by Assaph Mehr
“So how was your journey?”
“Swift and uneventful, Marcus Baebius, thank you. Quintus Sosius sends his warm regards.”
“I see from his letter you are to assist me in negotiating a deal and procuring the library of Epphelipos.”
I distinctly remembered Sosius wrote to Baebius that he was to assist me, but I let it slide. “Sosius requested that I examine the library’s more esoteric segments, and assess their suitability to the market back at Egretia. I have some small expertise in those matters.”
“Yes, well, that is only a paltry part of the collection.”
“Do not worry, Marcus Baebius, our dear friend Quintus Sosius trusts your judgement. However he has some particular clients with specific interests. I am here to evaluate the material in the library for this purpose. Sosius expects you to handle all the usual business arrangements, from payment to shipment back to Egretia, with the usual commission.”
“Very well, very well. I will arrange with Epphelipos tomorrow for us to examine the library. I did not yet get a chance to go over it in detail, and only got a cursory glance. While the price is steep, I do believe there may be some hidden gems in it. The heirs seem to be aware of its general value, though not of specific items, which may be where we can make the real profit.”
We spent the rest of the evening exchanging news. Baebius, Sosius’ agent in Ephemezica, kept abreast of the latest tidings and gossip from the Forum but my speedy voyage offered him fresher news than he would otherwise have. In return he was happy to share with me his knowledge of the local politics and events. He was quite nice, after establishing that I was not there to take over his operation for Sosius.
I was a bit restless after five days on the ship, so I bid Baebius an early good night with the intention of touring the city. He cautioned me about touring the streets of Ephemezica after dark without escort, and I did not want to get lost at night in a foreign city, so I planned on an early morning instead.
Ephemezica is an old port city. Sitting on a rocky promontory off the coast, it is connected to the mainland by a narrow strip of low lying land. Fishermen and traders have been casting anchor in the small bays on each side from time immemorial. With the rise of the Hellican nations, Ephemezica became one of the most important ports of the Mare Saepiae. Trade routes from inland Phrylia and from the only overland route to Mitzrania met the traders sailing along the coast of Nuremata and out to the archipelagos of the Mare Saepiae. Goods were traded and exchanged, and made the city rich from taxes and levies. These days Egretia had eclipsed Ephemezica as the world’s emporium, but the port was still busy and the town had an old-world charm to it.
In the morning I climbed to the top of the hill in the centre of town, passing increasingly richer mansions on the way to the temple district at the very top. I visited the temples of Ephemezica, with their strange human-like gods. I looked both out to sea and inland to the distant mountains ridges of the Montes Karikurum beyond the lush river valley of the Helios.
In the afternoon, after buying spit-roasted lamb rolled in flat-bread from a stall vendor, I went back down to the city and the port. The lamb was cooked in the traditional Hellican way, with too much thyme and not enough fish sauce to my Egretian tastes, however the wine I sampled in taverns was better than I expected.
The area next to the harbours was as seedy as in any other port town around the world. Visiting sailors on shore-leave and the businesses catering to them acquire an almost universal flavour. I took the chance as well to review the ships in the harbour for potential transport back, as I was not expecting to stay long in Ephemezica. Either we bought the library and I was able to acquire some of its knowledge, or not. Either way there was no reason for me to linger here any longer, and many reasons why I should proceed to Kebros to continue my investigation of Caeso’s life and death.
* * *
The next day we met Epphelipos in his study. The room was in disarray, as was the rest of the house. From what Baebius told me, Epphelipos inherited the mansion recently and was renovating. His wife did not care for the hundreds of scrolls, and instead wanted to knock down a few walls and turn that part of the mansion into private baths.
Epphelipos may not have been a great lover of literature, but was enough of a merchant to recognise the potential value of the library and demand a high price for the scrolls.
I sipped from the excellent Hellican wine he served us, and considered the man before me. Of medium height, aged about fifty I believed, heavyset with fleshy jowls. The shrewd gleam in his eyes foretold these would be hard negotiations.
“As the letter from my colleague Quintus Sosius indicates, he heard about your library for sale from dear Marcus Baebius here. Quintus Sosius is a well-known and respected trader in ancient scrolls in Egretia. He has many customers of discerning and specific tastes. Marcus Baebius has been his agent for many years here in Ephemezica, and I have been sent to ensure that the contents of the collection for sale match Quintus Sosius’ current interests.”
“Yes, yes, his letter was most detailed. I have reviewed the library myself, and I am quite certain you will find it to his satisfaction. The selection, the age, the quality of preservation and the rarity of material, all make this an exceeding collection. I am confident your esteemed selves will no doubt recognise this, and report back to dear Quintus Sosius for a most satisfactory conclusion.”
“These news would make Quintus Sosius extremely happy. I would be deeply thrilled to send him a detailed note. After I have had the chance to examine the scrolls, of course.”
With the preliminary haggling done, Epphelipos escorted us to the library. It was housed in a room the size of a formal triclinium. The walls were covered with pigeon-hole shelves, all crammed with scrolls, with little tags hanging off them denoting contents. Capsae were standing on the floor, sometimes lidded and stacked, overflowing with scrolls. A few round tripod tables were propped around the room, covered with more scrolls. This was one of the largest collection I have seen outside the collegia libraries, certainly one of the largest private collections in the world.
