[written down by Johana Passerin]
When they arrived at the Faculty of Magic, they ascended to the sixth floor, where the office of Halit Altun, the Dean of the University, sat at the end of a familiar corridor. With slow, clerical steps, they headed toward his door. A young man stood there, clutching an armful of scrolls—clearly also intending to see Altun. Klaes cursed under his breath. The student turned just then and spotted the three figures.
“Are you here to see the Dean as well? I’m bringing him something, but I mixed up the consultation hours.”
“Yes, we’re going to his office. He’s lecturing right now; we need to pick something up for him,” Klaes said.
“Oh, I forgot he had a lecture at this hour. Could you please put these on his desk?” the confused student asked, handing the scrolls to Klaes. Loverd promptly took them from him.
“Certainly,” Klaes replied, trying to suppress his nervousness.
“And what is your name, so I know who I’ve entrusted them to? I have to run back to my lecture.”
“Furkan Ege,” Klaes said after a moment’s hesitation, Regretting that they hadn’t had time to prepare their cover identities better.
“And where do you teach?” the student pried.
“I don’t teach,” Klaes hissed through his teeth. Fox, in the form of a demonic cat, rubbed against the student’s legs and attempted to make a purring sound—the kind a demonic cat might make. She managed to somewhat dampen the student’s gregarious mood.
“Oh, I see, you must be the new one from the international department, right?”
“Right, international,” Klaes brushed him off as Fox continued to weave between the student’s feet. The student finally made to leave, but he looked back several times to see what they were doing. Klaes pulled a key from his pocket, inserted it into the lock, and turned it twice. The door opened.
Klaes turned to Vedrax and said loudly: “Porter, wait here until we find what the Dean needs brought to him. Knock if anything happens.” Vedrax murmured something in agreement and stood at attention by the door.
“But drop the military posture,” Klaes whispered in his ear before they stepped inside and closed the door behind them.
Klaes put on his glasses and began inspecting the room. He assumed that whatever was important to Altun would be clearly entwined with threads of fate. There were many such threads here, especially power-lines that wove densely from place to place. Those, however, did not interest Klaes. Then there were the fate-threads that led to a wall cabinet and a desk drawer.
Klaes bent down to the drawer and opened it. Inside lay wands, ampoules, and other magical trinkets. And the shrunken heads of some sort of beings—what kind, Klaes didn’t have time to find out. The heads began to babble in low voices, and one suddenly spat a firebolt at him. Klaes jumped back and kicked the drawer shut. The bolt narrowly missed him and hit a shelf of maps on the opposite side, which began to burn. Loverd extinguished them.
“Well, now there’s no hiding that we’ve been rummaging through his things,” Klaes stated indignantly and turned to the wall cabinet. It was a shelf of magical potions, but the threads of fate led behind it. Carefully, so as not to spill the vials, he removed the shelf from the wall. He noticed vials labeled as first-aid medicines and slipped them into his pocket. Behind the wall shelf was a secret wall safe. The mahogany door was covered in magical symbols and had no keyhole, only a small handle. Threads of fate led in all directions. Klaes stared at the door for a moment before recognizing the archaic Xalgonian script forming a summoning spell.
“What now? Fox, what does your intuition say?”
Fox also stared at the door, caught a scent, and then said: “The essence of defense is fear. Overcoming it means loss or sacrifice.”
“Uh-oh, so this probably won’t be easy at all,” Klaes smirked and cautiously raised his hand with Fox’s all-unlocking key. Immediately, he felt the defensive mechanisms wake up on the other side. He touched the key to the door. Nothing happened. Maybe it isn’t locked, and the protection is of a different kind, Klaes thought. He turned to Loverd.
“It seems there are very important items for Altun inside. Perhaps even the text by my teacher, Zeilet. But I can’t think of anything else but to simply open it.”
Loverd nodded. Klaes reached for the handle and pulled. The door opened with a light sigh as air rushed in. A demonic figure appeared before Klaes.
“Password!” it uttered.
“Zeilet,” said Klaes, cold sweat breaking out on his forehead.
