The day was nearly done when she trudged up the long stairways to the rooms that housed the Druid histories and provided Woostra with his working space. The hallway leading to these rooms was already dappled with twilight shadows when she reached them, the sunlight gone so far west that it cast almost no light. Soon, triggered by the descending darkness, the smokeless lamps would begin to burn, giving a warmer glow to spaces that now already seemed cold and abandoned.

She was almost to the library doors before she glimpsed the soft glow of lamps Woostra must have already lit. She knocked and waited.

“Come,” Woostra called from somewhere inside.

He was deep in a warren of rooms that housed the Druid papers, poring through sheaves of writings and clusters of files. It looked chaotic to Aphenglow, but Woostra seemed untroubled by the clutter. His head buried in an ancient tome, shoulders hunched as he bent over his worktable, he didn’t even bother to look up at her as she entered.

“What is it?”

She sat down on the end of a bench that was otherwise stacked with books and papers and files. “I just wondered if you had found anything.”

“No, I haven’t. Anyway, I don’t report to you. I report to the Ard Rhys.”

He was so abrupt about it she was taken aback. “I was just asking.”

She got up and started to walk out, and she was almost to the door when he called after her. “Aphenglow, wait.” She turned around. His head had lifted out of the book he had been absorbed in and there was a hint of contrition on his lean features. “I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry.”

“That’s all right. I know you’re busy. You don’t need me bothering you while you are trying to do your work.”

“It’s not you who’s causing me trouble. It’s someone else. Close the door. Come back in and take a seat. I’ve something to tell you.”

Intrigued, she did as he asked and resumed her position on the bench. “Is something wrong?”

The narrow, bladed features wrinkled in distaste. “Something is always wrong. That’s the trouble with this order. Or maybe all Druid orders. Something is always wrong. And usually we cannot do anything about it. We just nudge it aside and hope for the best.”

He seemed genuinely distressed, but she had no idea what he was talking about. “Is there something in particular that needs fixing?”