I tried to keep my face expressionless, thinking of the haggling to come. “Tell me, Epphelipos, is there a catalogue to this madness? Or I fear it will take me days to ascertain whether it contains what Quintus Sosius requires.”
“Indeed it has, though I fear the shelving may not match. The previous owner has been most careful — a work of passion as you can see! — with keeping the index updated. However we had to move the library due to the renovations, and I fear not everything made it exactly back to the same place. Perhaps if you told me what you were after…?”
“Oh, I am sure I will be able to find it,” I said with confidence, “If it’s here.” I did not want to let Epphelipos know what I was interested in even vaguely, and besides — I promised Quintus Sosius that I will review the library as a whole. “If you would be so kind as to have a slave open the windows for as much natural light as possible, and perhaps a cup or two of wine, Marcus Baebius and I will set ourselves to review the catalogue and state of the scrolls.”
It took us the rest of that day and all of the next to audit the material offered for sale. We divided the material between us, Baebius concentrating on the more mundane scrolls of plays, letters and scientific treatises, and I focusing on the arcane and military works.
I located a few promising scrolls, sufficiently odd and foreign, which might contain further information about magia vita terminalis. I could not review them in detail, as deciphering them would have taken far too long, though from the glances I could get of them they seemed like the genuine article. By late afternoon Baebius and I conferred, and arrived at a sum of eight talents of silver as a fair price for the collection.
Back in Epphelipos’ study we sat down for the serious haggling. Faces were pulled, teeth sucked, aspersions were cast, doubts raised, the wishes of wife were hinted at, the good name of Sosius and his standing with his customers alluded to, other potentia
l buyers mentioned, and their financial solvency dismissed.
In the end Baebius and I managed to press Epphelipos down to seven and a half talents of silver and a marble fountain in the shape of a nymph that Baebius was willing to part with in order to please Epphelipos’ wife. We drank together for acceptance, and put our seals in wax on three copies for the bill of sale. Baebius would organise tomorrow for slaves to come, pack everything, and ship the collection to Sosius.
* * *
Once Baebius had taken hold of the collection, I sorted through it and extracted the few scrolls I thought most promising. The rest would be shipped to Sosius in Egretia, but these I wanted with me in order to review in detail. I have already ear marked a few when I reviewed the collection before the sale, so I could dedicate a full day to sorting through the rest of the library’s catalogue and locating those scrolls I wished to take with me. I was faced with another sea voyage and planned to do my reading on the way to Kebros.
When I went in search of a ship to take me to Kebros or back to Egretia, however, I found that I had missed the official dispatch. My courier passport would still allow me to get board on most vessels, however the journey would take longer. I decided to stop at Heraclion and from there see if I could get on another ship directly to the Kebric isles, instead of going all the way back to Egretia first.
There were plenty of cargo ships sailing my way, but I was trying to find a faster vessel. Eventually I found a speedy-looking Hellican merchantman on its way to Heraclion, and paid for board. The captain was an enthusiastic little fellow by the name of Philomenos, keen on entertaining an Egretian and assuring me that winds were favourable and his load light. He traded along the Hellican and Assyrican coast, and wanted to extend his routes to Egretia. He insisted in talking to me in broken Quirite, a small price to pay for his otherwise well-catered hospitality. My diplomatic passport had impressed him, though he still charged me a nominal fee. “A trader is a trader in the blood,” he said.
During our four day trip back down the coast I set myself to decipher the scrolls I took with me. I packed them as closely as I could in a travellers’ capsa, enhancing my diplomatic image. Deciphering them would take me some time though. The scrolls I selected were from a variety of sources, Hellican, Assyrican, Mitzrani. Each had their own script, often mixed, and with various dialects. I will not pretend to be fluent with these languages, though I did remember the basics from my aborted training as an incantator. The one thing all them had in common? The vagueness, obliqueness and infuriating use of superlatives. I skipped sections, trying to find the heart of each and determine which one was the most promising.
On the night before we made land in Heraclion I found what I was looking for. This one was ancient, written on parchment rather than papyrus paper. It was faded in places, and crumbling about the edges which required extreme care. Its ink appeared like old, dried blood.
It was written in a variety of languages, primarily Hellican and with a bit of Mitzrani hieroglyphs and even Assyrican cuneiform characters. Surprisingly, there were even passages in Quirite, the language of Egretia and its people. It did not mention the rite by name, only hinted that it was known by many names across different lands. Something about the description caught my eyes though, and when I found the symbols for ‘star’ and ‘tattoo’ together, I knew I had the right thing. I sat there for a long while, deciphering the ancient dialect strewn with foreign glyphs. It took a constant effort of will to move word by word, symbol by symbol, racking my brain to recall old lessons from my youth.
According to the scroll, the purpose of the rite was a combination of magia vita and magia elementorum, a merging of life and elemental forces.