The demon shook its head and repeated: “Password.”
“Ignotium,” Klaes said.
The demon froze as if thinking. Klaes peered into the safe. He saw a folder and recognized Zeilet’s handwriting on the cover. He lunged forward, grabbed the folder, and slammed the door. The demonic figure, however, did not disappear. It remained standing there motionlessly, staring ahead. Klaes, Loverd, and Fox retreated toward the door. They closed and locked it behind them in a civilized manner, but the moment Klaes pulled the key from the lock, a deafening blast rang out. The door shook and began to smolder. Another blast followed. By then, they were already sprinting down the hallway. The flaming demonic figure was hot on their heels.
The demon was taller and more massive than an ordinary man. It had long arms and legs and blazed with a fiery red glow. Its elongated face with two pairs of eyes was terrifying: one pair glowed red, the other yellow. When it burst through the door, black smoke billowed into the corridor. They could hear the roar of flames.
Everyone ran for the stairs. As he ran, Klaes shouted: “In the name of the University, stop! Halt! We are Heroes of Xalgon! We have diplomatic immunity!” He waved his ring. The demon hesitated for a second but then continued to hunt them.
Klaes fished in his coat pocket and felt an incendiary cartridge for his pipe. He didn’t have the pipe with him, of course. He mentally scolded himself for walking into Altun’s office completely unarmed, for not checking the details—they had simply trusted Nazqawn blindly. How could we have been so naive! he cursed, primed the incendiary cartridge, and threw it behind him at the demon. It exploded, but the monster’s armor resisted it without trouble. In the next moment, something horrific happened: something detached from the top half of the demon’s body, flew over their heads, and landed in front of them. Now, their path to the staircase was blocked by a demonic cat the size of a small bear. It had yellow-green glowing fur and eyes like two embers. And the flaming monster was closing in from behind.
Fox—still disguised as a demon-cat herself—was caught off guard by the appearance of a real one. She failed to brake her frantic flight in time, so she threw herself to the ground and skidded under the demon-cat’s body toward the stairs, where she stopped against a pillar. She wished she could have scratched or bitten her opponent, but she hadn’t managed it.
The demon-cat lunged at Vedrax, who was closest. Vedrax was only wearing quilted dress gear, but he was the only one with a weapon—a short one-handed sword. He parried the attack and counter-thrust. He landed three quick blows on the cat and jumped back. The wounded demonic beast retreated. Fox took advantage of this and lunged at it, biting into its neck. Green, foul blood began to gush from the demon-cat’s wounds, so disgusting that it caused Fox to immediately vomit, salivate, and feel dizzy. Help! Help! Fox wheezed, her eyes watering as she tried to retreat to the stairs. For a moment, she could barely see the way. Vedrax stepped in and delivered a crushing blow with his sword. The beast, thrown back by the force of the strike, slid across the polished floor of the university corridor and hit a distant wall, lifeless.
University staff began peeking out of doors in the hallway, terrified by the sounds and the smell of smoke. When they saw what was happening, most immediately locked themselves in their rooms.
Klaes threw another incendiary charge at the demon but missed. The demon seemed to laugh malevolently. It flared with a bright flame, formed a fireball in front of itself, and hurled it into the middle of the fleeing intruders.
“Look out!” Klaes cried and threw himself to the ground. Although he covered his head with his hands, the blast’s recoil slammed him several meters back against the wall. Everything lit up with a sudden flame. For a moment, he heard and saw nothing. It was as if time itself had slowed down. Having extensive experience with explosions from his laboratory in Yller, he could—despite his ongoing disorientation—estimate with a good guess that this one was a level seven on the twelve-point Bahram scale. Small flames danced around, and burning debris floated in the air. Shattered glass lay on the floor because the explosion had destroyed the glass ceiling. The air was dry and saturated with smoke. Both Klaes and Loverd were bleeding from numerous wounds, and their clothes were reduced to charred rags. But they were moving and conscious. They were shouting something, but he couldn’t hear what they were saying; his ears were ringing. He saw Loverd drawing a dagger and chanting something over it, perhaps an Auran song. Vedrax stood up and, leaning against the wall, shuffled toward the stairs, leaving a bloody trail behind him. Where is Fox?! thought Klaes. He realized she had been closest to where the fireball landed. He crawled on all fours along the wall, feeling around, ignoring the burns on his hands and the glass shards. Then he felt something. It was more like a pile of scorched and simultaneously sticky-wet fur. We’re going to have bad news for the Landlord, he thought numbly. If we even make it back to the Inn. Although he felt no life in the fox’s body, he grabbed it and limped toward the stairs. There he ran into Vedrax, similarly shaken and confused. All of them had burns and singed hair.
