13x02
"These are the earliest Chronicles of War," Lady Tomako said, and held out two pairs of white gloves. "You may not touch them directly. The oils from your skin would deteriorate the ancient –"
Mena nodded at Twiggy, just once, but that faint sign of agreement with Twiggy's pleas was enough. Twiggy turned to the Loremaster.
"Lady Tomako-san, maybe it would help if we told you a little more." She felt the weight of what she was about to say. "We're researching a prophecy."
Lady Tomako frowned. "In that case… you shouldn’t be researching historical events. You should be researching… allusion. Metaphor. Allegory. Words that may not mean what they appear to mean. That is not my field – I have wasted your time. If only I had known more."
"It is my fault," said Mena. "I do not trust easily."
The Loremaster didn't acknowledge Mena's apology. "I will see if one of our experts in religious literature can be troubled to assist you," she said, and strode away. Just before she disappeared down an aisle of shelves, Twiggy heard her mutter, "Heathens."
"If we're doing this," said Mena, "we'll withhold the
prophecy's first verse – the one that sounds Sedellan – and we'll be vague about how we came into possession of it. Above all, we will not discuss Rose. All right?"
Twiggy nodded. Those were reasonable restrictions. She picked up a sheet of paper and wrote out the latter three verses. Now that she'd persuaded Mena to relent, she hoped she'd done the right thing. What if this new Loremaster was angry with them on Lady Tomako's behalf? Plus, the prophecy was more than a bit suspect from a Kettenite perspective, with its talk of ruined walls and breaking stones. What if it offended the Sovereigns? What if revealing it put Rose in more danger?
Then the expert in religious texts appeared, and instantly Twiggy knew everything would be all right. Ahiko-san was a tiny, white-haired man, wrinkled and stooped, with a beaming smile and spectacles like Twiggy’s. He introduced himself and then stood back, rubbing his hands in satisfaction, taking in the sight of them. "This is splendid!" He sat down. "My dear ladies, my dear heathen ladies," he said. "What a treat this is. You, Mena-san, you belong to that sect that stands in the way of trickery, yes? The … let me see now … the Defeaters of the Wind?"
"The Defiers, yes," answered Mena.
"Splendid, splendid," he said. "And – why, I hardly dare to believe it – I'm told you have a prophecy to examine? A real prophecy?"
"Yes," said Twiggy, and handed him the verses with a smile.
He pushed his spectacles up and chuckled in delight. "Never had an actual fresh prophecy. My, my…!"
He read quickly, murmuring to himself.
Then, all at once, his face darkened. When he looked up, his smile was gone. He held out the paper.
"But my dear heathen ladies… We have a terrible problem here."
Twiggy felt hairs on the back of her neck rise and she stopped breathing.
Oh, Gods, Mena was right. It's heretical. He has to arrest us.
Next to her, Mena's body had become taut, battle-ready. "What is the nature of the problem?" she asked, sparks of danger in her voice.
Ahiko-san looked downright tragical. He shook his head. Twiggy braced herself for the man to summon the Inquisition.
"Why, it's incomplete," he said. "You're missing a verse."
They stared at him.
"Do you see?" he continued. "Look here. Three verses, one with Kettenite imagery, one Alirrian, one Ehktian. Plainly, there ought to be a verse for the saint Sedellus, too."
How they ought to answer him was a serious problem, no doubt, but Twiggy was breathing again, nearly smiling in her relief.
"There – there was another verse … " she began, and caught the faintest frown from Mena. "But we – we didn't hear most of it. It was at the beginning – before we could write it down – so we missed some – "
"What a shame. Prophecies are tricky enough without gaps. But what you did hear – was it Sedellan? Wind, change, fortune, trickery? Defier-san, surely you would recognize such things?"
"It was Sedellan imagery," Mena said, smiling a bit herself in warm response to the man's friendly enthusiasm.
"Splendid. All four saints are accounted for – our confusion can be mitigated that much. If one must be ignorant, then it is best to know what one does not know. Now, let me see, let me see.
Break the last stone…"
As the afternoon wore on, they worked their way through the prophecy. Ahiko-san was a great help, first confirming that the words did, indeed, seem metaphorical rather than historical, and then sifting through his wealth of knowledge to pull out possible relevant connections. He commented, for example, that imagery of a vessel in Sovereign texts often suggested a person, a mortal body, who might contain either a special destiny or simply a soul. A
broken vessel, from his Kettenite perspective, suggested a weakened person, but he couldn't be sure that applied in this case. And so on.
