Salt was surprised that he was given total freedom to roam the library, indeed all the libraries of the city, at his leisure. There wasn’t much for him to do, and no one but Lamek would talk to him, so he was grateful for the distraction. If Lera could see this, she’d never want to leave. But the books held only passing interest for Salt. It was the maps that fascinated him and kept him coming back again and again. He took a blank page off a nearby table and started to try to copy what he could. More than a few of the maps he’d seen before had wide blank spaces while this one even showed a network of rivers and lakes at the heart of the great desert! I’m sure Lera and Gurt will be interested in seeing this. It took him a few attempts but he finally managed to make a reproduction of a map of the continent surrounding Bialta. Far from impeding his efforts, the silent scribes of the library brought him ink and paper and even offered wordless assistance by pointing out mistakes or showing him how to improve. What had started out in part as a time-wasting exercise was quickly becoming an enjoyable activity. The greatest difficulty lay in deciding which map to trust since so many were different. The map he finally completed after days of work was perhaps simple compared to the painted masterpieces that were held in some of the cabinets or frames between the bookshelves, but he felt that the simplicity of ink on paper made the map clearer than many of the others. It’s also nice to know exactly where I am in the world for a change and just how far from home I am.
“Ah, there you are, Salt,” called Lamek, walking up to him. “I see your interest in our maps is undiminished. There are more in the fifty-third southern library that may be of particular note. They show the continents across the Black Sea. The Endless Ocean unfortunately was never completely mapped. We started, mind you, and have some beautiful charts of the small islands we encountered—they are in the twenty-third northern library by the way—but the only expeditions we’re sure of that reached the other side came just before the Dragon War and their charts were all lost.”
Salt looked at him with wide eyes. “I would very much like to see them.”
“Any in particular? I seem to recall there are quite a number.”
“I haven’t got a clue, Lamek. Until you just told me, I didn’t even know there were lands across the Black Sea or the ocean.”
“No? Oh, well then. Maybe it’s not my place to show them to you. I do tend to overestimate just how far you humans have come in your short time on this world. You must ask Nok Dreth if he will allow you to see the charts. Perhaps he’d even let you keep a set of copies. Which reminds me—he is waiting for you. That is why I’ve come to find you.”
“Oh . . . thank you, Lamek. Do you think I could borrow a lamp from here? The stairs up to Nok Dreth’s rooms are a bit challenging for me in the dark.”
“Of course, please go ahead and take one,” he said, waving vaguely around the library. “They are here to be used. Just be sure to bring it back when you are finished.”
“Of course. And thanks again.”
Salt found the climb back up to Nok Dreth’s room far less strenuous with a lamp, but he still stood panting at the top of the stairs for quite some time before he felt ready to speak to the Dreth ruler. Maybe I’ll finally be able to leave, he thought hopefully. If I can take back some of those maps, I’m sure it would make Gurt and the king happy too.
“Ah, welcome,” Nok Dreth called when Salt pushed the door open. “You are just in time. I only just finished the last touches.” He gestured to a steaming trough of water. “It should have cooled enough to handle.” He reached into the water and pulled out the ugliest weapon Salt had ever seen.
It was essentially an overlarge black hammer made out of a twisted mass of the black bone he’d been shown at their first meeting. As if hundreds of pieces had been twisted together and imperfectly fused into a whole.
Nok Dreth read his reaction easily. “It is not a thing of beauty. The dragon bone resists shaping. But this is not a weapon of subtlety. Nor is it a thing to inspire and enrapture. It is a weapon of war and a tool for killing, and it will serve in both capacities exceptionally well.” He moved the weapon from side to side as if looking for imperfections. The whole thing looks like one big imperfection.