“We have to get out,” Vedrax croaked.
Loverd pointed to the lifeless body in Klaes’s arms. “Is she… dead?” he squeezed out and began to cough. Klaes shrugged. Then, they heard a shriek behind them. Klaes looked back and saw the demon open its maw and let out a roar so deafening that the ground shook beneath their feet and the remnants of the shattered windows began to fall from the ceiling. That would be a level two on the Bahram scale, flashed through Klaes’s mind. In a shower of crumbling plaster, they saw Loverd wind up and throw a silver dagger, charged with runes of Auran fire, into the demon’s open mouth. The piercing wail fell silent. A white flame flared up and began to consume the demon from within. Smoke rose from its ears. With a staggering gait, it started toward them, so to escape the terrible sight, they ran down the stairs.
Klaes still clutched the lifeless fox body. He tried to feel for a pulse, a heartbeat, but found no sign of life. Bitter pain flooded him: This is too high a price for my teacher’s manuscript! The manuscript… he felt the manuscript in his pocket, and something else was pressing against him there too. He realized that along with the manuscript, he had taken the vials labeled as first-aid medicines from the safe. While running, he opened one vial with his teeth. He sniffed it. It made his head spin, but he immediately felt stimulating effects and relief from the pain. A little of the potion got into his mouth when he was opening the vial. It tasted very bitter, and he felt a tingling on his tongue. He stopped at the nearest landing and knelt over the lifeless fox body. How much can I give her? What kind of concoction is this?
He looked at the label on the vial, but his vision was still blurred, and he couldn’t read the text. She’s probably dead anyway, so if I overdo the dosage, it won’t hurt her anymore, he told himself. Then he opened Fox’s mouth and poured the entire contents of the vial down her throat. He grabbed her again and kept running. For a moment, nothing happened, but then her body tensed in his arms and began to twitch. Her teeth were chattering. There was no time to ponder the appropriate use of an unknown medicine, though. They heard noise on the stairs above them, but at the same time, agitated human voices were coming from the lower floors.
“If we meet anyone, we’ll claim a magic seminar experiment went wrong,” Vedrax suggested, but no one paid him any attention because at that moment, two men coming from a corridor on the second floor blocked their path.
“Combat mages, University peacekeepers,” Vedrax managed to whisper.
“Halt!” one of the men addressed them, raising a hand. “We heard the alarm from the Dean’s office. The entire building is on lockdown, and we are required to check everyone leaving it.”
At that moment, an explosion sounded above their heads, and pieces of the burning demon hurtled through the space between the staircases. Everyone jumped aside, and Klaes noticed that Fox had opened her eyes. Or rather, she stared wide-eyed. They had a strange glint in them.
“We were going to see the Dean when suddenly we were attacked by some aggressive monster. We are injured; we need treatment,” Klaes said, showing the guards his ring. It stood out particularly well on his burned hand; the flames hadn’t harmed it in the least.
“I see your rank, and you will receive respectful treatment and care. But we must also investigate what happened here. This is the administrative part of the University, where security devices are installed in case someone attempts unauthorized entry where they don’t have access. For instance, the Dean’s office,” one of the men said, reaching out to Vedrax to take his weapon.
“Hand over your weapons,” he said, looking at the others.
“We don’t have any,” Klaes countered.
Another guard ran up, shouting: “We must call the Dean. It looks like a breach!”
