Page 181 of Scorched Earth
Please be an answer,she prayed.Please let there be hope.
Reaching the eighth level, she didn’t waste time on a greeting. “Tell me you found something.”
“We did,” he said. “Not a single scholar in this place can read the language, but Lydia, it has the same drawings as the caves in Anukastre.”
Excitement flooded her, and she followed Agrippa through the stacks. He was visibly tired, his eyes bloodshot and marred by shadows, his normally clean-shaven skin stubbled, and his clothes and fingers were stained with ink. Yet for all of that, Agrippa moved with energy and purpose.
“Do you wish to seek out Kaira?” Lydia asked Sonia. “I think I’ll be safe enough on my own, and it would be good to have information from the source.”
Sonia’s dark eyes went wide. “I… Well, I’m not certain that’s the best plan. We… Well, I didn’t say the kindest of things when last I saw her.”
Lydia knew that the two had once been lovers but that Kaira’s commitment to Gamdesh had driven a wedge between them. “Then perhaps it’s time to make amends.”
While you still can.
Sonia gave a tight nod and retreated back down the stairs. Lydia followed Agrippa inside the room, finding Malahi seated at a tablesurrounded by stacks of books and radiating a frenetic energy despite being as exhausted as her husband. “Thank the gods, you’re here,” Malahi said at the sight of her. “I was worried you wouldn’t be able to get away. Where’s Killian?”
“He’s with Dareena, helping her maintain her disguise for as long as possible. Sonia is with me in his stead.”
“He’ll hate that.” Malahi turned to stare at the piles of books, eyes blank, then she shook her head. “Sorry, there’s so much to tell you, I don’t know where to start.”
“Agrippa mentioned you’d found a book with illustrations.”
“Yes. Yes, that would be a good choice, though we are at a loss as to what it says. Here.” Rising, Malahi tugged Lydia over to a table on which a glass case sat, then handed her a pair of white cotton gloves. “It’s ancient and very, very frail. Their best guess is that it’s at least a thousand years old.”
Lydia donned the gloves, then carefully lifted the case. The book was made of cracked leather edged with silver, holes from a binding marring the cover though the bindings themselves were lost to time. As gently as she could, Lydia opened the volume, cringing as bits of parchment and ink flaked away. Turning the pages, Lydia held her breath as she took in images so very similar to what they’d seen in Anukastre, though these hadn’t weathered the years nearly as well. Pages were cracked, some missing, the ink faded so badly that she motioned for someone to hold up better light despite her fear of flame being anywhere near the precious volume. But whereas the cave paintings had been nothing but images, this book had text.
And Lydia could read it.
“I know this language,” she murmured. “In my linguistic studies, I focused on dead languages of the East. This language is called Arcanith, and it is what the modern form of Cel is derived from, though the ability to read one does not help much with reading the other.”
“I knew it!” Agrippa shouted, causing Lydia to jump, the corner of the page she was holding crumbling.
He winced. “Sorry. I can’t read it, but IknewI’d seen something like this in the library at Lescendor. That library is mostly military history and commentary, but Marcus was always digging out obscure books to read in his free time. We tried to jump him… Well, never mind that, but this was the language of the book I took from him. I guarantee he knows what this says, and”—he glanced at the window—“in another few weeks we can ask him to do us the favor of translating while he lays siege to the city.”
“You think they’ll come, then?”
Agrippa shrugged. “The trouble with making threats is that you need to follow through on them. Marcus said if Sultan Kalin didn’t surrender, he’d take Revat by force. The Sultan shows no interest in surrender.”
Malahi gave a grim nod. “Kaira lost Emrant to the Cel without a fight. They tricked her, and last word is that they’ve doubled the size of their army using a path between the Empire and Emrant.”
“He didn’t trick her so much as put her in an impossible position,” Agrippa said, shaking his head. “Kaira is Gamdesh’s protector, and Marcus marched fifteen thousand legionnaires on Emrant, showing every sign that he intended to lay siege. Even if Kaira suspected his real target, she had no choice but to put everything she had into protecting the people.” He sighed. “It’s always easier to be the aggressor, because in the worst case, you retreat. When you’re on the defense, there is nowhere to go that won’t cost you everything.”
“Better to pay with possessions than to pay with lives. Why isn’t the Sultan evacuating Revat?” Lydia demanded, feeling once again as she had when Mudaire had been under threat by Rufina’s host. Too easily she remembered Serrick’s resistance to evacuation, and so many lives had been lost as a result.
“He has faith in Kaira.” Malahi sat on a chair, shoulders slumped. “And he believes that evacuating will show a lack of confidence, not just in her, but in the Six.”
“It’s foolish,” Lydia muttered. “But we have to leave the Cel problem to Gamdesh while we focus on our own enemies. This book suggests to me that we are on the right track.”
“What does it say?” Malahi asked, the spark returning to her eye. “What do I need to do?”
“It’s an account of a scholar who traveled here from the East,” Lydia murmured as she read. “Some of it is illegible, but it appears he was from what is now northern Celendor. And he came by ship.” She shook her head, leaving that piece of information for later consideration. “And by here, I don’t mean Gamdesh. He was visiting a nation called…” She frowned. “I can’t make it out, but he describes a land once lush but now turned to rot. It has to be Anukastre.”
Falling silent, Lydia carefully flipped through the pages detailing his journey and meeting with the people. “He describes certain people as ‘dirt thieves,’ which is perhaps not a good translation, but I think he means corrupted tenders, because he discusses them as betrayersof the land. This picture”—she gestured to a human-shaped figure with black lines spreading out from its fingers into the ground—“is one he copied from the Anuk, and this is just like what I saw in Deadground. He says that the ‘dirt thieves’ steal the life from the land to feed themselves, for they no longer consume sustenance as would a human. What is left behind is the… absence of life. The blight.”
“He’s right,” Malahi said. “There’s nothing alive within it. Nothing I could make grow.”
Lydia turned another page, then another, piecing together visible words though so many were faded to nothing. “The Anuk hunted down the ‘dirt thieves’ and killed them, but the blight remained and it continued to spread. Continued to consume. The ‘growers’ gathered to combat it, which they did. It worked, and the blight was vanquished. But there was a cost.”
