12
Disclaimers: Kadish, Veovis and A'Gaeris belong to Cyan. I've tried to be historically and geographically accurate while trying to tell Kadish's story, but I apologize in advance if I've accidentally butchered some canon.
Credit: Thanks go out to and for their huge databases on everything D'ni; everybody on the UO forums for their copious speculation and discussion about Kadish; Rand Miller David Wingrove for the lovely BoT.
Out of nothing, a man emerged, his image fading into solidness by the second. He was tall, built with a slight hunch to his broad shoulders. His hair, the colour of autumn trees, as his wife liked to say, swept the nape of his neck and threatened to spill over his robes in a mess of reddish gold. His nose crooked slightly to the left, a victim of a childhood brawl that left his face bloody and his attacker smirking in triumph. His father, rather than punishing the assailant, had merely lectured at him about how to duck a punch and develop better instincts.
And Kadish was no fool.
He knew something was wrong the moment he linked back into his house. The silence was far too heavy, the air far too stale.
On an ordinary evening, he would have heard the children's voices over the rattling of dinner plates and cups. They would have begged their mother for more play time. Selahri was just turning four and still immensely attached to her older brother, Nahven. He would often entertain her with stories of Lalen and Hemelin, sending the little girl into squeals of girlish delight until their weary mother came to shoo them both to bed.
There was none of that now.
He turned to make sure the Ahnonay book was secure in the sealed room next door, before exiting his basement library vault. It would not do to have to intruders interrupting his work before all the construction was completed. Setting in place the intricate system of locks and bolts that he used in all his safes, he leaned against the reinforced door and heaved a long sigh of exhaustion. While much of the Age was ready, he had yet to apply the finishing touches that would make it the greatest of all his Ages, of all the Books he had ever put his pen to. Until then, he could not afford to rest. It was his legacy to the followers to come, those who would walk his path and learn of his life. His…
The children. He hastily scolded himself as he hurried up the stairs that led to the hidden door in the storage alcove above. He needed to check on the children. Having not seen them since that latest altercation with Valera, he felt an odd pang of yearning to stroke their hair, to pull them into a tight embrace. He chuckled. By the Maker, what would Valera make of that, he wondered. He pushed the door open and shut it quickly, gathering the miscellany of items around it to mask its presence.
As he emerged into the main house, he was puzzled by the mist hovering around everything. It swathed the walls and furniture, and as Kadish let his hand trail along the wall, it came away stained with a thin, sickly yellow-brown paste. He paused mid-stride, curiosity getting the better of him as he examined the paste more closely. The bitter, sour smell assaulted his senses and he quickly wiped it off before the rising nausea overcame him. What was this filth that wallpapered his house from floor to ceiling?
"Valera? Selahri? Nahven? Where are you?" he called out, turning the corner and entering the kitchen where he stopped in his tracks. His eyes followed the chaos that threatened to swallow the room whole. Dishes sat in the basin unwashed, and shards of pottery lay scattered over the floor. Chairs were strewn askew across the dining chamber, knocked back and fractured in some apparent attempt to flee.
And then he saw the pair of legs behind the overturned table. He moved shakily towards the body, fearing what he would see. A body sprawled facedown against the floor, stiff as death and cold as stone. Shrugging off his outer robes and rebelling against all semblance of common sense, he wrapped his trembling hand in the cloth and used it to turn the body over. The distorted face of his father-in-law Valoren glared back at him in a death mask. His eyes had rolled back in his head, showing only the whites. Streaks of pale yellow mixed with his dead grey beard, and his mouth remained half-open in the final breath of the dying.
Kadish jerked back in an instinctive disgust, his eyes wide with terror. He spun to his left and vomited violently onto the floor, his back and gut wrenched in helpless spasms. Surely, this was some sort of plague, some illness. Yet he had never witnessed the likes of this before. He drew a shaky hand across his mouth, wiping away his evidence of weakness. He stared at Valoren's corpse blankly, his arms hanging limp by his sides. He could not bring himself to tear his gaze away, and he stared in both shock and morbid fascination. What sort of plague was this?
