“But the Senate is afraid you’ll weaponize it,” I mused, shaking my head in disgust. “They’d ignore all the people it could save, just to sate their stubborn fear.”
Aegyn raised a hand up to signal his attendant, whispering something in his ear. When the attendant returned from the bar, he was carrying two tall flagons of pale ale. He set one in front of Aegyn, and another in front of me.
“So,” he said after taking a long gulp, “now you know the truth. No obfuscations, no trickery. But knowing won’t change the chancellor’s mind on the matter. Believe me, I’ve tried. As I said, the best choice for you is to return home and forget this business. There will be other finds for you to gush over.”
“Other finds? Old pots, scattered ruins. Finding a primordial magic… an ancient city… it’s the entire reason I became an archaeologist in the first place. I can’t just let this go.”
“Sharing information on the wreckage with any member of the Magisterium would be considered treason,” Aegyn said. “As I’ve said, I can’t ruin your life and livelihood in good conscience. I hope, at least, I’ve given you some closure on the matter. And don’t worry, the Magisterium has the best and brightest minds on Arkos. I have no doubt they’ll eventually find Vor’aj on their own, it’s only a matter of time.”
I must say, I left our clandestine meeting feeling slightly disappointed. I don’t know exactly what I was expecting. I thought, perhaps, Lord Aegyn would offer me some sort of secret mission, or a vast fortune to help him. Instead, he seemed rather sincere and concerned for my safety.
Most of all, he was completely correct. I had to think of my own future. I couldn’t risk everything I’d built for myself at the Acamedria. I couldn’t risk ruining my life.
Little did I know, my life, as I knew it, was already over.
Chapter Ten
High Treason
After my brief brush with the clandestine, things quickly returned to normal in the Acamedria. Real life set in for me quickly: I had papers to grade and classes to teach, not to mention my continued literacy lessons with Decan.
It all came to a head about two weeks later as I was doing my fourth-period lecture on symbology in the ancient world. It’s not exactly the most inspiring of subjects for young minds—and, to be honest, I find it dry at the best of times—but my audience of thirty or so students was uncharacteristically awake and alert. In total, the room was just over half full.
It was a standard lecture hall, with a tall lectern in the back on a raised platform. Five rows of wooden benches radiated from it in semicircles, each row a few steps higher than the one in front of it.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Decan peeking in from the hallway, clutching a hardback and ink quill. I waved to him, and motioned for him to take a free seat. He hesitated at first, but when I wouldn’t relent, he eventually accepted my silent invitation to join.
Not surprisingly, he took one next to Tiffin, who seemed genuinely happy to see him. She shared her textbook with him, placing it face-up on the gap between their seats.
I stood near a blackboard near the lectern, and wrote out some Deific symbols as I spoke.
“You can’t truly understand an ancient culture or society without first understanding how it viewed symbols,” I said, finishing off a flourish on the blackboard and setting the chalk down the bottom rim. I’d drawn three symbols: one of a compass, one of a sailing ship, and one of an astrolabe. I pointed to the compass. “Can anyone tell me what this signifies?”
One of my students, a sandy-haired boy named Felarius, raised his hand first, and I acknowledged him. “It’s a compass?”
I sighed. “Don’t tell me what it is, tell me what it signifies.”
“In what context?” Felarius asked. “Historical? Nautical? Religious?”
“All of them at once,” I said curtly.
Felarius thought for a brief moment. “Direction, searching. A device used for finding something.”
I nodded. “It always points the same way, right? So you always have a reference to where you are based on an unchanging point. In terms of travelling, that’s very helpful, and it serves as a religious allegory as well.” I pointed to the ship. “What about this one? You can see a better depiction on Page two hundred eleven of your books. This image of the Great Ship appears in a hundred different cultures, to a greater or lesser extent. What does it mean to you?”
Tiffin raised her thin arm. “The Old Gods.”
