“What possessed you?” he said, pacing the front hall like a lion in its cage. “Over some cylinder seal? Audrey, I know you share Mother’s passion for your work, but surely nothing can be that important.”
“It wasn’t the seal for its own sake,” I said, wringing my hands. “It was—oh, I can’t even explain it—”
“Try,” he said, in an ominous voice.
So I tried. I told him about the auction, the way Mornett had baited me. “It sounds to me,” Papa said, “like you’re letting your loathing of the man get in the way of your good judgment.”
How could I argue with that? It’s true. But it also isn’t the whole story. “I saw something, though,” I told him. “Right before I heard someone outside the room and tried to hide. On Mornett’s desk—there was a letter to him from Zachary Hallman.”
That brought Papa around like a ship being club-hauled. “The Hadamist leader? The one at the riot?”
“They knew one another at school, and they’re both members of Vine’s. Aaron—Mornett, I mean—he always told me that he and Hallman had drifted apart after school, when Hallman got more rabid about Draconeans.” Say what you will against Mornett (and I could fill the rest of this diary with it, if I had the time and the will), but he’s not a Hadamist. He’s just convinced that Draconeans belong in their place, which is safely cooped up in the mountains on the other side of the world.
Papa said, “You think he was lying?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “That is—no, I think he was sincere when he said it. That was several years ago, but now . . .”
Now he has paid two thousand guineas for a cylinder seal carved with what the trained eye can instantly identify as four figures supplicating, not a god, but an ordinary Draconean queen. It has no significance whatsoever apart from the fact that Mornett, I now remember, very much likes hematite—but if his sympathies really had swung so hard against Draconeans as to align him with Hallman, I can’t imagine him paying so much for one of their relics, much less borrowing from Mrs. Kefford to do it.
Papa smacked the heel of his hand against the wall a few times, then said, “Do you think Mornett had anything to do with that riot?”
At the airfield, when I got my nose broken. “I—I don’t think so, but—”
But I can’t be sure.
Mornett showed up at Stokesley that same night. I assumed his business was the tablets, but that was because I hadn’t thought about his connection to Hallman. What if that, and not the epic, was what brought him there so late at night?
Or both, because it’s all connected.
Papa shook his head, came forward, and cupped my face in his hands, which always makes me feel like I am six years old again, in both the good ways and the bad. He said with quiet intensity, “You didn’t know about the letter when you broke in. It’s pure chance that you found it. Audrey—you can’t go doing things like that. What if Mornett was every bit that bad and more, and he—” Emotion choked off his voice.
Why do I not realize the important things until much too late? Papa’s father, the Grandpapa I never knew, died in circumstances not much different from mine. I want to say that such a thing could never happen here, but the police charge-sheets are full of stories that would prove me wrong. And Mornett . . .
Would he hurt me?
Of course he would, because he has. But I mean hurting me physically. Even when we had that last dreadful argument, the one where I called him every foul name I could think of in every language I know and swore I would never speak to him again, he never raised a hand to me. I don’t think he hates me; at worst I’m a sad little mouse scurrying about in front of an amused cat. No, even that is too predatory an image: I’m a child to him, and he’s an adult. That’s why he felt it was all right to steal my ideas, why he didn’t feel the need to press charges last night.
I didn’t say any of that to Papa. I only hugged him, and apologized, and promised I would apologize to Lotte, and I’m going to have to apologize to Gleinleigh, too, when he finds out I can’t go back to Stokesley yet because I have to stay around to answer those charges of breaking and entering. And I’m sure Mornett has already told him why.
The whole thing is haunting me now. I tried to go to sleep without writing any of this down, because I didn’t really want to face it, but every time I close my eyes, I see Papa’s nightmare scenario. Even if I’m right about Mornett not hurting me . . . what if Hallman had been there when I got caught red-handed? Him I have no doubt about at all.
