“Patina!  Patina!!”  The kind face of the elf, Ranth, twisted into an expression Patina had never seen: abject horror.  In an instant, that beautiful face and the rest of him were gone.  Patina’s goblin claws grasped at the broken piece of black bone that had swallowed up her companion.  She couldn’t breathe.

            “No, it’s fine.  I fixed it,” Patina whispered to herself, trying to drive the old memory away.

            “Find the goblin!  She’s taken the tooth with Lord Lerzel’s son!  Turn this city upside down!”  A stern voice cut through the silence.  A different time.  A few months later.  The goblin hid, her prize clutched in her hands.  She had to flee the city.  She had to get Ranth away.  She had to protect him.

            Another unpleasant recollection.  She had kept those thoughts away for so long and yet they flooded right back in.  Fighting to block them out, a newer memory rose to the surface, not as painful but just as worrying.

            “I should get home.  My family will be worried.  I’ll make sure they know who saved me.  I’ll write when it’s safe to visit,” Ranth’s voice was certain and thankful, but was it true?  Could she really return?

            That was just a short month ago.  Now, Patina found herself in a place she never thought she would return: the capital city of the elven kingdom of Grenba.

            Patina tried to focus on the task in front of her, crouching on the wood floor before a selection of ancient books.  They were gorgeous but troubling.  The goblin flipped a page and winced, the paper deteriorating beneath her clawed fingers.

            Her beloved library, Raciniel Ekko, was in crisis!  And Dr. Patina Puzzle, famed archaeologist and adventurer, had been asked to help.  After everything else she had been through, this should be easy.  The library had always been her favorite hideaway, its supply of priceless knowledge and simple sensibilities were a breath of fresh air in the otherwise stuffy elven metropolis.  In addition, Patina loved a good pun and the library’s name roughly translated to “The Broken Spine”.

            Frowning, Patina sipped her honeyed tea and pulled her chunky scarf closer.  It was a gift from Daiaranth, or as she called him “Ranth”.  The elf-sized garment was knitted from giant strands of emerald yarn and looked more like a blanket on her small shoulders.  It smelled like him.  Her cheeks grew hot.

            I need to focus, she thought, turning her mind back to the book plague.  Not every volume was affected but all shared the same maladies: rapidly crumbling pages, odd discoloration, and an ill smell.

            Patina had ruled out the usual culprits: sun damage, bugs, and humidity.  Having spent a decent portion of her life with her green nose stuck in a book, she knew the telltale signs.  All that remained was magic.  Downing the last dredges of her tea, the goblin sighed.

            The lantern lit library usually calmed her but now, she just felt irritated.  Magic was not her forte.  Ask her to find the invisible entrance to a tomb.  Easy.  Discover the nature of a lily that grows from blood.  Done.  But magic?  She had no knack for it.

            Pushing herself to her feet, the goblin hoped a change of scenery might spark some revelation.  Patina stood just under three foot tall, dwarfed by the rows of bookshelves that filled the dark space.  She was short even in goblin terms and most elves treated her like a child despite her nearly thirty-eight years.

            She walked between bookshelves, casting her eyes about for anything altered.  There must be physical evidence of something.  The book problem was new.  And she knew this library well.

            The goblin strolled past books left on a stool by the librarian, Rilliquin.  Patina had known her a long time and sadly, organization was not one of her strong suits.  The titles glistened up at her, the gold letters flaking.  The Mysteries of the God Muinwa and Wisdom and Truth: Follow in Muinwa’s Light.  Another tickle of irritation.  Rilliquin had begged for Patina’s aid, but insisted on consulting the “great” Muinwa at every turn.  Even allowing the goblin to stay past the usual library hours required a prayer to the god of knowledge.

            God of knowledge, my foot.  Patina’s smile faded as she caught a glimpse of the religious figure in question.  Muinwa’s bronze statue stood ominously in the corner.  A plaque at its feet read, “We are bound to truth.  Lies shall return to dust.”

            Patina never cared for the sculpture.  The god’s face was lifeless and its eyes followed her around the room.  Patina shivered and turned away, hurrying to diamond-shaped sections dubbed “the vertebrae”.  It was a little on the nose considering the library’s name, but the goblin wouldn’t begrudge Rilliquin that extra pun.

