“Foraging,” Jasher said. “You know how much food the drinlings require. They thought it wise to fill the hold while they have the chance.”

“I hope they find stuff we can eat too,” Jason muttered.

“We’ll be all right,” Jasher replied. “The Valiant was well provisioned when we took it. The drinlings have left the best stores for us.”

Jason followed Drake and Jasher off the beach and into the vegetation. There were thick shrubs, some with big, glossy leaves, and tall palm trees. Before visiting Mianamon, Jason might have labeled it a jungle, but the plant life was tame compared to the southern rain forest. The absence of suffocating humidity and carnivorous plants was appreciated.

Although this forest was not draped with vines or teeming with wildlife, the foliage did screen the library from view as Drake and Jasher paralleled a burbling rivulet up the slope. After Jason pushed through ferny limbs for his first clear view of the Celestine Library, he stopped and stared.

The massive structure was magnificent. The overall impression was of multiple blocky buildings and thick towers inventively piled together to form a single elaborate complex. Seven domes were now currently in view, some higher or larger than others, all decorated with elaborate scrollwork and gilded patterns. Their staggered arrangement suggested there might be a few lower domes on the far side as well. Many huge windows and skylights interrupted the exotic masonry. Elevated walkways connected some of the towers. Arches and colonnades abounded. The vast library possessed little symmetry, hugging the sloped terrain like packages artfully arranged on a stairway.

“It’s amazing,” Jason said as Farfalee emerged from the brush behind him. “These guys took their libraries seriously.”

“Think of all the knowledge inside,” Farfalee said. “The texts on Edomic alone make this the greatest treasure house in Lyrian.”

“It has held up well,” Jason noticed. Although the tremendous building seemed ancient, there was no apparent damage. No tumbled towers or cracked domes or even broken windows.

“This library was built to last by the best wizards and craftsmen of an enlightened age,” Farfalee said. “The structure is fortified with Edomic. Protective mandates are expertly woven into the thick stone walls, the foundation, the wood, the glass, the furnishings, even the surrounding earth. Otherwise, the library would lie in ruins by now.”

“Some similar sites have been spoiled by intruders over the years,” Aram added. “Here, the Maumet kept away treasure hunters and vandals.”

Farfalee started toward the Celestine Library across a field of feathery brush broken up by crooked sheets of jagged stone. Shorebirds circled and squawked overhead. As Jason advanced through the brush, small hopping insects cleared out of the way. At first he thought they were grasshoppers, but closer inspection showed they had eight legs and a vaguely crablike shape.

A generous plaza preceded the main entrance to the library. None of the flagstones was broken. No weeds sprouted up through cracks. A stone balustrade enclosed the area, with empty stone planters spaced at intervals, and statuary in the corners. A huge, dry fountain dominated the plaza’s center. No fewer than twenty cherubic statues frolicked in the basin and on the shelves descending from the parched spout. All the marble toddlers had chubby features and dimpled joints.

On the far side of the plaza, thirty stone steps swept up to a massive, arched entrance. Giants would feel small in front of the heavy doors.

Farfalee led the group across the plaza and up the steps. Their footfalls seemed too loud. Several of the drinlings looked around disconcertedly, with weapons drawn. Jason did not blame them. The exterior of the library seemed too lavish to be so lifeless.

Farfalee paused before a set of double doors more than three times her height.

“No knobs, handles, or keyholes,” Aram observed. He spoke softly, as he might at the entrance to a church.

“Solid,” Heg noted.

Farfalee nodded distractedly. “We would fail if we sought entry by force.” She placed her fingertips on the door and spoke an Edomic phrase.

As always with Edomic, Jason sensed the meaning without being able to pinpoint the individual words. It was always tricky to translate Edomic into English. Farfalee had basically asked the doors to open for a seeker of illumination.

Quiet as a drop of water sliding down a window pane, the massive doors swung inward, slowly and evenly, revealing an expansive lobby. A polished marble floor extended before them, seamless and swirling with slightly metallic colors. Light streamed in from various windows and shone from luminous stones on the walls. The air felt still and old without smelling musty.

“You knew the password?” Jason asked.

“I did not command with Edomic,” Farfalee clarified. “Simple words and phrases are used to trigger preset commands in buildings such as this. I used what was once considered the standard Edomic solicitation for entry to a storehouse of learning. I was worried that the doors might be sealed by Edomic commands or that powerful wards might shield the building. Had that been the case, entry might have been close to impossible for any besides Maldor himself. But no special defenses had been engaged. The doors probably would have responded to any number of polite Edomic requests for admittance.”

“Will there be safeguards beyond the doors?” Aram wondered.

“Definitely,” Farfalee said. “Be forewarned—do not attempt to force doors in a place such as this. Some rooms or wings may be protected by powerful and even deadly commands. If a door is locked, let me be the judge of whether we should attempt to pass. Also, do not browse the collection. A repository of this renown will contain many traps, including books designed to harm the patron who opens them.”

“Why?” Jason asked.

“Much of the knowledge here could be dangerous. Those who created and managed the library feared the collection falling into unenlightened hands. Hence, safeguards were installed. I know most of the clues that mark harmful books. Speaking generally, don’t remove any of the texts from the library. Not a single page. And don’t touch any of the art, weapons, or treasure that you see. Nearly any item of that sort will be rigged to unleash catastrophe.”

“There will be treasure?” Aram asked, his voice pained. “And weapons? And we can’t touch them?”

“Certainly not any of the pieces on display,” Farfalee emphasized. “Nothing hanging on the walls, decorating the tables, or featured in niches. If in doubt, ask me.”