by kubasik
J'role's shame increased. He felt an intense bitterness burning in him. He had killed his father, a weak, gentle man, and here he was, about to play a game! What was the point of anything?
"J'role," Releana said, looking at him carefully, "we need this."
He nodded. He sighed. What else was he to do? Give up? No. He needed something. He needed to long for something just to go on.
"Or kill yourself," the creature said. The image of ragged wrists, blood flowing freely came to him.
He nearly began to cry, but pushed the image from his thoughts and began searching his mind for how to begin.
"How many words?" asked Releana, encouraging him.
He raised a finger.
"All right. Give us the first sound of the word. Give us an object or idea or something that sounds like the first sound."
Parlainth.
Par.
Parchment!
He grabbed a sheet of paper from a dwarf at a nearby table and held it up before them.
The dwarf gasped.
"Parchment?" asked Releana. J'role nodded enthusiastically.
"Ment?" Merrox asked. J'role shook his head.
"Parch!" Releana said firmly. J'role pointed to her and nodded.
"Parch. Parch. Parch," the two of them said over and over.
J'role held his hands before him, squeezing the syllable shorter.
"Par," said Releana.
J 'role nodded and smiled. He liked this. "Par, par, par," the two of them said again.
Releana said, “The first sound is Par." Dwarfs from neighboring tables had begun to wander over to find out what was going on.
Next sound. Parlainth.
Lainth.
He couldn't think of anything so he decided to break it up one more time, saving the th for last.
Lain. What word could he use?
"Pain," said the creature in his thoughts.
He mimed pulling a dagger out of a sheath.
"Dagger" said Merrox.
“Draw," said a dwarf.
"Danger," said Releana.
J'role then pressed the imaginary blade against his wrist and cut himself with it.
A gasp went up from several of the dwarfs who had gathered, but some, along with Merrox and Releana began shouting out guesses.
"Death."
“Suicide."
"Murder."
"Doom."
J 'role turned his face into a grimace. Though he kept his mouth shut, he winced his eyes and swayed a bit. He grabbed the wrist and hugged it close.
“Agony."
"Despair."
"Murder."
J'role pointed at the dwarf who had shouted agony, then motioned with his hand, encouraging more suggestions along those lines.
"Agony," someone repeated.
"Hurt."
"Torture."
"Sacrifice."
"Wound."
"Pain."
J'role jumped up and down, clapping his hands together.
"Pain?" Releana asked. J'role remembered he wasn't quite done yet. He spread his fingers an inch apart.
"Close," said Merrox authoritatively to the others. “It's close." He turned to J'role. "It sounds like Paine?”
J'role nodded.
"Sane?"
"Plain!"
“Bane?"
“Cane!"
"Gain?"
"Lane!"
J'role threw his hands up and pointed at the dwarf who had said, "Lane." Applause rose up from the gathered dwarfs, and some patted their fellow dwarf on the back. Others nodded sagely to J'role.
A strange good humor began to rise in J'role. He looked around at the happy faces, knowing he had made it happen. Releana was looking at him, smiling a sly smile. She said, "All right. All right. Par-Lane. Yes? Is there more?”
J'role nodded. Th.
He thought for a long while, everyone looking at him expectantly. He could think of nothing, and looked around wildly for inspiration ... seeing only the thousands of records upon the shelves. Thousands, yes
He waved his hands at the shelves, encompassing the entire Hall of Records in his gesture.
There was a pause, and everyone turned back to him, then a cacophony of suggestions.
"Records!"
'Scrolls!"
"Books!'?
"Bills!"
"Blueprints!"
"Designs!"
Realizing the group had taken the wrong tack, he once again waved his arms, trying to get them to understand he was dealing in scope. "Big!"
“Many!"
J'role pointed at the giver the last suggestion.
"Many!"
"Much!"
"Overwhelming!"
Hundreds!"
"Hundreds of thousands!"
J'role pointed again.
"Thousands?”
He nodded furiously.
"Thousands!" everyone cried as one.
"Sands," said Merrox.
J’role shook his head.
"Thou!" shouted Releana. J'role nodded and squeezed his fingers together.
"Th!" everyone tried to say, and the group sounded like a large snake with a lisp. J'role nodded.
"Par-Lane-Th?" Releana asked. "Any more?"
J'role shook his head.
"Parlainth?"
J'role nodded, clapped his hands together. Everyone joined him in applause. "Well," said Merrox. "It's a start. And even if we don't find it, at least we've brought more life into this place than I've seen in years."
