Barb Hendee - Through Stone and Sea

Each of the seven planks was a forearm's length and two handbreadths wide. They were covered in faded ink marks she'd recognized when she'd found them. Volyno often wrote in Heiltak, an ancient writing system and a forerunner dialect of contemporary Numanese. Wynn was most familiar with it.

She set aside the volume marker and gently separated the top three planks. The first was ragged at the ends, decayed and disintegrated long ago. She scanned what remained, searching for anything that caught her eye. Halfway down the third plank she spotted one oddity—a Sumanese term rendered in Heiltak letters.

Sâ'yminfiäl—the Eaters of Silence.

"What?" Ore-Locks asked.

Wynn hadn't realized she'd sucked in a breath too quickly. "Nothing," she answered.

She traced backward from that term and came upon mention of "thirteen" and "Children." She cracked open ink, dipped her quill, and started reading again from the plank's rotted top.

Too many parts were faded, worn, or darkened with age. She'd find those same missing pieces marked in the translation with dots for obscured words or strokes where the count couldn't be guessed. About to check the second codex for what volumes had been worked on in conjunction with this one, she paused upon a sentence fragment.

… âv Hruse …

It literally meant "of the earth" or "of earth," but the capitalization meant something more. Was it a reference to Earth, as in one of the five Elements? The sentence's first half was unreadable, as was a short bit that followed. Then she saw something more easily translated.

… chair of a lord's song.

It was the same phrase as her own mistaken translation from a term in Chane's scroll. And here it was again, with the same mistake, but written in Heiltak. Il'Sanke's correction had rendered her translation into a reference to Bäalâle Seatt!

Wynn scanned the second codex and found listings for work complete on volume one—sections one through seven, likely referring to the seven planks. Why this was recorded in the second codex and not the first that she'd been shown?

Something else nagged at her. She looked between both codices at the handwriting rather than the entries. There were variations in the first, different people recording scheduled or complete work. But the second was written in one hand only.

It was High-Tower's.

The implication was clear. He'd been the only one to decide on the work she hadn't seen. How many others, even those involved in the project, were unaware of whatever he was doing—and why?

Wynn slammed the first codex shut, keeping only the second, and stared at the third plank. The decayed part between the two fragments wasn't long, but she couldn't be certain they were both part of the same sentence. Digging out any completed translation wouldn't help.

It wouldn't give her useful information to feed Cinder-Shard and the duchess, but she was too obsessed to turn away. When she read onward, other fragments made her neck muscles tighten. Somewhere behind her, Ore-Locks paced intermittently.

Wynn straightened where she knelt, still second-guessing what she was about to do.

Without turning, she asked, "Has the duchess ever been down in the Chamber of the Fallen?"

Ore-Locks's shifting steps stop, instantly.

"No, not down," he answered. "Your presence there … was unprecedented."

That brought some relief. Aside from royal involvement in suppressing the texts' existence, perhaps they didn't know about Ore-Locks's true calling .

"What do you know about Bäalâle Seatt?" she asked.

A long pause followed.

"Only the lie that Thallûhearag … Deep-Root … was its final bane."

Wynn glanced over her shoulder, wishing Chane were here to confirm Ore-Locks's lies.

"I once heard that everyone there was lost," she said carefully, watching his eyes begin to widen. "It was under siege in the war … and even the enemy's forces didn't escape."

Ore-Locks tensed, until a vein stood out upon his left temple.

"Heard?" he whispered, as if he couldn't get a full breath. "Where could you have heard anything of that place?"

Again, she wouldn't give him any more than she had to. Turning back to Volyno's text, she began reading aloud.

"‘ … of Earth …' " she began, then tried to fill in, " ‘beneath the chair of a lord's song … meant to prevail but all ended … halfway eaten in beneath.'"

That last part didn't make sense, but she read onward to what truly mattered.

"‘… even the wéyelokangas … walk in Earth … failed Beloved's will.'"

At Ore-Locks's puzzled expression, she explained.

"Beloved is how the Children referred to the Ancient Enemy, the one your master calls Kêravägh."

His brow furrowed. "What is wéy … lok … ?" he began, faltering on the word.

"It's Numanese, my language," she returned, "but so old that few would recognize it. It means ‘war lockers' or ‘war sealers.'"

Still she saw no understanding in his face.

"Traitors!" she snapped. "Oath breakers who change sides amid a war, giving advantage to the enemy. And they walked in earth … or stone!"

"Lies!" Ore-Locks breathed, as his face flushed in anger.

"They were Stonewalkers!" Wynn shouted back, though obviously he understood. "Your precious Thallûhearag … was Hassäg'kreigi … like you!"

Ore-Locks took a quick thundering step toward her as the sea man rose in the pool, leveling his spear. Wynn was frightened, but she'd never let it show.

"Don't even think of threatening me," she warned. "I'd wager Cinder-Shard doesn't even realize all that you are … not by the way he went after the wraith, one of the enemy's own."

Ore-Locks held his place only an arm's length away. He could kill her quickly enough, but he wouldn't.

She was playing a dangerous game, one Leesil or even Magiere might have tried: Make an enemy afraid of being exposed for worse than anyone suspected. Wait for him to make a mistake he couldn't erase in the sight of others—and finish him.

But just how would she do that when the time came?

"Cinder-Shard is waiting for me," she added coldly. "As is the duchess."

Ore-Locks paled, anger draining.

Wynn began to worry. Did he know what she was up to? Then he raised his hand toward the being in the pool.

That one settled once more, immersed to his slitted throat, just watching her.

"Return to work," Ore-Locks breathed.

Wynn stood her ground, not breaking eye contact, until he finally stepped back. Her hammering heart made it almost hard to breathe as she turned away. She was careful to take every step slowly, as calmly as she could, until she knelt before the chest.

One more question remained, concerning Ore-Locks's brother.

High-Tower had left home—after his brother—to take service at the temple of Feather-Tongue. In the end, that hadn't been enough for whatever drove him. It obviously wasn't some spiritual calling. He'd abandoned that place for a life in the guild—the life of a "scribbler"—a peculiar choice for any dwarf steeped in oral tradition.

Wynn looked at the second codex, written entirely in High Tower's hand.

Certainly others had been involved in its listed translation work, but all under his direction. Was he trying to find the truth of a tainted ancestor—or hiding his family's shame from anyone outside of the guild's walls?

Wynn returned to Volyno's writing, hoping an ancient Noble Dead could speak across centuries to give her answers. It took longer before her hands stopped shaking, so she could turn to the next plank.

Sau'ilahk wallowed in dormancy, drained and beaten down until night came again. Awareness slowly returned, as did memories of recent events.

He had felt his body —as if unwillingly manifested in full—when the dwarf had forced him into the wall. Stone's crush had sent him into terror, and he instantly fled into darkness. But Beloved had been silent amid Sau'ilahk's dormancy, offering no words of assistance or rebuke.