He was backing away again before he realized it, and stopped when he bumped into another table behind him, jarring it and causing a soft thump. He twisted around immediately and when he saw nothing, he looked down. His daughter's stuffed doll rested at his feet.
"Oh Yahvo."
He ran up the main stairs to the bedrooms and came to an abrupt halt at the doorway to Valera's room. Tears burned in his eyes as he covered his mouth with his hand, biting down to stop the cry of horror rising in his throat. He fell heavily to his knees, all the while swallowing the screams.
Nahven and Selahri were tucked neatly in the large bed, as if they were asleep, had their faces not been void of all colour and life. His pale wife lay across their children, over the soiled bedcovers, in a final protective gesture that would do nothing to stop their deaths. He could see the tracks of dried tears on her face, and knew that she had wept here as the children died, one by one. She had wept her soul away and then she died as inevitably as the others.
And then he knew he had killed them all.
Bracing one hand on the wall, he struggled to his feet and forced himself to turn around and walk away. There was so little he understood about this sudden plague, he could not be certain that he was still safe. Exposure to a dangerous pathogen, he thought, I need to protect what's left.
"I am alive. So I must live," he muttered as he staggered through his house and out into the equally silent J'Taeri neighbourhood. What was once a Guild district pulsing with life and energy was now a city paying homage only to the dead. Clinging on to his mantra, he began to search the neighbouring houses, only to find them either abandoned or filled with corpses. People whom he had known since his infancy, all gone. People whom he had worked with, all dead. There was nothing left to salvage, no one left to help. In the distance, in the other neighbourhoods, he heard far-off wails and cries of grief, but even those, too, faded quickly.
Drained, he trudged to the Sanctuary, his boots crunching slightly on the gravel of collapsed buildings. His hope diminished with each footstep. If there was no one left to save or help, he would do the only thing he could: save himself. There were Books in the Sanctuary; Books that could be salvaged and put to use, to protect what was left of D'ni. If D'ni were to die, he would leave a legacy for those who came after.
Kadish's footsteps carried him closer to the cavern of the Great Tree and the Sanctuary. As he neared the entrance, he heard a sharp laugh from within.
"How about this one?" The voice was vaguely familiar, but for a moment, he could not place it.
"A wise choice, my Lord. Guild Master Laheren was always a pompous fool. He could never appreciate the beauty of such an Age." A'Gaeris.
"Perhaps you think you can, Philosopher?" And Veovis.
Kadish stifled a gasp and pressed himself closely against the nearest wall. It was impossible. He had witnessed the burning of Veovis' prison Age book himself. How could he have escaped? Leaning around the corner, he shifted himself to observe their doings. A'Gaeris and Veovis, both wearing masks, gloves and boots, stood in an alcove with a table piled high with Books. Beside them was a cart of dead bodies piled in an unruly heap.
"I've always believed one is capable of anything, as long as the mind is put to it, my Lord," the Philosopher replied jauntily. "How else could we have achieved this magnificent success? We've brought the great D'ni to its knees, you and me."
He gestured mildly at the cart of bodies and smirked, "After all, dead bodies tell no lies."
"Indeed," mused Veovis. "Now, on my count, one, two-"
At the sound of "three", A'Gaeris propped up a body long enough for Veovis to place its stiff hand on the linking panel of a Book. The familiar hum of the Link rang in Kadish's disbelieving ears as the body shimmered and faded away into the air. How could two men have shattered the very foundations of D'ni? Dead, plague-ridden bodies were being delivered systematically to each of the Ages in D'ni. They too would wither and crumble. The two men laughed again, their voices soaked in bitterness and malice. Soon they were on their way again, trundling through the paved streets of J'Taeri with their cart of death.
Kadish watched in horror as the two men headed towards to the Common Library. The Ages of D'ni would all fall one by one. All but his, those unsanctioned books resting in the safety of his library vault. Nothing must happen to them, he thought, turning and starting into a sprint. He pushed himself to run as fast as his legs could bear, aware that every second's delay only further compromised the security of his vault.
