Riven made no response but took half a step back.
"How many heavens are there?" Sephris asked him.
Riven fidgeted uncomfortably. He looked to Cale and Jak as though for help. Cale had none to give.
"How many?" Sephris asked again.
"How would I know?" Riven snapped.
"There are seven," said Sephris, and he clicked his tongue. "How many Hells?"
Riven scoffed—nervously, Cale thought—and gave no answer. Sephris waited, fingers twitching.
Cale answered, "Nine. Nine Hells."
"Correct. And there's your answer. That's how I knew."
"What?" Cale asked.
But Sephris's mind had already moved on. He stared hard at the halfling, as though trying to remember who he was.
"It is good to see you, Sephris," said Jak slowly. "Do you remember me? Jak Fleet. We met through Brelgin."
Sephris nodded, smiled as though he had just remembered a truth, and said, "It is good to see you, Jak Fleet." He snapped his fingers. "You are one of the three. Servant of the eighteenth god. You remain a seventeen. That is well."
His eyes went vacant. Hurriedly, he bent over the desk and scribbled something on the slate, muttering to himself.
Cale, Jak, and Riven shared a look. None knew what to do or say.
Sephris completed his calculation, or his mad scribbling, examined the result, and nodded.
He looked up at them and said, "I'd offer you a seat, but as you can see, I have none to offer. Zero."
He focused his gaze on Cale, a studied look that made Cale uncomfortable.
"You're the first," Sephris said. "One of the five. Were you aware of that?"
"One of the five what?"
Sephris ignored him and studied Riven in the same way.
"You," he said to the assassin, "You're the second of the five. Two blades, one eye. Your soul is dark. Do you know why you lost your eye?"
Cale felt Riven tense beside him.
"Easy," Cale said to the assassin under his breath.
"You don't know anything about me, old fool," Riven said, his voice low.
Sephris sighed, the longsuffering sound of the misunderstood. He stepped out from behind his desk and walked across the library, hopping to avoid stepping on any of the papers and books, and stood in front of them. Cale readied himself to prevent Riven from doing the old man violence.
"Ten words, thirteen syllables."
"What?"
Sephris signed in exasperation and said, "The words you just spoke. Ten words, thirteen syllables. Do you believe that to be chance? Choice?"
Riven said nothing, which didn't seem to trouble Sephris.
"Not so. Not choice. The necessary answer. Two and two are always four."
For a reason Cale could not explain, hearing those words from Sephris reminded him of his attempt to articulate Fate.
"I see what you cannot," Sephris said to Riven, to all of them, "and I know what you do not." He gestured with his arms to indicate the papers on the floor. "Numbers ... formulae. The universe is an equation. Did you know that? Each of us is a sub-equation. Every question a function. Each, therefore, solvable." He looked Riven in the eye and asked, "You don't want to be solved though, do you? Fearful of the answer?"
Riven looked like he wanted to spit. His hand hovered near his blade.
"He's mad," the assassin said, but sounded unsure of himself.
"No," said Jak, "he just knows things. He just . . . thinks differently."
"Indeed," said Sephris softly, and he smiled at Jak. "Differently." He turned and walked away from them, again careful to avoid stepping on any papers or tomes. "Sit where you like. It does not matter."
None of them moved. They continued to stand just inside the door, as though fearful that to enter the library would immerse them in the same mad world in which Sephris lived.
"Do you know why we've come?" Cale asked him.
Sephris folded his hands behind his back and looked up to the ceiling.
"Many variables, of course ..."
He trailed off, muttering to himself, pacing the library, studying nothing. Cale wondered if he should ask the question again.
"Variables," Sephris muttered, "variables." He stopped walking and turned to look at Cale, his gaze sharp. "You've brought me something."
"That shows nothing," Riven said. "A Turmishan palm reader could—"
"You've brought me a half," said Sephris with a smile, "but you wish the whole."
Cale felt the hairs on his nape rise. Beside him, Riven stuttered to a stop.
"Didn't I say so?" Jak said, and shot an I told you so look at Riven. "Show him, Cale."
Cale unslung his pack.
"You require an answer within two days," said Sephris, nodding. "Two. Hmm. These formulae are complex. You three present quite the problem. Interesting...."