Free The Destruction of the Books by Mel Odom Page A

pot of soup, so ill-smelling that Juhg’s stomach threatened to turn, hung from a nearby railing. The goblins filled bowls of the vile concoction, and—occasionally—bones crunched as the creatures chewed.
    “Well?” Raisho demanded in a hoarse voice from below.
    With his feet wrapped around the anchor chain and one hand securely on the deck, Juhg turned and held up three fingers.
    “Three guards?” Raisho asked, rising to a standing position in the skiff. “That’s it?”
    Juhg put his forefinger to his lips. “That’s all I see.”
    Raisho growled a curse. He rigged a quick harness over his back to hold his cutlass, then tied the skiff to the anchor chain, and climbed.
    Mastering the fear that resonated within him, Juhg hauled himself over the ship’s side and remained within the stern deck’s shadows. He crouched, thankful he was so small and so slight. But he knew that Raisho didn’t have those natural attributes. He dreaded his big friend’s arrival.
    Staying in the skiff, Juhg realized, would have been so much safer. But he knew his own argument about whether Raisho would have recognized a book if the tome were rendered in any other fashion than the written page held true.
    And if there was a book aboard the foul ship, Juhg felt beholden to get it. During the Cataclysm, the Old Ones first fashioned the dwellers, rendering them meek and small and weak so that they could better hide the books from Lord Kharrion. He had his heritage to live up to, as well as his Librarian training.
    He calmed himself, drawing his breath in through his nose and pushing it out through his mouth, using a technique developed by Mathoth Kilerion, a noted human tactician who had raised fierce guerrilla armies to face the goblin hordes when Lord Kharrion had threatened to dominate the world.
    The effort worked a little, but Juhg still felt frightened. At least, he felt a little better until he spotted Raisho’s hand appear and grab the railing. Lantern light glinted against his dark eyes and the silver hoops in his ears.
    The three goblins guarding the ship stayed occupied with conversation and the meal.
    Silent as a cat, Raisho vaulted the railing and landed on bare feet on the stern deck. He drew the cutlass in one smooth motion, reversing his grip on the handle and keeping the blade low. No light reflected from the blade due to the way the metal had been cast. The cutlass was a fighting man’s weapon, and Raisho took pride in his possession.
    “Captain’s quarters,” Raisho whispered.
    Before Juhg could object, the young sailor took two lithe steps and vaulted the railing from the stern deck leading to the main deck amidships. He disappeared below the stern deck’s edge at once.
    Heart in his throat but determined not to let Raisho down, Juhg dropped to his hands and knees and scuttled to the stairs leading down to the main deck. He expected to hear startled shouts from goblins that Raisho might have inadvertently surprised with his bold move.
    Juhg halted at the railing beside the steps, his hands wrapped around the rungs, and peered down.
    Raisho was already on the move, racing for the door set against the stern castle. Broad in the beam as the goblin ship was, the vessel afforded larger quarters there, as well as a steadier ride across the rough seas. Captains always kept their private quarters there, if the ship was large enough to provide the necessary space.
    Pausing at the door, Raisho glanced up. He pointed to his eyes with two fingers, then in the direction of the goblin guards.
    Juhg understood immediately and nodded. He hunkered down in the shelter of the stairs, staying high enough to watch the goblins.
    Raisho sheathed his cutlass between his shoulders, then knelt and removed something from the rolled-top boots he wore. He leaned into the door and worked on the locks. After a moment, he looked back up at Juhg with a grin on his face. He motioned to Juhg, calling him down.
    Juhg’s hopes that the locks would