by R N Skye
“I do not know what the Laws of Wisdom are,” Shane answered.
“The Laws of Wisdom are the glyphs that you beheld etched upon the Arc just before you entered herein,” The voice stated unemotionally. “They govern the world of Eliom and contain the truths necessary for the peace of its inhabitants,” the voice continued. “Do you seek the Laws of Wisdom?” The voice asked a third time.
Sensing an opportunity Shane answered. “I am searching for knowledge of anything that will teach me the secrets of the glyphs - All glyphs. I want to understand the ancient artifacts as well as create my own artifacts. If knowing the Laws of Wisdom will allow that to occur then yes, I seek the Laws of Wisdom.
“Your answer of yes has been recorded. The Laws will be imparted to you in time. For now please be seated and refresh yourself. This dream has been a costly one for your mind. You were already tired before the dream took you. Drink the entire contents of the goblet. It will refresh your mind and body so that your lack of sleep will be as if it had never happened. When you are finished you will be returned to your sleep. To learn what you seek construct a device like the one that you copied into your notes. Change nothing but the top two corner glyphs. The glyphs that you call sun glyphs. Change the top two corner glyphs and make the contents within the pyramids the glyphs you call Kero. When it is complete activate it with the light within your mind. Do not again use the machine that you refer to as the light globe artifact. Its purpose is to instruct but it is no longer for you. Until you are bonded to your own instructor it is not wisdom for you to touch it. When the instructor that you shall create is complete and bonded to you, you will understand. You will then be instructed in the knowledge of the Glyph Mage”
Shane sat in the chair by the table and was amazed by the unusual comfort that the simple looking chair provided. His mind whirled as he contemplated what the voice had just told him. Wow he thought… a Glyph Mage. Remembering to drink the contents of the goblet he picked it up and took a long drink. It was clearly water; the coldest water he had ever tasted without being frozen. It also seemed to have a hint of some sort of citrus flavor; just enough to bring forth intense refreshment but not enough to seem flavored. How was it cold it had been sitting on the table since his arrival? Examining the goblet he noted the myriad of glyphs that adorned the base and stem; obviously magetech was the answer. Finishing the last of the water, enjoying the coolness as it slid down his throat he sat back in the chair feeling pleasantly relaxed.
Suddenly the tingling that he had felt in his hand began to increase. He reached with his other hand to massage it when the tingling began to spread up his arm and throughout his entire body, as he glanced at the now pulsing appendage it began to glow with a golden light. The room around him began to appear golden as well. It was then he realized that it wasn’t the room that was glowing it was him. Then he woke up.
II
The Ox Horn was a popular tavern and grill among the Jehhet’s central city crowd; its customers consisting of all sorts - from magetech service and support and various other professionals, to merchants and traders, business owners and government staffers. Typically slow on the work days and never a dull moment on the weekends; when the betting crowds congregated to unwind and watch the large artifact screens, showing the latest horse races and sports games.
It was an early although somewhat rainy Lundi afternoon, Roger Oiseau (often referred to as “Birdie” by his friends and long-time customers, due to the translation of his name in Luionese), was enjoying the momentary lull in business. Roger was the Ox’s owner and head barkeep. He enjoyed Lundi afternoons; the brief moments of quiet was relaxing and provided him time to meditate. He had finished the extra clean up that often followed the weekend, had placed his orders with his various suppliers, and put on a fresh pot of ragoût; he was ready for the new week. While whistling happily he polished the long oak bar top. The sound of the opening and closing of the door earned a brief glance. He saw a tall middle aged man with short brown hair; very non-descript and unremarkable except for a pair of piercing steel grey eyes, enter the tavern. Noting the man as a regular the barkeeper continued with his polishing.
The man nodded a quiet greeting as he shrugged out of a plain greyish-tan rain coat and hung it on the coat tree near the door. “It’s a little stormy outside today. Rains any harder and I’ll need a boat.” The man smiled.
“Monsieur Stafford. Hallo to you.” Roger smiled looking up from the bar. “You are back in town again I see. I have just put on a fresh pot. Would you care for some ragoût?”
“It smells delicious. What kind is it today? - smells like chicken if my nose doesn’t deceive me,” replied the man with a smile. “A mug of tea also, if you don’t mind- Mint if you have it. I’ll be sitting in my corner”
“Oui monsieur, right away – and you quite correct, it is chicken today.”
The man known only as Stafford to the regulars of the “Ox”, quietly moved to the far corner; away from the door of the tavern’s main room; taking a chair that had its back to the bare river-rock wall. Sitting with an economy of movement he opened a daily newspaper and began to read the headlines. One of the headlines caught his eye – ARTIFACT BROKER FOUND DEAD. The column mentioned that a leading broker of Artifacts was found in an alley on the lower west side of Jehhet. Law enforcement was still investigating but it was their suspicion that the broker had been trying to buy unlicensed artifacts from illegal importers and the deal had gone bad. The article went on to provide back ground of how all artifacts uncovered or imported to country of Infin were required by Kings Decree to be reported and certified safe before being offered to the public and that Artifact smuggling was on the rise. – The Law was very controversial at the moment and opponents to the law had lobbied hard against it but to no avail. Opponents felt that the Government AKA the King strictly used the Artifact Licensing Decree as a way to monopolize the artifacts trade.
