“Alone, this founding father of our order continues to protect us long after he is gone. He is the arch-model of the High Priest.”
–Teachings of Oreg, High Priest of Baal
“Baal banished Tanniin to the outer realm by thrice pouring blood upon him, once for each pair of wings. Only blood poured out twice, and twice again, can bring him back.”
–Book of Siril, 22nd Apocryphal Act, verses 4-5
Commander Tanios watched Ahiram dive into the cold water of the Lake of Hiding before heading back to Taniir-The-Strong. Tanios breathed deeply as he walked, trying to ease the knot of apprehension gripping him. He chaffed angrily at “the boy’s stubbornness.” But when his anger failed to hide his fears, he tried to distance himself from the Games. He reasoned that he had advised Ahiram against participating in the Games.
What else could I do? he thought. He reminded himself that Ahiram was at the peak of his abilities. He should survive…he repeated several times until his anxiety subsided. As he walked toward the castle, he glanced absentmindedly at the snow-covered peaks of the eastern Tangorian Chain, glittering in the haze of the morning heat. They reminded him of the icy-cold lake where he had seen Ahiram plunge. His fear returned stronger than before, and the lack of a solid lead to apprehend the murderer killing the athletes made matters worse. Royal Road was empty. He glanced at the tall oak trees lining it. The King, at the insistence of the commander, had decreed that destroying one of these trees was a criminal offense, punishable by flogging. During one of Ahiram’s proverbial bouts of anger, he had broken several branches from the trees and smashed them in the middle of the road, making a spectacle of himself. The decree had helped the young man find other, more discrete ways to vent his frustration and anger.
Tanios walked through the main gate and paid no attention to the guard’s salute. He was relieved when a servant told him that Master Habael was waiting for him in the third training area of the Silent Corps.
“Master Habael? Why meet here when Training Area 1 is open?” he asked as soon as he entered the room.
Area 1, was the Silent’s largest training hall, designed for martial arts, hand-to-hand combat, acrobatics, stealth tactics, and endurance. Area 2, was reserved for dart training, and Area 3, the smallest training hall, was filled with dangling cordage, wooden, hollow circles, and pulleys used for all sorts of acrobatics, staff combat, and dart shooting.
“I chose Area 3, because it is windowless, Commander Tanios,” replied the old man, a glint in his eyes. “There is a map I wish to show you,” he added, turning his gaze to a sheet of parchment laying on a table next to a simmering teapot.
“I don’t recall seeing this table here before,” said the commander suspiciously, “and since there is no stove here, how did you get this pot to simmer?”
“I assure you, Commander, this table is perfectly innocent; I brought it from storage,” chuckled Habael, pointing with his chin to a door, “and this teapot was specially designed by the dwarfs for me. It has a double hull with a metallic coil encased between them. When heated, it keeps the tea simmering for much longer than an ordinary teapot. Now, judging by your question about the teapot and the tea, I would say you are worried, are you not?”
“Hot,” said Tanios, “boiling hot.” He set down his cup on the table. “I will breathe better once the Game of Gold has ended and Ahiram comes out alive.”
“Would you like me to pour cold water into your tea?” asked Master Habael. “I can have a jar of fresh water brought here.”
Tanios glared at the old man as if he had asked him to eat stale fish.
Habael laughed. “Now, now, Commander Tanios, you do not have to growl at me so; even the King likes a little cold water in his hot tea.”
“I am not of kingly stock, my dear Habael; I enjoy my tea piping hot. Why do you not leave my tea alone and tell me what you have found, old friend?”
“I have gone over the poem,” said Habael, drawing closer to the table, “and I think it may hold a clue to these murders.”
Tanios was gently blowing on his tea, and his head jerked up when he heard his friend’s reply. “This is surprising. Please, Master Habael, do explain.”
“Glad to oblige,” said Habael, smiling. “Please listen to this excerpt from the poem:
Yet, he silently awaits the day of his strength,
When freedom shall be his at length.
