Lazybones
Adventurer
Chapter 156
Tamrek’s words had cast a pall over the gathering, but after a moment’s pause Konstantin continued his tale.
“There exists a book of magic,” Konstantin continued. “It has many names. We called it the Elderlore Libram. In some accounts it is referred to as the Tome of Secrets.”
“I have heard the latter name,” Quellan said. “But only as a vague legend.”
“We have preferred that it remain that way,” Konstantin said. “But in this case, the legends only impart a small fraction of the ultimate truth.”
“The book is incredibly ancient,” the wizard went on. “The consensus of the scholars among us is that it was written several thousand years ago, during the height of the Mai’i Empire. There are some fairly definitive records that reference it from that era, at least. Some say it is even older than that, and that it existed when the Mai’i first established the kingdom that would grow, over the course of three thousand years, into the Empire.”
“That’s pretty old,” Glori said.
The Gavelmaster continued the account. “When the Mai’i fell, the book was lost,” the aged gnome said. “But it turned up again some centuries ago, on the Weltarin continent.”
“The new lands?” Glori said. “But… how did it even get there? The first expeditions to the other continent didn’t even happen until the Mai’i were long gone.”
“We do not fully understand it ourselves,” Konstantin said. “But the early explorers found ruins of an ancient civilization on Weltarin that date back thousands of years. The Libram was found in one such place by a Syvalian explorer.”
Several sets of eyes flicked briefly to Xeeta, before Konstantin continued.
“The book passed through several sets of hands before it ended up in Arresh. We tried to piece together the histories of those to whom it traveled before it found its way to us, but the only common thread that we could gather was that all of them perished in an unusual and notable manner.”
“Wait a moment,” Glori said. “What is this book, exactly? What’s in it? Is it some kind of spellbook or something?”
Konstantin nodded as if he’d expected the question. “Of sorts. The Libram is a collection of ancient lore. Magical knowledge of incredible richness and detail. The book contains an incredible number of secrets of the multiverse and how it functions.”
“Multiverse?” Kosk asked.
“Planar lore,” Quellan said. “Otherworldly entities; gods, demons, and everything in between.”
“So summoning spells and the like,” the dwarf said.
“That is definitely part of it,” Konstantin said. “Though that is only a fraction of what the book includes.”
“If it’s as old as you say, it must have been really hard to decipher,” Glori suggested.
There was a pause, then a meangingful side-glance between the wizards.
“Go on,” Bredan said. There was more than a hint of command in his voice, and again Glori started at the changes her friend had undergone since they’d set out from Crosspath what seemed like so long ago.
“Part of the nature of the book is that it wants to be understood,” Konstantin finally said.
“You speak almost as if it is alive,” Xeeta said.
“Not precisely,” Konstantin said. He looked thoughtful for a moment, then added, “The book came to us at a critical time for the kingdom, and for the entire continent, really,” Konstantin said. “Its power was instrumental in the defeat of the Dead King. The histories focus on the physical might of the Three Armies—humans, elves, and dwarves, all working together—but in the end it was potent magic that enabled us to overcome the dark power of the death lords.”
“But the alliance didn’t last very long, once the threat was over,” Quellan said.
“No. The Libram, in fact, was part of the reason. It was too rich a prize, and the elves and dwarves feared what might happen if the human kings were allowed to maintain permanent possession of the artifact.”
“So it’s got some powerful spells in it,” Bredan said. “You still haven’t answered Xeeta’s question.”
Javerin replied before Konstantin could craft an answer. “The contents of the book change,” she said. “It rewrites itself. That’s how we could read it despite the gap in language. The text shifts to suit the needs of the user. Sometimes in ways she may not even consciously understand.”
“It is intelligent?” Quellan asked. “Is that even possible?”
“I do not think it is intelligent in the way that we think of the term,” Konstantin said. “But the wizards who worked with it quickly learned that the text would read differently based on the reader. The differences were subtle at first but became more significant over time. Over time, they also began to notice changes in those who used it frequently.”