            Absentmindedly pulling on her blonde braids as she navigated the irregular shelves, Patina stopped with a jolt.  Those floor boards.  She’d noticed them years ago but never thought much of it, assuming the four pieces were set in backwards by accident.  Now, they stood out like a flame in the dark.

            “It couldn’t be…”  Crouching down and slipping her goblin claws into a crack, Patina pulled one board free.  A hole opened up into darkness.  Her heart fluttered.  It had been too long since she stood at the precipice of adventure.  Prying the remaining pieces free, Patina flipped her legs into the pit, eager to explore.

            “Dr. Patina Puzzle.”  The voice was familiar and Patina groaned.  Standing behind her was a stern looking elf, her delicate features hardened by a severe frown.  It was a face Patina had once searched for approval but now, saw only resentment.

            “Crithielle,” Patina hissed.  She was her old mentor… and Ranth’s aunt.  “Go home.  I’m following a lead.”

            “Not so fast.  I will not let you damage this library in one of your foolish escapades,” Crithielle chided.

            “Like the escapade that brought Ranth home?”  Patina snapped before she could stop herself.  The elf stared back with such seething bitterness; the goblin lost her nerve.

            “Fine, do what you like,” Patina conceded, grabbing her lantern and pushing herself through the gap.  As she fell, the goblin felt a sharp pull on her neck and the scarf flew from her shoulders.  She plummeted ten feet and landed on hard stone.  Her feet and heart ached as she glanced up.  Ranth’s scarf dangled above, out of reach.  Crithielle leapt in after her, leaving the scarf where it had snagged.  She landed as graceful as a cat.

            “Still so rash?  Isn’t that what landed Daiaranth in peril in the first place?”  Patina winced at the cruel remark.  Yes, her recklessness had put Ranth in danger.  Had trapped him.  But hadn’t she done enough to atone for that mistake?  After all this time, after all her accolades, Crithielle still made her feel like a disappointing student.  Lost in her thoughts, Patina missed her chance to respond.

            “After you,” Crithielle motioned down the tunnel, her movements dripping with scorn and disrespect.  Patina stole another glance at the scarf.

            I’ll be back for it, she promised and stepped forward. 

            The temperature dropped fast.  Patina could see puffs of air each time she breathed and her button-up blouse did nothing to keep out the cold, making the scarf’s absence even sharper.

            “I cannot comprehend why the family has allowed you to stay on our estate,” Crithielle began.  Patina clenched her jaw.  “It was an embarrassing friendship when you both were young.  Daiaranth is too… generous.  Now, it’s shameful.”

            “Crithielle… now’s not the time for this,” Patina warned.  She did not want to have this argument.

            “My family may not see through you, but I do,” Crithielle continued.  Patina’s hand tightened on the lantern.

            “It’s been clear since the day you met my nephew; the day you dyed your ridiculous hair.  You’re infatuated,” Crithielle pressed, anger creeping in.  Patina stumbled; her cheeks burning with embarrassment and shame.  “It’s absurd!  No amount of blonde hair or manners can hide what you are.”

            “And what am I?”  Patina demanded, her own temper squeezing her chest.

            “The monster who stole away years of Daiaranth’s life!”  Crithielle shouted.  “You betrayed him, you betrayed the university, and you betrayed…”  The elf faltered.

            Patina’s gaze fell, her breath catching in her throat.  Crithielle had said it.  Patina felt hollow.  She knew the elf thought badly of her, but to actually hear it…

            Her mistake had trapped Daiaranth in a lich’s cursed tooth.  But she wasn’t the only one at fault.

            “I take responsibility for the accident… but this didn’t need to last three years!  You’re to blame, too,” Patina watched shock wash across Crithielle’s face.

            “Me?”  Her voice was shrill.

            “You took the tooth and nearly got Ranth killed!  The mage-”

            “The mage I gave it to couldn’t release him because you stole it!”

            “I stole it to save him!  Avondale the Brisk wanted the tooth’s power!  He never intended to help Ranth!  And he’s been hunting me ever since!”  Tears flowed down her cheeks before she could stop them.

            “Wha-what?”  Crithielle stammered, her composure breaking.

            “His goons followed me constantly.  Why do you think I sought the safety of Tower Artifacts?  The name of the guild master, Robank, is enough to keep most at bay.  But even the famed hero’s protection didn’t stop Avondale.”

