Then Chetiin, leading the way as the most surefooted of them, called back, “The shaft ends.”
They were still well above the fallen torch. Ekhaas sent a globe of light drifting forward to Chetiin. It shone briefly on the rock wall of the shaft… then nothing. The shaft wall arced away, leaving the stairs to hang suspended in the air.
Just ahead of them, an arch curved above the stairs. On it was the symbol of a circle with a slit down the middle.
“Welcome to the Vault of the Eye,” said Ekhaas.
Tenquis, still shaken by his near fall above, squeezed the narrow rail of the stairs so hard his knuckles turned pale. “Your ancestors couldn’t have built the entrance at floor level?”
Seemingly undaunted by the dark space around them, Geth moved ahead to where the stairs emerged beneath the ceiling of the vault and leaned out over the rail. “It would be easier to know where we were going if we could see from up here,” he said. He looked back at Ekhaas. “Can you make a brighter light?”
Her ears flicked. “I can,” she said. “I’m not sure I should. Those echoes came when I sang magic.”
“Maybe you can sing the spell softly?”
Ekhaas pursed her lips for a moment, then walked carefully forward to what she hoped was a good position. She drew a slow breath, let it out just as slowly, then drew another and sang a soft note. In her mind, she focused on building the song gradually, bringing it forth like dawn creeping across a mountain valley. Gray half-light first, then a pearly pink glow. Ekhaas held the song there for a moment, listening for the strange echo, but there was nothing. She let the magic flow again and pearly glow became red blush-then finally golden light flowed into the Vault of the Eye as if the sun itself had risen beneath Volaar Draal. The song faded into silence.
And there was still no hint of an echo. Ekhaas breathed easily and looked down.
Twenty paces below them, the artifacts of the Vault of the Eye spread out in a chaotic jumble. Her guess that the shaft had been used to lower large artifacts into the vaults seemed correct-massive statues, incredibly preserved war chariots, and huge chunks of masonry that must have been dragged away from Dhakaani ruins spread out around a clear space at the bottom of the shaft. The main vault was actually smaller than she’d expected, certainly smaller than the Vault of the Night-Sun, but the number of paths that led through the stored artifacts looked like the web of a very large spider. Passages and crevices opened in every wall of the vault.
“Grandfather Rat,” muttered Geth. “It’s going to take a long time to search through that.”
“Maybe not,” said Ekhaas. The Register entry had said that the stela was carved from white stone. Most of the collected artifacts below were the gray of weathered stone, or black or red, the colors typically favored by the dar for monuments. But across the vault, her conjured light reflected from a sliver of white nearly hidden behind a black obelisk.
“There,” she said.
Once they were on the floor of the vault, the sense of vast space Ekhaas had felt above was replaced almost instantly by a feeling of being crowded by the large artifacts that towered over her. She pushed the sensation away, though, and hurried along the path that looked to lead most directly to the sliver of white. It turned and branched, but she used the black obelisk as a guide. Soon it loomed ahead of them, dominating the view ahead, until the path twisted around it. White stone flashed as they rounded the obelisk, then grew-and grew.
The Reward Stela of Giis Puulta was taller than the obelisk that had hidden it. It rested in a deep hollow in the floor of the vault, and while nearly a quarter of its full height was below the level of Ekhaas’s feet, the rest of it towered the height of three tall hobgoblins over her head. The stone was a dazzling white that would have shone like a beacon under true sunlight. Ancient masons had cut it into a slab as wide as her outstretched arms but not even as deep as the blade of a shortsword. It was no wonder the effort had been made to transport it to the vaults-most such stela would have cracked into pieces over the centuries. At the top of both sides of the stela was an inscription in Goblin:
GIIS PUULTA
Emperor of Dhakaan Sixth lord of the Second Puulta dynasty rewards those who served him against the Rebellion of Lords.
Below the inscriptions, text carved in letters a finger’s-length high marched down the two faces of the stela. Ekhaas’s ears twitched back. There were dozens of names on the stela, each with a description of deeds performed and rewards granted, some with carved pictures and symbols as well. There was no telling where the historian Shaardat had found the passage regarding the breaking of muut.
“What now?” asked Geth.
“We read,” said Ekhaas. “The bright light will last a little longer. The globes will last as long as we need them.” Stepping into the hollow, she slid carefully down to the wide plinth that was the base of the stela and read the lowest-and smallest-line of text. “Banuu who cared for the mount of the emperor is rewarded with the slave who was the daughter of the lord of Em Draal.” She grimaced and tilted her head back to stare up at the height of the stela. “We start at the top. I’ll take this side. Tenquis, you take the other.”
“Is there anything in particular we should look for?” the tiefling asked, circling the monument.
“A longer passage of text, I imagine.” Ekhaas grabbed Geth’s hand as he reached down to help her up the side of the hollow. “Maybe something that puts the events of this rebellion into context-”
“I’ve found it.”
Ekhaas twisted around so sharply, she almost fell back into the hollow. Geth’s grip tightened, though, and she regained her feet. “What?” she called over her shoulder.
“I’ve found it. It’s the first inscription on this side, right at the top. Whoever Tasaam Draet was, he was definitely more important than Banuu the stablehand.”
She stumbled a second time. Geth and Chetiin both glanced at her, but she ignored them. Suddenly her stomach was twisting in knots. “The name on the inscription is Tasaam Draet?”
“Yes.” She heard Tenquis mumble as he skimmed the text on the stela, then he read aloud in Goblin, “Tasaam Draet, who found atcha in this time when muut has been shattered is embraced as a brother to the emperor. The name of Draet will be inherited by his line. He is further rewarded with the fortress of Suud Anshaar and given the care of the symbols of muut forfeited by those lords whose treachery he has ended.”
“Khaavolaar,” Ekhaas said, half to herself. Geth raised his eyebrows in curiosity.
“Who was Tasaam Draet?” he asked.
“A butcher,” said Ekhaas. “An avenging spirit. Children of the Dhakaani clans are told to obey their muut, or Tasaam Draet will come in the night and drag them down to the depths of Khyber. As we age, we learn to see him as something of a folk hero. According to more reliable stories, he was a real person, a commoner raised to the rank of a lord by the emperor and empowered to bring down any noble who dared rise against the imperial throne in the last days of the empire. He’s reputed to have exterminated at least three noble lines-maybe more. The stories say that the wails of those dying in his fortress of Suud Anshaar could be heard a night’s journey away.”
Geth wrinkled his nose. “And you call him a folk hero?”
“You invoke a trickster rat as a folk hero. The dar invoke a devoted warrior.” Ekhaas shrugged and continued. “Tasaam Draet was so powerful, so full of atcha in his service to Dhakaan, that the last forces of the daelkyr made a target of him. One day travelers to Suud Anshaar found it utterly empty of life, with only a lingering taint of madness to hint at what had happened. Suud Anshaar was abandoned as cursed, and Tasaam Draet became a legend. It’s said that the ruins of Suud Anshaar still stand deep in what’s now the Khraal Jungle, the cries of those who died by Tasaam Draet’s hand still echoing in the night. Raat shan gath’kal dor-the story stops but never ends.”