Roger approached Stafford’s table and with the ease of many years serving his guests he carefully held a tray in one hand and with a flourish deposited a basket of bread, and a steaming bowl and mug on the table in front of Stafford. “And here we are one bowl of my famous chicken ragoût, and your tea, monsieur.” Roger said with a smile. Roger also carefully placed a handful of envelopes beside the dishes; strategically located where there would be no chance of a spill reaching them. “Here are your messages as well.”
“Merci, Roger,” Stafford replied with a smile. You always take good care of me.
Roger had been receiving messages for Stafford for years. As to the content, Stafford never explained and Roger never asked. All Roger knew was that after Stafford had started frequenting his tavern that his clientele had increased in volume and quality. Granted his weekend customers still got rowdy from time to time but ale and sports often went hand in hand with rowdy.
As Roger returned to his bar to continue his polishing he recalled a time many years ago - a slow rainy Lundi not unlike today when three rough looking men had entered his tavern and started asking disturbing questions about if he was interested in their protection services and how they could ensure his safety one hundred percent. They insisted that unprotected they were almost positive that that given how vulnerable his existing security was that he could be robbed or burned down in the very near future.
Not really wanting to pay the extortion and stalling for time he said that he would need a day or two to get the money to cover their price. While he was explaining this to the toughs and trying to make the best of a bad situation, a lone man that had often frequented the tavern always sitting alone in the corner reading a paper - except on the rare occasion when he would meeting with people that Roger never recognized and whom never returned more than a handful of times, was suddenly at the bar standing behind the rough looking men.
The lone man, who Roger would later know as Stafford, told the three men in a voice that was quiet but held a tone that seemed to have a razors edge that their services would not
be needed at the Ox Horn. The men laughed and shrugged and headed to the door. To Rogers surprise the lone man followed them out of the building. A short while later, the man returned and told Roger that he had had a word with the men and that they realized the error of their ways and he needn’t worry about them returning. Roger had asked what he had said to the men but Stafford merely shrugged it off and mentioned that he had simply informed them that the Ox was already protected.
Not knowing what to make of the situation and having no faith in an unknown stranger to deter three obvious crooks, the carefree Roger was soon losing sleep worrying if he would have to take matters in to his own hands with resources at his disposal or continue waiting for the morning when he would arrive to the tavern and find a pile of ashes. Until one morning he arrived and discovered the bodies of the three toughs lying stabbed and quite dead on his doorstep. As he was about to summon the local law enforcers, a black carriage accompanied by a dozen soldiers on horseback thundered to a stop in front of the tavern. Out of the coach emerged an officious looking man who neglected to identify himself - looked briefly at the scene, patted Roger on the back again glanced at the three bodies and said, “job well done.” The soldiers quickly and efficiently gathered up the corpses, cleaned up what little blood there was on the steps and were gone before Roger could say a word. CSS if ever there was, Roger thought to himself.
Days later Stafford came in for lunch and Roger decided to tell him the tale. The only response from Stafford was a non-revealing look from his piercing eyes, a shrug, and a single word; “interesting.” Then as if the conversation had never occurred Stafford changed the subject and mentioned that due to his travel schedule and that he didn’t have a permanent address here in the Capitol it would be most convenient that if a letter or two should show up for him now and then would Roger please hold it for him and how much he would appreciate it if he would treat them as extremely confidential. Suspicious that monsieur Stafford had had something to do with the elimination of the extorters and the fact that someone high up in the government with soldiers at their command had cleaned up the bodies and the crime scene so efficiently, Roger realizing that the mysterious Stafford was probably someone that one should not anger and more particularly the type of individual one would find beneficial to have as a friend, Roger acquiesced and promptly promised to hold messages for him. Roger did discretely make inquiries with resources that a simple bartender shouldn’t have and could find nothing out of the norm regarding Stafford. Roger eventually decided that Stafford was either so good at keeping secrets that it would be dangerous for him to keep poking around or that Stafford was indeed what he claimed; a business man and grain broker.
“Thank you for the lunch,” Stafford said smilingly disrupting Roger’s reverie. “Just what a rainy day needs,” Placing a ten crown note on the bar he waved and went to the front entrance, donned his rain gear and was quietly out the door.
After leaving the Ox Horn, the man called Stafford looked up and down the street. The rain had diminished to a sprinkle but was threatening to resume a downpour. With a sharp whistle he hailed an approaching taxi. Practically before it was stopped he opened the door jumped in and gave the driver an address.
Stafford traveled extensively, most often under the guise of grain broker. He had found that most people didn’t really know what a grain broker was but assumed it was important and mostly harmless – which was fine because it provided the access and anonymity that he required for his real job. Stafford had been traveling for years. There probably wasn’t a city in all of Infin that he hadn’t been to at one time or another. He had grown up in a small farming community with four brothers. Three of which had elected to stay on the farm and continue the family business but he and his youngest brother had decided to go out and see the world. His little brother had attended business collegium and had become a very successful merchant. In fact much of the visible financial success that the man called Stafford had accumulated over the years was due to the investments that he had made silently and unbeknownst to and with his brother’s businesses. The man called Stafford thought with a rare wistful expression - Oh to be Ari again.
