by Jeremy Dwyer
The Kazofen Ocean waters were primarily of use, however, in the direct manipulation of crystals and mining the ground for those crystals. Their uses were numerous and they were generally the most valuable resource, next to the ocean waters themselves. The Kazofen drinkers could manipulate the crystals at a fine level, and – if they were especially clever – could alter their low-level structure and control the strength, density, opacity, transparency, malleability or other desirable properties. Certain useful geometric patterns had been discovered in ages past – and new ones were being discovered all over the world even in the present day – and some of these patterns were documented in the Eleventh Hall of Emeth.
Because much of the wealth of the Jenaldej Empire hinged on the mastery of crystals, and Romana was a scholar of all subjects, she was responsible for allocating some of her study time to researching what knowledge she could in the archives of Emeth.
Romana did not place her faith in wealth – she was a woman who belonged first and foremost to the One True God. Yet, she never denied that wealth in general, or the crystal industry in particular, was useful. It had to be used for worthwhile purposes – and generosity was sometimes called for toward the less fortunate. The Jenaldej Empire was not always given to sharing, and sharing with those whose shortages resulted from being deliberately irresponsible was something to be done with a stern warning. However, Romana had a spirit of generous giving to those less fortunate. Any knowledge that she gathered she would take the time to share – not just with the Jendaldej Empire, but with people in other corners of the world that she occasionally visited.
On this particular occasion, she overheard the most awful and ungenerous things being said – this man before her had just told a librarian that her life was worthless.
“How could you say such a thing? Life is a precious gift from the One True God. If there is a quarrel, then you should address the matter directly and clearly, even immediately. Yet, to attack a person by denying their life worth is the most terrible lack of appreciation,” Romana said. She was genuinely hurt on behalf of the woman she had just witnessed receiving a terrible insult.
Hesperos turned and looked at this woman who had just spoken against him. He read her mind and saw that she was a Jenaldej scholar named Romana and was thirty-two (32) years old with high quality mathematical training. He also learned that she was a Gradaken Ocean water drinker, and had been there during the tempest, facing Victoria. She was deeply religious, he learned, and had been responsible for converting a faithless Chronicler named Judith into a believer. He also sensed that Romana had deep sympathy for this librarian he had just rebuked. Hesperos concluded, therefore, that Romana was a clever, sympathetic religious zealot.
“You have no understanding of what damage this woman will do, with her deceiving tongue, that speaks useless truths that mislead. Liars are killed here, you know? There’s a reason for that – it’s the city of truth, meant to preserve the knowledge of the world, and improve it. This one should kill herself before she misleads someone and causes a catastrophe,” Hesperos said. He calculated his words meaning to hurt Portia. He overlooked his own evils and how the damage that he and the other Explorers of the Quiet Sea had done over the years – along with the people who had been sacrificed to spirits in pursuit of knowledge – made him and Pandaros brutal murderers. None of that mattered, because he wasn’t looking to appeal to Portia’s conscience or compare right and wrong. Hesperos wanted to break her emotional barriers and discover her secrets.
“No! What you are doing is bringing a catastrophe before my very eyes and ears. You accuse others of what you now do yourself,” Romana said. She then approached Portia and took her hands and said: “Please do not believe such foolish words. The One True God loves you immensely. If there is a truth to be told, please tell it, and clearly, as the law dictates. Yet, no one should deny your life worth. You have value no matter what. Not even your failings deny His Love for you, or take away His Purpose in creating you.”
Portia fell down to her knees, crying hysterically. She didn’t believe in any deity – but she didn’t actually want to die. The kind words of Romana made her realize that she was in far too much pain and hatred – she was swimming in an ocean of hatred – and it was time to end it.
Romana just hugged Portia out of sympathy while Hesperos probed Portia’s mind out of greed.
Portia’s emotional armor was let down so Hesperos learned that there was a secret within her, and it had to do with the vases in a nearby room. Some of them – even she didn’t know which – were filled with poison, and the others with harmless dead water. The vases were numbered from one (1) to twenty-four (24), and the numbers had meaning, and Portia knew precisely what the numbers meant. However, which particular vases were not filled with poison mattered greatly, as she knew that the corresponding numbers had significance in identifying the location of something on a map. That something was a crystal – a dark onyx – that had to remain hidden. She was given partial information and warned to keep it hidden under pain of death, or even under pain of a miserable life, which she had.
This was the treasure Hesperos had come for, and he was determined to get it.
CHAPTER 30: Puzzled by the Vases of Poison
Hesperos then walked through the corridors of the Eleventh Hall of Emeth and found the room with tall vases and saw that there were, in fact, twenty-four (24) and that each of them held about ten (10) gallons and was filled at least halfway with a clear liquid. The vases were each marked with a number in the old style – special tally marks that consisted of circles, lines and squares – that were recognizable. He knew how to read them, even if he didn’t know the translation between these numbers and a map: many different map numbering systems existed, so it was hard to be sure.