            “Avondale assured me-” Crithielle began but Patina wasn’t finished.

            “I bet he assured you of a lot of things.  But have you heard from him since?  If his goal was to simply release Daiaranth, why would he chase me for years.  That wasn’t part of your deal, right?!  Once, he nearly…” Patina’s voice cracked, barely keeping the bad memories at bay.  “You didn’t even give me a chance to explain.  If you hadn’t turned the city against me…  If you had listened… we could have solved this together!”

            Crithielle looked down at Patina.  Emotions shifted across her face but she quickly hid them.  The goblin turned away.  Wiping her eyes, she realized none of it mattered.  Crithielle wasn’t likely to change.

            “We should keep moving,” Patina changed the subject, her tone thick with emotion.

            “Patina, I…” Crithielle began.  Patina’s heart hammered in her ears.  Something was different in Crithielle’s voice.  “I didn’t know.”

            Patina turned and stared.  The self-assured elf looked… lost.

            “I… I’m sorry.  I…”  Time slowed.  Never had Patina expected understanding… let alone an apology from Crithielle.  Before she could respond, a blast of light flooded the tunnel and a boom shook the ground.

            “What…?”  Crithielle gasped.  The pair shared a horrified look and sprinted forward.  They didn’t need to go far.  In a rounded chamber, they found the source: an out-of-control mechanical contraption.  Bronze gears whirled wildly and cylinders clattered.  The device trembled like it might burst.

            If it hadn’t been so terrifying, the goblin might have thought it beautiful.  Now, she could only feel dread.  What was it?  Why was it under the library?  Her gaze flew to the center where old, dusty wires wrapped around a pulsating crystal.  Crithielle stepped up, eyes glowing.  Patina saw hints of panic on her mentor’s face and it made her stomach twist.

            “I cannot pinpoint purpose, but the magic is divine,” the elf said.

            “Divine?”  The word sparked an idea.  Looking up, Patina followed the line of the device, it funneled into a bronze box shoved into the ceiling.  Knowing the layout of the library above and recalling how the tunnel had twisted and turned, it didn’t take long for Patina to do the mental calculations.

            “Muinwa.  This is directly below the statue of Muinwa!”  Patina yelled as the grinding sound grew.  She could feel the pressure building on her eardrums.

            “Let me try something,” Crithielle muttered and drew a symbol in the air that burned crimson.  Patina watched her teacher, realizing they were working together.  The tension she had felt around Crithielle was nearly gone.  But this wasn’t the time to marvel at that change.

            Climbing the contraption, Patina pulled herself up into the crystal’s space, metal digging painfully into her knees as she searched for a way to stop it.  The vibrant lavender gemstone had ten deep notches.  A small metal arm sat in the final one.  Light scrapes ran across the polished surface.  Had the arm moved between the notches?  Why?  Was it counting something?

            No, it had counted down.

            “It was on a timer!”  Patina exclaimed.  As the device shook, rocks rained down on them and Crithielle finished her spell.  The glowing glyph faded.

            “The spell is targeting the books.  But there are two parts: crumble and… fake?”  Crithielle shared.  Patina thought again of the statue.

            We are bound to truth.  Lies shall return to dust.  Were the words of the Saint a warning?  But fake?  What’s fake?

            “No…” Patina breathed.  The books!  Her scholarly heart ached.  Images of the volumes flashed in her mind.  Pushing past her own nostalgia, the goblin took a more critical look at her memories.

            Some of them were forgeries.  How had she not noticed?

            “I know what’s going on, but we need to stop this machine before it brings the tunnel down on us,” Patina yelled to Crithielle. 

            “I have an idea, but I can’t do it alone,” Crithielle offered with a shy smile.  “Can you dislodge that gem?”  The goblin nodded, feeling a warmth in her chest and a sting behind her eyes.  Patina reached for her lockpicks and put her most useful, but least savory skill to good use.  Her practiced goblin hands slid the thin tools into a miniscule gap between stone and casing.  With a clank of metal and a satisfying twist, the crystal popped halfway out.

            Crithielle raised her hand and Patina knew to get out of the way.  A moment after she jumped aside, the elf released her spell, the eerie green energy arching toward the device.  It hit, opposing forces of magic battling for dominance.