“The lightness of the dragonbone is a flaw for most weapons, of course. I have only made two bows from it before, as well as my own suit of armor, which is as yet unfinished.” He gestured to a suit of scale armor that was hanging from a rack at the back of the room. One half was exquisitely finished gleaming black scales while the other half was a twisted mess, much like the hammer he now held. “The black bone resists being shaped, and bending it fully to my will requires significant effort. I have been working on my own armor for many of your human lifetimes, and it is, at best, half-done.” He made a dismissive gesture as if to say it was of little importance. “I’m sure you can appreciate the benefits the lightness and strength of the bone would have for armor. But for your own weapon, a certain amount of weight was required. I built this great hammer around a core of Dreth blood steel that I had Thirat Bel Thammar forge for me. At first I thought this would suffice. The result would have been fearsome enough certainly, but I wanted this gift to be more a weapon of Dreth than the echo of a dragon lord’s power. And so I encased a full dozen drained power crystals within the head of the hammer. The fires of the gems have died, but the memory of what they were remains. Sorcery will not easily deny this great hammer, my friend.”
He’s serious. He wants me to have this thing. . . . And he called me friend.
“I see your surprise that I would name you thus. You begin to understand the importance of spoken words among the Dreth. You are learning. Some words can be a greater gift even than a legendary weapon. So, as I was saying, you have done my people and me a great service by recovering the First Sword. More, you have reawakened in some of us the pleasure to be taken in the company of others and the desire to create. I have not spoken so much in decades, nor have I sought to make something truly new. I have made for you a weapon befitting your stature and your status as a hero among my people. That you are human allowed me rather more creative freedom than I would have had rewarding those of my own race. I present to you Bretuul the Demon Hammer. Take this, my greatest creation, and may your enemies fear your coming.”
“I’m honored beyond words, Nok Dreth, both for the Hammer and that you would call me friend, but I can’t accept this. I’m not much more than a common sailor who fell into a better job.”
“No need for modesty here, Salt. I know you for what you are, perhaps better than you do yourself. The truest measure of a man’s greatness is the quality of his enemies, and you, my friend, have gathered some rather impressive enemies in your short years.”
Salt was silent. There was more being said here than he understood. Nok’s thoughts were so far beyond him sometimes that he didn’t think he could ever come to understand the Dreth. Then it occurred to him that the man standing in front of him had warred with dragons, and not only warred with them but had slain the greatest of their kind. Salt accepted the ugly weapon from the Dreth ruler. It felt strange in his hands. Both light and heavy at the same time. Surprisingly well balanced, too, given its misshapen appearance.
“I don’t know what to say, Nok Dreth. I hope I prove worthy of your gift.”
Nok Dreth waved his words away again. “You are fond of wasting words, Night Captain. I can clearly see the desire to prove yourself in your every move and breath. I have no doubt you will succeed. Now, as much as I have enjoyed your visit, I expect you are eager to return to your home.”
“I—” Salt started, then stopped with a wry smile and nodded. “Nok Dreth. If I may ask one more favor before I leave. Lamek spoke to me of maps that I might see or maybe even obtain copies of, maps of the lands on and beyond the Endless Ocean and the Black Sea.”
Nok Dreth looked at Salt like a father looking at a bright if misguided child. “No, Salt. Your kind are not ready to go so far beyond your shores. There are many lands you
have not seen or heard of, thousands of creatures that we met during our travels. Many of those would snuff out your human race like a hurricane blowing out a single candle.”
He walked around the workroom pointing at odd items that were mounted on the walls. “These things we brought back are just a handful of the artifacts we collected during our wanderings. We traveled as merchants, as peaceful explorers. But many times we were not accepted as such. Miscommunications, cultural differences, or simply violent tendencies led to more wars and battles than our entire race can now accurately recall.” He looked around the room sadly. “We have tried to record all our history in the library, but we are in a battle with time to accurately set everything down before it is forgotten forever. We are so very long-lived. . . . Can you imagine trying to write down everything you have learned in your life, Salt? Can you imagine then living a hundred lifetimes? A thousand? Ten thousand? Some of those we encountered were nearly a match for the Dreth at the height of our power.
