“But send Salaman Goth Morloch did, and though Morloch may yet be much weakened and wounded from his encounters with you, Longsword, even that dark fiend would not summon so powerful a servant to carry out so simple a task as killing one man and his D’ith pat wizard. Unless there is a very, very important reason to have that man destroyed beyond all doubt.”
“And you have found the reason, miheth?” Elayeen smiled twisting around to look up at Gawain hopefully.
“Uhm…”
“Well,” Allazar announced. “It was hardly hidden. It is here,” and still leaning upon his staff, both hands clasping it securely, he smiled and nodded towards the circle.
“Then you have succeeded, Allazar, where all the wizards of Raheen had failed, and unlocked the mystery of the markings?”
“Ah…”
“Dwarfspit, miheth, between the two of you I could go mad waiting for a simple answer.” Elayeen pouted.
“He’s a wizard, Elayeen, this is how they behave. Now you understand why one day I shall probably have to cut off his arm and beat him to death with his own hand. But in all seriousness, Allazar, you said before Salaman Goth’s attack you had some notion?”
Allazar’s eyes sparkled, and for a moment, the tiniest of sparks fizzed and danced atop the staff, which gave them all pause for consideration, not least the wizard. But the sparks soon disappeared and Allazar turned and descended the steps, talking as he went.
“Your lady has not observed the circle when someone enters it, Longsword, as I do now. Behold, your Majesty, the Circle of Justice…”
Allazar stepped into the circle, and the runes at once flowed and changed to a new pattern. Elayeen blinked, astonished. Gawain explained to her how the three concentric circles of runes always took on a new pattern whenever someone stepped into the circle, and had done so throughout Raheen’s long history. He also explained that the reason why they had done so had eluded wizards, mystics and scholars for centuries, the knowledge long forgotten.
The elfin queen of Raheen no longer looked so excited, nor as hopeful as she had. “But you have discovered its meaning, Allazar,” she announced rather than asked, “And the reason why Morloch fears mithroth so.”
Allazar was about to say ‘Ah’ but thought better of it. Instead, he nodded. “I have an inkling, a notion, an idea as vague and insubstantial as Longsword’s belief that this is something important enough for us to abandon kings in their hour of need. Yes.”
“Then please, Allazar,” an earnest Gawain asked, and hope seemed to radiate from himself and his lady, “Tell us.” And his use of the word ‘please’ for the second time in as many months was not lost on any of them.
Allazar nodded again. “If I am wrong,” he said, equally earnestly, “I shall go to my death by your sword knowing it was richly deserved for conceiving such false hope and seeing it shine from the eyes of the two people in this world I hold most dear. Behold then…”
Allazar stepped quietly to the very edge of the circle, directly in front and below them. “This,” he said almost reverently, “This is the outer circle, whose runes I took to be a corrupted form of Old Elvish, and then believed to be even older, the language of the Eldenelves of myth, a tongue which passed from all memory millennia before this Dymendin I hold was a seedling.”
He took two large paces backwards, and looked down. “This circle bears a form of runes which at first I thought I had seen illustrating The Book of Thangar, one of the oldest books in the library at the Hallencloister, a book which itself tells the story of a great wizard of legend. I now know these runes to be those which the legendary Thangar himself would have named Old Cerneform, the ancient mystic script of wizards from the days of Zaine himself, said to have founded the first order of brethren and creator of the Codex Maginarum, whose first tenet survives to this day: no wizard may harm the kindred races of Man, save in defence of his realm and of himself.”
Gawain’s left eyebrow arched at that, speaking volumes which Allazar himself recognised, though the king himself said nothing.
“And here,” Allazar took another two steps backwards toward the centre of the circle, “The third ring, which I thought primina runiform, earliest of human mystic writing. It is, though I now believe it also contains symbols derived from the source script from which the primina evolved.”
Then the wizard turned, still carrying the iron-heavy staff, and moved to stand behind the home-stone, the small rectangular block in which was cut the deep slot wherein had dwelt The Sword of Justice for perhaps as long as the circle itself had existed.
“And finally here. The home-stone, Longsword, resting place of your great blade. These runes around the home-stone, twelve symbols, runes which do not change no matter who steps into the circle nor how many times. These are constant. I confess I was completely baffled by them at first, for they are not the runes of the first, second, or third circles, and have no similarity to any in common use today or those I encountered in my studies at the Hallencloister.” Allazar paused, and then smiled a smile which seemed to announce the revealing of a great secret…
“But yesterday, after the battle with Salaman Goth, after the rains had abated, and you and your lady were changing from your rain-soak clothes into dry, I stood here, at this very spot, watching the rain pools, and the reflections of the passing storm-clouds in the marble and the water as those clouds scudded, light and dark, overhead.
“It was then I noted again the depth of the sheen possessed by this Dymendin staff, and saw in it the curved reflections of the thrones and the walls and myself. On a sudden insight I placed the staff thus,” And the wizard placed the burnished staff exactly in the centre of the small ring of runes surrounding the home-stone.
“And there, in the curved and polished surface of the staff, I saw reflected the runes graven deep within the floor about the home-stone. And by walking around the staff, read them. For that is the only way they can be read, by placing a burnished cylinder at the centre, and observing the reflection of them. They are not one set of twelve runes in unknown tongue, your Majesties, these are the runes of the three kindred races of Man: Elf, Human, and Wizard. And here, at the centre around the home-stone, are the Elvish symbols for friyenheth, Freedom, and the human primina runiform symbols for Ceartus, Justice, and the wizards’ Cerneform symbols for Omniumde, For All.”
“Freedom and Justice for All.” Gawain said softly, the words seeming to fill the vast space of the great hall.
“Yes.” Allazar agreed. “And in the staff’s curved reflection I could identify some of the runes in the outer circles, confirming my suspicions as to their etymology, though I maintain that translating them is not ultimately important. And now comes the moment of my doom, I fear, for I must now take a leap of faith based upon nothing more substantial than insight, or intuition.”
Gawain nodded, and drew Elayeen closer.
“I spoke earlier of Lord Rak’s diplomacy in persuading Council to move to Shiyanath and I said Is it too simple to see? And while mighty minds are busy searching for hidden agendas and traps and wheels within wheels, they fail to see the obvious answer. Before Salaman Goth’s attack I had an inkling as to the simple answer, but after seeing the reflection of the home-stone runes in the staff obtained from that battle, that inkling has become more, a conviction, as much a conviction Longsword as your desire to bring us here in the aftermath of Ferdan.
“The three groups of runes at the home-stone, in a later tongue than the outer circles, give the clue to the answer. The runes change each time someone steps into the circle as the wheels of a merchant’s barrel lock. The circle is like a mighty lock, waiting to be opened, and for that to happen, all three circles, of elfkind, of humankind, and of wizardkind, must be aligned.”