Can the two of them really be working together? Oh, why couldn’t I have had just a moment longer—enough to read that letter!
From: Alan Preston
To: Simeon Cavall
21 Messis
Makan, Akhia
Dear Simeon,
Do you remember when we were boys and Mr. Bunwell decided to convert his south field from pasturage to oats? He plowed up that old Svaltansk sword, and became convinced he’d found the long-lost site of the Battle of Three Queens. Poor man scoured the field from one end to the other, digging down to the bedrock, but he never found anything apart from that sword: no other weapons, no arrowheads, not so much as a single broken link of chainmail.
I don’t think he ever did figure out how the sword got there. Maybe it was dropped by a fleeing Svaltansk soldier. Maybe it was a souvenir taken by one of the Uainish, whose wife threw it out because she was tired of listening to his war stories. Maybe some children hid it as part of a game, then forgot where it was. Maybe it fell out of the sky.
As you may have guessed, I’m beginning to think Lord Gleinleigh’s cache is the equivalent of old Bunwell’s sword. For all I can tell, it did fall out of the sky.
I can’t claim to have searched the entire Qajr, of course. That would take far more time (not to mention funding) (not to mention patience) than I have. These hills are riddled with little caves and alcoves and crevasses, any one of which could theoretically hold something of interest. But “theory” and “practice” are different things, and so far? I’ve found nothing.
Oh, there are archaeological traces here. Apparently the region was very popular with Tohrimite hermits back in the forty-third century, because we’ve found all manner of evidence for their activities. Which is of great interest to scholars of fifth-millennium Segulist fundamentalist heresy, I’m sure—but not so much for those of us concerned with Draconeans. And I can hardly imagine any Tohrimites taking care to hide away a collection of ancient tablets scribed by the Great Beasts themselves. They’d be far more likely to have smashed them, ground the bits into powder, salted the powder, and scattered the result to the wind.
So maybe I was right to begin with, and Gleinleigh let me come down here because he knew there was nothing left to find. At any rate, as much as it galls me to write the words “I give up” . . . unless you can give me a good reason to keep searching, I think I give up. I don’t mind the climate and ever-present grit of this region when I have something fascinating to distract me, but so far the most interesting thing I’ve found is the cave wall where a Tohrimite scratched a tick mark for every day of his hermitage. (I couldn’t be bothered to count them all, but at a glance, I’d say he was out here for twenty years. Or at least he wanted people to think so.)
I’m going to retire for the moment to Al-Wakhar, where at least there are baths, and await your reply. Write soon, or self-pity will win out and I’ll be on a boat back to Falchester by the time your letter arrives.
More filthy than you can believe,
Alan
From: Ralph Stanyard
To: Cora Fitzarthur
University of Minter
Department of Geology
22 Messis
Dear Miss Fitzarthur,
My apologies for taking so long to respond to your letter of 15 Floris. I must admit your query was an unusual one, as I do not often receive letters from young women regarding prehistoric volcanic eruptions, but it is not as much of a shot in the dark as you s
eemed to think.
I should caution you that it’s difficult to be certain about dates. There are promising new techniques being developed that could assist in determining the ages of geological strata via analysis of isotopes, but these are useful for studying formations we believe to be millions of years old, not mere thousands. For events that recent, we’re limited to the principles of relative dating—decreeing a particular layer to be older than the one above it, and younger than the one below. And since your question concerns a time before writing, we can only make educated guesses as to when any given layer was deposited.
Having said that: within the period you specified, there are two eruptions known that might fit the bill. One is Mt. Dezhnie, a peak in the eastern Vystrani mountains that has since gone extinct. (Or at least we should hope it is extinct, not merely dormant; another eruption on the scale of the prehistoric one would be devastating for central Anthiope.) There’s a substantial ash layer indicating a massive event in the late Novolapidian period, which might be what you’re looking for.