            With a deafening crack, the crystal snapped in half.  It hissed and fizzed, the purple magic fading.  Without an energy source, the gears and rods of the machine slowed and the rumbling ceased.  The pair stood for a moment, catching their breath.

            “I need to give that librarian a piece of my mind,” Patina muttered, walking away with purpose.  It only took two strides for the tall elf to catch up to her.

            “Why?  What’s this all about?”

            “The machine was destroying ‘fakes’.  Forgeries.  Half the books are counterfeit!  It’s a betrayal to damned Muinwa himself!”  Patina was fuming.  The Raciniel Ekko was sacred to her.  It had fostered her love of the unknown.  How much of what she had learned there was false?

            “The librarian may not know,” Crithielle rationalized.  The two exchanged a look, neither fully believing that.  Walking in tense silence, the pair found themselves below the hole that ascended up into the library.  Watching the dim light filter down to them, Patina had to wonder.  That statue had been here for years.  Why had it activated now?  There were only ten notches.  That would make her assume that each was a year, but even Patina had been hanging around these books longer than a that.  Something didn’t add up.  A twinge of unease churned in the goblin’s stomach.

            “Hold on,” Patina whispered as Crithielle reached for the wall.  “Let me go first and give me a head start.  I have a hunch and… I only hope I’m wrong.”

            “All right.  I’ll be right behind you,” the elf agreed with a nod.

            Calling on her goblin nimbleness, Patina climbed quickly past the cold stone and reached the wood that marked the foundation of the structure.  Looking to the spot where she had lost Ranth’s scarf, Patina was alarmed to see the precious gift was gone.  Distracted, she almost didn’t notice the pale hand reaching down from the opening.

            “Dr. Puzzle!  Let me give you a hand!”  Rilliquin’s voice pulled her from her confusion.  Taking her offer, Patina allowed the librarian to hoist her back up into the dim room.

            “Whatever are you doing in there?”  She asked in surprise.  Though not one of the noble elves like Crithielle, Rilliquin was still every bit as lithe and graceful.  A simple tunic of grays and purples wrapped around her slender frame, contrasting her vibrant yellow hair and golden eyes.  There was something odd in those eyes.

            No, Patina thought.  It must just be the candlelight.  The low angle of the flame was just casting harsh shadows on her face.

            “Rilliquin.  There was a machine down there destroying your books.  It was targeting ‘fakes’.  Are you aware some of your collections are forgeries?”  Patina tried to keep her tone level.  This felt like a betrayal.  It was a betrayal to anyone who loved history and lore, but she didn’t want to accuse the elf outright.  Crithielle was right, there was a chance Rilliquin didn’t know.

            “Muinwa help me, no!  How could you suggest such a thing?!”  The librarian exclaimed in a big show of indignation.  Patina watched her carefully and didn’t like what she saw.  The smallest twitch of one eye and a tense pull at Rilliquin’s mouth told the goblin she was lying.  But the keen observation didn’t warn her what the elf would do next.

            Rilliquin’s eyes hardened.  A quick incantation and a flick of her wrist and Patina felt her body stiffen.  She tried to take a step or defend herself but her legs and arms would not listen.  Gritting her teeth, the goblin recognized the spell, but it had never been used on her by someone she considered a friend.

            “Rill… i… quin… why?”  Patina managed to squeak out, her voice also hindered by magic.  The librarian dropped any pretense of warmth or friendliness, her eyes cold and angry and brutal.

            “Love truly has blinded you hasn’t it, Splindy,” Rilliquin’s words stung.  The use of Patina’s birth name was an added cruelty.  She had worked hard to reinvent herself after leaving her goblin home.  Very few outside of her new family at Tower Artifacts and Ranth knew her original name.

            “You were so focused on your own suffering and your little elf boyfriend that you didn’t notice the pain you caused around you,” Rilliquin spat.  If Patina could have moved her face, she would’ve looked shocked, but the librarian only got to see a hint of that emotion in her eyes.

            “Wh… at?”  Patina asked.

            “You cuddled up to the great Lerzel family, waltzing into my little library every day.  At the time, I was thrilled!  People watch who the lords and ladies rub elbows with and where they go.  They want to shop where they shop, eat where they eat, and read what they read.  You were imitated by association,” Rilliquin rambled, eager to share her anger and pain with her captive audience.