“You’re coming with us to the guardhouse,” said the first guard, the commander by rank and appearance. With gestures and posture, he made it clear they were to go down the stairs, where his young colleague would lead them. He exchanged a few curt sentences with the third man, who then ran off—apparently to inform Halit Altun.
Klaes, seeing that resistance was futile, shrugged. “I hope this is cleared up soon. We were going to see the Dean when this terrible burning figure ran at us.”
“Yes, I’m sure it will be cleared up,” the commander said behind them.
Fox, in Klaes’s arms, regained full consciousness. She felt no pain, despite having several broken bones, a concussion, and burns on at least a third of her body. Due to the healing potion, everything was larger and more colorful. She felt she had great strength and was large. The last thing she remembered was the moment they were about to open the safe and she had said: the essence of defense is fear. Overcoming it is loss.
“Where are we?” she spoke up.
“Shhh!” Klaes silenced her, his heart leaping with joy that he had managed to revive her. “They caught us, and now they’re leading us to the guardhouse,” he breathed almost inaudibly into Fox’s ear. Fox sighed and closed her eyes again. She wasn’t resting, though. She was sniffing. Before her inner eye, the entire map drawn by scents spread out—all too easily. Beyond the smell of burning, which came partly from herself and her companions, and then also from the stench of something very foul lying on the ground on the ground floor, she sensed two stern combat mages. They were tuned suspiciously and hostilely. Thanks to her sharpened sense of smell, she also knew what would be outside once they stepped out the door. From there, she smelled a scent that clearly belonged to Lady Nazqawn’s pack.
“Help is waiting for us outside,” she whispered to Klaes.
Sure enough, when they stepped outside, two figures dressed as students stood on either side of the door. They looked indifferent, but Klaes sensed from their posture that they were no students. As soon as the procession exited the door, both attacked the escort commander and knocked him to the ground. Klaes dropped Fox, turned, and threw himself with bare hands at the second guard, pinning him down. The shaken Fox bit the opponent’s leg. Vedrax, still disguised as a porter, bent down and picked up the commander’s sword. Loverd readied his dagger, but it wasn’t necessary. Vedrax ended the struggle with a sword blow, and the second guard was also killed.
“Run!” shouted the unknown rescuers dressed as students. Only now did they realize that clusters of people were watching them from a cautious distance. Klaes grabbed Fox, and they started running.
“Thanks,” Loverd said softly to the two and took off after Klaes. Vedrax hesitated but then followed them. In doing so, he realized he had burned his bridges, that there was no going back—that his Xalgonian life was irretrievably lost. He had betrayed his city.
The University gate was open, but two combat mages stood on guard there. It was clear to Klaes that they were facing another unequal fight. Fox, dangling in his arms, saw evil little glints in their eyes that boded no good. But at the same time, behind the gate, behind the mages’ backs, she felt a light scent of Lady Nazqawn’s pack—the same smell she had sensed before from the two figures who had come to their aid. “There are more… friends behind the gate,” she barked, but Klaes tucked her head under his coat because they were already approaching the gate. The guard raised his hand.
“Take cover!” Klaes shouted, diving into the doorway of a house they were just passing. Vedrax and Loverd did the same. There was a sparkling crackle, not the explosion Klaes subconsciously expected. The mage had hurled a ball lightning at them! However, a tingling sensation shot through everyone’s bodies, and they were momentarily paralyzed.
From inside the building where they had taken shelter came the damp smell of deep cellars. For a moment, they considered whether to head that way or at least hide there for a while, but they were interrupted from outside by a piercing, croaking cry.
“I recognize that voice,” Loverd said, cautiously peering out. “Fragment is there in all his glory, attacking the guard mage. He’s huge!” Fragment now had a wingspan of at least eight meters. He lunged at the Mage. At the last moment, the mage raised his hand and formed a dome shield over himself. Fragment slammed into it, and the shield shattered into a thousand pieces. Their spray hit the wide surrounding area like sparks. Fragment dug his golden claws into the mage’s body. The second mage swept Fragment away with a magical attack, which also hurled his bleeding companion several meters away. Fragment shook himself off and took flight. The mage remained lying motionless. However, more reinforcements were approaching from behind, from the University building.
