Castle & Conceit

by Jeremy Dwyer

  Danek looked at Judith with dismay and said: “You do hold doubt, young Chronicler. With what future offenses are you concerned? Be confident that wars will be fought and many millions will die. You know this is true from numerous chronicles. I have seen it more than two hundred (200) times. You have seen it yourself more than ten (10). You know, furthermore, that murders, abductions and other atrocities, large and small, will be committed throughout history.”

  Judith continued, saying: “This threat is on a much larger scale. Octavian is in possession of an artifact that can build castles more than a mile wide. He will soon build another, far larger. He conquers nearby lands to amass wealth, and will use it to build more castles still.”

  Danek looked solemnly at her and said: “Perhaps, then, some of the lost secrets of Abaddon have been discovered. As my own studies have led me to believe over the millennia, those secrets are more than myth. This is dangerous to be sure, but not surprising.” Danek knew of Duke Hagan’s legendary architecture, and he even knew the Duke personally before Hagan died. Danek also knew of the ancient Book of Castles, which contained the knowledge of construction on the scale that Judith had suggested. What he did not know was that Duke Hagan ever had possession of that book, or that the Duke’s resting place had been discovered, or even where the resting place was. He merely surmised that someone had found the Book of Castles, but he did not hypothesize about where it was found.

  Judith then urged him, saying: “No one can learn from the chronicles of history recorded here if Octavian conquers the world and murders or enslaves everyone.”

  Danek remained calm, and betrayed no concern. He assured her, saying: “To conquer the world is no small feat, and is quite unlikely. Even if he made appreciable progress to that end, assuming Octavian is as vain as you claim, then he will want these chronicles to be read, if only to compare his own glory favorably to that of rulers of the past. To murder everyone would be irrational, even for him – it would not give him subjects to praise him for his glory, or give him gemstones into which to gaze at his reflection.”

  “Octavian is a madman. He ordered the massacre of all the residents of a farming town because they paid him tribute in food rather than gemstones. I have very good reason to believe he would act irrationally yet again. At the slightest insult, he will commit murder. If Octavian were led to believe that something written here in Emeth was a threat to his pride and glory, he would prevent people from coming here, or even try to destroy the historical record,” Judith said, betraying her fears and emotions.

  Danek then said: “Octavian cannot prevent the entire world from coming here, nor can he destroy Emeth or any record within it. There are powers you do not know, and cannot see, that protect this place. Octavian’s defeat is absolutely assured if he should attempt any obstruction. About this I am not worried. Yet, about you, I am. Your fears are unbecoming of a Chronicler. Is your heart too heavy from the centuries of pain you have witnessed? Are you now in need of rest? Perhaps a century of watching and waiting, in the archives and temples of Emeth, would be best.”

  Judith thought of King Tiberius the Second (2nd), but that history did not apply, as he only acted against a single Chronicler. There were no accounts of anyone facing consequences for attempting to block access to Emeth – for none had ever tried. Her personal experience with Octavian was unusual, and his murderous vanity so aberrant, and that was the only reason that suggested to her that he might just try to enforce such a blockade. Judith thought that, perhaps, the many troubles she had witnessed over the centuries, and which had nearly taken her own life on numerous occasions, had indeed traumatized her and caused her to imagine terrible things that no one else had even suggested, not even Octavian. Yet she survived all the trials of her life, scarred only by fear rather than actual harm.

  “What powers protect this place?” Judith asked.

  “You do not believe, do you?” Danek wondered out loud.

  “I believe that which I see, and that which I read here. That is all,” Judith answered.

  Danek went on to say: “Some have the gift of faith in powers beyond. For some, that faith is even greater, because they drink of the waters of the Zovvin Ocean, which allow them to reach into the spirit world. Perhaps that should have been your choice of waters, instead.”

  “Of what relevance is faith and spirit?” Judith asked.

  “If you had faith in spirit, you would know that there was protection for Emeth, and for those who keep the Oath. Then, you would have no fear, and no inclination to invent new fears,” Danek said.

  “I have seen, firsthand, many difficult, dangerous and terrible things in history. To not have fear of them would be dishonest,” Judith said.

  “Yet, despite being in the presence of these dangers, you survived. Were you ever injured, even?” Danek asked, knowing the answer.

  “No, but I have come very close to suffering injury or being killed,” Judith said.

  “It seems improbable to me that you would have escaped so many misfortunes for over twelve (12) centuries by mere luck. Something more is at work, keeping you from harm, would you not agree?” Danek asked.

  “I cannot explain my escapes from all of these dangers, however unlikely. Yet, they continue to occur, which is always startling and trying on my emotions,” Judith said.

  “That you escape harm for all this time strongly suggests that you are being protected. Hence, you should not fear, but see it as encouragement to continue your duties,” Danek said.

  “Unless it is my fear that keeps me on guard. Fear is not against the tenets of the Oath,” Judith said.

  “Your fear is not what protects you. While fear is not against the literal tenets, it is against their intentions. Have confidence that, as long as you keep the Oath, you will be safe,” Danek said.

