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"Another fellow," said Lumm. '"I mean, not that you're a fellow and all. Dressed like you. The fellow. And you." "These are the robes of my order," said the young lady. "I am a Crimson Scholar. Have you heard of
them?" Lumm felt the hairs stand up on the back of his neck. "No," he managed. "Really?" she said, and added that breathy, low word again. Lumm felt the words surge up his throat like
a bad egg sandwich.
"I've never heard of your order," he said, almost like it was a single word. It was the truth, of course, but he felt compelled to say it. "You just look like someone else I've seen." The young woman raised a glass of mulled wine, the spices heavy even at Lumm's distance. "So you said.
Friend of yours?"
Despite himself, Lumm laughed. "I don't think he has any friends. A very private person. Wants to be left alone. Spends most of his time in his room. Reclusive, that's the word." "Indeed," said the young woman, "that's the word. You know where to find him?" "I should," said Lumm, "I'm his landlord. Maybe I should go get him, if you're looking for him." "Maybe you should tell me where he is," said the young woman, and for a third time added a breathy
addendum. Again, Lumm felt the need to tell her, felt the words vomiting upwards. But as he opened his mouth, Old
Thool slammed into both him and the table, hard. The young woman dropped her glass on the table, sending shards and wine everywhere. She raised her arm to keep it from getting in her face. "Padpol for an old veteran?" slurred the drunk. "Go jump off the dock," snarled the young woman, her face suddenly a mask of rage. She added
something as well, that struggling fish of a word that kept avoiding getting tangled in Lumm's mind. Thool stood bolt upright and started lurching towards the door. Lumm rose as well, suddenly realizing he was sweating. He didn't look directly at the young woman, but
instead said, "Let me get a rag to clean all this up. Won't take a moment." Without waiting for an answer,
he headed for the bar, and grabbed Little Minx by the arm. He pressed slivers of pot-metal into her hand. "Get a clean rag for the young woman in red. And another drink. And keep an eye on her until I get back. And don't talk to her."
Little Minx responded with a coquettish nod and a wink, and Lumm was gone as well, out into the night. The barmaid turned and regarded the young woman with the hard, practiced eye of a Sanctuary native.
A few years older than she, but only a few. Wine-spattered robe, but otherwise in good apparent financial shape. Definitely first time in Sanctuary. Little Minx headed over towards the back table, a slim smile on her lips. She wondered how much more
she could get from this fat pigeon by telling her whatever Lumm didn't want her to know about.
Heliz sighed deeply. Of course the moment, the thrill of discovery, wasn't coming back again. Once the path of reasoning was upset, there was no recovery. He had managed the diminutive form, but the two documents were just that—pieces of paper with writing. They held their secrets.
Still, he did not pay enough attention to the heavy footfalls up the back stairs, and jumped in his seat when Lumm, without preamble or politeness, burst into his garret. "Your sister is here!" the large man blurted out.
All Heliz could manage was a startled, "What?" "Your sister," said the staver, gulping for air. He had run the last block, or at least tried to. "At the Unicorn. I think she's looking for you."
"I never had a sist…" started Heliz, then caught himself up short. "A woman in red robes?" "She said she was a Crimson Scholar," said Lumm, "I suppose you are too. You never said." Heliz waved a hand to silence the larger man. "Black hair, worn long? Green eyes? Almost as tall as I
am?" "Yes, yes, and yes," said Lumm, Heliz Yunz turning paler with each answer. "I'll need my satchel," said Heliz, launching over to the desk to pull out a heavy bag. "I left her at the tavern, and said I would go get you," said Lumm. "Not enough room," said Heliz, looking into the depths of the bag. "Need to take the base primers, and
the Ilsig grammars. And the Beysib phrase book. I'm never going to find those again. But what to leave behind?"
"Are you in trouble with your sister?" asked Lumm. "Perhaps if I told her…" "She is not my sister," said Heliz, turning on the cooper. "Her name is Je
Lumm stood there, a puzzled look on his face, as Heliz started throwing bulky volumes into the satchel. "Now wait a moment. She's younger than you are…" Heliz was choosing which tome to take and which to abandon. "I know. She's very powerful."
"Powerful? I don't…" "I told you about the power of words. Je
"You said they weren't spells," said Lumm. "I said they weren't like spells," said Heliz, his voice rising. "They are the hearts of spells. The bits that co
Lumm continued to block the door. "I think you two need to talk."
"I blew up her tower!" shouted Heliz. "I found a very, very dangerous word and uttered it like a damned fool, and blew up the monastery! She's going to want me dead! Now out of my…" The words died in Heliz's throat at a sound in the street out front. It was a single string of syllables,
chanted softly. The linguist's face went white and he pressed both palms against Lumm's chest, forcing the larger man backwards in surprise. Lumm recognized the voice.
"Back! Out the door! She's here!" shouted Heliz. The front of the garret was already losing all color, turning an ash white that spread from the window overlooking the street. Desk, books, and shelves all slowly were drained, turning first white, and then a pebbly gray. Then, like burned ash, it began to fall in on itself, cascading downwards, striking the whitened floor like dumped flour. Then the floor itself turned gray and began to dissolve as well.
"What is—?" began Lumm, looking as the front of the house disintegrated.
"Out. Now!" shouted Heliz, grabbing his satchel and pushing the cooper out the door onto the back landing. Both men were now in flight, hurtling down the back stairs. Behind them the house continued to collapse