Chapter 9

S now wasn't sure if she would find Master Harwin. All she did know was that he wasn't at the festival again that night. In fact, he rarely participated in them. When he did, it was to record some monumental event that everyone knew was coming. Like the introduction of an Elder who was taking the place of another who had passed on to the Otherworld.

She pushed open the door, the bell tinkling her arrival. It was dark inside save for one lone candle in a wall sconce behind the desk. She stood there in the silence for a long moment listening to the faint tick of a clock somewhere out of sight. Finally, she approached the desk.

"Master Harwin?"

The door on the left was ajar and caught her attention. She stared it, certain it was closed before she approached the desk. It was unlike Master Harwin to leave the door open.

The door on the right remained closed. The one in which she had entered earlier that day to ask him about the dark wizard and share a cup of tea. She hesitated, unsure what to do.

It was expressly forbidden for her—or anyone—to enter the archives without permission from Harwin. At least, that's what she had always been told. She wasn't certain the archives were behind the left door but it was an assumption. Where else would he keep all those books and scrolls and histories and diaries?

She stepped up to the door on the right and gave a swift knock. Then stepped back and waited.

Her heart pounded and her pulse thrummed deep within her. Something seemed amiss, but she was uncertain as to what she was feeling.

The door on the left beckoned.

When Harwin did not answer, she took a tentative step around the desk and halted. Her heart was loud in her ears. So loud it drowned out the ticking clock.

Taking a deep breath, expelling it, she took a tentative step toward the door. Then another and another until she was standing in front of it peering through the opening into soft shadows illuminated by flicking firelight.

"I shouldn't," she whispered.

Her hands were in fists at her sides and she glanced around. The other door remained firmly closed. Closing her eyes, she connected to the world around her, reaching out with her senses. All was quiet. Nothing stirred within the confines of the Master's home.

She reached for the knob, opening the door fully. A slash of yellow-orange light filled the doorway and spilled into the quiet, darkened entryway. She blinked against the sudden brightness. From where she stood, she saw a bookshelf lined with books of all sizes.

One step and she would be inside the archives. One step and she would know what was behind that mysterious door.

She stepped inside and pulled the door closed behind her with a click. Standing there, she took in the room.

It was large. So large, her mind could not understand how it fit. On the outside, his home was tiny. But this room was cavernous and filled to the ceiling with rows and rows of bookshelves. How would she ever find the answers to her questions in this vast amount of books?

But it wasn't just books he had. He also had items on the right side of the room. Swords, armor, murals painted of battles long past, an odd-looking wooden chair that, in her mind, resembled an ancient throne. All of that was on the opposite side of the room from the shelves. As though he was not only a collector of knowledge but a collector of history. These must be the magical things Master Harwin mentioned.

Something drew her to the right where all the items were housed. She walked down the aisle, looking at each of them as she passed. Over each item was a nameplate identifying the item.

Over the sword was Sword of the First Elven High King .

Over the armor a similar one reading Armor of the First Elven High King.

The label above the ancient throne was simply labeled Throne of the First Elven High King .

She didn't know who the High King was. The elves had stopped using a royal hierarchy and instead had the Elders who were the most wise and the leaders.

Onward down the aisle, she paused to look at each and every artifact with wonder and amazement. She had no idea all of this was stored here. She wondered if Elator or Yirrie knew about it.

At the end of the aisle, there was an empty spot where a round object had once been. The label read Dark Mirror .

She gazed at it a long, hard moment, her heart beating so hard it hurt.

Where had the Dark Mirror gone? Who had taken it? Did Master Harwin know it was gone?

She stared at the empty spot, unsure what to do. She couldn't tell Harwin it was missing. Then he would know she was in here when she wasn't supposed to be.

She turned the corner at the end of the aisle and saw yet another empty spot that appeared to have been where something once resided. It, too, was gone. The label read Enchanted Mirror.

Another mirror missing.

Her hands shook as she took another step down the row to see yet another vacant space with a label identifying it as Magic Mirror.

Three mirrors. All missing. Stolen? And if so, how did someone get past Harwin to steal them? How did someone know the elves had them?

Harwin had told her they removed magical items from the dark wizard's cabin. Were these mirrors some of those items?

She backed away, then turned and ran up the aisle. She was here to find out about enchanted weapons, but now discovered another mystery. At the front of the room, she paused to catch her breath. Did she dare stay to find out about the enchanted weapons, or leave and try again another day?

Knowing she shouldn't be in there, she decided to do the right thing and leave. Twisting the knob, she pushed open the door and peered out. All was as she had left it when she entered the room. Stepping out, she softly closed the door.