I nodded. “It all ties back to the Old Gods, no doubt. But the symbol itself evokes different emotions in different cultures. In Helia and Celosa, it’s a symbol of death. The Great Ship takes you to the afterlife. In Endra, the Great Ship is the afterlife.” I sat on the top of my desk, crossing my arms. “In ancient Shian texts, the world is the Great Ship, and we’re adrift in a great endless void. Why the discrepancy?” I asked Tiffin this last question directly.
Tiffin tapped her fingers on her armrest. “The Shians are very big on fishing. If you’re a fisherman, you probably don’t want your livelihood associated with death?”
I nodded. “Not a bad answer.”
“Is it correct?” Tiffin asked.
“Correct?” I asked, cocking an eyebrow. “Who’s to say?”
“Uh…you?” Felarius said. “The teacher?”
I shook my head. “No, that’s where you’re fundamentally mistaken. There are things we will never know, concepts we will never understand. That doesn’t lessen the importance of our pursuit of knowledge. And, to be quite frank, sometimes things have more than one answer.”
This seemed to give them something to think about, and I bulled ahead. “Now, if you’ll turn to Page two hundred thirty, you’ll see an example of four traditional Shian imperial headdresses. Notice the depictions of Lorendamu, the god of time, and Terithoth, the god of death, side-by-side. There are a few things we can infer from—”
I was so involved with my lecture, that I barely heard the door on the far end of the lecture hall open. I figured it was just a late student, and paid it no mind. It wasn’t until I glanced up to ask Tiffin a question that I noticed all of my students had turned in their seats. Several of them were standing, and there were muted gasps as four serious-looking, heavily armed men descended the circular ramp around the chairs. I saw that each of them bore the crest of the Republic Senate, a falcon clutching a furled sail.
They walked directly toward me, startling me and causing me to drop my textbook onto the floor.
“Professor Caiden Rycroft?” one of the men said without preamble.
I stammered a bit, trying to find my voice. “Y-Yes?” I said.
“Please come with us,” the man said. Though he was observing the social niceties in making it sound like a request, I knew he wasn’t actually asking.
I hesitated momentarily, but nodded, then shot a glance in Tiffin’s direction. “Tiffin, could you wrap things up here, and post a note that my other lectures today will have to be rescheduled?”
Tiffin nodded, wide-eyed. “Yes, Professor.”
I waited until I was out in the corridor before asking the men what, exactly, was going on.
“You’re being placed under arrest by order of Chancellor Meridius.”
“What are the charges?” I asked.
“All of that will be made clear to you in time. Please, follow us.” He tried to guide me by the shoulder, but I shrugged him off in a fit of anger.
“Absolutely not,” I said indignantly. “I am a member of the Acamedria. You can’t arrest me without telling me the charges.”
“In fact, we can,” the man said.
Out of the view of my students, they shackled my wrists, and led me out of the Acamedria and into a waiting carriage.
I spent that night in a cold cell with no running water, no toilet, and only the barest hint of light scattering through the cell bars. It was my first taste of the true hell I was in for. The guard that delivered my food that evening wouldn’t talk to me, and as the days drifted
along, I had a terrible fear that I’d been forgotten about.
Surely, this was a misunderstanding? Surely, Headmaster Trebellius was already hard at work to intercede on my behalf and speak to Chancellor Meridius. This was all some sort of horrible mistake, and any day now it would be revealed as such.
But the days turned to weeks, with no end in sight. Being in prison after a trial and conviction is one thing—no doubt a dreadful experience—but being thrown into prison without word or warning does something to the mind.
I began to think horrible thoughts about my future. Would I rot away in this cell for the rest of my days? I had no wife, no significant other who would notice my absence. My parents and grandparents were long dead, and I was an only child. All I had in the whole world was my work and my students. And it seemed as though my status in the Acamedria wouldn’t save me here.
To my utter astonishment, it was the second of those two things—my students—that brought me my first ray of hope.