“Your little human race that prides itself on its divided control of two small continents and a few hundred islands is little more than an infantile race in a forgotten corner of the world.” Nok looked up pensively for a moment. “Of course, some of those we met must have fallen in the meantime, either to each other or simply to the passage of time. It matters not. Those who remain and have the means to cross the great oceans have not done so for one reason and one reason alone. And trust me, it has little to do with fear of Bialta’s armies.”
Salt couldn’t help bristling at the comment. “You’re saying we owe our continued existence to you? That all those scary fuckers you Dreth fought thousands of years ago are still running scared and avoiding our lands because of it?”
“That is precisely what I am saying, Salt. The time frame involved may seem ludicrous to you, but the Dreth are not the only long-lived race in the world. Some races do not forget and, to be blunt, we Dreth did not leave much room for doubt when another race chose to attack us. We struck them back hard and fast enough to make sure they would never attempt it again. We never gave any of them a chance to make a second attempt. Though we decided some were not even worth the bother of fighting. The Palic, for example, are a strange race that more closely resemble trees than sentient beings. They grow in groups of four and attain mobility after a few centuries or so of life. Their magics would rival even the great sorceries of the dragons, but they seem incapable of crossing saltwater and are unwilling or uninterested in anything beyond the shores of their tiny island home. From what little we were able to learn about them, they never die. They simply get older and grow larger. Some of the tallest ones could very well be the first of their race. Magics such as your entire Arcanum could not begin to comprehend, and they are far from the worst.”
“Tell me then. Who are the worst?”
Nok shook his head. “You disappoint me, Salt. You have heard more about us than any human scholar has ever hoped to learn and you ask me that?”
“The dragons,” Salt said.
“The dragons! Yes, the dragons! What other race was able to cast down the Dreth Empire? To reduce us to a single city? What other race was able to push us to the very brink of defeat?” Nok was shouting by the time he finished, his face deepening to a darker shade of blue. “You Bialtans are the young race we feel the greatest kinship with. Your capital is built on the site of our last free city. Our own half bloods share your bloodlines. Moreover, you follow in our footsteps in spirit. You travel far and wide to explore and learn, to trade and meet new people. Through just such a spirit of wonder the Dreth achieved greatness. But do not overreach or think yourselves beyond harm as we did. There are powers on this world beyond your understanding. But the Dreth know. We know because we are one such power. All that you have, all that you have seen has been built on the bones of the past. Our past.”
Salt bowed as low as he could in front of the enraged Dreth. He did not waste words. He regretted bringing up the maps entirely. Stupid of me to ask for more right after he gives me something he’s so proud of. Nok Dreth was silent for a time and Salt didn’t dare look up. “It seems patience is something I need to rediscover as well, Night Captain. I apologize for the harshness of my words, though not for the words themselves. Go in peace, Saltig Sodigson, and know that you are always welcome among the Dreth.”
“You have taught me a lot, Nok Dreth. I will not forget.” Salt bowed again and left, more eager than ever to leave the fortress city and find himself back in familiar company.
At the base of the stairs, he found Lamek and a guard detail of Fire Warriors waiting. One of the Fire Warriors was carrying Salt’s pack. They must be as eager to see me go as I am to leave. Lamek gave Salt a small nod. “I am very sorry to see you go so soon, Salt. It was a true pleasure to entertain you.”
“Thank you, Lamek. I’ve enjoyed my time here. It’s been a real eye-opener.”
“Now, if you will follow us, we will guide you back to the gate. Your horse should be saddled and ready when we get there. Your companions have also been alerted to your imminent departure and have been given fresh supplies for the journey back to Bialta.” As tired as he was from going up and down the long stairs, Salt didn’t argue. He would camp with the other Night Guardsmen once they were out of sight of the city. The great gates were opened for the second time in living memory, and Salt was shown out. He handed the library lamp to Lamek as they parted.
