The Children of the White Lions: Volume 02 - Prophecy (79 page)

“So we are left puzzling,” muttered Nundle, his face scrunched up in thought. “That being the cut of it…my first thought would be that ‘In the first year when the fifth eon is done’ refers the coming year, yes? This is the four-thousandth, nine-hundred, and ninety-ninth year after the Locking. The first night of the fifth eon is…” He trailed off, his brow furrowing even deeper. “Huh. I don’t know what the day is. I lost track during our trip to the Provinces.”

In a soft and quiet voice, Duchess Aleece said, “Today is the seventeenth day of the Turn of Maeana. There are thirteen days until Year’s End.”

Nikalys mumbled, “Gods. I forgot all about that.”

With a wan grin, Jak said, “You’ve been busy.”

“Many have been,” said Duchess Aleece. “Only a few are doing anything useful, though.” She glanced around the room, a disappointed frown on her face. “The grandest celebration in generations is being planned in Freehaven. Duke Kyle is holding a city-wide gala to usher in the next eon, putting out a call for every playman and merrymaker within the Freelands, Southlands, and Long Coast to come and perform. Two weeks away, and the city is near bursting already. My carriage to Vivienne’s residence took three times as long to make the journey this morning.”

Lady Vivienne gave an angry shake of her head.

“He is like a child hiding beneath the bedcoverings.”

“You have no idea,” said the duchess, frustration coating her every word. “I yet again attempted to bend Kyle’s ear a few days ago and all he wanted to do was talk about the festival. I swear the man will not lift a finger until oligurts are knocking on his door.”

Jak looked up at Broedi and asked, “So does something happen in thirteen days, then? Besides the celebrations in Freehaven?”

Broedi shrugged his shoulders.

“Truthfully? I do not know.”

“That is not the day that concerns me,” said Nundle with worry, “The twenty-first day of Sormina’s Turn does.”

“Why then?” asked Nikalys.

Wren answered, “Because it’s the Third Night of Two Moons.” Looking to Nundle, he asked, “You are thinking of the ‘By the third night with two eyes shining bright’ line?”

“I am,” answered Nundle.

With a nod, Wren conceded, “It would fit.”

Broedi said, “The next line drew most of my attention.”

Tilting his head back, Nundle stared up at Broedi.

“I admit that one has me puzzled quite a bit.”

Lifting a hand, Jak said, “For those of us who have sustained a recent knock to the head, could we go over what that line is again?”

Broedi, Duchess Aleece, Nundle, and Lady Vivienne answered at once.

“The four will hold the names of three.”

Looking around him, Jak muttered, “Bless the Gods, you have good memories.” Turning to Broedi, he asked, “Any chance you know what it means?”

Every pair of eyes turned to him. Taking a step forward, he sat on the corner of Lady Vivienne’s desk, fully aware that the baroness was glaring at his back. Shifting his satchel around to his front, he laid the leather pouch on his lap and rested his arms on top. He was itching to retrieve his pipe and light it, but knew doing so would set Lady Vivienne off, so he pushed the longing aside.

“Recall that I told you that Nelnora shared a fantastic story with me.” He paused a moment and looked around the room before asking, “What do we know of the Locking?”

The question prompted raised eyebrows from nearly everyone.

Duchess Aleece said, “That is an odd question.”

“Indulge me,” rumbled Broedi. “And answer the question. Please.”

Nundle, the ever-flowing fount of information, spoke up almost instantly, saying, “The High Host and those that were Neither battled the Cabal atop a mountaintop. The Cabal were defeated, banished to exist without their bodies or names, and destined to walk the world in mortal bodies. The name to the divine realm was lost forever, trapping the Gods and Goddesses on Terrene.”

Broedi nodded along with the tomble’s answer and said, “All true.” He paused a moment before asking, “What else?”

The group stared at one another, blank expressions ruling them all.

Nikalys spoke first, saying, “I know nothing else. Then again, the Locking was more myth than anything in Yellow Mud. Before meeting you, I thought it merely a way to mark the passage of the years.”

“The same goes in the Boroughs,” said Nundle. “It was a nice story to tell at Leisure Day festivals.”

Both noblewomen nodded quietly, confirming the same was true for them as well. Wren had the sole, unique response.