            As Patina listened, she realized where this might be going and what was happening.  Having faced many villains in her adventures, Patina had heard countless speeches about masterful plots and cunning schemes.  This was going to take a while.

            But, where was Crithielle?

            “Your very public fall from grace for three years nearly ruined me and the library!”  Rilliquin yelled.  Her voice echoing through the rows of books they both loved.  “I went from seeing more customers and visitors than ever before… to being shunned and ostracized.  The Lerzel family only made it worse, lamenting the loss of their precious Daiaranth,” the librarian snarled, pulling something from a half-hidden stack of books.

            A gasp made its way past Patina’s lips as she saw her beloved scarf wrap around Rilliquin’s shoulders.  The goblin strained against the magic that bound her in place but it was no use.  Her inability to understand spells and incantations only made her more vulnerable to their power.

            “Somehow, I managed to pull through, sinking my family inheritance into this collection but still it’s a daily struggle.  On the other hand, you seem to be doing wonderfully.  You save your pretty noble, return a hero, and all is forgiven!  No, the moment I heard of your arrival, I knew I had to do something,” Rilliquin was lost in her story now but Patina felt her heart sink.  A familiar guilt made her stomach rise into her throat.  Her carelessness had hurt someone close to her… again.

            “I know many of my books are fakes.  Such ancient tomes are expensive but I do take pride in the fact that more than half are legitimate.  I had planned to replace them once I had enough funds.  But that damned priest of Muinwa noticed first,” Rilliquin explained, not even directing the story at Patina anymore, but the goblin’s interest was piqued.  Even in this situation, she couldn’t help but be curious.

            “He visited decades ago.  For all I know, he’s long dead, but he left me a lingering problem.  He saw the books for what they were and took my deception as a slight to his god.  He planted that machine to be my downfall.  But, before it could go off, I discovered and neutralized it.  I didn’t give it another thought until this month.”  Rilliquin’s eyes refocused, shifting back to Patina and blazing with terrible excitement.

            “What better way to lure you in.  The now famous, Dr. Patina Puzzle.  All I had to do was reset the device… and beg for aid as my precious books crumbled!”  The elf grabbed her face in a show of rehearsed despair.  She stared into the goblin’s eyes and that façade faded away.  “You never could resist a good mystery, especially when the fate of your favorite library was at stake,” Rilliquin paused to take a breath.  Patina strained against the magic to speak.

            “Rilliquin… I’m sorry.  I didn’t… know.  Let me… make it right…” Patina struggled to put the words together but she meant them.  The library was precious to her and she had looked up to Rilliquin, considered her a mentor in her own right.  The last thing Patina ever wanted to do was to hurt her.

            “It’s too late.  Once you’re blamed for this mess and word spreads that you were destroying priceless artifacts, you’ll be discredited.  You’ll lose your cherished “doctor” title,” the elf’s words rang with malice and victory.  A nasty smile spread on her lips.  “And what would your noble friends think if… say, I caught you in the act, you went mad and tried to kill me in a fit of goblin rage!  You’ll never be allowed outside of your own kind, again!”

            “Kill you…?  But… I would never…”

            With an eerie serenity, Rilliquin stepped forward, setting Ranth’s scarf aside, and pulling the long, silver rapier from Patina’s belt.  It was an elegant weapon, a gift from the guild master, Robank.  A delicate swirl of metal created an artistic cage around the guard and was embedded with bright yellow topaz stones and emeralds.  Much too small for Rilliquin’s hands, it looked like a toy.  A lethal toy.

            Patina’s breath caught in her throat.  Until this moment, she had been disturbed and guilty, but now a deep dread settled in her stomach.  It weighed her down, as if she had swallowed cold, slick rocks.  Patina struggled in vain as the blade slide free.

            The librarian placed the weapon in the goblin’s frozen palm, pushing each finger into place, slowly and deliberately.

            “Rilliquin…” Patina whispered as the librarian bent over, drawing her face close to the goblin’s.  There was a mad look in her eyes and Patina felt fear course through her veins like molten metal.  Fear unlike anything she had felt… since she watched Ranth disappear.

            Her heart hammered in her chest and her mind raced.  Would she be forced to flee, again?  Lose everything, again?

