“But why all the dancing around?” I said. “Why not just use glimmer to find the damn thing in the first place?”
“Two reasons,” said Jelem. “First, it’s very hard to use magic to locate things. Unless you are intimately familiar with what you are looking for, the chances of finding something with a spell are minimal at best. You would do only slightly worse if you flipped a coin at every crossroads you encountered in the city. And secondly, if you suspected other potent magicians, as well as the emperor himself, were interested in the same thing as you, would you want to advertise your involvement in the first place?”
“You forget,” I said, “I seem to have been doing exactly that all along.”
“Ah, but you’re a fool,” said Jelem. “The people looking for this book know better. They’ve understood the stakes from the beginning, while you’re just beginning to realize the risks now.”
“So tell me why this book’s so damn special,” I said.
Jelem set his glass aside and opened the book. The bindings creaked in soft protest. “As I told you,” he said, beginning to turn the stiff pages with disturbing disregard to their condition, “I can’t be completely sure of the contents. It’s in a strange script. I haven’t had much of a chance to examine it. And, frankly, what passes for magical theory in your empire still puzzles me sometimes. Djanese magic is much less eccentric.”
“Quit making excuses,” I said, “and get to the point.”
Jelem paused long enough to favor me with a dark look, then continued leafing through the book. “This is a personal journal. Part of it focuses on court politics, and part of it deals with glimmer. It’s hard to say what’s what. Ioclaudia skipped from topic to topic like an excited child-like so many Imperials, she obviously had no formal training in rhetoric-but when she does mention magic, it certainly seems to be of the Imperial variety.
“What’s more, Ioclaudia Neph appears to have been one of the emperor’s personal magical advisers-part of his inner circle. When he needed something, or someone, glimmered, she was one of the people he called. Information, punishment, defense, manipulation… She did it all for him.”
I let out a low whistle. “That’s one serious Paragon.”
“When you cast for, and on, the emperor, you’d best be. But that’s not the most interesting part.”
“No?”
“No.” Jelem was still turning pages, scanning over them as he went. When he reached the page he wanted, he brought the book to me.
“Here,” he said. He handed it over and pointed to a portion of the page. “Read this section, here.”
The book was in better shape than I had expected. I’d dealt with religious and historical texts that were more rot than book, and most of them weren’t a third of the age of this one. Yes, there was water damage, both old and new, and some of the ink had faded, and the binding was loose, but the book was still in one recognizable, usable piece. Aside from the traces of Barren’s mud still lingering in a few spots, I would have thought it had been residing in a library until now.
I tipped the book toward the light coming from the lantern. Jelem was right; Ioclaudia’s hand had been atrocious. The ideograms looked to be a stylized form of cephta, but they had been put down in a careless manner. I could barely recognize it as writing.
“Let’s see,” I said. “I find I’m still having some problems with the third portion of the… incantation. Could it be a centering issue? Perhaps, but I suspect it is more the nature of the spell itself. Hystia’s Theorem states that…”
I looked up at Jelem. “ ‘Hystia’s Theorem’?” I said.
“Patience,” said Jelem. “Keep reading.”
I repositioned the book in my lap. “Hystia’s Theorem states that while magic can be focused through the… fala n’arim?”
“It’s a Djanese term. Keep reading.”
“It cannot be used to effect the same. This is known. It is a Truth, handed down by the Angels, immutable as time.
“And yet, we have found flaws in the Theorem. While the fala n’arim is the ideal lens, it might serve as a template as well. As a lens may be polished or faceted, so may it be altered to change its focal length. Is this the case for the fala n’arim as well? An imperfect analogy, I admit, but if it is so, then we can do much more than we thought. So much more than we were told we could…”
I looked up. “All right,” I said. “She’s on the verge of something big, at least to her. Things aren’t what they seemed. Great. What does it mean?”
Jelem took the book and returned to his seat. He stared down at the passage I had just read. “Fala n’arim is an old term in Djanese sorcery. There’s no direct translation into Imperial, either, for the language or magical theory.” He ran a finger absently along the edge of the book, then drew it hastily away.
“Fala n’arim,” he said, “refers to the core of the caster, the very essence of the self. The great yazani of Djan have always written of shielding the fala n’arim, of keeping it pure and untainted. To bring power into it is to corrupt it, and therefore the man as well. It is one of our oldest precepts of magic.
“But Ioclaudia writes of using it as the focus for her magic, of taking power into it and shaping it within. More, she even hints at using the fala n’arim to draw power from the Nether itself.” Jelem paused and rubbed at his lower lip. “I suppose I can see it in theory,” he said. “And it could give you access to immense power, but still, to-”
“Jelem,” I said, “is the fala n’arim a soul?”
“For lack of a better term, yes.” Jelem looked up at me. “Ioclaudia is talking about using her very being to tap directly into the power of the Nether. No gathering up the seepage like most Mouths, no constrained external taps-just Ioclaudia and the Nether.”
“So that’s what Imperial magic is-casting magic through your soul?”
“That’s what Ioclaudia seems to be saying, at least as I understand it so far. There’s still a great deal more to read.”
I stared at the book in his lap. I wasn’t much on theology, but you can’t help but pick up some when you trade in stolen items. What little I knew was waving warning flags like crazy.
“She’s talking blasphemy,” I said. “Big blasphemy.” Even the Angels had hesitated before they had divided Stephen Dorminikos’s soul into three parts and set up the cycle of Imperial Reincarnation. No one messed with souls. It was the third Declaration in the Book of Return, just after, Honor the Angels in all things and The Angels are the true successors of the Dead Gods.
And then there was the whole topic of Imperial magic on top of it.
“That thing’s a fucking death sentence twice over,” I said.
“And a possible key to great power as well,” said Jelem.
“No wonder those Sashes were after it.” I ran my hand along my thigh, feeling a dull twinge where the sword had cut and gouged me. “We got lucky. This could have been far worse if they’d gotten away and told the emperor who had that book.”
“Things still may be,” said Degan.
I started and looked over to see Degan standing in the doorway, a canvas bag under his arm. Big men weren’t supposed to move that softly.
His eyes had deep smudges underneath them. His clothes, while different from those he had been wearing in the Barren, still looked rumpled and hard worn. There was a dirty bandage on his left hand.
“The third Sash?” I said.
“Off into the night.”
I closed my eyes. “Damn.” Make that a death sentence thrice over.
Chapter Nineteen
“How’d she get away?” I said.
Degan, still in the doorway, shrugged. “It was either keep track of Larrios and the book, or kill her. Given how badly you said you wanted the book, I settled for shoving her into the basement and running Larrios down.”
“That little bastard ran?”