Don Bassingthwaite - The tyranny of ghosts

“But that’s not the story you told me that night,” said Tenquis. “You left something out. There was a third artifact, wasn’t there?”

Ekhaas blinked. “Muut, Duty, the Shield of Nobles, but legends say it was shattered as the Empire of Dhakaan slid toward the Desperate Times-”

Her ears rose sharply. Geth felt his belly twist as he saw the same thing she must have. Even Chetiin’s wrinkled face stretched tight with surprise. On the floor, Kitaas’s shrieks and curses faded into silence. Tenquis nodded at all of them and spoke what they were all thinking. “I said once that artifacts like the rod aren’t destroyed easily, but if the Shield of Nobles could be shattered-”

“So can the rod!” Geth growled. “How?”

Tenquis grimaced. “I don’t know.”

Hope bled out of Geth, but the tiefling shook his head. “I don’t know yet,” he said quickly, “but that’s what I was working with Kitaas to try and figure out. She thought I was just trying to track down the history of another of Taruuzh’s creations.”

Kitaas let out another screech, this one descending into deep choking noises. For a moment, Geth thought she had sucked the gag into her mouth in her struggles. When he checked on her, though, he found her weeping with helpless rage. He looked at Ekhaas but she turned her face away and said to Tenquis, “But Taruuzh has been studied for generations. What did Kitaas bring you? We heard something about a Stela of Rewards and the Rebellion of Lords during the Second Puulta dynasty.”

“Taruuzh has been studied by duur’kala and archivists,” Tenquis said, “not by artificers. You talk about things in metaphors of song and music. We talk about things in metaphors of crafting and alchemy. So did daashor.” He picked up a brittle scroll. “This is an account of Taruuzh’s creations written by a later daashor. ‘And the shield of Taruuzh was sundered by the golden ones of Dhakaan when they fell in the fifth great transformation of thunder returned. The second of the artifacts of the Blood of Night passed beyond this sphere, marking the beginning of the end of Dhakaan.’” Golden eyes looked up. “Does that make any sense to you, Ekhaas?”

Her face twisted. “Some of it. The artifacts of the Blood of Night would be the rod, the sword, and the shield. And the shield was shattered as Dhakaan collapsed.”

“Although when this was written, the author believed that the shattering of the shield was the beginning of the end, not just a part of it.” Tenquis traced the lines of faded text with a fingernail. “The important bit is what he says about who broke the shield and when they did it. In alchemy, gold is the highest state of common being, a state as close to perfect as possible without magic or divinity. ‘Golden ones’ are people of a perfect state. Today we might say they were great thinkers, but among the Dhakaan, they were more likely to be nobility.”

“Not the emperor?” asked Geth.

“Emperors were more than common beings,” Ekhaas said, her ears flicking rapidly. “In legends they’re compared to gems or metals even more precious than gold.”

Tenquis nodded. “So nobles broke the shield as they fell, which Kitaas”-there was a moan from their prisoner-“identified as a reference to the Rebellion of Lords when the nobles of Dhakaan rose up against Saabak, the fifth emperor of the Second Puulta dynasty for a brief time during the late empire. The passing of power from one emperor to another could be seen as a great transformation.”

“And puulta is an old word for the noise of an army on the march, like thunder,” said Chetiin. “The fifth transformation of thunder returned-the fifth succession of the Second Puulta dynasty.”

“Which led us to what you heard when you broke in. Kitaas knew of a history of the late empire that had a very specific reference to Saabak Puulta. She brought it to me today.” He tapped an open book with the end of the scroll. “It confirms what’s in the scroll!”

Ekhaas’s face tightened. “Don’t be so certain. Let me see that.” She picked up the book and, marking the page with her finger, looked at the title and author. Her expression turned grim. “Shaardat the Elder. No wonder Kitaas knew it. Archivists adore Shaardat’s interpretations.”

“So?”

“Duur’kala might cling to tradition, but Shaardat wallowed in it.” Ekhaas set the book down. “I knew I’d heard the expression ‘the time when muut was broken’ before. It survived Shaardat, and it means the nobles rebelled against their duty-their muut-to the emperor and to the people of the empire.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Tenquis. Whatever is written on Giis Puulta’s Stela of Rewards, it’s talking about the breakdown in social order, not literally about the Shield of Nobles.”

Geth watched Tenquis’s mouth open and close as he tried to find a counter-argument, but Chetiin answered before he could. “What if it isn’t?” the old goblin asked thoughtfully. “Stories can contain mistakes that are transmitted across generations. The scroll talks about the shield. Shaardat may have misinterpreted what was written on the stela.”

Tenquis’s eyebrows rose. Ekhaas answered grudgingly. “It’s possible. But even if she did, what does it tell us other than when the Shield of Nobles was shattered?”

“Perhaps there’s more written on the Stela of Rewards.”

“I’ve never heard of the fortress of Zaal Piik before. I have no idea where it would have been located.”

An idea burst over Geth. “But maybe Kitaas did.” He turned back to the paper that Kitaas had tried to destroy. “Tenquis, when Kitaas said she’d brought you the final piece of the puzzle, is this what-?”

He didn’t need to finish the question, and Tenquis didn’t need to answer, because Kitaas went mad with fury. Shrieking behind her gag and writhing against her bonds, she threw her body across the floor like some grotesque worm. Geth and Chetiin hopped out of the way. Kitaas hit the legs of the table hard enough to send books sliding around. One fell onto the scroll-the brittle rolls cracked and split. Another threatened the torn page, but Tenquis caught it. Geth reached down and grabbed Kitaas by the back of her robe, ready to drag her to a safe distance.

Ekhaas stopped him. “No, keep her close,” she said coldly. “She might be useful.” She bent over the bits of paper.

Restraining the still struggling archivist with one arm, Geth looked too. Although Kitaas had done severe damage to the page, a few large pieces were still intact. Tenquis had managed to piece several more sections together. The entire page was covered in the dark, angular characters of Goblin script. Geth gripped Wrath’s hilt with his free hand. Show me, he willed the sword.

Wrath translated spoken Goblin for him with no special command, but Geth had discovered early in his possession of the blade that it could also allow him to read the language. The characters on the page didn’t change to his eyes, but in his mind they shifted suddenly from meaningless scribbles to real words.

The page was a list of artifacts. A Tome Bound in Dragonhide. The Reliquary of Waroot Gar. Seven Blades of Shaarat Kol. A Talon Found in Aarlak. Each was accompanied by a description, some longer, some shorter.

“This is a page from the Register,” said Ekhaas in amazement. She stared at her sister. “You stole a page from the Register and were willing to destroy it rather than let me see it.”

Kitaas’s ears went back. Her eyes blazed rage. A shiver ran through Geth. He almost pushed Kitaas away from him, but just then Tenquis gave a gasp. “Horns of Ohr Kaluun!” He laid several scraps of paper together and lifted his hands away. “It doesn’t matter where Zaal Piik is, Ekhaas. The stela is here in Volaar Draal!”