He must, to heal his woes,
Deal Baal four blows,
Four sons, four lives.
By stealth and silver knives
Sprinkle the four corners of the seal,
Break the curse, end his ordeal,
Reveal what was hidden within
At the mighty surging of Tanniin.”
The commander winced, berating his impatience, for the hot tea had burned his tongue. “Too hot,” he growled. “Blasted teapot.”
“What was that?” asked Master Habael innocently.
“What do you make of it, Master Habael?” replied Tanios hastily. “I mean, this bit of the poem. What do you make of it? You know I do not deal well with metaphors. For instance, how can a seal have corners? King Jamiir’s seal produces a round, red smudge of wax. It has no corners. But supposing it did, what would it mean?”
“Perhaps,” suggested Habael, “the word ‘seal’ does not refer, in this case, to the signet that produced it. Instead, it may point to the extent of the power behind it.” Seeing a confused expression on the commander’s face, Habael raised his hand in a gesture of patience and explained further.
“For instance, if the King’s deputy wishes to shut down a tavern, he seals the door with a bit of wax and the King’s signet, yes?” The commander nodded. “The King’s deputy does not need to apply a second seal on the back door of the tavern; once the citizens of Taniir-The-Strong realize that the front door has been sealed, they know not to walk through the back door. Thus, the power of the seal covers the entire structure.”
“If I follow this line of reasoning,” the commander argued, “four drops of blood translate to four corners. You are telling me that the locations of the murders mark the corners of a room. Is that it?”
Master Habael nodded. “It is a bit farfetched,” mused the commander, “but who am I to judge poetry? All right, I can work with this. Tell me, Master Habael, what is in that chamber? How would dropping blood on the corners free Tanniin from Baal? You do not believe this will cause the forces of Baal to withdraw suddenly from the empire, now, do you?”
“Your skepticism is well-founded, Commander, if in fact, this was a political move.”
“Whatever it is, Master Habael, eventually, it will involve sweat, blood, and the clatter of weapons.”
“I may be able to offer an answer, Commander, but first, let us look at the map, shall we?” invited Habael.
Tanios eyed his friend and smiled ruefully. “Sometimes, I wonder who the real king in this place is,” he said, as he drew closer to the table. Carefully, he placed down his cup of tea, then grasped the edge of the table with his hands and leaned forward, his powerful frame overshadowing the map.
“So, there are four drops of blood and four corners,” he muttered. “I had assumed that the precise location of the murders to be irrelevant, but if the murderer killed these men of Baal simply because they happened to be in the right location, well, this changes everything.”
“Exactly,” replied the old man. “Exactly.”
“Thus far, we have two ‘drops,’ if we may call the victims so. One drop occurred in the storage room on the first floor, and the second, in the Queen’s Ballroom on the third floor. Since these ‘drops’ are happening on different levels of the castle, then the height of the drops relative to the corners of the room should not matter, is that not so?”
“I would think not,” said Habael. “What matters is to perform these crimes as close as possible to the corners of the room.”
The commander peered at the parchment and visualized the castle in his mi
nd. “There is no room in the castle whose corners match these locations.”
“Indeed, the room in question must be beneath the castle.”
Tanios nodded approvingly. “So someone is committing these crimes to free Tanniin from Baal. Since the Temple has been tightening its noose around the kingdom, it would stand to reason that a desperate soul in Tanniin has decided to put faith into these old stories and murder two men in cold blood.”
The men exchanged a silent gaze in which they both realized they were thinking the same thing: could the King have killed these men?
Tanios looked at the map once more, and penciled a shaded circle around the location of the two murders. He traced a line joining them. “If the two locations are two corners of a rectangle, then either they are adjacent, or diagonally opposed. In the first case, we do not know where the two other murders will take place, for we have no idea of the length of the other side of the rectangle.” He drew two dotted arrows pointing in opposite directions.
