Chasing the Prophecy
Page 60
“Could this be real?” Jason asked Bactrus.
The old guide bent over the scroll, scanning it intently. “The scroll was certainly not written by Petrusians. As we established previously, although Darian lived long ago, by his time the Petrusian society had vanished and the language was out of use. And according to what your comrade has shared, the scroll does not purport to be a prophecy.”
“Could it be part of a scam?” Jason asked.
Bactrus lowered his eyebrows. “If the scroll is fraudulent, Petruscan is an odd choice of language, since it was comprehensible to only a handful of scholars. It would have required a discouraging amount of work for a buyer to translate the content.”
Drake folded his arms. “A swindler might have decided that the odd choice of language would lend the scroll an air of authenticity. Furthermore, the period required to decipher the message could allow the crook additional time to disappear before the buyer found the information disappointing.”
“Did you catch that?” Jason asked Bactrus.
“Plausible reasoning. Does anyone claim authorship?”
Farfalee skipped to the bottom of the manuscript. “The author is described at the beginning and the end as ‘the Steering Hand.’ Would you like to hear a rough translation of the introduction?”
“Please,” Jasher said.
Farfalee cleared her throat. She read haltingly, as if intent on choosing the most accurate words. “ ‘Courtesy of the Steering Hand, herein the worthy seeker of enlightenment will find instructions to reach the final dwelling place of Darian, son of Thebrun, the renowned seer of Darvis Kur and author of more than two thousand verified prophecies great and small.’ The account goes on to reveal the general location of the last abode of Darian, and then gets very specific naming landmarks to use as guideposts along the way.”
“What do you think?” Jason asked, studying Bactrus.
The guide lifted his empty hands in a noncommittal gesture. “Genuine or false, the message would probably read the same. Only by following the directions to the end could you know for certain.”
“Do we have a better option?” Jason asked.
“Over the years, all of the other leads have been explored with no evident results. The most promising leads have been pursued countless times. Since arriving here, this particular scroll has never been read, and thus it has never been tested. And thanks to the foresight of your oracle, you arrived with the one person in Lyrian capable of reading it. If you want me to guess which source you should rely on, this would be my pick.”
“Good enough for me,” Jason said.
“Me too,” Jasher agreed. “We need a path, we need it quick, and circumstances certainly point to this scroll.”
Drake frowned. “If the scroll is false, our quest will fail.”
“True,” Jasher said. “Do you expect to find a better option?”
Drake slowly shook his head. “I agree that this seems to be what we’re looking for.”
“There is a warning toward the end,” Farfalee said.
“Tell us,” Drake said.
“ ‘Seek not this sanctum in the name of vanity or avarice. Enter with no instruments of war or tainted intentions. Calamity awaits the undeserving. Only the . . . chosen . . . can survive.’ ” She looked up. “ ‘Chosen’ may not be the precise word. But it is close.”
Jason realized that all of his companions were looking at him. The oracle had specifically stated that he needed to find the last abode of Darian the Seer. Apparently, that made him the chosen one, at least in their minds. The attention made him a little uncomfortable.
“Do any of the other texts lead to the Fuming Waste?” Jason asked.
“Several,” Bactrus answered, “although the same could be said for nearly any location in Lyrian that you would care to name.”
“We’ll need detailed maps of the Fuming Waste,” Jasher said.
“Can you help us?” Jason asked the guide.
“We should adjourn to the geography center,” he replied. “You will find not only the most thorough assortment of maps ever assembled, but materials with which to copy the contents of the scroll.”
“We can bring the scroll to the other area?” Jason checked.
Bactrus gave a nod. “The texts are not to leave the library, but within these walls they are meant to be studied and used.”
“Lead the way,” Jason said.
Once again Bactrus ushered them along a lengthy route. At first they backtracked past familiar sights, but soon they forked off through new rooms, stairways, and passages.
“Being a loremaster here would be good exercise,” Jason remarked as they passed a glittering stained-glass window. “Are we getting close?”
“Just up ahead,” Bactrus promised.
Jasher held up a hand, bringing them to a halt, a finger to his lips. Jason listened. A male voice was calling their names from a distance. There was an edge of panic to the tone.
Jasher cupped both hands around his mouth. “We’re here!” he belted. “Western wall, four floors up, near the third largest dome.”
Jason was impressed by Jasher’s clear sense of their location.
“On my way!” the distant voice answered.
“Won’t be good news,” Drake murmured.
“Jasher,” Farfalee said, “perhaps you should wait here for the messenger. We can run ahead and start copying the needful information.”
“Yes,” Jasher said. He looked to Jason.
Jason turned to Bactrus. “Can you tell Jasher how to find us?”
The old guide issued terse instructions; then Farfalee started running. Jason and Drake followed, and the old guide as well. Jason noticed that Bactrus sprinted as swiftly as any of them and showed no signs of tiring. After a few more twists and turns, followed by a flight of stairs, they entered a large space dedicated to maps and atlases. A huge relief map of Lyrian dominated the floor, with the rest of the room built around it. A skylight above added natural brightness, and a balcony around the top half of the room allowed patrons to access high shelves or to gaze down at the floor map from above.
Bactrus directed them to an oversized book of maps dedicated to the Fuming Waste. While Farfalee perused the maps, he led Jason and Drake to collect paper, ink, and pens.
“Will the ink work after all these years?” Jason asked.
“Yes, if the bottle has been sealed,” the guide replied. “Edomic was used to protect and preserve nearly all of our resources.”
