seeking to place the blame for their problems on someone else. They looked ashamed of what they'd done, what they'd been about to do. More than a few began to slink away.
The Revered Son realized he was losing them.
'Yes, it's open to the public!' he shouted. 'Go inside! Read about the gods who brought this misery upon you! Read about the elves, the favored of the gods, who are living well while you starve! Read about the knights!' He pointed at Nikol. 'Even now, they feed off your misery!'
The people stopped, exchanged glances, looked uncertain. The Revered Son sent a swift glance at the leader of his henchmen, who nodded. A stone hurtled from the crowd, struck Nikol on her shoulder. Hitting her breastplate, the stone knocked her back a step but did no harm.
'Cowards!' Nikol cried, drawing her sword. 'Come and fight me face-to-face.'
But that is not the way of a mob. A second stone followed the first. This one hit its mark, struck her on the forehead. Nikol reeled, dazed from blow, and fell upon one knee. Blood streamed down her face. At the sight, the crowd howled in glee, excited. The henchmen, shouting, urged them on. Nikol staggered to her feet, faced them alone, glittering steel in her hand.
Michael saw her fall. He started toward the door, to her. A hand clapped over his shoulder.
The touch chilled him to the very marrow of his bones, drove him to his knees. Looking up into fiery eyes, Michael stifled a gasp of pain, knowing that the touch, if the knight had wanted, could have killed him.
'The book will remain here forever — for all to, read?' Lord Soth asked.
'Yes, my lord,' Michael answered.
Soth nodded slowly. It had not been a question, so much as a reaffirmation. 'I cannot be saved, but perhaps my story can save someone else.'
The flame-eyes seemed to burn clear for a moment in what might have been a smile. 'Ironic, isn't it,' Cleric? Two false knights defending the truth.' He let go his hold, turned, and walked out the library doors.
The mob surged forward. Men came at Nikol with clubs raised. She struck out at the leader, had the pleasure of seeing him fall back with a cry, clapping his hand over a broken, bleeding arm. For a moment, the rest held back, daunted, fearful of the gleaming steel. Then someone threw another rock. It struck Nikol on her hand, knocked the sword from her grasp.
The mob gave an exultant shout, rushed at her. She tried to reach her weapon, beating those nearest her back with fists and feet, kicking and gouging, knowing all the time she must fall.
She heard Michael shout her name, turned her head, tried to find him, then she was hit from behind. Pain exploded in her brain. She stumbled to her knees, weak, unable to rise.
A shadow fell over her. Someone was standing at her back. Someone was helping her to her feet. Someone had retrieved her sword, was handing it to her. Wiping away blood, she peered through mists of pain and failing consciousness.
A Knight of Solamnia stood beside her. His armor shone silver in the sunlight. His crest fluttered bravely in the wind. His sword gleamed, argent flame, in his strong hand. With respect and reverence, he lifted his sword to her in the knight's salute, then he turned and faced the mob.
Nikol put her back against his, did the same. At least now she would not die alone, without making one last, glorious stand for the honor of the knights. True knights…
Nikol blinked, stared in dazed astonishment, unable to comprehend what was happening. She and the knight were outnumbered a thousand to one, yet the mob was not attacking. Faces that had been contorted in bloodlust were now twisted in horror. Curses and threats shrilled to terrified shrieks. Men who had been racing up the library stairs were tumbling over themselves and each other in a panicked race back down.
The Revered Son was among the first to flee, running for his life, driven by such stark terror that it seemed likely he would stop running only when he reached the Newsea.
Nikol's sword was suddenly too heavy for her to hold. It slid from her grasp. She was tired, so tired. She sank to the stone steps, wanting only to sleep. Strong arms took hold of her, gathered her close.
'Nikol!' a voice cried. 'Beloved!'
She opened her eyes, saw only Michael's face, illuminated by a soft blue light.
'Is the library… safe?' she asked.
Michael nodded, unable to speak for his grief and fear for her.
Nikol smiled. 'Cowards,' she murmured. 'They dared not stand and face a true knight.'
'No,' said Michael, through his tears, 'they dared not.'
Blue light surrounded her, soothed her. She slept.
Part IX
'Are you certain you are well enough to travel, my lady?' The young Aesthetic, Malachai, gazed at Nikol anxiously. 'You were grievously hurt.' 'Yes, I'm fine,' said Nikol, with a hint of irritation. 'My dear…' Michael reprimanded gently. Nikol glanced at him, glanced at the young monk, who was looking downcast. She sighed. She detested being 'fussed over.'
'I'm sorry I snapped at you. You've all been very kind to me. I thank you for everything you've done,' said Nikol.
'We would have done more, much more, but you seemed to be in good hands,' Malachai said, with a smile for Michael. 'I'll never forget that terrible day,' he added, with a shudder. 'Looking down from the window, seeing you standing beside that evil knight, so brave, so courageous — '
'What evil knight?' Nikol asked.
The Aesthetic flushed crimson, clapped his hand over his mouth. Casting a guilty look at Michael, Malachai made a brief, bobbing bow and scuttled from the tiny room.
'What was he talking about?' Nikol demanded. 'There was no evil knight there. He was a Knight of the Rose. I saw him clearly.'
'Astinus wants to see us, before we go,' Michael said, turning from her. 'Everything's packed. The Aesthetics have really been very kind. They've given us food, warm clothing, blankets — '
'Michael.' Nikol came to stand in front of him, forcing him to face her. 'What did that Book Reader mean?'
Michael took hold of her, held her tightly, thinking of how he'd almost lost her. 'Lord Soth was the one who fought at your side, Beloved.'
She Stared at him. 'No! That's not possible. I saw a knight, a true knight!'
'I think you saw the part of him that still struggles toward the light. Unfortunately, I think it is part of him that few will ever see again.' Michael added, with a sigh, 'Now, come. We must bid farewell to Astinus.'
The Aesthetics led them to the master's study. The ageless man with his expressionless face was hard at work, writing in a thick book. He did not glance up at their entry, but continued working. They stood for long moments in silence, then Nikol, growing bored and restless, walked over to look out the window.
Astinus lifted his head. 'Young woman, you are standing in my light!'
Nikol jumped, flushed. 'I beg your pardon — '
'Why are you here?' he asked.
'You sent for us, Master,' Michael reminded him.
'Humpf.' Carefully Astinus replaced his pen back in the inkwell. Folding his hands, he regarded the two impatiently.
'Well, go ahead. Ask your question. I'll have no peace until you do.'
Michael stared. 'How did you know I meant to ask — '
'Is that your question?'
'No, Master, it isn't, but — '
'Then out with it! Entire volumes of history are passing while you stand there yammering, wasting my