With no windows or ways to see outside, I had no idea what time it was. I was lying on a clot of hay and feces, my eyes closed, humming Cal Ereuma’s third opera, Helionitus. I’d seen it performed before. It was a work of art, sublime but powerful with hard beats that complimented the stage play that accompanied it.
I’d taken to replaying joyful events in my head. For the briefest of moments, as the notes ran through my mind, I was transported out of the grim, dark cell and into the opera house. I could hear the burr of the trumpets running through my body, I felt the soft velvet of the theatre seats on my skin, the laughter and roar of the crowd, and smell of good food and drink.
A noise at my cell door broke me from my waking dream, and pulled me back into dark misery. At first, I thought it was the guard delivering my rations of stale bread, pork, oats, and water. However, instead of the food slot near the bottom opening, the entire door pushed open, shoving bits of hay out of the way as it creaked open.
My eyes weren’t used to the light, and when it flooded the cell, I had to cover my eyes with my arm. I scurried back from the door like an animal, unsure as to what to expect.
Then, a voice called to me. A wonderful, gentle voice that filled me with such joy that I wanted to cry.
“Professor?” it said. To my utter astonishment, it was Tiffin. She was with Decan, both of them wearing an expression of horror at my appearance.
I sniffled, wiping my face and trying to stand. Both of them ran to me, helping me up.
“What have they done to you?” Tiffin said. “You’re skin and bones.”
“I’m fine,” I lied. “What are you two doing here?”
“We’ve been trying to find you since they took you,” Tiffin explained. “But they’ve been stonewalling us. Nobody in the Senate would see us.” She pulled me gently along. “Come on, we’re taking you back to the Acamedria.”
“You got them to release me?” I asked hopefully.
“Not us,” Decan said.
“Lord Aegyn interceded on your behalf. The charges against you haven’t been dropped, but you’ll be under house arrest instead of a cell until everything’s sorted.”
“What are the charges?” I asked as we neared the end of the corridor.
Before Tiffin or Decan could answer, I heard Lord Aegyn’s voice call from around the corner. He was standing with his attendant, a hard frown on his face.
“High treason,” he said. “As silly as it sounds.”
“Treason?” I rasped. “But… but why?”
His expression dropped a bit. “Talking to me, I’m afraid.”
I fumbled my words. “But I didn’t tell you anything that you didn’t already know… I…”
Aegyn held up a wrinkled hand. “Trust me, I’m aware. But your chancellor doesn’t believe it. He was fully prepared to leave you to die. I had to use some… leverage… to get him to give you a fair shake.”
“What kind of leverage?”
Aegyn grinned, and removed a single gold Endran coin from his pocket. “The best kind.” Despite his blindness, he flipped the coin in the air and caught it effortlessly. I noticed that when he let go of his cane, it remained standing upright without any support.
His expression dropped a bit. “But money’s not going to save you, Professor. You’re in serious, life-threatening danger.”
“This is insanity,” I said, running my hands through my matted hair. “They claim I committed treason by talking to you, then in the same breath let me out on your word?”
Aegyn nodded. “Politics is a rather curious mistress, isn’t she? Suffice it to say that your chancellor doesn’t want to get into a political war with myself or the Sun King over this, but you are his subject, not ours. While we can voice our opposition to your treatment, as long as you’re in Celosa, we cannot stop it.”
Aegyn walked toward me, and placed his frail arm on my side. “Do you understand what I’m telling you? As long as you’re in Celosa, we can’t help you.”
Aegyn nodded at me, and started toward the door. Two of the men that had been standing guard listening to us informed me that they were my “personal escorts.” A rather innocent term, I thought to myself.
They followed me, Tiffin, and Decan all the way back to my rooms in the Acamedria. They were in the eastern wing with several other professors, near the water gardens.
“Headmaster Trebellius is going to come by later tonight to talk to you,” Tiffin said. “Wash up, and I’m going to have a proper meal brought to you.”