The search seemed hopeless. For the rest of the day Merrox and Releana searched the main codices for any mention of Parlainth. The dwarven language of pictures—with symbols added to the illustration of a dragon's head or a sunset to highlight certain syllables of the object presented— allowed countless permutations for representation of the word Parlainth. Though most common words or names had well-known, standardized presentations, the hidden city was not well known at all. The search took days.
Meanwhile J'role studied one dwarven map after another, looking for a city located in the area where he had found Parlainth. He found nothing, and a fear began to grow in him that it had all been a dream; a fulfillment of desire created by his confused mind.
When they had completed the search of the maps and main indexes without success, Releana suggested that the group scour the stacks anyway. If the memory and maps of the city had been altered, she reasoned that the indexes could have been transformed as well.
So the three of them walked up and down the stacks, climbed up and down ladders, and generally made a nuisance of themselves to the other dwarfs busy at work. Releana had made a list of possible spellings of Parlainth for J'role, and he compared the symbols on the list with those he found on the scrolls and tomes. As the days passed J'role became dizzy from the constant cross-referencing of the titles with this scrap of paper. With each passing day it all seemed more and more hopeless.
After a week had gone by and they had still checked only half the Hall of Record's massive stores, they gathered around their table, slumped dejectedly in their seats.
"Are you sure this is the name of the city?" Merrox asked J'role.
Was he? It was what the elf queen had called it. Did her people have a different name for it. Had she lied to him?
He shrugged.
"Maybe we're going about it all wrong," said Releana. "J'role got the name of the city from the elf queen. But the people of Parlainth probably didn't count on people under the spell's influence meeting with her. J'role found the city, and then deduced that the stones were where the magic was stored. So what matters is the stones, not the name; and because the name itself seems to have been erased from the records, we need a new approach anyway."
"If that was the name," Merrox said and shook his head. "It all seems so improbable ..."
“If the entire population of a massive city—and according to J'role's visions it was massive—invested themselves into the spell it might be possible. Add the tigh
t restrictions that the city put on the spell—they could not bring themselves back, that only a single ring indicated that they even existed, and that the ring itself provided few clues—
and such power is definitely possible. The limitations on the spell were enormous. The effects could be enormous as well."
A silence fell over the table, and each of them slipped into deep contemplation. Then Merrox said, "What a horrible decision they made; to hide themselves away like this. To have no power over returning home."
"They must have been terrified of the coming Scourge," agreed Releana.
"Were they more frightened than the elves of Blood Wood?" asked a dwarf who stood nearby and had overheard the conversation. "What they did to themselves ..."
"No," Merrox said firmly, his voice tight. "I cannot imagine doing what the people of Parlainth did. But to do what the elves of Blood Wood did, and what countless other peoples did for protection, corrupting themselves to stave off the corruption of the Horrors.... It is unconscionable."
Another silence came, even deeper than the last. Then Releana said, as if speaking from a terrible distance, a sadness cutting through her words, “The Scourge did things to us that will never truly heal."
J 'role found himself nodding, though he had no desire to share his thoughts or feelings.
But no one noticed. The truth of the matter weighed on each one. And in that moment they were bound together in a way no words could express. They had all been reminded of the pain that each living person shared in being alive.
"Well, at least we can try to get this city back," Releana said firmly, rousing the group from its deepening despair.
"Yes," said Merrox, shivering as if shaking off a chill. “You suggested we look at the stones we cut for Parlainth."
"Yes. Let's leave the name behind for now. It might not exist anywhere in this room. But they would have left something behind so the city could be brought back. It might well be in the records of your stone quarries... I don't know. But let's get to it. Let's search through the construction work you did before the Scourge."
"And we can make it more specific because, if it is a huge city, the stone work would be listed under our city records, and would bet quite detailed."
"Well, let's look," said Releana.
"But what are we looking form asked Merrox with exasperation.
"Anything," said Releana. "Anything at all."
29
In the dream the creature in J'role's thoughts said "Now, what would be the best thing for a little boy to do if he caused his parents pain?"
J'role did not know. He could not even venture a guess. He was too frightened. Something was in his thoughts. Something flowed and slid around in his mind.
"Come, now Don't worry so much, little boy. We're going to be together for a while, I think. Now what would be the best thing you could do for your mother and your father?"
At the mention of his father, J'role sensed something, someone, just out beyond the edge of his perceptions— standing behind his mother.
