“Could the wards around the Vault be tied to the other libraries?” he wondered aloud.
“Perhaps.” Clover grabbed two copies ofThe History of Aldryn. “If the wards were erected when it was built, we might learn something about them in here.”
They found a quiet corner to peruse the large history book. Baz could barely concentrate. There was a certain magic about being inthisparticular library withthisparticular person, seeing as how it was said to be where Clover wrote his fabled manuscript.
By now most teams had made it here and were all doing the same as them. Baz and Clover didn’t find anything about wards specifically, but they did find the names of each library’s founder. All four of them had been prominent members of society whose money had gone into building the school. Each of their names was associated with the library of their respective lunar houses. The founder of the Noviluna library was Hilda Dunhall—Baz tried not to scowl at the name. Then there was Florien Delaune, who’d founded the Crescens library; Lutwin de Vruyes, who’d founded the Pleniluna library; and Suera Belesa, who’d founded the Decrescens library.
“Does it say anything about a founder for the Vault?” Clover asked.
“Not that I can tell. Looks like there’s no name attached to thatone. Maybe it was a collaboration between the other four?”
Clover tapped his fingers against the table pensively. “None of them were Wardcrafters, though. Hilda was a Shadowguide, Florien a Wordsmith, Lutwin a Purifier, and Suera an Unraveler.”
“So none of them could have erected the wards,” Baz said, deflating at this dead end.
“No. Still, we should read up on each of the founders, see if something about them leads us to information on the wards—and the Wardcrafter who must have created them.”
A sudden, disquieting hush fell over the library. The air turned cold, colder still than the wintry Noviluna library, as an unnatural wind blew through the shelves, ruffling loose pages on tables and making the hair on Baz’s neck stand to attention.
Then a bloodcurdling “Help!” pierced the quiet.
Clover was out of his chair before Baz could even think to move. Students were flocking toward the sound, which came from the entrance to the Vault—where one of the Ilsker girls from earlier was on the floor, screaming as blood poured out of her eyes and ears.
“What happened?” Clover asked, taking charge of the situation.
The girl’s partner knelt beside her bleeding friend, face pale as she said, “She tried to break through the wards. Thought she could do it with her Unraveler magic, but it must have triggered a curse.”
Indeed, the silver door to the Vault seemed to have come alive, lines of shimmering light running through its surface. That unnatural wind blew again, and Baz could have sworn the lanterns flickered and grew dim, as if death lingered in the air.
“It hurts,” the bleeding girl moaned, “it—”
Blood spurted from her mouth. She was choking on it, drowning from the inside.
Clover looked around him in a frenzy. “Quick, I need bloodletting instruments—”
To try to heal her, Baz realized. Something he could do with his Tidecaller magicwithoutbloodletting, though not without blowing his cover.
The girl was going to die choking on her own blood before then.
Baz did not hesitate as he pulled on the threads of time. He willed the blood to go back into the girl’s veins and reversed the damage done to her body, returning it to a time when it had not yet been afflicted by whatever curse this was. In a matter of seconds, she was completely fine. The blood that had marred her skin and darkened her burgundy robes was gone. The library became nice and warm again, the lanterns glowing strongly. The lines of white light on the door dimmed, becoming simple grooves on a silver door, as if the wards had never been triggered at all.
“Thank the Tides,” the girl’s partner exclaimed, drawing her in for a hug. “You’re all right.”
The Ilsker girl blinked in confusion at the door, then at herself. “I don’t understand. The wards were killing me, and now…”
Clover met Baz’s gaze. “I believe you have our Timespinner to thank for that.”
Everyone turned to Baz, who was suddenly very aware of the Eclipse sigil on his hand. The girl looked at him through tears. “Thank you,” she murmured. Her friend helped her up, and she planted a kiss on Baz’s cheek, mindless of the gasps from the gathered students at the impropriety of the gesture. “You saved my life.”
Clover started clapping, and all of a sudden, everyone in the library was following suit, beaming at Baz. There was no fear in their eyes. Only gratitude and something like awe.
Baz felt all the blood rush to his head. The dean had been right: these games were not to be taken lightly.
39EMORY
THE CHASM WAS NAMED ASsuch because the fighting arena had been built in a gaping crevice in the red-hued mountains, only a short distance from Heartstone. Rows upon rows of seats were carved in the stone all around the pit where the fighting would take place. The arena was full of spectators come to watch these gruesome fights to the death that pitted all manner of criminals against eldritch beasts as punishment for their crimes, which Caius had told them was a main source of entertainment here in Heartstone.
The stands were full of children and adults alike, chattering excitedly about the kinds of monsters they would see today, as if they were coming to watch a highly anticipated play or acclaimed opera. Some even placed bets on how long the fights would last. Beneath it all, though, was a grim current of sorrow and confusion and anger and fear.