But the cooling effects associated with a large eruption are not confined to the immediate vicinity of that eruption. When Mt. Anagwàande erupted in 5211, scholars from Vidwatha to Akhia noted poor harvests and early frosts for two years afterward. You might therefore consider Mt. Thuano, on the coast of Ikhadsai in Dajin. It erupted around the same time as Mt. Dezhnie in Vystrana—in fact, there was an interesting article published in the Journal of Volcanology that suggests, based on analysis of ash layers, that the two may have been all but simultaneous. (On a geological scale, mind you—this does not mean in the same week. Perhaps a decade or so apart.) I can’t wholeheartedly endorse that theory, but there are signs of truly severe winters around that time, quite out of scale with what you might expect from either eruption on its own; a double punch from two separate volcanoes might explain it.
I hope that answers your question. I confess myself curious as to why a young woman such as yourself has taken an interest in this rather arcane topic, and would be delighted to know the reason for your asking.
Sincerely,
Dr. Ralph Stanyard
FROM THE NOTEBOOK OF CORA FITZARTHUR
Kudshayn is having trouble. It’s a warm summer and he doesn’t breathe well in heat, especially when it gets humid. (Peculiar—that’s the exact opposite of Miss Simpson’s asthma.) He’s been trying to hide it, which is stupid, because I can’t do anything if I don’t know there’s a problem.
Can I do anything now that I know there’s a problem? Uncle left me in charge while he was gone (again), so this is clearly my responsibility.
Kudshayn needs cooler temperatures and drier air. Methods for achieving one or both of these:
1) Fans, either hand-powered or electrical. Pros: very easy to get. Cons: they don’t really cool the air, just make you feel a little bit better.
2) Hang damp curtains and let the water evaporate. Pros: cools the air. Cons: only by a little, and it makes the air more humid.
3) Ship in ice from Svaltan. Pros: makes the air much cooler. Cons: expensive, messy when it melts, and we’d need to keep on shipping it in, since there is no good room for storing that quantity of ice at Stokesley.
4) Contact one of the companies that manufactures ice and buy some from them. Pros: same as above. Cons: same as above, except probably a little cheaper.
5) Find out how the ships that bring meat from places like Otholé keep it from going bad. Pros: if it can keep meat from spoiling, it must be cold enough for Kudshayn, and we would presumably need only one machine. Cons: I don’t know where to get one, and it’s probably very expensive.
Tablet XII: “The Worms Tablet”
translated by Kudshayn
Word1 went out among all the people.2 They had seen the Light of the World vanish and return; they heard now how this came to pass. They heard of the courage of Samšin, the kindness of Nahri, the cleverness of Imalkit, the sacrifice of Ektabr, who dwelt forevermore in the underworld.
Samšin lay beneath the light of the ghost.3 Samšin slept in the silver light. Samšin lay through the night and dreamed.
She dreamt of a tree to the south, green and growing. Beneath the tree lived a mass of worms, a tangled and writhing knot, gnawing at the roots of the tree. She dreamt of a river to the south, blue and swift. At the headwaters of the river lived a mass of worms, a tangled and writhing knot, fouling the waters of the river. She dreamt of a mountain to the south, golden and tall. At the base of the mountain lived a mass of worms, a tangled and writhing knot, shaking the foundations of the mountain.4
Samšin woke, troubled. She gathered her sisters together and said, “I have had a dream. I saw worms to the south, gnawing at the roots of a tree, fouling the waters of a river, shaking the foundations of a mountain. Imalkit, go and see what you can learn of this.” Imalkit cupped her wings about her body and obeyed.
Samšin was still troubled. She said, “We have regained the Light of the World, but we still do not know how it was lost. We do not know if it will happen again. Nahri, go to our people and tell them to come to me, so that we may take counsel and plan.” Nahri cupped her wings about her body and obeyed.5
The people came together at the place called Crescent Lake. Samšin organized them according to their skills, according to their age. She established deference and courtesy6 among them. Some of the people protested, saying, “It has never been this way before.” Samšin said, “Before, we dwelt always under the Light of the World. But when it was lost, who among you fought the star demons? Who descended to the underworld to bring it back? Who faced torments among the dead; who fought the khashetta? Who bargained with the Crown of the Abyss to return the Maker of Above and Below to the sky?” They cupped their wings about their bodies and were silent.