“What kind of changes?” Glori asked.
“Shifts in mood. Odd behaviors. In a few cases, symptoms of mental illness. Those closest to the book seemed to become almost addicted to it, as if it was some sort of drug that they came to crave. There was more than one attempt to steal it. There are some accounts that suggest that the disease that claimed King Alephron’s mind was related somehow to the book. There are multiple accounts of him consulting it repeatedly in the latter stages of the war.”
“You couldn’t control it,” Bredan said. “Its knowledge, the power it represented, it was too dangerous.”
“The alliance—already starting to fragment at this point—agreed that the book was too dangerous to leave freely accessible. Alephron’s son, King Galvis, knew that his people could not withstand another war, not so soon after the suffering wrought by the Dead King’s minions.”
“The leaders of the three nations collaborated in one final task, an effort that would remain secret to all but a very few. They sealed the Libram in a magical vault, hidden under Severon. The dwarves built the place, using all of their canny knowledge of engineering. The elves provided a potent warding, a living magic that sustained itself against intrusion. The humans pledged to guard the site, keeping the place secret and secure against a future date when the power of the book might be needed again. Those protections have never failed, and remain in place to this day.”
“If this vault is so secure, how did they plan to get it open again, if and when this future danger appeared?” Glori asked.
“The creators of the vault also created a magical key in three parts, all of which were needed to bypass the physical and magical locks and open it. One of the pieces of the key went to each of the three races. This way, they would all have to agree in order to access the interior of the vault and the book.”
“If these seals are so strong, how do you even know the book’s even in there?” Bredan asked.
“The creators of the vault added one final feature,” Konstantin said. “The highest wizards among both the elves and the humans collaborated to create a magical tablet. They called it the Revelation Stone. The Stone was connected to the Libram, a binding that remained in force even after the doors of the vault were sealed and the warding put in place. The Stone was installed outside the vault. It allowed wizards to inscribe queries upon the Stone, and the Libram would respond.”
“Communication!” Quellan exclaimed. “That would indicate intelligence, would it not?”
“The exchanges were not true conversations,” Javerin said. She seemed to be getting irate at the length of Konstantin’s explanation. “The Stone was more of an index, to allow the wizards to access the knowledge in the book.”
“How did you keep all of this secret?” Quellan asked. “There must have been hundreds if not thousands of people involved in this project. The construction of this vault alone… people tend to notice large construction projects taking place in their neighborhood!”
“There was still a lot of rebuilding going on in the aftermath of the war, so there were ample opportunities to conceal the true purpose of the work. But you’re right, it was quite difficult, at least early on,” Konstantin acknowledged. “But as the years crept on into decades, and the decades into centuries, people went about their lives and forgot about the Libram. The wizards of the Apernium were responsible for maintaining the guard on the vault, and they knew that obscurity was as useful a tool as armed sentries.”
“But you had the sentries as well,” Bredan said.
“Yes,” Konstantin said.
“A specialized force, to guard the vault where you kept your book hidden.”
“It was not ‘our’ book, but yes,” Konstantin said. “And before you ask, yes, that was the genesis of the Silver Gauntlet.”
There was a moment of silence at that announcement, as the companions digested that nugget of information. Finally Glori asked, “So what went wrong?”
“I’m sorry?” Konstantin asked.
“Obviously something went wrong, or we wouldn’t be here talking about this,” Glori said. “So what happened next?”
“For centuries, nothing happened,” Konstantin said. “Only a very few individuals within the Apernium even knew of the vault, and just a handful were authorized to use the Revelation Stone. Occasionally an emissary from the dwarves or elves came to Severon to petition the king for access, a right included in the secret addendum to their final treaty. But the Stone proved to be an imperfect medium for transmitting information. Without the direct connection between the book and its user, the lore it provided was fragmentary and confusing. The elves and dwarves accused the humans and each other of interference, but ultimately they had to admit that the flaws were inherent in the nature of their construction. For a time, it looked as though they might agree to reopen the vault, but as the relations between the three nations continued to decline the likelihood of that faded. With each passing decade there were fewer visits to the vault, and finally none at all for over a century, except by its guardians.”
