Her face twisted. “Some of it. The artifacts of the Blood of Night would be the rod, the sword, and the shield. And the shield was shattered as Dhakaan collapsed.”
“Although when this was written, the author believed that the shattering of the shield was the beginning of the end, not just a part of it.” Tenquis traced the lines of faded text with a fingernail. “The important bit is what he says about who broke the shield and when they did it. In alchemy, gold is the highest state of common being, a state as close to perfect as possible without magic or divinity. ‘Golden ones’ are people of a perfect state. Today we might say they were great thinkers, but among the Dhakaan, they were more likely to be nobility.”
“Not the emperor?” asked Geth.
“Emperors were more than common beings,” Ekhaas said, her ears flicking rapidly. “In legends they’re compared to gems or metals even more precious than gold.”
Tenquis nodded. “So nobles broke the shield as they fell, which Kitaas”-there was a moan from their prisoner-“identified as a reference to the Rebellion of Lords when the nobles of Dhakaan rose up against Saabak, the fifth emperor of the Second Puulta dynasty for a brief time during the late empire. The passing of power from one emperor to another could be seen as a great transformation.”
“And puulta is an old word for the noise of an army on the march, like thunder,” said Chetiin. “The fifth transformation of thunder returned-the fifth succession of the Second Puulta dynasty.”
“Which led us to what you heard when you broke in. Kitaas knew of a history of the late empire that had a very specific reference to Saabak Puulta. She brought it to me today.” He tapped an open book with the end of the scroll. “It confirms what’s in the scroll!”
Ekhaas’s face tightened. “Don’t be so certain. Let me see that.” She picked up the book and, marking the page with her finger, looked at the title and author. Her expression turned grim. “Shaardat the Elder. No wonder Kitaas knew it. Archivists adore Shaardat’s interpretations.”
“So?”
“Duur’kala might cling to tradition, but Shaardat wallowed in it.” Ekhaas set the book down. “I knew I’d heard the expression ‘the time when muut was broken’ before. It survived Shaardat, and it means the nobles rebelled against their duty-their muut-to the emperor and to the people of the empire.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Tenquis. Whatever is written on Giis Puulta’s Stela of Rewards, it’s talking about the breakdown in social order, not literally about the Shield of Nobles.”
Geth watched Tenquis’s mouth open and close as he tried to find a counter-argument, but Chetiin answered before he could. “What if it isn’t?” the old goblin asked thoughtfully. “Stories can contain mistakes that are transmitted across generations. The scroll talks about the shield. Shaardat may have misinterpreted what was written on the stela.”
Tenquis’s eyebrows rose. Ekhaas answered grudgingly. “It’s possible. But even if she did, what does it tell us other than when the Shield of Nobles was shattered?”
“Perhaps there’s more written on the Stela of Rewards.”
“I’ve never heard of the fortress of Zaal Piik before. I have no idea where it would have been located.”
An idea burst over Geth. “But maybe Kitaas did.” He turned back to the paper that Kitaas had tried to destroy. “Tenquis, when Kitaas said she’d brought you the final piece of the puzzle, is this what-?”
He didn’t need to finish the question, and Tenquis didn’t need to answer, because Kitaas went mad with fury. Shrieking behind her gag and writhing against her bonds, she threw her body across the floor like some grotesque worm. Geth and Chetiin hopped out of the way. Kitaas hit the legs of the table hard enough to send books sliding around. One fell onto the scroll-the brittle rolls cracked and split. Another threatened the torn page, but Tenquis caught it. Geth reached down and grabbed Kitaas by the back of her robe, ready to drag her to a safe distance.
Ekhaas stopped him. “No, keep her close,” she said coldly. “She might be useful.” She bent over the bits of paper.
Restraining the still struggling archivist with one arm, Geth looked too. Although Kitaas had done severe damage to the page, a few large pieces were still intact. Tenquis had managed to piece several more sections together. The entire page was covered in the dark, angular characters of Goblin script. Geth gripped Wrath’s hilt with his free hand. Show me, he willed the sword.
Wrath translated spoken Goblin for him with no special command, but Geth had discovered early in his possession of the blade that it could also allow him to read the language. The characters on the page didn’t change to his eyes, but in his mind they shifted suddenly from meaningless scribbles to real words.
The page was a list of artifacts. A Tome Bound in Dragonhide. The Reliquary of Waroot Gar. Seven Blades of Shaarat Kol. A Talon Found in Aarlak. Each was accompanied by a description, some longer, some shorter.
“This is a page from the Register,” said Ekhaas in amazement. She stared at her sister. “You stole a page from the Register and were willing to destroy it rather than let me see it.”
Kitaas’s ears went back. Her eyes blazed rage. A shiver ran through Geth. He almost pushed Kitaas away from him, but just then Tenquis gave a gasp. “Horns of Ohr Kaluun!” He laid several scraps of paper together and lifted his hands away. “It doesn’t matter where Zaal Piik is, Ekhaas. The stela is here in Volaar Draal!”
Kitaas hissed again and kicked out at the table. Geth wrapped both arms around her again and dragged her back. Ekhaas looked between the torn page and her sister. Tenquis ignored them, studying the paper with a fascinated intensity. “‘The Reward Stela of Giis Puulta,’” he read aloud. “‘Carved of white stone and commemorating the allies of Giis Puulta in his ascension as the sixth marhu of the Second Puulta dynasty. Collected by Baaen Dhakaan in ruins below the Hammerfist Mountains in the years 2310 since the fall and 1246 since the founding. Transported to Volaar Draal. Displayed before the Shrine of Glories until the years 3675 and 2619, then placed by the Gallery of Dogs in the Vault of the Eye.’” He looked up, his face fallen. “The stela is in the vaults.”
Frustration rose in Geth. “Grandfather Rat is laughing at us. We find a possible clue to stopping Tariic, and we can’t get to it.” He glanced at Ekhaas. “Diitesh isn’t going to let us enter the vaults.”
“Then we won’t ask her permission.” Ekhaas raised her head, expression grim but ears standing tall. “We don’t have a choice. We’ve already broken sanctuary. When Tuura Dhakaan finds out what’s happened here, she’ll be bound by honor and duty to throw us out of Volaar Draal. If we don’t act now, we’re never going to get a chance to examine the stela.”
“And how do we get into the vaults?”
Ekhaas turned to face Kitaas. Geth felt the archivist stiffen in his arms, her anger becoming alarm at the icy distance in Ekhaas’s eyes. “My dear sister will help us,” she said.
CHAPTER FIVE
16 Aryth
The entrance to the vaults of Volaar Draal was a wide maw, cast into shadow by pale ghostlights hung beneath deep eaves. It was an unfriendly building, jealously guarding the secrets it had swallowed over the centuries.
No guards stood beneath the ghostlights, though. None lurked in the shadows. From the cover of the nearest building-a good fifteen paces across a dark-flagged plaza-Ekhaas stood with Geth and Tenquis and watched the massive doors.
“I can’t believe it isn’t guarded,” murmured Tenquis. His quiet words were at odds with his appearance. Disguised by illusion with her magic, he wore the face and body of a bugbear.
“There are always archivists inside,” Ekhaas told him, “but they don’t need guards outside. Intruders would need to pass the gates of Volaar Draal and then the entire city if they wanted to reach the vaults. And none of the Kech Volaar would dare to trespass without permission.”