“I hope we meet again, Lamek.”
“As do I, Salt. Farewell.”
The other Guardsmen clustered around him, hundreds of questions in their eyes. Min saw something in him and stopped the others from coming too close. “When we’re alone,” she insisted. The others nodded and stepped back. The rest of the marketplace was watching them like hawks as they walked away from the slowly closing gates, Lamek and the honor guard disappearing back inside.
“All right, guys, let’s get out of here. I need to see the sun rise tomorrow without a giant ugly wall blocking it and with a good old hangover making me wish my skull was cracked.” They rode in silence until the marketplace was out of sight and the city was nothing more than a shadow on the horizon.
“This will do,” Salt said, climbing off his horse. “Now please tell me we have something to drink, ’cause I’m not answering any questions without it.”
Min laughed. “Glad to hear it, Salty. We have some prime stuff for you. The Dreth didn’t stint with the provisions they gave us.” She was as excited as a child with a new toy. He raised an eyebrow and she laughed.
“It wasn’t just supplies they gave us.” She drew her sword in a fluid motion. “Dreth steel! We each got to pick one. For free!” She gave Salt a tight hug and moved away, suddenly embarrassed.
Altog smiled. “I think the girl’s grateful you chose to bring her along. As are we all, I think. Hope you don’t mind if I don’t hug you though.”
Brolt laughed. “Holding out for a kiss, are ya?”
Suddenly Salt felt like everything was back to normal. He started to set up camp and just let the others’ banter wash over him.
“Salt, what is that monstrosity you have strapped to your horse?” Altog asked, pointing to Salt’s new hammer.
“This is Bretuul the Demon Hammer,” Salt said with a smirk, as he brought the weapon over to show the others.
Altog burst out laughing. “Pretty freaking grand name for an ugly piece of crap.” He turned to Min. “Guess we were the lucky ones.” Brolt and Min weren’t laughing. They were staring at the Hammer with looks of mixed dread and awe.
“Salty, that thing reeks of power,” Min said, looking at it intently but not moving any closer.
Brolt nodded. “And ‘reeks’ isn’t a strong enough word. But it’s weird. I couldn’t feel it until you were holding it.”
“Nok Dreth made it for me. That’s why we had to wait so long.”
“I can’t wait to see you use it, Salty,” said Min. “But Gurt is going to have a fit when you bring that into the castle.
It’s anything but discreet.” Then her eyes went strangely blank.
Salt reached out, but she came back to herself before he touched her. “That was Lera. She said the Tolrahkali have attacked a Bialtan trade caravan near Dreth and they have an army moving toward the border just north of here. Gurt wants us back yesterday.”
Salt sighed. “No fucking rest for the wicked. I’ll have to drink as we ride.” He made a face as he pulled himself back up onto his horse. “So much for setting up camp. Let’s get a few more hours in tonight.”
The others were ready only moments later, and they set out with a new urgency, as if an invading army were on their heels.
CHAPTER 17
The sun was beaming down on the white city. Sacral in the full of summer was a place of great beauty. The wide, tree-lined streets were filled with people going about their business. Maura noticed an eagerness in the crowds that hadn’t been there just the day before. With spring over and the city and its lands lush with new life and crops, people were finally waking up from the daze that had held them since the Abolian invasion.
Maura could almost ignore the burnt-out ruins of destroyed houses and shops that dotted nearly every neighborhood. Repair efforts continued, of course, but Maura had insisted that the walls and fields take precedence. Enough people had been lost—often entire families—that there was more than enough space to house those who had lost their homes. Thankfully all the buildings in Sacral were made mostly of stone, so the fires hadn’t spread far. The biggest problem was deciding how the newly vacant homes should be handed out. Families often took exception to others being placed in the houses of their dead relatives. In the meantime, some families had been settled in the Black.
The Bones of the Past (Books of Dust and Bone) Page 35