“Now. While they’re occupied with Fragment, let’s run!” Klaes decided and jumped from the hiding place with Fox in his arms. The others ran after him. Now several armed figures appeared behind the gate. They pulled throwing daggers from beneath their student robes and attacked the mages. Soon others appeared with swords blazing with Auran fire. Fragment joined the fight again. Meanwhile, the party ran through the gate.
“Run! Run away! We’ll stop them from pursuing,” shouted one of the “Students.”
They obeyed.
Loverd led them through streets, underpasses, and passages. Although he had planned an escape route in advance, their appearance nevertheless caused a stir. Besides, black smoke was rising from the University building, and alarm horns were sounding. More combat mages took to the streets.
Loverd managed to find an escape route and take shelter in an underground warehouse. Breathless, they finally stopped.
“We won’t get out of the city through the normal gates easily now,” Klaes muttered.
“I left Auran daggers behind. It’ll be clear who the intruder was,” Loverd nodded.
“That went very wrong,” Vedrax added gloomily. “I have no doubt a search has already been announced for us. We mustn’t show ourselves in the street at all.”
Only now did they realize their wretched appearance—singed hair, torn clothes, bruises, and blisters on their hands and faces.
“Still, we need to get to the Inn. There is no other way,” Klaes said and pulled a burn ointment from his pocket, which was an indispensable part of every Yllerian’s kit. “This will give us relief and prevent swelling and scarring.” He treated their wounds. Then, using makeup and Loverd’s Auran magic, they tried to fix their disguises. While doing so, Loverd quietly sang a hymn of praise to Suvarna for them having survived at all.
“Maybe I should thank your god too. Maybe I should even read something about him,” Klaes muttered.
“Yes. Auran can catch fire in anyone’s heart,” Loverd uttered with sacred awe.
Before they stepped cautiously into the street, they let Fox sniff around. She smelled scouts and hunters.
“Of course, they’re already out there looking for us! We should retreat underground and wait in one of the hideouts where Lady Nazqawn will find us. The underground is where I hide and where I live; I know many paths,” Loverd said.
“Nazqawn is waiting for us at the Inn,” Klaes countered, “and we need to get there as quickly as possible because that place might be in danger too.”
“How far is it from here?” Vedrax asked.
“About two hundred meters,” Loverd answered.
“Two hundred meters?!” Vedrax groaned. He was the only one with a weapon. He had taken it from the fallen guard, and when they were running through the city, he had wrapped it in a piece of clothing so as not to carry it bare without a scabbard. Now he pulled it out and looked at the dried blood on its blade. Then he hid it again, but so that he could draw it easily.
Loverd described the route to them. It wasn’t far, but they had to cross a fairly busy street. Fortunately, it was dawning, and in Xalgon, that meant the streets had emptied a bit after all.
Despite their attempts to tidy up, their appearance was very tragic, and it certainly couldn’t be expected that they would pass unnoticed as a group.
“We’ll have to split up,” Klaes said.
“I’ll go first,” said Vedrax, whose pride and sense of duty as a Xalgonian knight seemed to have returned. He stepped out. The others watched him. He didn’t seem to attract too much attention, so Klaes set out too, with Fox hidden under his coat. He looked around. On the opposite corner, he noticed a man who seemed to be reading a flyer on the wall. But he read it for so long that it caught Klaes’s attention. Ah, this is a spy. He’s noticed me. But there’s no turning back. He heard the fox sniffing and fidgeting under his coat, whispering: “I smell hunters, hurry!”
He didn’t answer. He just squeezed her tightly in his arms and continued on his way. He heard Loverd’s footsteps behind him. Loverd couldn’t stand the wait and ran after them.
After a hundred meters, they had to pass one scout; he was standing right at the entrance to the small alley where the Inn at the Three Foxes was located. He was wearing a coat with a hood pulled low over his forehead. Klaes could already see the door to the Inn. Apart from the guy, the street was deserted.