The old guide bent over the scroll, scanning it intently. “The scroll was certainly not written by Petrusians. As we established previously, although Darian lived long ago, by his time the Petrusian society had vanished and the language was out of use. And according to what your comrade has shared, the scroll does not purport to be a prophecy.”
“Could it be part of a scam?” Jason asked.
Bactrus lowered his eyebrows. “If the scroll is fraudulent, Petruscan is an odd choice of language, since it was comprehensible to only a handful of scholars. It would have required a discouraging amount of work for a buyer to translate the content.”
Drake folded his arms. “A swindler might have decided that the odd choice of language would lend the scroll an air of authenticity. Furthermore, the period required to decipher the message could allow the crook additional time to disappear before the buyer found the information disappointing.”
“Did you catch that?” Jason asked Bactrus.
“Plausible reasoning. Does anyone claim authorship?”
Farfalee skipped to the bottom of the manuscript. “The author is described at the beginning and the end as ‘the Steering Hand.’ Would you like to hear a rough translation of the introduction?”
“Please,” Jasher said.
Farfalee cleared her throat. She read haltingly, as if intent on choosing the most accurate words. “ ‘Courtesy of the Steering Hand, herein the worthy seeker of enlightenment will find instructions to reach the final dwelling place of Darian, son of Thebrun, the renowned seer of Darvis Kur and author of more than two thousand verified prophecies great and small.’ The account goes on to reveal the general location of the last abode of Darian, and then gets very specific naming landmarks to use as guideposts along the way.”
“What do you think?” Jason asked, studying Bactrus.
The guide lifted his empty hands in a noncommittal gesture. “Genuine or false, the message would probably read the same. Only by following the directions to the end could you know for certain.”
“Do we have a better option?” Jason asked.
“Over the years, all of the other leads have been explored with no evident results. The most promising leads have been pursued countless times. Since arriving here, this particular scroll has never been read, and thus it has never been tested. And thanks to the foresight of your oracle, you arrived with the one person in Lyrian capable of reading it. If you want me to guess which source you should rely on, this would be my pick.”
“Good enough for me,” Jason said.
“Me too,” Jasher agreed. “We need a path, we need it quick, and circumstances certainly point to this scroll.”
Drake frowned. “If the scroll is false, our quest will fail.”
“True,” Jasher said. “Do you expect to find a better option?”
Drake slowly shook his head. “I agree that this seems to be what we’re looking for.”
“There is a warning toward the end,” Farfalee said.
“Tell us,” Drake said.
“ ‘Seek not this sanctum in the name of vanity or avarice. Enter with no instruments of war or tainted intentions. Calamity awaits the undeserving. Only the . . . chosen . . . can survive.’ ” She looked up. “ ‘Chosen’ may not be the precise word. But it is close.”
Jason realized that all of his companions were looking at him. The oracle had specifically stated that he needed to find the last abode of Darian the Seer. Apparently, that made him the chosen one, at least in their minds. The attention made him a little uncomfortable.
“Do any of the other texts lead to the Fuming Waste?” Jason asked.
“Several,” Bactrus answered, “although the same could be said for nearly any location in Lyrian that you would care to name.”
“We’ll need detailed maps of the Fuming Waste,” Jasher said.
“Can you help us?” Jason asked the guide.
“We should adjourn to the geography center,” he replied. “You will find not only the most thorough assortment of maps ever assembled, but materials with which to copy the contents of the scroll.”
“We can bring the scroll to the other area?” Jason checked.
Bactrus gave a nod. “The texts are not to leave the library, but within these walls they are meant to be studied and used.”
“Lead the way,” Jason said.
Once again Bactrus ushered them along a lengthy route. At first they backtracked past familiar sights, but soon they forked off through new rooms, stairways, and passages.
“Being a loremaster here would be good exercise,” Jason remarked as they passed a glittering stained-glass window. “Are we getting close?”
“Just up ahead,” Bactrus promised.
Jasher held up a hand, bringing them to a halt, a finger to his lips. Jason listened. A male voice was calling their names from a distance. There was an edge of panic to the tone.
Jasher cupped both hands around his mouth. “We’re here!” he belted. “Western wall, four floors up, near the third largest dome.”
Jason was impressed by Jasher’s clear sense of their location.
“On my way!” the distant voice answered.
“Won’t be good news,” Drake murmured.
“Jasher,” Farfalee said, “perhaps you should wait here for the messenger. We can run ahead and start copying the needful information.”
“Yes,” Jasher said. He looked to Jason.
Jason turned to Bactrus. “Can you tell Jasher how to find us?”
The old guide issued terse instructions; then Farfalee started running. Jason and Drake followed, and the old guide as well. Jason noticed that Bactrus sprinted as swiftly as any of them and showed no signs of tiring. After a few more twists and turns, followed by a flight of stairs, they entered a large space dedicated to maps and atlases. A huge relief map of Lyrian dominated the floor, with the rest of the room built around it. A skylight above added natural brightness, and a balcony around the top half of the room allowed patrons to access high shelves or to gaze down at the floor map from above.
Bactrus directed them to an oversized book of maps dedicated to the Fuming Waste. While Farfalee perused the maps, he led Jason and Drake to collect paper, ink, and pens.
“Will the ink work after all these years?” Jason asked.
“Yes, if the bottle has been sealed,” the guide replied. “Edomic was used to protect and preserve nearly all of our resources.”