“The Gauntlet,” Glori said, with a glance over at Bredan.
“Yes,” Konstantin said. “The trouble began with some of the guardians of the vault. They began acting… strangely. Eventually a faction within the Gauntlet formed a plot to break into the vault and steal the Libram.”
“How could they get into it, without the key?” Glori asked. “You said the place was impenetrable, between the dwarven engineering and the elves’ magic.”
“Nothing’s impenetrable,” Kosk said. “If living hands built it, living hands could find a way to get through it.”
“We never did learn the full details of the plot, or how they intended to bypass all of the protections of the vault,” Konstantin said. “The plot was revealed before its leaders could put their plans into effect. It was loyal members of the Gauntlet who eventually detected the treason and brought into the attention of the wizards. One of those loyal ones was your father, Bredan.”
“And you rewarded him by throwing him out,” Bredan said.
“It was not that simple,” Konstantin said. “Your father chose to leave, after the Gauntlet was disbanded. He was still young, and we would have found him something else, another outlet for his skills, but he’d done his duty and wished to move on with his life.”
“So, since you disbanded the Gauntlet, who’s been guarding the book?” Glori asked.
“We’ve shifted to magical surveillance of the vault,” the Gavelmaster said. “Augmented by more mundane security measures. We still have guards, they just keep their distance.”
“And you’re not concerned about having something in your city that makes people go bleeding nuts?” Kosk asked.
“With all due respect, I think we have more expertise in the matter than you, master dwarf,” Javerin said dryly.
“What made you decide to track my father down again?” Bredan asked.
“Excuse me?” Konstantin asked.
“I assume that’s how you found me,” Bredan said. “You said that you had been sent to find me specifically, both in the Silverpeak and just now, at the start of the meeting.”
“Ah,” Konstantin said. “No, that’s not exactly what I meant.”
“Why don’t you tell me what you meant, then,” Bredan said. “Why am I so important? Why did you come looking for me?”
Tamrek’s words had cast a pall over the gathering, but after a moment’s pause Konstantin continued his tale.
“There exists a book of magic,” Konstantin continued. “It has many names. We called it the Elderlore Libram. In some accounts it is referred to as the Tome of Secrets.”
“I have heard the latter name,” Quellan said. “But only as a vague legend.”
“We have preferred that it remain that way,” Konstantin said. “But in this case, the legends only impart a small fraction of the ultimate truth.”
“The book is incredibly ancient,” the wizard went on. “The consensus of the scholars among us is that it was written several thousand years ago, during the height of the Mai’i Empire. There are some fairly definitive records that reference it from that era, at least. Some say it is even older than that, and that it existed when the Mai’i first established the kingdom that would grow, over the course of three thousand years, into the Empire.”
“That’s pretty old,” Glori said.
The Gavelmaster continued the account. “When the Mai’i fell, the book was lost,” the aged gnome said. “But it turned up again some centuries ago, on the Weltarin continent.”
“The new lands?” Glori said. “But… how did it even get there? The first expeditions to the other continent didn’t even happen until the Mai’i were long gone.”
“We do not fully understand it ourselves,” Konstantin said. “But the early explorers found ruins of an ancient civilization on Weltarin that date back thousands of years. The Libram was found in one such place by a Syvalian explorer.”
Several sets of eyes flicked briefly to Xeeta, before Konstantin continued.
“The book passed through several sets of hands before it ended up in Arresh. We tried to piece together the histories of those to whom it traveled before it found its way to us, but the only common thread that we could gather was that all of them perished in an unusual and notable manner.”
“Wait a moment,” Glori said. “What is this book, exactly? What’s in it? Is it some kind of spellbook or something?”
Konstantin nodded as if he’d expected the question. “Of sorts. The Libram is a collection of ancient lore. Magical knowledge of incredible richness and detail. The book contains an incredible number of secrets of the multiverse and how it functions.”
“Multiverse?” Kosk asked.