Vedrax greeted him as he walked by. But the man said nothing, just kept staring at the Inn door, which Vedrax then entered. Loverd passed him in silence and took the handle and entered, Klaes with Fox right after him. As he did, he noticed the hooded man waving to someone.
There was no one in the Inn’s foyer. In the front tavern, there were only a few guests who weren’t at all surprised by the newcomers’ appearance. So they went straight up to the door, which is older and more magical than others. There he set Fox on the ground, and she leaned against the door with effort. It opened, and they entered the Inn—into another world that meant safety. They headed straight for the room.
Nazqawn was sitting on a chaise longue, stroking a white crow.
“So you’re here!” she cried joyfully, but then her face clouded over as she saw their injuries, exhaustion, and the fear written on their faces.
She stood up. “Hurry to the Landlord. Our business can wait a little longer. You need treatment!” she said and beckoned them.
“Yes, we must also tell him that we were being followed,” Klaes added.
So they sought out the Landlord and briefly informed him of what had happened.
“You were followed, you say? That’s bad. Who was at your heels?” Klaes described the scouts. The Landlord frowned and went to warn the innkeeper in the outer tavern. “We may have to close the door, or even move the whole branch somewhere else,” he said when he returned. He brought the barmaid with him, carrying a tray with beer in one hand and a medical kit in the other.
“The barmaid will treat you,” the Landlord prompted. Only Klaes felt like he had experienced this moment once before. Déjà vu. The Inn at the Three Foxes in Iacanna. There was the Innkeeper and the same tall barmaid who had treated the injuries they sustained while escaping from Maghon and in the corridors of the Silver Mines. Their friend Jarn had sustained an injury there—he burned his hand, and it turned black. Then he began to rave. “Two souls in one body,” the Innkeeper had said then when he saw the hand. He recommended they head to Xalgon. “The road to Xalgon is longer, and they know how to treat injuries like the one Jarn sustained there. Perhaps.”
That was when he had given them Fox to take with them.
Fox! Klaes realized with a start and unbuttoned his coat. Fox was conscious, but her eyes were wide, each drifting in a different direction. She was smiling strangely.
“We’re only a bit burned and bruised. But Fox… she was hit the hardest; she was closest when the demon threw the flaming ball that exploded. I’m sorry we didn’t take better care of her… that we took her with us at all,” Klaes said, placing Fox on the table. His throat tightened with anxiety.
“How’s that?” the Landlord asked with concern in his voice.
“I gave her some kind of pick-me-up that I luckily picked up in Altun’s office earlier. It brought her back to life, even though she looked dead before,” Klaes admitted, handing the empty vial to the Landlord. The Landlord sniffed it and blinked. Then he set it aside and, without a word, leaned over Fox. He took her in his arms, hugged her, and spoke to her in a sweet, soothing voice, in an unknown language that radiated the warmth of deep emotion. Klaes watched in fascination as the burned skin healed and the scorched fur grew back, the broken bones straightened, and the wounds closed. Fox’s clouded eyes cleared again. She rested her snout on the Landlord’s shoulder and fell asleep. He held her in his embrace for a while longer and then carefully placed her in soft blankets.
“She’s out of danger now. She’ll be fine, but she needs to sleep now,” the Landlord said in a serious, deep voice that now sounded a bit like the purring of a large cat. Along with the barmaid, he set about treating their injuries. They, however, were only washed with water scented with resin, rose, and lavender, and treated with healing ointments, after which the wounds immediately stopped hurting. They also got new clothes. Refreshed by the beer, they returned to the room to see Nazqawn. In the doorway, they met a departing messenger.
Lady Nazqawn stood with her back to the door, looking into a fragment of Auran burning in the fireplace. In the candlelight, her gold-interwoven black hair, braided into a plait, shimmered. Compared to their last meeting, she wore a thin gold circlet on her head. Her black mid-length riding dress revealed tall boots, and she had a sword at her waist. The belt, circlet, hilt, and scabbard were all inscribed with Auran runes. Today, then, she was the Queen of Arkagant; the incognito attire of a Xalgonian lady was gone.
