered into a small, homey room with a flickering fire in the hearth. Lambert went to it immediately to begin tending to the dying flames.
"Why should a man never trust a centaur to light a fire?" Lambert asked.
Sebastian blinked. "Erm..." He glanced around the room again. The walls were covered with art, books, and shelves holding all sorts of foreign-looking contraptions. Some he recognized as tools and devices that he'd previously only read about. Ones from the wooded realms of Galandreal and Belsynen where stories of faeries and sure-footed elves originated. He wanted more than anything to take a good look around the room and try to learn the secrets it held. Instead, Sebastian turned to face Lambert, mulling over the riddle.
"I would assume it's because they would not ever require a fire."
"And why is that?"
"Well, because centaurs are covered in fur, aren't they? At least, that's what all the legends and myths claim," Sebastian answered.
Lambert chuckled and set the stoker back upon the hearth. "Indeed. Now, where's that letter?"
More than a little confused and not quite sure any of that had made a lick of sense, Sebastian handed over the letter with sweaty hands.
Lambert opened it without any regard to the seal and began to read. His bright eyes sparkled behind his spectacles as he read the letter once. Twice. Three times. Sebastian shuffled his feet. When he'd apparently gotten his fill and finished analyzing each letter within the note, Lambert refolded it and turned his attention to Sebastian.
"So, your name's Sebastian, then? Knew a Sebastian once. Never truly cared for him. You seem alright, though. Persistent, at least. Even if you're not exactly what I was expecting."
"I've been known to disappoint." Sebastian cocked his head. "But who were you expecting?"
A soft knock interrupted them both.
"Enter."
Amelin opened the door, her large dark eyes roaming between the two men, and set a platter of pastries and a steaming tea kettle on the small desk by the door. "Anythin' else?"
Lambert shook his head. "No, thank you. That will be all. Please see to it that we are not disturbed further."
Once the door had shut behind her, Lambert waltzed over to the assortment of goods and dropped two sugar cubes into one of the empty tea cups. "Are you hungry, my boy?"
"A bit, I suppose," Sebastian stuttered.
It was a bit difficult to keep up with this man's sporadic train of thought. He approached Lambert's side with some apprehension as the Master Librarian poured out the brewing tea. Now that Sebastian was closer, he could see the small signs that told of Lambert's life around books. His hands were covered with days old ink, his back stooped from reading the small print of books. Even his skin was pale beneath the pink flush of excitement on his cheeks as if he did not wander outdoors much. To be fair, however, most people here appeared strangely pale due to the never ending winter.
It just made Sebastian stand out more with his naturally tanned skin, and Sebastian had never been one to seek out attention.
"Did you read the letter?" Lambert asked between a mouthful of a raspberry tart.
"No, sir."
"It was a rather interesting letter from an even more fascinating man."
Sebastian wasn't sure whether to laugh or not. Norham being described as fascinating must have been a joke.
"It seems he's known as Norham these days. I knew him once under a different name. A different time. Different circumstances." He paused, staring across the room at an empty portrait's frame. Sebastian wondered what kind of painting it had originally held. "Anyways, he has asked to get you taken in as an apprentice at the library. I see the desperation in your face, and I do not believe it's just to see the books. Though they are fairly marvelous." He peered at Sebastian from over his spectacles. "What is it you really want?"
Lambert's excitable demeanor hadn't changed, but there was a seriousness to his expression now that told Sebastian nothing but the truth would appease the man. "My mother recently passed away without any medical cause or explanation that I know of. Now, a friend of mine who made the journey from Eilibir with me has also fallen ill. I know no one in this city, and I need help healing her."
Lambert took a seat in front of the fire, the letter still in his hands. "I see. Life can be so fickle but that's what makes it so surprising, don't you think?" He touched the folded parchment fondly as if it was a portal into a different life.
When he looked up again, he clapped his hands together. "I will help you in any way I can, young man."
Sebastian felt hope for the first time since Abel had taken ill.
"But first, tell me of your journey here to Halorium."
His brief hope faltered. "Sir, I would enjoy telling you the facts, but I'm worried Abel needs help now."
The fire in the grate flared and then sputtered, shooting sparks out onto the hearth.
Lambert watched the spectacle with a small grin. "The only way to fix something is to find out where it first became broken. So, tell me of your journey and spare no details if you please."
With flustered desperation, Sebastian retold the story of their journey: the days traveling through the woods, climbing up and over trees and rocks, searching for those rumored hot springs just for fun. It all felt like years ago. Not mere days. He told Lambert about how Abel was the huntress and the storyteller until she'd fallen ill. He remembered taking up her mantle, reading to her from the book, vowing that her spirit was his own. If anything happened to her, he would be lost.
He kept those sentimental thoughts to himself.
Sebastian cleared his throat. "You see, I follow facts, sir. Logic. Rationale. Experiments backed up by science and scholars. But Abel fancies mysticism, and I would be willing to search for it in a heartbeat if it would help her now."
"I have discovered over the years that the answers we seek are often the simplest to find." Lambert lowered his glasses from his face, gaze steady upon his own. "Perhaps you simply need to believe that."
Sebastian scoffed. He was beginning to wonder if this man was as much of a hogwash as Norham. "You are the Master of the Halorian Library. You must know someone--something--that could help her. Please."
Lambert got up from his chair by the fire, still clasping the letter to his chest. He walked to a small table that held a quill and a roll of parchment. "I will ask around, but it is rather late and most of our healers have retired for the night." He dipped the quill in ink and started writing. "I will do what I can, but so must you."
Watching him with the quill caught Sebastian's curiosity. "Sir, what exactly is the Black Quill?"
Wordlessly, Lambert handed Sebastian the letter and chuckled to himself. "A writing utensil, dear boy. A vessel of truth!" He walked to the door and held it open. "After all, the answers we seek are, exponentially, the easiest to find. Come see me in the morning."
Perhaps it wasn't only Tuddle & Totts that was maddening. All of Halorium seemed to be more eccentric than Sebastian would have ever believed.
- - -
Hmm, what is it with this black quill everyone keeps rattling on about? If you're reading this, it means you've read another chapter and are still on this journey with us! Thank you from the bottom of our hearts!