            Lose Ranth, again?

            “A little pain will be worth it to watch your life fall apart,” Rilliquin hissed, grabbing the weapon and thrusting it toward her own leg.  Patina could do nothing, not even beg the librarian to stop.  She braced for the horrible sound of metal cutting flesh.  Before the blade could even pierce the fabric of Rilliquin’s pants, the rapier stopped.  It hung motionless for a second before dipping harmlessly off to the side.  It slipped through Patina’s fingers, clattering to the wood floor.

            “I think that’s enough, Quin,” Crithielle reproached.  The air shimmered like heat on the horizon.  Slowly, the elf came into view, the spell that kept her unseen melting away.  Relief washed over Patina, her fingers and toes tingling with it.

            “Cri!  What… what are you-” Rilliquin stammered, stepping away from Patina’s mentor.

The elf gave the librarian one of her withering stares before turning to her former student.  With a few magical words and delicate swoosh of her hand, Patina felt the pressure release from her body.  Even though she could move again, the goblin froze as Crithielle turned on Rilliquin.

            “Now, Rilliquin,” Crithielle said the name with barely contained rage.  Patina looked up.  It was an old sensation, hearing that tone aimed at someone else.  “Falsely implicating someone is a very serious crime here in Grenba, as I am sure you are aware.”

            “Cri, wait.  She’s the one you should be angry at, not me…” Rilliquin tried to deflect but Crithielle took a step toward her, straightening up to her full height and authority.

            “You will address me as Lady Crithielle.  Targeting a friend of the House of Lerzel will not be-” she began, the cold rage ringing clear in her voice.  Reeling from the close call, Patina felt another stab of guilt.  Yes, Rilliquin had tried to ruin the goblin’s life and was destroying her own books in the process, but it had all stemmed from Patina’s actions.  The impact of her mistake had radiated farther than she imagined… hurt more people than she imagined.

            “Wait,” the goblin said quickly, grabbing Crithielle’s sleeve to stop her.  “Please, she was put in this position because of me.  She’s doing it for her library.”

            “She’s trying to frame you for attempted murder,” Crithielle reminded her.

            “I… I know.  She’s gone way to far… but you stopped her before any true harm was done.  Well, except to the books… but they were forgeries anyway.”

            A tense silence sat between them.  It felt like the air and even the tomes around them were leaning in, waiting to hear what happened next.

            “So… you want me to…” Crithielle pressed and Patina paused, giving herself a moment to think.  Glancing at the librarian who had once been her friend, Patina only felt pity for her.  Bad circumstances had pushed her well beyond her breaking point for the love of her books.  For the love of knowledge.

            “Help her rebuild the Raciniel Ekko’s reputation and get her back on her feet,” Patina decided.  Both elves looked at her as if she had gone mad.

***

            A quarter hour later, Patina and Crithielle strolled away from the Raciniel Ekko, the brisk night air turning their breath into little puffs of cloud, stained orange by the lantern light.

            “How did you know it was Rilliquin’s doing?”  Crithielle asked, breaking the silence.

            “Just a feeling,” Patina said with a shrug.  It had only been the slightest of hunches and now she wished it wasn’t true.  Driving the otherwise docile librarian to violence would haunt Patina for a long while.

            “You’re just as unpredictable as ever.  I wonder if you may have made a mistake there with Rilliquin, but only time will tell.  Still… nice job putting the pieces together, Dr. Puzzle,” she joked.  That was new.  Patina gazed at her old mentor in shock but chuckled in spite of the elf’s awkward comedic timing. 

            “Oh, and you nearly forgot this.”  A familiar warm weight settled onto the goblin’s shoulders as Crithielle wrapped Ranth’s scarf around her.  Patina pulled it close, feeling the large, soft threads between her fingers and the cozy comfort around her thin neck.

            “Thanks,” she said quietly.  Watching Crithielle and thinking about all that had transpired, Patina realized she needed to set something straight.  Her stomach twisted.  It was…  embarrassing.

            “I didn’t dye it for him,” Patina whispered.

            “What?”

            “My hair… it wasn’t for Ranth.  I… dyed it to be more like you.”  The goblin dared a glance at her old mentor, still staring ahead.  Patina could have sworn she saw a twinkle of something in Crithielle’s eyes.