When he came to the lines about the "agent," he brightened and tapped the paper. "Here," he said. "I recall a reference in a local priestly journal… let me see… sometime in the last generation, perhaps seventy-five years ago… a scaffold speech, just before an execution, was it? No, no, it wasn't a speech… yes. It was a heretic sentenced to die by exposure, babbling as she suffered. The Adepts recorded the words, of course, and I'm certain she used language about an agent of destruction. You'll need to check with the Inquisitors – the details are in their records."
Twiggy made a careful note of it, wondering how they would ever persuade the bullying Inquisitors to assist them.
In the end, Ahiko-san was so kind and helpful that Mena even asked him about a key word from the "forgotten" first verse: she asked if he knew of any kings in the Sovereignty. He shook his head. "The Lord High Regent is no king, though in our first days of contact with you heathens, our diplomats did occasionally call him such to avoid confusion. But Kettenek is king. The Lord High Regent is just that – a regent."
"How would we meet with him?" asked Twiggy, curious.
Ahiko-san looked shocked and then laughed. "Oh, my dear girl," he said. "Almost no one sees the Lord High Regent. Certainly not outsiders, and very few of us Sovereigns even have cause to visit his city of Divine Mark."
Mena frowned. "
No one sees him? Then how do you know that he's – forgive me – that he's healthy? And uncompromised?"
Twiggy knew that Mena was thinking about the prophecy's reference to a "dying king." She glanced at Ahiko-san a little anxiously.
The man was unperturbed. "
Almost no one sees the Lord High Regent," he reiterated. "Certainly enough people see him to support him and transmit his wishes to Kettenek's people. Any conspiracy whatsoever would involve an unthinkably difficult deception. Surely the same is true of your great rulers?"
Twiggy pictured the subtle political manipulations that complicated Pol Henna and the less-subtle machinations Kormick had described in Dar Und.
At least we get to see the Doge from time to time, though, she thought.
And Kormick has met Four Fathoms. Still, it was hard to maintain much skepticism in the face of Ahiko-san's serene confidence.
They wrapped up their conversation and thanked the Loremaster, promising to visit him again if they had any more questions.
As they walked down the hall away from the library, Mena frowned. "It seems like long odds that the Lord High Regent is our dying king," she said, "but I’d still like to see for myself."
"And I," said Twiggy, "am looking forward to seeing Nyoko-san's face when you ask her to help us get in to see the Lord High Regent."
When they did ask her, over lunch, Nyoko raised her eyebrows higher than Twiggy had thought possible.
###
Nyoko tucked a loose hair into her otherwise perfect bun. These heathens were audacious, she'd give them that. They'd barely spent a full day in Cauldron and already they were being asked to meet with the head of the Inquisition in Cauldron and asking to see the Lord High Regent himself. She suppressed a chuckle. The first was audacious, correct. The second was unthinkable.
Both were a . . . significant change from the group who, just scant weeks before, had seemed suspicious—even hostile—toward the Sovereign state. “Next stop, the Inquisition!” Twiggy had said, when Savina explained Lord Masa-san’s request for assistance with investigating a possible Alirrian heresy.
This is an improvement, I suppose, thought Nyoko.
As the carriage whisked the group through the streets to the Inquisitors’ Hall, Nyoko enjoyed Savina’s delighted exclamations over the finery of the horses, the embroidery on the cushions, and the sheer pleasure of riding rather than walking. She cheerfully explained when Twiggy asked a few questions about her Adept regalia: Nyoko was wearing her full formal robes and makeup for the first time since returning to the city, in acknowledgement of the importance of this meeting. She had arranged for Savina's companions to attend, as well, at Octavian-san's request.
Shadow fell over the carriage windows: they'd arrived. The group fell silent as the coachman opened the carriage door and helped them out. Arden, who'd ridden outside, jumped down and glanced warily around the courtyard.
"Why am I not surprised?" muttered Kormick.
Nyoko could understand the heathens' sudden change of mood: the House of the Ring Of Inquisition into the Lord's True Faith was a forbidding stone fortress, marked by right angles and slit windows. There were no gardens, no trees. It was a building designed to be feared.
Nyoko saw Savina swallow as two Inquisitors approached. They wore gray robes and bore their traditional weapons: the katana and wakizashi. They bowed deeply to Nyoko. She bowed back. "The honored heathens, guests of the Adepts, here to meet with your esteemed leader," she said.
"This way," said one Inquisitor, and led them into the building. They passed down long stone hallways lit only by torches, past Inquisitors who noted their passing with impassive stares.
Finally they arrived at a heavy wooden door. Their guide knocked. Silence.
Twiggy opened her mouth as if to ask a question, and then closed it silently.
Their guide knocked again.