Crying.
They found seven volumes of stonework designs—all without labels. When Releana brought them to Merrox he furrowed his forehead and turned the books around and around searching for a label. "We label everything," he said with whispered astonishment. "I mean, everything. I recently found a receipt for the purchase of a ten-foot pole that didn't cost more than a scrap of copper. The date of purchase, the buyer, and the seller were all carefully listed on the scrap."
As Merrox flipped through the pages and pages of designs his brow furrowed even more.
"What is it?" Releana asked, a barely contained excitement creeping into her voice.
"These designs. Here. Look." The dwarf turned the open book so she and J'role could see.
In the center of the yellowed page was a picture of a stone block. On the block was a symbol from the written language—the foot of a dragon surrounded by three dots, with two dashes beneath the foot.
Because these were the designs for the city's outer walls, J'role assumed they were part of the glyphs used to ward off the Horrors.
Merrox explained that the dwarfs often designed the patterns for the stones ahead of time, making a Master Sheet of the glyphs, and then a grid of these Master Sheets, with one block per square. That way they could be sure all the glyphs would fit on the actual wall or gate. The nameless volumes on the table before them contained the Master Sheets, as well as illustrations of all the blocks that would make up the city's outer wall.
What was odd about this page, Merrox continued, was that in the upper right-hand corner was the picture of another, smaller block. There was another drawing of the dragon's foot, but this time on the left side of the block rather than on the side facing out. On the side facing out was a squiggle of lines and a circle.
"These smaller blocks...," said Merrox, fanning the pages of the thick tome to show the small block in the upper corner of each leaf. "I don't know what they are. I've never seen anything like it before."
Releana looked intently at the small blocks as they flipped by. "It looks like the smaller square is the same as the big one, but showing a different side. But why? The purpose of the glyphs is to drive the Horrors away. They have to be able to see them."
J'role understood immediately and excitedly tapped the illustration of one of the smaller blocks. Everyone looked at him, waiting for the explanation. It was so obvious, but he could only keep pointing at the picture of the smaller block and wait for them to see.
Releana got it first. "Yes," she said slowly. “This is how they moved the city to the other plane, and how to bring it back. They didn't face the block out, because they didn't want the Horrors to see it. They hid the glyphs between the stones. The glyphs were used to save themselves. Brilliant."
"All well and good," said Merrox. "But that cannot be so. Look at this." He turned one page after another, and jabbed his short, stubby finger at each of the small stones. “These symbols don't mean anything. They're nonsense."
J’role became furious that Merrox would quash their victory. He turned to Releana, watching her examine each of the blocks. Any moment, he knew, she would solve the last bit of the problem. She was a magician.
She nodded to Merrox. "You're right. If it makes sense, it's a sense I can't understand."
J'role snatched the book away from Merrox and flipped through the pages. He stared down at the pictures of the stone blocks trying to see some sort of order.
But as he stared at each illustration—bits of ink formed into lines and blotches—he saw nothing but confusion. He turned one page after another, and a shame overcame him. He couldn't begin to read at all. What made him think he could read signs that were made to be secret?
He looked up to find them staring at him, concerned. He threw up his hands, turned, and walked toward the door.
"J'role!" Releana called, but he paid no heed.
"Let him be," he heard Merrox say. "We're closer, but we need to rest. It's amazing we've gotten this far. But your friend can only be so useful in these matters. I'll call in several of our kingdom's best magicians ..."
J'role reached the door and left. Useless, he thought. Useless, useless, useless.
He walked down the corridor and didn't care where he went. What was the point? He'd be dead before they ever found Parlainth. He'd lived out his life with the creature in his thoughts, ever unable to speak.
He thought of his father's death—murder. Remembered the blood, the shocked look on his father's face. His muscles tightened at the memory, and he embraced the thoughts, finding perverse comfort in the shame and agony. This was who he was, a pathetic fool whose only accomplishment was the murder of his father. Despite the terrible nature of the deed, it confirmed everything J'role thought about himself, relieved him of having to move forward or try to change his circumstances.
The dwarfs he passed quickly parted to make a path for the grim-looking boy with his head leaning forward, his quick pace carrying him
on toward some unknown destination.
For days Releana and several dwarven magicians hovered around the seven mysterious tomes. They also brought in other tomes from throughout the kingdom, compared the symbols to other arcane references, scribbled notes, and stared thoughtfully at the ceiling.