“Still, we know that the two other murders will take place either left or right of the line joining these circles, and inside the band delimited by the four arrows. Master Habael, how big is this room of yours?”
“Difficult to say, Commander. If it is a secret chamber, then it would be relatively small. If, on the other hand, it is a secret temple, then it would be sizeable indeed.”
The commander shrugged his shoulders and grunted in approval. “If these two circles are diagonally opposed, then our task becomes easier, for we would know where the two other murders would take place.” As he said this, he drew two other hollow circles and joined the four together into a diamond. “They would take place at these two locations.”
“Presuming, of course,” added Master Habael, “that the corners of this room are at right angles.”
“A safe assumption, Master Habael, since this is the case in every rectangular room of the royal castle.”
Master Habael nodded. He peered at the map. “Is it to scale?”
“It is a good rendition of the castle,” explained Commander Tanios, “enough to know where everything is in relationship to everything else, but I do not believe it was drawn to scale.”
“Then how can we be sure that the corners of the squares are where they are supposed to be?”
“We cannot be sure, so I am not taking chances. The Silent will be keeping a tight surveillance on all three levels.”
“Commander Tanios, why do you think El-Windiir III abandoned Taniir-On-High and built the castle of Taniir-the-Strong?”
“Huh?” asked the commander, confused. “How is that relevant?”
“Call it a hunch.”
“As far as I know, he thought Taniir-On-High was under a curse, but I have never been able to find out the real reason.”
“If the locations of these murders delineate a secret chamber, then the story of this castle, Taniir-The-Strong, might contain important clues, wouldn’t you say?”
The commander gulped down his tea and served himself a second cup. “Excellent tea, Master Habael,” said the commander after a few sips. “Clues you say? Hmm…that is a possibility. The King’s knowledge on this subject would surprise you.”
“Forgive me for being so bold, Commander, but I believe Her Majesty the Queen may know more about this than His Majesty.”
“The Queen?”
“Yes. She has taken a great interest in the history of these legendary castles and has often questioned me about their history. I would not be surprised in the least if during one of her customary walks up the mountain, she even managed to reach Taniir-On-High.”
“Indeed, my dear Habael, I would not be surprised either. Her Majesty likes trekking up the mountain; the women among my Silent are keenly aware of this. They have told Her Majesty that she should join the Silent Corps, for no one can climb this mountain like she.” Tanios paused for a moment before continuing. “Do you think we should bother Her Majesty with this case?”
“I am certain that Her Majesty would like this mystery solved as soon as possible,” replied Habael.
“Then we will go and see if we can have an audience.”
They left the Silent’s quarters and walked toward the Lone Tower.
“Let us first stop by the Silent’s common area. I need to give a few instructions.”
The two men crossed the Lone Tower and walked into the Silent’s area through the door adjoining the commander’s quarters. Banimelek stepped out of his room just as they walked in.
“Banimelek,” said the commander, “please call the Silent. We have much to do and very little time.”
“Certainly,” replied the young man. He closed his door, which quietly reopened as soon as he let go of the handle.
“Still not fixed, I see,” said the commander, who stood several feet away. Banimelek was startled; Tanios did not see him close the door. “I do not need to look, Banimelek,” he growled. “I can tell from the sound of your footsteps that you stopped and turned around. Get this handle fixed today.”
“Yes, sir,” said the young man.
He knew the commander was a stickler for order. Using a whistle, he sent out three shrill calls. Immediately, the thirty-four Silent came into the common area and stood at attention, forming seven teams. The last one to make it was Jedarc, who was still buckling his belt.
The commander ordered two teams to patrol the second and third floors of the castle, when a new recruit interrupted.
“Sir,” asked Sheheluth, “what are we looking for?”
The Silent stood rigid, wondering how their commander would handle the interruption. Silent were supposed to be just that—silent—unless afforded an occasion to speak. This was a grave breach of their code, but Sheheluth thought the gravity of the hour justified a few questions.