However, being an Explorer of the Quiet Sea meant being, of course, an explorer. And an explorer had to be prepared – at least as much as possible. Hesperos took from his own coat several small, empty glass vials and filled each with a sample of the water from one of the vases, and then used a small pen to mark the vial with the tally marks from the corresponding vase.
He then left the Eleventh Hall and ventured out into the City of Emeth. He found some unsuspecting visitors and then drank anew of the waters of the Elanatin Ocean from one of his personal vials. He was energized and recognized which of these were not waterbound and were especially mentally weak. He used his powers of telepathic suggestion and compelled them, here and there, to follow him into an alley where he gave them a marked vial which they were forced to drink. As a result, nine (9) of them died and fifteen (15) lived. Into his travel log he recorded, with each compulsory drink, which vial they came from according to its tally marks, and the outcome of the test.
Hesperos then looked for a ship that could take him back to the Crypt Trail. He was expecting to find Pandaros waiting in their chosen mausoleum within the swamps of that land bridge, unaware that the camp had been moved.
~~~
“Help me. Please!” Portia said, sobbing.
Romana hugged her and held her, feeling nothing but compassion for this woman.
“I don’t believe what you believe,” Portia said through tears.
“Do you believe that your life has worth?” Romana asked.
“I hope it does,” Portia said.
“That’s a first step,” Romana said and continued to hug her.
“All my life is pain, and hate,” Portia said, crying both in sadness and anger.
“Tell me about the pain, and the hate. I’m here for you,” Romana said.
“I have a secret – my whole life I’ve had the secret – that I’m not allowed to tell, even if it kills me,” Portia said, struggling through her tears.
“Who said you’re not allowed to tell it? Why is it worth your life?” Romana asked.
“It’s dangerous,” Portia whispered.
“Tell me in private, then,” Romana said.
“Where?” Portia asked.
/> “Follow me,” Romana said. She held her arm around Portia and guided her out of the Eleventh Hall and back to the Scholar’s Hall where many longer term guests of Emeth were in residence. Romana had a room there, and she took Portia and closed the door for privacy. She hoped that no one nearby was probing their minds, but this was the best she could do.
“Why is this secret so dangerous?” Romana asked.
“It can kill the world,” Portia said, fearfully.
“I’ve watched the most terrible things. I was there in the battles against Victoria. I’ve seen powers so tremendous and terrible that the whole world was right to be afraid. But the world can only be destroyed if the One True God wants it to be. Even the evil of Victoria and her tiara was brought to an end,” Romana said, trying to assure her.
“How? How was she defeated?” Portia asked. She knew that Victoria was stopped, but didn’t know the details.
“Faith. Some will give other reasons, but faith in the One True God invited His Grace and His Will to end her reign of evil. At the proper time, she was destroyed,” Romana said.
“What does that mean – at the proper time?” Portia asked.
“I am not so wise as to know His Mind. Yet, I know that things do not always happen at the times we would like, but the good came in a way that we could not bring it. Great powers were assembled against Victoria, but she could not be stopped. We did not defeat her. We prayed for her to be defeated, and had faith in the One True God,” Romana said.
“You keep saying faith. Why?” Portia asked.
“Faith as small as one (1) drop of dead water is enough, as long as that faith is in Him,” Romana said.
“There was pain and death. She murdered millions,” Portia said, confused as to why the evil didn’t end sooner if faith in a higher power was at work.
“That is true. Many terrible things come to this world. We have great power here, and with that, comes great danger. That woman was the servant of a demon, whose evil is more powerful than that of a human,” Romana said.
“My secret is the worst, and the darkest,” Portia said.
“It’s killing you to hold it. If you die, then what? Will the secret still be safe?” Romana asked.
“Are you asking me to reveal it to you?” Portia asked. She wanted to reveal it – she was truly sick of holding it within her – yet she couldn’t know if Romana was the person to whom to reveal it.
“Let me help you. If you can’t reveal it to me, can you reveal it to someone else?” Romana asked.
“My parents passed along the secret…one that their parents passed along, for millennia. They said it should end with me – that I should take the secret to my grave, and the burden. So I never married. I never had a friend of any kind. I hated everybody and I showed them that I hated them. I did everything I could so that no one got close enough to learn the secret,” Portia said. She was admitting to herself that she regretted this life and had no desire to continue this way. She wanted to be loved, but she didn’t want to betray the secret.
“Why was hate the answer? It’s not the answer to anything good,” Romana asked.
“Hate works. It’s better than the secret being revealed,” Portia said.
“No. That’s not true. I guarantee you that the Love of the One True God drives out hate, and for the best of all reasons,” Romana said.
“I hate the darkness. I hate the light that brings the darkness,” Portia said.
“What does that mean? That is a strange thing to say. The truth is that light brings light, and dark brings darkness. For each of those elements, there is an ocean whose waters give power over it. Yet, how can one bring the opposite?” Romana asked.