“I’m glad you’re alive,” she said in a serious voice.
“Only thanks to your people,” Klaes bowed slightly.
“Yes. Their lives are still being fought for. But we already know that two of them have fallen and their remains have ended up in enemy hands. They bought your lives with their deaths,” Lady Nazqawn said, finally turning to face them. Her expression showed a mixture of hardness and mourning.
“I am very sorry,” Klaes said.
“I dearly hope it wasn’t a futile sacrifice,” Nazqawn said, fixing her gaze on Klaes. Then on Loverd. And finally, she looked long at Vedrax. Klaes fumbled in his charred coat pocket and pulled out the folder. He handed it to Nazqawn. As he did, he noticed his hand, wrapped in bandages, was shaking. Nazqawn accepted the documents with dignity and placed them on the table. She beckoned them to sit down.
“What Sadat Mirlach published and what you, Klaes, read in the library, is a censored version—a forgery, one might say, intended to lead the reader on the wrong track. Here is the original version, the autograph—the text written directly by her hand. It is evident that this is a document that wasn’t meant to get out, and I am convinced that its contents may well surprise us,” she tapped her hand on the unrolled scroll, “especially you, Klaes, who were among her pupils.”
After untying the folder, a neat stack of papers was revealed to them. Klaes was no expert on manuscripts, but he both confirmed his first impression that the handwriting really belonged to his teacher Zeilet and noticed that the paper was very fine-grained, unlike materials used during his studies in Yller. Nazqawn was clearly thinking along similar lines, gently examining the paper between her fingers. Then she lifted one page and inspected it against the flame of the nearest candle. And indeed. There was a watermark in the paper.
“Do you recognize which workshop this is from?” she asked the others. Klaes, Loverd, and Vedrax shook their heads in turn. Fox scratched behind her ear.
“If I’m not mistaken, this is Master Velkorian of Asvittára; you’d be hard-pressed to find better paper. Either Zeilet insisted on the highest quality even for working notes, or these aren’t just any notes, but rather a finished document prepared for delivery or sending to someone who himself insists on quality. It must be said that no one in Xalgon or Yller will write on sheets from Master Velkorian; it is the work of an enemy.”
She thoughtfully examined the details of the watermark. To Klaes, it seemed very indistinct; he felt he could see two swans with intertwined necks, some constellation above them, and an unreadably tiny inscription in Elven script.
“Who did she want to send it to? What was her connection to Asvittára?” Nazqawn asked, half to herself. She turned to the text and began to quickly read through the manuscript written in scholarly Garionite.
“Hmm, hmm, this still matches what was published. Interesting, so it wasn’t a complete fake. Most likely they just left out what didn’t suit them… but it’s written in a different style. She’s constantly addressing someone in the second person. It sounds more like a letter.”
Finally, she stopped about halfway through the second page.
“Look,” she whispered, “here we have it!”
Then she read aloud: “The greatest mystery, however, is the substance called ignotium. My previous hypotheses and conclusions based on partial knowledge must be immediately abandoned. I even suspect that ignotium itself led me into some errors, as I was unaware that the substance itself affects consciousness. While experimenting with it, I must have unwittingly repeatedly inhaled its vapors. Thanks to the use of a lithoscope, I am now certain that with rare exceptions, it is found in a specific geological stratum. If I am to take seriously the calculations of colleague Ygrogul from the Geological Institute, then the layer with ignotium would correspond to a prehistoric past, deep below all recorded history. You, my friend, are convinced that it is what the legends of your Order call the Age of Servitude. That it is a testament to the time when the one you call Baoth, and whom we call Zilath, ruled on Qurand.