“It’s a loose chicken,” blurted Jedarc. “It escaped the kitchen, and it’s threatening the safety of the castle. No telling what it can do, you know.”
The Silent were stunned by Jedarc’s glib remark. The commander’s eyes bore into the young man, who smiled innocently. “Isn’t it so, Commander?” he asked.
“Two murders have been committed,” replied Tanios calmly. The Silent held their breath, waiting for the punishment that was sure to come. “We have reason to believe two more will take place in short order,” he added. “I want to prevent these crimes. You will protect the team of Baal and apprehend anyone walking in the castle unescorted by our soldiers or by the Silent. Is that understood?”
As he said this, the Commander gazed intently at Sheheluth.
“Yes, sir,” she replied quickly.
“Permission to speak, sir,” said Roman, a tall, third-year Silent.
“Permission granted.”
“Thank you, sir. Question, sir. Does this command extend to the judges, the guests of honor, and the priestess of Baal?”
“Yes, Roman. Very good question. To everyone without exception, and most especially, the priestess. Her murder would amount to a declaration of war. It would be the end of Tanniin as we know it.”
“Yes, sir,” said Roman. “Thank you, sir.”
“Sheheluth?” The commander’s voice was even and steady.
“Yes, sir?” The ebony-skinned young woman was lithe and slim, with wide brown eyes and a smile to light the night. She waited expectantly, hoping her natural charm and youth would excuse her behavior.
“After you finish your shift watching that corridor, you will go down to the kitchen and offer your services to Leifa. The cooks have begun their preparation for the end of Games celebration. Usually, forty or fifty chickens are plucked for this event. You will tell her I want you to pluck the whole pile by yourself, and you will not go back to your room until this chore is complete. Is that understood?”
Sheheluth’s shoulders slumped. She lowered her gaze, swallowed hard, and whispered “Yes, sir.”
“What was that?” asked the commander, his voice rising slightly.
The young woman stood to att
ention. “Yes, sir!” she replied.
The commander nodded. He did not have to glance at Jedarc to know the young man was already regretting his bit of humor.
Tanios directed three more groups to patrol the first level and added, “Jedarc, Banimelek, you’ve got your orders. The rest of the Silent will remain here on stand-by. Any questions?”
There were none. The commander gave a quick bow and all of the Silent responded with a deep bow. He walked out with Master Habael, who noticed that Banimelek’s door was ajar. He closed it discreetly as they stepped outside the Silent’s quarters and back into the main corridor of the castle’s second level.
“You need not protect them, Master Habael. It is their duty to protect this castle.”
“Indeed,” replied Master Habael, “but I do wonder, commander, how will Sheheluth protect the royal castle by plucking thirty chickens. They can’t be too dangerous now, can they?”
The commander glanced at his friend as they walked by the Lone Tower. “I am beginning to wonder if assigning Jedarc to your protection is a good idea. You are acquiring his sense of humor.” The old man chuckled. “Sheheluth’s hands, wrists and arms are still weak. In their present condition she can hardly parry with the staff or put enough power into a dart to hurt anyone fifty feet away. This will provide an excellent training for her.”
“Plucking chickens, you mean?” asked Master Habael.
The commander did not answer. Instead, he walked briskly to the large window at the right of the Officer’s Tower and leaned down to examine the marble floor. Master Habael joined him.
“What is it, Commander?” he asked.
The commander stood up muttering unintelligible words. “Look,” he said indignantly, “look at the floor.”
Habael peered at the floor and only noticed some dirt by the window.
“You mean, the bit of dirt?”
“The bit of dirt? The bit of dirt? It is dirt on the marble floor, and it is a breach of protocol. I shall have a word with the head slaves, they are responsible to keep this floor impeccably clean with no bit of dirt anywhere. If they cannot keep their slaves in check, I shall have both of them flogged.”
Epic Of Ahiram (Book 1) Page 25