Ruari Desmond or Ari as his family called him and his younger brother Gerard had set out to see the world. His brother had leaned toward business and the possibilities of becoming a merchant. Ari on the other hand had chosen the path of magic and studied magetech and glyphs.
After graduation he discovered that a desk job duplicating and installing artifacts as a low tech glyph mage was not in the least bit fulfilling or interesting. Hearing that the Infin Department of Ancient Discoveries had located a new artifact dig in the border country and that the Army needed magetech experts for a team being deployed to the dig and the Army was offering commissions to those with magetech degrees if they would commit to eight years, Ari signed on the dotted line.
After a few months of basic combat training and then officer leadership school he soon found himself back at yet another desk, this time in the middle of nowhere cataloging and verifying anything and everything that came out of the ground. Although he could read the glyphs and figure out how to operate many of the artifacts uncovered, he actively avoided the tasks that required him to be a desk bound researcher. In the cause of maintaining his sanity a good portion of the discoveries he processed, he would simply catalog and have it shipped to Jehhet for further examination by the civilian magetechs. It wasn’t long before he was so un-enamored with magetech and artifacts that he pretty much began to look for anything he could do to get away from his desk.
Late at night Ari would often roam the dig looking at the ruins and wonder what the ancients had been like. How could a people so advanced have lost so much?
He taught himself how to use the cover of the night and the shadows to hide his movement. He learned instinctively where to step to not make any noise. While no archeologist he soon found that through the use of rudimentary observation he had a knack to locate the more obvious places to look for artifacts; of which many were either very interesting or beyond his understanding. Most of the artifacts that he found were still live or activated; the items that were active he kept the others, he had sent to Jehhet for activation.
On one of his nocturnal explorations; late after midnight, he was looking through a semi buried building that appeared to be a library. It had been passed by the archeologists due to its level of destruction. Ari, thinking that he had heard movement and thinking that it might be smugglers, chose to investigate. He didn’t find any smugglers but he did discover an over looked shaft that descended into the ground. The upper floors had been destroyed but the shaft he had discovered was remarkably intact; it went straight down well over ten cubits. The shaft had a steel ladder built into one side with nothing on the opposite wall. The two other walls had a set of rails as if some sort of cart had once been attached to go up and down the shaft.
The next night he returned with some equipment and descended into the shaft. When he first exited the shaft he found himself in a large room. As he entered it immediately lit with indirect lighting from unnoticeable sources. The unexpected brilliance was a little unsettling but he soon adjusted and began to explore.
Ari concluded with himself that the building was not a library; at least not a library of any sort that he had ever seen; there were no books. If anything it looked to be more of a repair shop or a laboratory. There were long low tables with short stools next to them with many artifacts tucked away on tables and shelves along the walls. As he began looking through the artifacts he saw some he recognized like heating units for keeping a house warm, portable lamps and sound boxes used to listen to public communications; or whatever else these lost people listened to. Additionally there were many artifact powered tools as well as dozens of other house hold items. It was then he saw built into the far wall a device that he had only seen in text books. It was an activator. He did a double take as he realized what it was. There were only four known to be in existence. The
king had one and the three other major artifact manufacturers had the others.
It took several visits for him to figure out how to use it but soon he was activating all of the odd artifacts that he had found that had been inactivated. Many of these he found useful in his hobby of snooping around the dig.
He finally decided that he would try to remove the activator and hide it elsewhere; he felt that this place was too unsecure and he expected that someone would stumble on it any day.
Ari spent the next two weeks extracting the activator from the wall. He hadn’t decided what to do with it yet but he knew that it was worth millions of crowns and the little larceny that he had within him, was battling mightily with is conscience.
Late one night fate made the decision for him. As he was hoisting the activator up the shaft the rope snagged on a sharp edge and severed it in two. The artifact fell almost the full height of the shaft and shattered into several unrecognizable pieces at the bottom.
After that he turned the room over to the archeologists but still kept the artifacts that he liked to himself. Even though he found quite a few other undiscovered locations, he never happened onto another activator again during his stay at the dig.
After the fiasco of losing the activator he resumed his prowling. As luck would have it he found he had quite the talent for noticing and catching those that would try to steal or smuggle artifacts. After becoming bored with openly catching the criminal element as they would attempt to relieve the site of many a shiny object. He soon found a more entertaining sport of occupying his spare time by coming up with inventive ways to thwart the robberies and unmask the smuggling attempts without the culprits even knowing that they had been discovered.
The uncanny productivity of the dig was soon highly publicized by the commandant to his senior officers at the capitol. Senior officers being what they are seized the opportunity to organize a special visit to the dig with the crown prince and the governor of Jehhet. Enemies of state being what they are seized the opportunity of a prince out of the palace to show off their ability to plan assassinations. Ari being what he was saw it coming from the proverbial “milo away.”