Turning, she nearly jumped out of her skin when she came face to face with Master Harwin. He stood behind the desk, still in the same state as earlier that day when they shared tea. He held a candle in one hand, the faint light flickering over his face pinched with a cross between fury and disappointment.

"Snow, would you like to tell me what you were up to?"

"I-I…" She didn't know what to say.

Her heart was throbbing so hard, it made her lightheaded. Her head pounded with a sudden shooting pain. She pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger to make it stop.

"Well?" he prompted.

"I had a question for you," she began.

"At this time of night? Shouldn't you be at the festival?" His tone had a hard edge.

"I don't much enjoy the festival," she said without thinking.

Some of the anger faded from his face. "Neither do I. That's why I never go. Well, come on then. Since you woke me up and you have questions, you may as well have some tea." He sounded more weary than angry.

He shuffled back through the door on the right into his cozy home. Stunned, it took her a moment to follow. She stumbled after him, closing the door behind her. He was already putting a kettle on to boil. The candle he had carried was placed in a holder in the middle of the table.

There were only a few candles burning in the place, giving it a warm glow. She perched on the edge of the seat she had occupied earlier that day and waited while he prepared the tea.

"I'm sorry, Master Harwin. I didn't mean to intrude."

"Something must be very urgent for you to be here in the dark of night." He brought over the tray with two cups, creamer, sugar, and teapot. He placed it on the table, then poured a cup.

"I did knock," she said, accepting the cup he offered. "But there was no answer."

He gave her a curious glance full of question. She rushed on.

"I didn't mean to go in the archives, but, I…well, I…" She placed her shaking hands in her lap. "I'm sorry." She blew out a breath, her shoulders slumping.

He poured himself a cup and sat in the chair opposite. "The archives are sacred. They represent our history. There are documents and books there that were written thousands of years ago."

"I know. That's why I thought you might have the answer."

"About the dark wizard?" he asked.

"About enchanted weapons," she said.

He gave her a tight smile as his brows drew together, his eyes full of doubt as he stared at her a long moment, then took a sip of his tea. "Where did you hear about enchanted weapons?"

"From one of the young elven boys, Ardan," she said. "He said his father brought him an enchanted dagger from another kingdom."

"And you wanted to know if he was telling you the truth?" His voice was neutral tinged with uncertainty.

"Is it possible to make an enchanted blade?"

He sat back in his chair, holding his cup in his hands as steam did lazy curls upward in front of his face. There was deep contemplation in his eyes.

"It is," he said at last. "They were once called Artificers. They had a type of elemental…" he paused, searching for the word, "…ability. They knew how to manipulate fire, air, and the iron deep within the earth to enchant the steel."

Her brows drew together. "What sort of ability?" Then it struck her. "Magic. You're talking about magic."

She understood, then. Artificers were elementals. Typically, elementals only harnessed one ability. But Artificers harnessed three, sometimes all four.

She knew from a very young age she had the ability to connect with nature. Though she had never really thought of it as magic, she suddenly understood then she was an elemental with the ability to harness the earth. Her added gift was that she also had the ability to converse with the wildlife.

"Yes, and that type of magic died out a long time ago." He waved away the notion as if it were nothing more than a child's bedtime story.

"Ardan told me his father found a master blacksmith who made the blade. If it's enchanted, wouldn't he have to be one of these Artificers?"

He considered this, but still looked unconvinced. "I cannot believe anyone would be forging enchanted blades."

Snow pressed her lips together in a thin line. She wouldn't have believed it either, if she hadn't seen it for herself. She thought of the numerous books inside the other room and was certain there was something there that would tell her more about these Artificers, as well as the dark wizard.

She sipped her tea, debating on whether or not to tell Master Harwin about the missing mirrors.

"You said this Ardan had an enchanted blade?"

She nodded. "I saw it."

"Interesting." Still, he sounded as though he didn't believe her. Perhaps he would have to see it for himself. "It is a form of magic I have never seen."

She thought of the missing mirrors again. Placing her cup on the table in front of her, she ran her finger around the rim.

His eyes glinted with suspicion as he peered at her from across the table. "Are you going to be telling me why you were in there?"

"I wanted information on the enchanted blade," she said, which was the truth.

"Well, I gave it to you. There's no reason you or anyone else should be in that room without supervision. There are dangerous things there. Things that should never see the light of day again. Things that were hidden away for the very reason magic was driven out of the Wyldwood."

"Things like mirrors?" she asked.

He went very still as he peered at her. "Yes, things like that."

She swallowed hard, a lump suddenly forming in her throat. She had to tell him. "There is something else you should know."

He lifted a shaggy brow. "And what is that?"

"The mirrors are missing."