  “I do adhere to the tenets of the Oath. Yet, when faced with extraordinary dangers, such confidence is not easily found,” Judith said.

  “One may never break the Oath without utmost terrible consequences, but you may be relieved from your duties under the Oath and lay down your book if the emotional burden of being a Chronicler proves too great. Know, however, that once you do so, the Oath can never be taken up again. By drinking the waters of the Ursegan Ocean, you would still live out your remaining millennia, but without the protection, trust or privilege conferred on those who take the Oath,” Danek said.

  Judith then thought back to many of her experiences – some good, some bad – such as the thousands of births and weddings and deaths she had chronicled over the centuries. She remembered the silver-sailed ship she had traveled on and the aqua aurora she witnessed. Judith recalled the lyrics and melody of Taesa’s song Wanderer – a musical work that was new to this world which she had heard in just these past few days. She had twelve (12) centuries of memories of kings, princes and singers. Yes, she admitted to the dread of having memories of murderers, mutilators, kidnappers and extortionists. She also had memories of a mysterious benefactor – whose true name she knew before anyone else – giving away his vast inheritance to the orphan children of the great armies lost in the Battle of Citrine. Judith remembered the days when the generous Father Isaac adopted the children who were orphans of that war, and when he brought them on several of his voyages here, so that they could read from the archives in their youth. She remembered chronicling several of their lives, and those of their children, and grandchildren, and great grandchildren.

  Judith then said: “No, I am a Chronicler, and I would not choose the path of rest and comfort, peace and certainty in place of my own path. The magnificence I have seen, the moments witnessed firsthand, the living history that unfolded before my eyes is greater than any fear, even this latest. But I must tell you this, Most Learned Danek. I want it all to live on, and on, without fail. I thirst for everlasting history. The world must beware of Imperial Prince Octavian more than any other tyrant of late. Death and destruction are at the gate, and will claim millions. Lives and their stories wi
ll be lost, if someone does not stop him. The Oath forbids my interference – I know that. Thus, I can only be a witness to his atrocities, and hope to survive them long enough to give my account.”

  Danek acknowledged this and said: “You will survive and give your account – let go of any notions to the contrary. The story of life is growing outward, and there will be many branches to life’s tree. Many a Chronicler will be needed to witness and record the good and the evil all around us, today and in days yet to come. Several of the students here are ready to take up the Oath, and it is time for me to send them to travel the many paths that now lay before them. They will fill their books with truth, even the truth of death and destruction, of suffering and sorrow. The Chroniclers of the Oath shall continue their work. The Oath binds them, protects them and carries them forward. It quenches the thirst of their souls for the knowledge of the world – the knowledge which is true life – even if the drink is, at times, bittersweet.”

  CHAPTER 14: Sounds of Stars

  Javanda was the northernmost continent and it met the Ikkith Tar Ocean along its southern coast. The continent was divided nearly in half from east to west by those same waters as they formed a deep bay. The eastern coast of Javanda met with the western edge of the Elanatin Ocean and the northwestern coast met with the eastern edge of the Atrejan Ocean.

  The Wandering of Shadows land bridge extended in a southwesterly direction from the western coast of Javanda toward the northeastern corner of the continent of Revod. This land bridge separated the Ikkith Tar Ocean from the southern portion of the Atrejan Ocean and the northern portion of the Lujladia Ocean. The Dark Platinum Road land bridge extended in a southeasterly direction from the southeastern coast of Javanda toward the northern coast of the continent of Baradaxa. This land bridge separated the Ikkith Tar Ocean from the Elanatin Ocean.

  Javanda was heavily forested and lightly populated except for the southern coast, which was dotted with hundreds and hundreds of shipyards and ports small and large. At any given time, new ships were under construction and older ships were being refurbished.

  In the western region of Javanda, a fifteen (15) year old boy named Torin lived with his parents in a small village on the inland side of a particularly densely forested area. An observatory was located there, and it contained one of the largest telescopes used to watch some of the stars among the seventy (70) that revolved around the world. Torin knew the astronomer – a man known as Professor Celio – and so he often got to look through the telescope to study the movements and positions of the suns. At the location of that particular observatory, and for a brief period of time of only a few days – because the stars moved and caused a change of the sky before long – as many as five (5) of the nine (9) large, hot blue suns could be seen. Additionally, fifteen (15) of the twenty-four (24) medium, warm yellow suns and twenty-three (23) of the thirty-seven (37) small, cool red suns were visible.

  The telescope was sixty-seven (67) feet in length and the observatory in which it was housed was surrounded by a garden. After working a day in the shipyards, Torin headed directly to the garden where the observatory was and saw Celio there.

  “Hello, Torin. Would you like to look through the telescope again today?” Celio asked.

  “Yes,” Torin answered. He then drank anew of the waters of the Atrejan Ocean from the vial he wore on a chain around his neck and was energized.

  “Does that really help?” Celio asked.

  “Of course,” Torin said.