“I need only go back a handful of generations to find an ancestor who was alive when the Locking happened. I assure you all, it is no myth.”

“Wren is correct,” rumbled Broedi. “It happened. And Nelnora shared with me details of the battle that day. Events that never made it into the legends. One of which is at the heart of our current fight.”

He paused a moment, and stared at the double doors and listened carefully, ensuring the hall was empty. Once he was confident that it was, he continued.

“According to Nelnora, after the battle was over and the Cabal were gone from the mountaintop, nine stones rested upon a chunk of white quartz. Each one made of a single type of pure, concentrated Strands. Fire, Water, Air, Stone, Charge, Life, Soul, Will, and Void. To hear Nelnora tell it, the stones’ power staggered more than a few of the Celystiela there.”

With an appropriate amount of unease, Lady Vivienne asked, “And what were they?”

Twisting around to eye the baroness, Broedi shrugged his shoulders.

“Nelnora claimed that, at the time, none of them knew.”

“And did you believe her?” asked Duchess Aleece.

“I am unsure,” rumbled Broedi. “Judging a Celystiela is like reading a book with your eyes closed.”

Nundle muttered, “One would think she would be open with us. Half-answers and more questions don’t help us.”

“Help us?” repeated Wren. With a dry chuckle, he leaned back against the wall again. “She is not helping us. The Gods and Goddesses help themselves alone. Nelnora—and the rest of them—have but one interest in mind: their own. They do and say whatever they think will get you to do their bidding. We are the means to their ends.” A deep, dark frown spread over his lips. “They are a rotten, twisted bunch. You’d be better served trusting a thief to return a dropped purse than expect an honest word from them. Veracity and the Gods are wax and water.”

Jak swiveled around to face the tijul.

“That seems a bit cynical.”

Broedi rumbled, “I agree with Wren. On the point, not the sentiment. Trusting Nelnora is dangerous, trusting
any
of the Celystiela is. Which is why I do not. However, much of what I share with you today I believe, but only because I have been able to verify her account elsewhere.”

Nikalys asked, “How could you verify anything from five thousand years past?”

Eyeing the young man, Broedi asked with a slight smile, “You wish me to glaze the sweet cakes before baking them?”

Nikalys dipped his chin to his chest and let out a sigh of resignation.

“Continue your story, then.”

Nodding once, Broedi rumbled, “The Celystiela stood upon the mountaintop, staring at the nine stones and discussing what had happened. A number of disagreements broke out, most of which centered on what to do with them. Those of the High Host attempted to claim the stones as their own, promising to use them for the good of all of Terrene. Nelnora—and others—strenuously objected.”

“Why?” asked Jak. “Seems like a decent enough idea.”

“Live long enough, John,” began Wren. “And you’ll find that a lot of evil is done in the name of good.”

Jak glared at Wren again.

“It’s
Jak
.”

After Wren gave a careless shrug of his shoulders, Broedi rumbled, “Wren is correct. Fortunately, the Neither also knew that to be true and agreed with Nelnora that the High Host could not be trusted with the stones. When a consensus could not be reached, they readied to return to their divine realm in order to continue their discussions there.”

A slight furrow appeared in Duchess Aleece’s brow as she said, “But they were trapped here.”

Broedi nodded, saying, “And that was when they realized that fact. Two dozen Celystiela stood on that mountaintop, and not one of them could recall the name. Another disagreement arose. Some of the Neither believed the stones were the cause of their predicament and wanted to destroy them. Others, thinking it all another plot by the Cabal, were afraid to touch them. And, yet again, the High Host made a case to take them for themselves.”

“I don’t understand,” said Nikalys. “How could they be of use to the High Host?”

Glancing over, Nundle said, “Much of the effort in crafting a Weave is both pulling forth the Strands and then maintaining control over them. Now, imagine having an unlimited supply of Strands that you could carry in your pocket. In the wrong hands, such power would be…bad.”

“And Nelnora recognized that,” rumbled Broedi. “When the arguments grew heated, she stepped in and crafted an accord concerning the stones. One that seemed wise at the time, even though it was not. Years later, they discovered their error but, by then, it was too late to undo their decision.”

A low, impatient groan drifted from Wren.

“You and your blasted storytelling. Get to the point.”

