Her silence must have made him nervous. “If I cannot convince you with my words,” he said, “perhaps over the coming days I can show you what the empire has turned my land—our land—into.”

By offering her another chance to keep his secret, it was clear he preferred not to harm her if he didn’t have to. “I do not need to be convinced of the emperor’s evil,” she said. “I’m quite familiar with it. Your secret will not be exposed by me.”

The professor relaxed perceptibly and smiled. “I had hoped you would see our common purpose.”

Common purpose? She wasn’t too sure about that. Her goal was to get home, to take back any information to King Zachary about how the empire overcame Sacoridia—not to become involved in this time’s problems, its intrigues. Besides, with the information she obtained here, she might actually improve the situation in this time, from the past. Meanwhile, she needed the professor’s protection and knowledge, and in this regard they were allies.

He had already moved off, once again strolling down the aisle between shelves. “I thought you could tell me what some of the objects are that have been a mystery to me,” he said over his shoulder. “If they’re from your time, maybe you know their purpose.” He lifted a moldering wooden rod with rectangular slots along its length. “Do you know what this is?”

“I have no idea,” Karigan replied.

Undeterred, he picked up a rusted iron hook dangling from chains. He raised a querying brow.

“Looks like a pot hook,” Karigan told him.

“For over a hearth?”

She nodded.

“But of course! I thought maybe it was something more nefarious, a tool of torture, perhaps.” He chuckled as he set it back down. “Cooking tools always throw me. I’m not even allowed in my own kitchen.”

He showed her a few more items she could not identify, except for a coin balance, which any merchant would know—at least, any merchant of her own time. She demonstrated its use by stabbing its spiked end into a wooden shelf to make it stand erect, then pivoted open the weighing appendage.

“Have you a coin?” she asked.

He reached into his pocket and produced a silver piece. Karigan placed it into the slot of the weighing appendage, which dipped down. It was difficult to determine its value because the measures inscribed on the device were nearly worn away.

“Ah,” the professor said, smiling. “Not that the emperor’s coin requires weighing, as it’s very precisely minted.”

“Currency is—was—fairly precise in my time, too,” Karigan said, “but there were still some very old coins in circulation, not to mention less accurate coinage from other realms.” She removed the coin, gazing at the image of a man’s profile on it, struck in relief. It was more clear, more perfect than the imprint on any coin from her own time. There was something familiar about the man’s profile, too, the high forehead and strong chin.

“This would be our dear emperor,” the professor said, piquing Karigan’s interest. So this was how Mornhavon looked now. He’d long been capable of using the bodies of others. To whom had this one belonged?

The professor turned the coin over on her palm. “And this would be the emperor’s dragon sigil.”

The dragon was curled round on itself, with its tail wrapped around its neck. She didn’t recall Mornhavon using a dragon sigil, but a dead tree. Perhaps with his victory over Sacoridia, he’d chosen a new emblem for his empire. Now that she thought about it, she remembered the professor referring to the empire as the “Serpentine Empire.”

“Why a dragon?” she asked.

The professor shrugged. “Some say it has to do with some great weapon the emperor used against his enemies.” He paused, taking a reflective stance. “I did some research and have determined it came into use about two and a half years after you went into Blackveil. In fact,” and now he lowered his voice as if it was not just the two of them there, “it’s something we’ve been investigating for years, this weapon, but whatever it is or was, it is well concealed.”

“Hmm.” Karigan rolled the coin onto the professor’s palm, then unstuck the coin balance from the shelf and folded it before handing it to him. Only two and a half years after she had gone into Blackveil? “What did this weapon do?”

“It’s said it wiped out all the realm’s important defenses, that it was devastating. We see evidence of it at many of our dig sites.”

She had been hoping for an easy answer to take back to the king, but it appeared there wasn’t one, at least concerning this weapon, although now she had a timeframe to work with.

The professor deposited the coin in his pocket and set the coin balance in its place. Without explaining further, he set off down the aisle once again, continuing along at some length before pausing. He drew another object off one of the shelves that Karigan recognized immediately.

“My—my walking cane!” she cried.

The professor did not hand it over to her. “No, actually it’s my walking cane.” He pressed the trigger, shook the cane, and it extended into a staff.

“But—”

“Look closely,” he said. “It is the same as yours, and it is not.”

Karigan took it into her hands, feeling the familiar weight and the smooth black lacquer on the bonewood. But the professor was right—this one had acquired scars—scrapes and dints that hers never had. The handle was not leather-wrapped iron, but silver. Silver concealed its iron core. And there was a piece missing on the shaft. She ran her finger over the slight depression. Someone had painted it with lacquer, but it did not quite match the perfect midnight hue of the rest of the staff.