At your suggestion, I have obtained the text of the legend, which says that Baoth imprisoned everyone in his realm and kept them in ignorance of the possibility of their freedom. His persona is also named ‘Dark Flame’ in the legend. I link both to the attested name ‘ignotium,’ as it seems to hint at both the word for fire and the word for ignorance. I understand, then, why you recommended I seek the answer in myths, which I otherwise, as a proud Yllerian, naturally despise. Even if it is certainly an interesting coincidence, I still cannot shake a certain doubt. Aren’t myths perhaps written precisely so that they seem to correspond to everything in the world around us? How can I confirm or refute that the legend indeed speaks of ignotium? I need a test. For now, however, I can work with the hypothesis that ignotium is some kind of material trace of Zilath’s global influence. I can even accept your conjecture that it was manufactured or distilled in machines of that time, which were constructed similarly to today’s Xalgonian horologium—though again, I must trust the oral tradition of your Order. Where I see promising evidence is the following fact, recently confirmed to me by a third party whose name I must not mention but whom I trust completely. Namely, the fact that today’s horologium produces as a waste substance something that is suspiciously similar to ignotium—it affects consciousness and simultaneously glows clearly—it is a substance on which the functionality of Xalgon’s famous glowing signs is based. That is surely another piece of the puzzle for you.
To summarize, ignotium is an extremely dangerous substance that lies across the underworld of Qurand in deposits of immense proportions. It affects consciousness; in higher doses, it undoubtedly causes delusions. It also seems to disrupt the very fabric of reality, but only in a liquid state or in the form of vapor. In solid form, it does not exhibit these properties. A great breakthrough in the research occurred thanks to the operation of a new lithoscope setting—this instrument must not fall into the wrong hands! The only copy of the lithoscope is now in the hands of K., who is behind most of its construction.”
Nazqawn looked up to see Klaes’s astonished face.
“It was his diploma project, but I’ve improved it further—it has a special hidden setting that allows for the detection and study of ignotium. I used my copy of the lithoscope to compile a sketch of an ignotium map—yes, very fragmentary, because sounding is difficult and the instrument doesn’t see very deep through rock. The nodes on the map correspond to significant centers of the Vezan Empire—I assume not because Vezan created them, but because its cities were built in places where ignotium could be mined. The age in which ignotium was deposited predates Vezan by several orders of millennia. Large amounts of free and active ignotium fill the air everywhere around Pravent Vezan, the misty wastes where the heart of the Vezan Empire once lay.”
Nazqawn looked up again and paused. She found Klaes holding a pair of spectacles in his hands, turning them over and over with trembling fingers.
“I assumed this text would hold great significance for you, as Zeilet was your teacher. But do you realize what it meant for Xalgon? Do you understand why Altun hid it?”
Klaes swallowed and nodded. Nazqawn flipped randomly to another spot in the bundle and stared at the letters for a moment before she began reading again.
“‘I have been corresponding with Talantius, the Lord of Maghon. He discovered a deposit of ignotium in the old mines near his tower. He was well aware of the dark aspects of ignotium; after all, his apprentice Saguin emerged from the depths of the mine, who, according to his words, turned out to be a specter from Vezan. Talantius studied Saguin closely.
He wrote to me: When added to elixirs, ignotium immensely increases their potency. I am even considering adding it to the Great Elixir I am preparing. However, I am still missing a number of key ingredients for that. The problem that Talantius and his apprentice Lyra described to me is that their understanding of this substance is entirely in its infancy; they are playing with something they know very little about. They use it haphazardly. The substance is difficult to process; for the most part, they have only been able to use a single component of it, and even then, they have only conjectures about its composition. Talantius expressed concerns over the double-edged nature of the component he utilizes in this way—it grants strength, but also instability. None of the elixirs he prepared with the help of ignotium were properly tested—only he and Lyra tried them. He did not want to test it on the uninitiated. The long-term consequences of ingestion or exposure are not known at all…’”
“So we were… he tested it on us?!” Klaes exclaimed. “The dose makes the poison.”
Nazqawn nodded. She turned to another page and showed him a sketch. It was a drawing of his spectacles accompanied by handwritten notes. The diagram revealed that Klaes’s glasses had a specific setting that allowed for the detection of ignotium. Shaken, Klaes stood up and walked outside.
“Everything is different!” he wailed.