Broedi glanced over at the tijul but did not engage him. It was not worth it. Shaking his head, he continued, saying, “In the end, Nelnora managed to craft an agreement acceptable to all the Celystiela. They would hide the stones, and do so in such a manner than none could know of their location. The potential for misuse was too great. But before they did that, they would use the stones’ powers once in order to create a race to serve them while they remained on Terrene.”

“They used the stones to craft the divina?” asked Lady Vivienne. “Considering they did not know the stones’ nature, that seems rather reckless.”

“I said the same thing to Nelnora,” rumbled Broedi. “She said it was a concession she was forced to make to get agreement on how they would go about hiding the stones.”

“How did they do that?” asked Nundle. “From what you’ve said, it sounds like none of them would trust another with that task.”

“You are correct,” said Broedi. “Which is why the Celystiela gave the stones to a group of mortals to do so.”

Jak huffed, “That sounds like an even worse idea than the Gods holding onto them.”

Broedi shook his head.

“Not if the stones were given to a race of beings who would never be tempted by their power.”

“Power corrupts all,” scoffed Wren. “No such beings exist.”

“I assure you they do,” rumbled Broedi.

Pushing himself away from the wall, Wren stood tall and said, “I am as well traveled as you, Broedi, and thrice your age. I have
never
met any such race incapable of falling prey to the lure of power.”

“Correct,” said Broedi. “
You
have not met them. I, however, have.” He paused a moment, looked around the room, and added, “As have the rest of you.”

For a long moment, the room was silent before Lady Vivienne broke the quiet, her voice carrying a note of disbelief.

“They gave they stones to the aicenai?”

Broedi nodded once.

“They did.”

“Hold a moment,” said Jak. “You said a group. Aicenai are rarer than a fish in a tree.”

“Not five thousand years ago. The race was dying, yes, but at the time, there were many times more aicenai alive than today. Being the Watcher of the World, Nelnora was aware of one group in particular who could be trusted with the stones: a monastic order in the peaks of what is now northern Yut. A sect based on the belief that knowledge itself was supreme, not what could be done with it. Believing them to be the answer to their problem, the remaining Celystiela—all twenty-four of them—took the stones to the aicenai order and charged them with two tasks. One, to protect the stones from those who would use them selfishly. And, two, attempt to discover their true nature.”

Duchess Aleece asked, “What prevented the High Host from returning later and taking the stones for themselves?”

“Because they were not there anymore,” rumbled Broedi.

A quiet moment passed before Nundle said, “I’m afraid you’ve lost me.”

Jak raised a hand.

“Me, too.”

A slight smile spread over Broedi’s lips.

“Eighty-one aicenai where chosen from the order, divided into nine groups of nine, and called the Daputa Devet. In the aicenai tongue, it means ‘the Twice Nine.’ One stone was given to each group to study and protect. Once they understood their stone’s nature and origin, they were to return to the Celystiela.”

“Return?” asked Nikalys. “Where did they go?”

“Nelnora had Gaena open nine ports throughout Terrene, one for each group and their stone. Gaena alone knew their original destinations.”

“And they trusted her with that knowledge?” asked Nikalys.

“According to Nelnora, she had been the strongest advocate for separating and hiding the stones.”

“Makes sense,” mumbled Nundle.

“How so?” asked Duchess Aleece.

The tomble shimmied about in his chair to peer around Jak and answered, “The Goddess of Magic would probably want to do whatever she could to keep the stones away from any who might abuse them.”

Nodding, the duchess said, “That does make sense.” She looked back to Broedi and asked, “So what happened to the stones?”

Broedi rose from the desk corner with a sigh and said, “They disappeared. The Daputa Devet performed their task well, remaining hidden as they studied.”

“For how long?” asked Nikalys.

“Eons,” rumbled Broedi.

Skeptical, Lady Vivienne asked, “They remained hidden for thousands of years?”

“Again—according to Nelnora—they did. Civilizations rose and fell. Nations made war and peace. All the while, the Daputa Devet remained out of sight.”

“Khin,” muttered Nikalys.

Surprised, Broedi looked to the young man and found him staring at nothing, deep in thought.

“What did you say?”

Looking up, Nikalys said, “Your conversation with Khin before we left for the Provinces had nothing to do with Kenders’ lessons did it?”