  “If you’d let me teach you trigonometry, that would help you much more. The functions of an angle are really quite easy to understand. There are just a few simple rules,” Celio said.

  “Simple for you,” Torin said.

  “If you don’t learn them, how will you deepen your understanding? Mathematics really does clarify so many things. You’re old enough to understand it, and young enough to have ample time to benefit from it,” Celio said.

  “I have my own way of understanding,” Torin said.

  “Alright. Put the protective visor on before looking,” Celio said. He then handed a curved piece of crystal to Torin, who placed it over his eyes and looked through its lenses.

  “Now, look through and tell me what you see,” Celio said.

  Torin entered the observatory and began looking through the eyepiece to see the suns. The large, hot blue suns gave only the slightest hints of movement because they were so slow in their progression. However, he could see the rapid movement of the small, cool red suns and the erratic movement of the medium, warm yellow suns. Unlike Celio, the boy could actually “hear” the stars as they went by. They seemed to whisper to him, and he knew which red suns were which, and where the yellow suns were going to go, as they had different “voices.” They each “told” him in their own way, and he even knew where they had been.

  The waters of the Atrejan Ocean gave Torin this link to the stars. He was unlike most of the world, who thought those waters to have little worth, since they gave neither health nor beauty, neither powers of darkness nor light, neither wisdom nor enhancement of any talent or trait, and especially because they gave no power over stones or crystals, which were deemed valuable. Navigators often drank the waters of the Atrejan Ocean so as to be able to chart the stars for ocean travel. However, these navigators were generally poorly paid for their services, which contributed to the low popular assessment of the waters they drank.

  However, because of the waters of the Atrejan Ocean, Torin knew more about the stars than any of the cleverest astronomers who only had a telescope and drank even of the waters of the Medathero Ocean to be able to mathematically calculate their positions and movements. He knew where the stars had been – even more so than the ancients who drank of the waters of the Ursegan Ocean and lived long enough to have personally charted the skies for millennia.

  “What do you think that yellow one is going to do?” Celio asked, pointing to the fifth (5th) yellow, and only half believing that the boy would be able to figure it out, unless he was lying about his mathematical skills.

  Torin listened. The yellow star seemed to be telling him its direction. “It’s going to head south slightly, and move over the sea of Ikkith Tar,” Torin said.

  “Slightly? Can you measure it? Mark it on this coordinate axis chart,” Celio asked, and handed the boy a paper and a pen.

  Torin considered what the star was “telling” him and sketched it on the paper Celio gave him.

  Celio looked at the paper and said: “that’s eight (8) primalurens south of west.”

  “Why even use those numbers?” Torin asked.

  “We could use fractions such as a quarter turn or half turn, but it’s easier and clearer to add whole numbers, so we split the circle into two hundred ten (210) primalurens and measure with those,” Celio said.

  “Why two hundred ten (210)?” Torin asked.

  “You know what prime numbers are, right?” Celio asked.

  “I don’t remember what they are,” Torin said.

  “That’s a shame, actually. It’s just basic math. A prime number is divisible only by itself and one (1). Two (2), Three (3), Five (5) and Seven (7) are the first four (4) prime numbers. Multiply them together and you get two hundred ten (210). They also make it easy to divide the circle into many useful fractions. Not just halves (1/2), thirds (1/3), fifths (1/5) and sevenths (1/7), but combinations, such as tenths (1/10) and twelfths (1/12) and fourteenths (1/14), and many more just by repeated division,” Celio said.

  “If they’re so good, why stop at two (2), three (3) five (5) and seven (7)? Throw in some more,” Torin asked.

  “Some astronomers do, even going out to thirty (31), but it’s not significantly more useful for the extra calculation effort involved. Even when using a calculating device with gears to make it go quickly, it isn’t worthwhile,” Celio said.

  “I told what the yellow star told me. Does that help? I don’t know what you’re looking for,” Torin said.

  Celio thought abou
t the boy’s claim about the yellow sun’s movement and considered that it was a slight deviation from what would be expected by his own mathematical models, which had error terms for the erratic movements of the yellow suns. Still, he thought that Torin could be using some sort of rough estimate based on the star’s other movements and some mathematical shortcut he had figured out, and then be adding in a guess. As a youth, Torin didn’t stand to lose much if he guessed wrong, even though people would remember when a boy got a calculation right. However, they would also remember when an adult astronomer got a calculation wrong.

  “Your prediction is interesting. Yet, that isn’t what my mathematical models suggest,” Celio said.

  Torin then added: “It will be on the south side of the sea over the next 12 days.”

  “Now that’s a prediction I can test,” Celio said.

  Torin started getting tired. “I think I need to go home now and rest,” Torin said.

  “Alright,” Celio told him. “Let’s talk again in a few days," Celio added.

  Torin then left to return to his home.

  After the predicted twelve (12) days passed, the indicated yellow sun took the path that Torin said that it would, crossing to the south side of the Ikkith Tar Ocean. Celio measured and verified the sun’s position and was quite surprised. He rushed to the boy’s home, finding that Torin was outside, sitting under a tree.