The leather-bound tome was thick and covered with dust.

“No one’s looked at that book as long as I can remember, Lady Lyla.” It must have been a very long time indeed, as the speaker was older than any man Lyla had ever seen.

She bowed her thanks and turned to leave the library. The room had once been grand, she thought, filled with books, old and new, from ceiling to floor. The great glass windows would have allowed sunlight to fill the room, falling on the rich chairs and embroidered rugs. But now, most of the old books were gone or dilapidated and the windows curtained, heavily draped in musty purple material, so that no ray of light could find a path in.

“Lady Lyla,” the old man’s voice faltered. “I – I was there in the throne room when the wand came to life.” He paused. “I want to thank you for saving me, for saving all of us. I know we have not been kind to you.”

Lyla smiled and shrugged. “I know Queen Rachelle does not make it easy to speak with me – I do understand, but thank you for this.”

The old man looked grim. “Truly, we should not be so afraid of our ruler that we bypass all basic human principles. It is our doing, Lady Lyla. I do ask that if there is anything I, Michael, can do for you… please let me know. It would be my sincerest pleasure.”

“Thank you, Michael.” Lyla fought back an urge to hug the whiskered man – the first human beside Sir Valon to speak pleasantly to her in many years. “That means much to me.”

Michael bowed a surprisingly dapper bow for a man of his years. Lyla turned again toward the library doors. She hesitated at the threshold, a question on the tip of her tongue. She shook her head, thinking better of it and continued on.

The castle was full of courtiers and busy servants preparing for visitors who were due for the evening meal. Queen Rachelle was in her chambers, Anne, her maid, readying her hair and dress. Lyla herself would be expected to attend, but did not require such extensive preparation. She figured that she had about an hour to page through the old book. Maybe she could find something that would help her explain the golden rod. Her own room was dark and musty, with no light save from a single wall brazier. She would not be able to read in there. Instead, Lyla brought the book up the stairs to the third floor balcony.

Drawn to the place where she had fallen, she gazed in trepidation to the floor of the courtroom. The room was empty, its regular inhabitants no doubt readying themselves for the grand dinner. The late afternoon sun shone in through the glass-topped dome, providing light enough to read. There was no chair, so Lyla sat on the flagstone floor in a small alcove, her back against the wall.

Minutes flew by as she thumbed through the old history. Written in an archaic style, the writing was hard to understand, and little of it seemed important. She sighed, her fingers trailing in the dust which was scattered along the floor.

“I know what you would call me. Boring.” The melancholy voice sounded nearly in her ear. Lyla started, looking to find the speaker. No one was near.

She spoke cautiously. “Why would I call you boring?” she asked the air.

“You were just reading that page in the book… and that’s what you said about it.” The voice responded instantly. “No doubt that’s what you would think of me, too.”

The speaker sounded so forlorn that Lyla felt she needed to comfort it. “I don’t think I would find you boring… you don’t sound boring, that is. Where are you?” She peered around in the dimming light.

“Down here. You’re touching me.”

“What?!” Lyla looked down. The only thing she was touching was the book and pile of dust on the floor. Silver in the fading afternoon light, the dust shimmered and seemed to transform itself into a vague face. She jerked her hand away. “What are you?!”

The face retreated sadly, leaving only the voice. “I am Velander – dust of the wand. I was dumped here when you brought forth the magic of the golden scepter. It’s broken, you know. That’s how I fell out.”

“I don’t understand,” Lyla stammered. “You… you are dust from the wand?”

“Yes. Velander. Don’t you know anything about velander?” It sounded slightly offended.

“No, I haven’t ever heard of it… of you… before!”

“Maybe you should read up some more,” the dust suggested, shimmering silver again. “Not this book though – you need to read books of magic, not that boring history book. Though you might find some interesting stuff in there.”

Lyla was fascinated. She gingerly traced a line in the dust. “What should I do with you?”

“Oh man. I have to teach you a lot, it seems. First of all, put me in a closed container somewhere. This open air is killing me, literally.”

Lyla looked puzzled.

The velander sighed dramatically. “Lesson One. Velander needs to be held in a secure container. In the open air, we lose our power. It evaporates, if you will, into the air. Eventually, if I’m left open like this, I’ll become completely powerless and common as plain dust.”

Lyla began to say something, but stopped as a door three floors below in the throne room opened and a woman’s voice called out. “Lady Lyla? Wand-bearer?” Lyla held her breath. The lady muttered. “Fifteen minutes until dinner, and Queen Rachelle is going to skewer me if I can’t find that girl.”

Lyla pressed a hand to her mouth. Fifteen minutes! She had to hurry. She picked up the heavy book. “I must go,” she told the velander.

“Wait! What about me?” Its voice was plaintive. Lyla hesitated. “I need to be put in something!”

“I’ll be right back,” she promised. “I’ll find someplace for you.”