Imalkit returned while the chief among them were in council. She said, “I have been to the south, to the land of the worms of my sister’s dream. There are creatures there, like and yet unlike people, called the āmu, created by the Foundation of All to crawl upon the earth.”
Samšin said, “You have not said all. What do you keep back?”
Imalkit said, “These creatures know that we are favoured by the Maker of Above and Below. They know they were considered unworthy by the Three, and so jealousy eats away at their hearts.”
Samšin said, “You have not said all. What do you keep back?”
Imalkit said, “There is a mountain in their lands that vomits forth fire and ash.”
Samšin said, “You have not said all. What do you keep back?”
Imalkit said, “These creatures dug into the depths of the mountain until it grew enraged. It was this mountain that ate7 the Light of the World, sending it down to be caged by the Crown of the Abyss.”
When they heard this, the members of the council fell into an uproar. They did not know what to do about these creatures to the south. Many among them were afraid, and many more were angry, condemning them to the underworld for their crime. For many days they argued.
Tayyit emerged as a leader among them, who had been a sheltering wing to the four when they were young. She said, “Let us send messengers to these creatures. Let us tell them of your deeds in retrieving the Light of the World, of the price your brother Ektabr paid to bring it back. Let them marvel at your skill and your power. They will fear us and commit such crimes no more.” But others cried out against her, saying that any messengers would be killed.
Upādat spoke for another group, those who argued for caution. She said, “Let us flee to the north, away from these creatures. Let us go where they cannot find us. If they are so heartless as to strike at the Maker of Above and Below, they will not hesitate to do the same to us. We must go to where we will be safe.” But others cried out against her, saying that no corner of the earth was safe from those made by the Foundation of All.
There was a third group, led by Abikri, who insisted that nothing need be done. She said, “Let us remain as we are. They have tried already to d
estroy the Light of the World, and they have failed; it will not be caught so easily a second time. We have nothing to fear from these creatures, who are worms crawling on the ground compared to us.”
Samšin rose. She stood before them, brave Samšin, noble Samšin, fiercest of the four, and she said, “Worms they may be, but shall they escape justice for their crime? Are we so lacking in devotion to our creator that we will let their sin pass unpunished, simply because it cannot be done a second time? Are we so lacking in courage that we must flee from creatures whose only true strength lies in envy and malice? Are we so pitiably weak that we must speak to them with our wings folded about our bodies, showing respect where they have earned none?”
All fell silent. She said, “We are neither weak, nor cowardly, nor lacking in devotion. We will show these creatures to the south why we were created by the Maker of Above and Below. We will go in force among them and make them pay for their blasphemy. We will come to them as a claw of light, because I have brought justice into the world, and justice demands that we answer.”
1 Here the style shifts again, as before.—K
2 How many Draconeans would there have been back then?—CF
It is difficult to say. This does not depict accurate history as we would think of it; quite apart from matters like three sisters inventing metal-working, agriculture, and legal systems overnight, I do not think the world as it is described can be considered anything other than mythic representation. We have no evidence that there was ever a widespread community of Anevrai living separate from human contact; on the contrary, the evidence we have suggests that they always existed in the context of human society, and only later came to be numerous enough to rule over the civilization whose ruins we know today. I think this story depicts very much an idealized scenario.—K
3 The ancient word for “moon” is arweh. Lord Trent speculated, based on the Qurrat Fragment, that this was etymologically related to the root for “ghost”; based on what we have read in this tale, I think that is true, and have translated the term accordingly here.—K
Turning Darkness into Light Page 20