“Planar lore,” Quellan said. “Otherworldly entities; gods, demons, and everything in between.”
“So summoning spells and the like,” the dwarf said.
“That is definitely part of it,” Konstantin said. “Though that is only a fraction of what the book includes.”
“If it’s as old as you say, it must have been really hard to decipher,” Glori suggested.
There was a pause, then a meangingful side-glance between the wizards.
“Go on,” Bredan said. There was more than a hint of command in his voice, and again Glori started at the changes her friend had undergone since they’d set out from Crosspath what seemed like so long ago.
“Part of the nature of the book is that it wants to be understood,” Konstantin finally said.
“You speak almost as if it is alive,” Xeeta said.
“Not precisely,” Konstantin said. He looked thoughtful for a moment, then added, “The book came to us at a critical time for the kingdom, and for the entire continent, really,” Konstantin said. “Its power was instrumental in the defeat of the Dead King. The histories focus on the physical might of the Three Armies—humans, elves, and dwarves, all working together—but in the end it was potent magic that enabled us to overcome the dark power of the death lords.”
“But the alliance didn’t last very long, once the threat was over,” Quellan said.
“No. The Libram, in fact, was part of the reason. It was too rich a prize, and the elves and dwarves feared what might happen if the human kings were allowed to maintain permanent possession of the artifact.”
“So it’s got some powerful spells in it,” Bredan said. “You still haven’t answered Xeeta’s question.”
Javerin replied before Konstantin could craft an answer. “The contents of the book change,” she said. “It rewrites itself. That’s how we could read it despite the gap in language. The text shifts to suit the needs of the user. Sometimes in ways she may not even consciously understand.”
“It is intelligent?” Quellan asked. “Is that even possible?”
“I do not think it is intelligent in the way that we think of the term,” Konstantin said. “But the wizards who worked with it quickly learned that the text would read differently based on the reader. The differences were subtle at first but became more significant over time. Over time, they also began to notice changes in those who used it frequently.”
“What kind of changes?” Glori asked.
“Shifts in mood. Odd behaviors. In a few cases, symptoms of mental illness. Those closest to the book seemed to become almost addicted to it, as if it was some sort of drug that they came to crave. There was more than one attempt to steal it. There are some accounts that suggest that the disease that claimed King Alephron’s mind was related somehow to the book. There are multiple accounts of him consulting it repeatedly in the latter stages of the war.”
“You couldn’t control it,” Bredan said. “Its knowledge, the power it represented, it was too dangerous.”
“The alliance—already starting to fragment at this point—agreed that the book was too dangerous to leave freely accessible. Alephron’s son, King Galvis, knew that his people could not withstand another war, not so soon after the suffering wrought by the Dead King’s minions.”
“The leaders of the three nations collaborated in one final task, an effort that would remain secret to all but a very few. They sealed the Libram in a magical vault, hidden under Severon. The dwarves built the place, using all of their canny knowledge of engineering. The elves provided a potent warding, a living magic that sustained itself against intrusion. The humans pledged to guard the site, keeping the place secret and secure against a future date when the power of the book might be needed again. Those protections have never failed, and remain in place to this day.”
“If this vault is so secure, how did they plan to get it open again, if and when this future danger appeared?” Glori asked.
“The creators of the vault also created a magical key in three parts, all of which were needed to bypass the physical and magical locks and open it. One of the pieces of the key went to each of the three races. This way, they would all have to agree in order to access the interior of the vault and the book.”
“If these seals are so strong, how do you even know the book’s even in there?” Bredan asked.
“The creators of the vault added one final feature,” Konstantin said. “The highest wizards among both the elves and the humans collaborated to create a magical tablet. They called it the Revelation Stone. The Stone was connected to the Libram, a binding that remained in force even after the doors of the vault were sealed and the warding put in place. The Stone was installed outside the vault. It allowed wizards to inscribe queries upon the Stone, and the Libram would respond.”
“Communication!” Quellan exclaimed. “That would indicate intelligence, would it not?”