And thus, should the ceremony be performed correctly in all its details, the unguents prepared to exacting measurements without deviation, the chants pronounced precisely and with perfect harmony of the steps of all the cabal, then would the sacred Rite as given by that paragon of stellar sciences be completed successfully.
And the chosen one will have their heart changed unto a precious stone, but will not die. Their shade will be trapped within the stone forever after, their breath shall not cease and their flesh shall never rot.
And the chosen one shall become an adept. The mystical forces shall flow through him, and bend to his command. His flesh will become impervious to harm, his mind stay clear of distractions, his heart forever pure. The earth shall tremble at his stride, and the animals and all manner of living things shall bend to his will.
The scroll continued elaborating in the same vein, how the chosen one was promised dominion over both living and elemental forces, granted an everlasting life of power to control the elements and animated things. The details were sketchy, with a lot of excited superlatives and euphemisms as is common in such texts. Still, I got the impression that one would trade a significant part of their humanity for immortality and power.
To perform, the rite requires a cabal of eleven. It takes five days and three nights to complete, although preparations must be done well in advance — gathering materials, manufacturing inks, mixing herbs and compounds and collecting samples of the chosen one’s blood in special vessels as prescribed.
It begins on the first night with chanting, the complex verbal formulae detailed in the scroll. The words were ancient, some I did not even recognise, and when spoken aloud their syllables and sounds would be grating. All eleven must chant differing parts, creating dissonant disharmonies.
On the next day, the chosen one washes and anoints themselves with special infused oils during the day, and keeps a lone vigil at night.
On the third night, the chosen one is tattooed in the star pattern. It begins with different chants than the previous night. At midnight, the chosen one must strip down completely and lie naked on the floor, arms and legs splayed wide. The cabal then begins the process of the tattooing. The scroll gave exact recipes for the two inks to be used, the shape and composition of the needles, the order in which each line had to be pricked into the chosen one’s skin, which member of the cabal drew which line while which of the other sung which verse.
At sunrise the process must be completed. The chosen one is wrapped in clean white linen, and given the day, the night and the following day to rest and for the bleeding to stop.
On the fifth night the power is invoked. It begins with the chosen one again lying on their back, arms and legs splayed wide. The ten other members of the cabal position themselves in pairs at each extremity and the head, and begin to chant. They then move, rotate and change locations around the chosen one in complex patterns, all the while keeping up their discordant chanting.
Beginning at midnight, they draw sharp knives and start to prick the chosen one in specified places. They use the blood they draw as they move about to draw patterns around and over his body, as their chanting increases in tempo.
With frenzied chanting, the last stroke of the blood pattern must be performed with the first ray of the sun over the horizon, and the ceremony is thus complete.
This rite would require a lot of the raw power of life to perform. Channelling such power is hard, even for the best of incantatores. The words uttered, the patterns danced, the ritualistic blood drawing all take a significant amount of concentration and will for an incantator to accomplish correctly. With the precise instructions from inks and ointments to chants and movements, the adepts must be well rehearsed in advance. This was the reason for the elaborate preparations and the time it took to complete. A single mistake, and the power drawn down into the target would surge and wreak havoc on the whole cabal, and probably beyond. I wondered if that is what happened to Caeso.
I also could not see how such a ceremony could be performed in Egretia without alerting every incantator for miles. Even the preliminary chanting of the first day would set vibrations, and by the fifth night their heads would be ringing. And if anything, why Caeso? What would make a young merchant cadet the chosen one, rather than the more natural candidate in the
leader of the cabal?
Chapter XI
We arrived at Heraclion in mid-morning. This was the last stop for Philomenos, my jolly captain friend, who planned on unloading his cargo of Assyrican silk and loading up on Egretian salt and wine before sailing back up the coast. We said our farewells, and Philomenos promised to visit me in Egretia as soon as he could follow up on some business opportunities there.
As the time was early I decided to first stay in the harbour and look for passage to Kebros. I walked along the piers and wharves, searching for a fast looking ship on which I could use my courier’s passport or pay for board.
I was in luck. I located an odd shaped ship flying the Corpio’s family crest. The captain, a grizzled sea dog by the name of Titus Margaritus, was at first very gruff, and almost ordered his sailors to throw me off the boat — and not on the port side — when I dared to climb the gangplank uninvited. But as soon as I waved at him my letter bearing Corpio’s seal his demeanour changed.
“Welcome, welcome! Please come aboard, I will give you the master’s own cabin. Please forgive our little jest before, no harm done, no harm meant.”
“Of course, think nothing of it. I am sure Corpio would appreciate you protecting his property so zealously.”
“That we are indeed. Do not worry, your travel with us shall be safe, and as quick as can be we shall set you down in Kebros.”
It turned out that Margaritus was operating one of Corpio’s pearl diving operations. He would go out to secret locations amongst the isles, and his divers would swim to the depths and seek out the queen of gems. Considering the complexity of the operation, the risk of piracy, and the expected gains, Corpio had even installed an incantator as part of the crew. The only reason the ship was in Heraclion was that the incantator had suffered indigestion from a bad oyster, and a storm had blown them off course. Margaritus decided to make for the nearest port, restock and then go out again.