Before she left, she hugged me tight. “I’m so sorry this is happening to you.” I admit, I felt so overjoyed by what she and Decan had done for me, I returned the hug in earnest. To my surprise, as she pulled away, her hand brushed against mine, and I felt her press something into my palm.
Without missing a beat, I concealed it, and slipped it into my ragged clothing. I said my goodbyes, and entered my rooms. The guards remained outside, leaving me to my business.
Slightly paranoid by the whole event, I locked myself in my washroom, started the water, and locked the door before unfurling the paper Tiffin had passed to me.
Professor,
Despite Chancellor Meridius releasing you from your cell, you are not safe in Celosa anymore. I have it on good report that the outcome of your trial will not be favorable.
As I told you at our last meeting, this is not a fate I want for you. Therefore, I offer you the choice of political asylum in Endra. Your safety will be assured by the Magisterium, and you will be free to pursue your studies, if you wish.
I’m aware that this is going to be a difficult choice to make, but I’m afraid you don’t have much time. I’ve arranged passage to Endra Edûn for you, but the window of time is very narrow. A ship on the western harbor called the Jolly Maiden will take you to a rendezvous point with Magister Amelia Ross. Dock 41A.
The ship will wait for you no longer than nine o’clock. If you are not at the dock by then, I will assume you have rejected my offer, and wish you the best of luck.
By the time you read this, you’ll find the guards outside your door in a state of unconsciousness. Don’t waste time.
P.S. You needn’t worry about hiding this note. It will dissolve shortly after coming into contact with human skin.
Best of luck,
Aegyn Tennrish,
Perhaps it was the weeks in captivity that pushed me toward trusting Aegyn. If the whole situation wasn’t so outrageous, I might’ve laughed. Think about it: to save myself from a charge of high treason, I had to actually commit high treason.
As the note dissolved in my fingers, dripping onto the floor like globs of gray paint, I knew what I had to do.
As I peeked out of my front door and eyed the two collapsed guards, I felt a sharp jolt of fear clench at my chest. I began to breathe hard, taking in huge lungfuls of air in a vain attempt to calm myself. I felt like I was going to be sick.
I’d like to say that it was my determination and courage that drove me forward, but that wouldn’t be
the truth. My fear is what made me decide to take Lord Aegyn up on his offer. I couldn’t go back to that cell again.
Choking down my emotions, I gathered two bags and hastily crammed in anything that was of value to me. Unfortunately, all of the material from the Shao Zhu was no doubt still in my office, and much too far away to retrieve.
I wrapped my face in a cowl, both bags flung over my shoulder, and hurried out, stepping gingerly over the two unconscious men. It wouldn’t be long before someone discovered them.
Chapter Eleven
Outlaws
I’ll be the first to admit that violence isn’t my strong suit. Certainly not back then. And as I walked down the corridors of the Acamedria, fear swelled inside me. My whole body was shaking, and it took all the effort I could muster to keep myself from hyperventilating. I shuffled down the stairs, my sweaty fingers gripping the rail, and as I turned the final corner to the bottom of the stairwell, I heard shouting from the upper levels.
I couldn’t make out exactly what the voices were saying, but their location and urgent tone told me everything I needed to know. I hesitated for a moment before bolting out the door and into the Acamedria courtyard. Fortunately, as it was late in the day, there were only a few students milling around. Most were studying by the marble Sarona fountain in the center, too distracted to notice me hurrying toward the line of green hedges.
Leaving through the main gate wasn’t an option, so I found a spot behind the large, rectangular alchemy hall where there was only a few feet of space between the building and the iron fence that surrounded the Acamedria. Once I’d wedged myself halfway through, I tossed my bags over the fence in one swinging motion.
Scaling the fence wouldn’t have been so difficult if my hands weren’t drenched in sweat, and my heart wasn’t beating a mile a minute. Using my furled cloak as a rope, I wrapped one end around an iron rivet and hoisted myself over, falling to the other side in a tumble.
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