“The exchanges were not true conversations,” Javerin said. She seemed to be getting irate at the length of Konstantin’s explanation. “The Stone was more of an index, to allow the wizards to access the knowledge in the book.”
“How did you keep all of this secret?” Quellan asked. “There must have been hundreds if not thousands of people involved in this project. The construction of this vault alone… people tend to notice large construction projects taking place in their neighborhood!”
“There was still a lot of rebuilding going on in the aftermath of the war, so there were ample opportunities to conceal the true purpose of the work. But you’re right, it was quite difficult, at least early on,” Konstantin acknowledged. “But as the years crept on into decades, and the decades into centuries, people went about their lives and forgot about the Libram. The wizards of the Apernium were responsible for maintaining the guard on the vault, and they knew that obscurity was as useful a tool as armed sentries.”
“But you had the sentries as well,” Bredan said.
“Yes,” Konstantin said.
“A specialized force, to guard the vault where you kept your book hidden.”
“It was not ‘our’ book, but yes,” Konstantin said. “And before you ask, yes, that was the genesis of the Silver Gauntlet.”
There was a moment of silence at that announcement, as the companions digested that nugget of information. Finally Glori asked, “So what went wrong?”
“I’m sorry?” Konstantin asked.
“Obviously something went wrong, or we wouldn’t be here talking about this,” Glori said. “So what happened next?”
“For centuries, nothing happened,” Konstantin said. “Only a very few individuals within the Apernium even knew of the vault, and just a handful were authorized to use the Revelation Stone. Occasionally an emissary from the dwarves or elves came to Severon to petition the king for access, a right included in the secret addendum to their final treaty. But the Stone proved to be an imperfect medium for transmitting information. Without the direct connection between the book and its user, the lore it provided was fragmentary and confusing. The elves and dwarves accused the humans and each other of interference, but ultimately they had to admit that the flaws were inherent in the nature of their construction. For a time, it looked as though they might agree to reopen the vault, but as the relations between the three nations continued to decline the likelihood of that faded. With each passing decade there were fewer visits to the vault, and finally none at all for over a century, except by its guardians.”
“The Gauntlet,” Glori said, with a glance over at Bredan.
“Yes,” Konstantin said. “The trouble began with some of the guardians of the vault. They began acting… strangely. Eventually a faction within the Gauntlet formed a plot to break into the vault and steal the Libram.”
“How could they get into it, without the key?” Glori asked. “You said the place was impenetrable, between the dwarven engineering and the elves’ magic.”
“Nothing’s impenetrable,” Kosk said. “If living hands built it, living hands could find a way to get through it.”
“We never did learn the full details of the plot, or how they intended to bypass all of the protections of the vault,” Konstantin said. “The plot was revealed before its leaders could put their plans into effect. It was loyal members of the Gauntlet who eventually detected the treason and brought into the attention of the wizards. One of those loyal ones was your father, Bredan.”
“And you rewarded him by throwing him out,” Bredan said.
“It was not that simple,” Konstantin said. “Your father chose to leave, after the Gauntlet was disbanded. He was still young, and we would have found him something else, another outlet for his skills, but he’d done his duty and wished to move on with his life.”
“So, since you disbanded the Gauntlet, who’s been guarding the book?” Glori asked.
“We’ve shifted to magical surveillance of the vault,” the Gavelmaster said. “Augmented by more mundane security measures. We still have guards, they just keep their distance.”
“And you’re not concerned about having something in your city that makes people go bleeding nuts?” Kosk asked.
“With all due respect, I think we have more expertise in the matter than you, master dwarf,” Javerin said dryly.
“What made you decide to track my father down again?” Bredan asked.
“Excuse me?” Konstantin asked.
“I assume that’s how you found me,” Bredan said. “You said that you had been sent to find me specifically, both in the Silverpeak and just now, at the start of the meeting.”
“Ah,” Konstantin said. “No, that’s not exactly what I meant.”
“Why don’t you tell me what you meant, then,” Bredan said. “Why am I so important? Why did you come looking for me?”