“Listen and believe me. There are candles that burn dark instead of light when they are touched with fire. They are known as the luminaries, and they can darken all the suns,” Portia said. She already said too much, but it kept flowing from her in her current state.
“How many of these luminaries are there?” Romana asked. Her mind was mathematical, and the number mattered. She was assuming that a higher number usually led to a greater effect.
“I don’t know how many. I’m sorry – or maybe I’m not sorry. I only know how to find one (1) of them, and I know that it must never be found,” Portia said.
“You know how to find it? But you don’t know where it is?” Romana asked.
“It’s complex. There’s a dangerous puzzle to it,” Portia said.
Romana looked at Portia and saw that she carried a vial on a chain around her neck. The vial had the markings of the Medathero Ocean waters so Romana knew that Portia was clever.
“You drink the Medathero waters. Solutions to puzzles come more easily to you,” Romana said.
“There is a room with vases in the Eleventh Hall. It has twenty-four (24) of them. Some have poison inside, some have the dead waters. They’re all marked with numbers,” Portia said.
“What do the numbers mean?” Romana asked. She found this all intriguing – in the most dangerous of ways. She did not delight in this as one would while searching for the solution to a difficult mathematical puzzle.
“The numerical markings on the vases that do not contain poison are coordinates on a map, and those coordinates indicate where the luminary can be found,” Portia said.
“At least that explains why you don’t know exactly where it is,” Romana said, finding this disgustingly clever.
“Others may want to know about their locations. I can’t be sure who, so I have to mislead everyone,” Portia said.
“Be careful. You do know that lying in Emeth leads to execution. The laws are unbending, and not without reason. I don’t want you to die like this. You need to know what His Love is. It will save you,” Romana said.
“I know how to mislead with the truth. Tell many facts that are useless, with ambiguous answers,” Portia said.
“Is that why that man offended you like that? Did you mislead him?” Romana asked, hoping to get at the meaning behind the exchange she witnessed.
“He was asking about diamonds. That’s too close to what I know,” Portia said.
“I thought you said luminaries – those are candles,” Romana said.
“The luminaries are in the form of dark onyx crystals. Any questions about crystal are suspect. I have to mislead and vex people, as best I can. That’s why I work in Emeth, because so much knowledge is there, and there’s always the chance that someone clever will find it,” Portia said.
“What did you say to that man that he accused you of hatred?” Romana asked.
“I don’t remember saying anything that would. I just said the things I usually say,” Portia said. She didn’t really consider her usual insults to be anything extraordinary – certainly not worth the dreadful words that she received in return.
“He read you. We have to go back,” Romana said, alarmed.
“What do you mean? He read my mind?” Portia asked.
“I think so,” Romana said.
“No one ever did that before. How did he?” Portia asked.
“His powers are too strong, and your pain is too great. Hatred weakened you, and he pierced your emotional armor when it became too heavy to bear any longer,” Romana said.
“Even if he read me, he still didn’t learn which vases hold poison,” Portia said.
“He’ll try to find out – his words betrayed a cruel and evil heart,” Romana said.
“There’s only two (2) ways to do it,” Portia said.
“Alchemy takes time, and isn’t always guaranteed except for the most talented, who already drink of the purest Kazofen waters to enable them to analyze substances correctly. He’s a telepath, so he’ll pick the other way,” Romana said, deducing what she meant.
Portia and Romana both left the Scholar’s Hall in a hurry and returned to the Eleventh Hall. They found a crowd gathered around a pile of nine (9) bodies near the hall. Several doctors were present, and they were discussing what they had found. “Cobra ven
om,” one of the doctors said.
A male Chronicler was nearby, recording all of this and writing it down. He recorded the descriptions of the dead.
Portia mentally noted that all of the victims appeared young and under forty (40) years of age. She also saw that they were wearing no water vials, so she knew that they were not waterbound. She reasoned that, if the insolent man had read her mind, he would also have read their minds to find those who were still able to drink freely of any water. That would have been necessary to determine which of the vases held poison.
The Chronicler wrote down the facts of what he saw – that the victims had no water vials – but he did not write any assumptions or inferences into his book.
Romana and Portia both approached the Chronicler and looked at the open page in his book – that was allowed in the Oath so as to see that current facts were recorded accurately.
Portia recognized the Chronicler and spoke to him: “Alonso, Are you just returning from travels and in need of a Verifier?”
“Indeed, I shall be submitting my book to the Verifiers, and then awaiting my next direction,” Alonso said. He was allowed to discuss official protocol of behavior, as that facilitated the service to the Oath and betrayed no confidence.
“After you submit, you need to come with me. There’s something you’re going to want to record,” Portia said.
“My book of Chronicles is not overfilled. I will travel with you at once,” Alonso said.
Portia, Romana and Alonso then entered the Eleventh Hall and went into the room with the vases. Romana looked at the vases and noted the ancient markings of numbers on them.