He was gasping for air by the time he stumbled through his front door, his lungs fighting to circulate air within and his head spinning. A wary look over his shoulder showed him that his presence had gone thankfully unnoticed. He climbed up the stairs again, averting his eyes as he entered his wife's room. A cautious search of the bedroom closet produced two large satchels. It would have to do, he surmised grimly, carefully avoiding the yellow paste that coated the closet doors.
On the top shelf, he found a set of clean bed sheets. He held them close and inhaled the familiar smell of Valera's spiced soaps deeply. Blinking back the tears, he draped the sheets as gently as he could over his family's bodies and said a quick prayer before gathering his things and retreating downstairs. As he turned the corner into the storage alcove, an odd scrabbling noise startled him. He froze, listening intently to the irregular pacing that seemed to be coming from the front door. It was not either of the two men; that much he was sure of.
Then he heard a few growls, followed by the distinctive chittering of the Bahro. Panic flooded his mind as he attempted to deal with the newest development. They had never been so far out into the city before. The few D'ni citizens who used bahro had always ensured that the Least remained in the shadows, confined to secret tunnels and passages that ran throughout the cavern, where they could not be seen. There they remained silent, shuffling through life after life of indenture and servitude.
The chittering grew to fever pitch, and Kadish jumped as a loud crash and the sound of smashed ceramic rocked the house. Quickly, he swept aside the brooms and baskets that obscured the secret door. Even as he pushed it shut, he knew the Bahro would be able to tear the door down easily. He hurried down more steps, leaping over the last few and landing on the floor with a thump. In a corner, he hastily changed his clothes and boots, flinging the soiled ones aside. Moving to his library, he swept journals and blank books off their shelves and into the satchels. With a few quick punches and sliding of levers, the vault was open and he quickly stepped in to unlock the Books from their pedestals, adding each Book to an increasingly weighty load on his shoulders.
All the Books, save for one.
He stood over the Kadish Tolesa book and stared at its linking panel, contemplating his next move. His personal Age was as secure as he could make it, but there was nothing to stop the Bahro from accessing the Book once he linked through. He glanced at the vault door behind him; he had designed it to be complex and near impossible to solve, but the strength possessed by the Bahro would make short work of it.
He leaned against the pedestal, head lowered as the growing pounding in his head steadfastly refused to recede. Would his safeguards in Kadish Tolesa be able to keep the Bahro out? He had spent the better part of his life devising the very same devices that kept much of D'ni secure; surely they would not fail him now?
Another growl from a Bahro, this time closer than before, gave him no choice. Already he could hear them scratching at the alcove door. Hefting the two heavy satchels on his shoulder, he slammed his hand on the panel and felt himself Link, the familiar feeling of being sucked into a page.
He was running the moment he arrived, the satchels swinging uncontrollably as he sprinted down the left path to the first pavilion. Grinding to a frantic halt before the first of the triptych panels, he knelt on a knee and quickly rotated the rings to the first combination. He moved to stand, but a wave of dizziness forced him to slump against the telescope briefly, the world spinning before him. The ache behind his eye continued to throb, and he wondered, for the first time, if the plague already had its grip on him.
Grunting with the effort to stand upright, he ran back to the link-in location, not so fast this time, and veered down the right path. His feet splashed through puddles on the floor, the noise disrupting the settling silence; it must have rained while he was away. He rotated the second combination into place, followed by the third. The hidden door slid open with a silent hiss. He staggered to it, casting a backward glance at the triptych.
Over the silence of the Age's giant trees, the hum of a new Link seemed impossibly loud. Kadish felt his blood run cold at the sound. Shakily, he backed away from the entrance, across the round chamber and into the next corridor, his arms flailing blindly for the blue button that would reset the system. His fingers finally felt the smooth surface of the button, and he pressed it, eyes trained on the empty space beyond the triptych even as the door hissed closed.
He continued to stare blankly at the closed door. Beads of cool sweat trickled down the side of his face and his laboured breathing roared loudly in his ears…
"No, Ahri, you need to turn the levels first. See? Then the piece will go through all the way to the bottom. Like that," her brother explained patiently to the little girl, demonstrating with a piece of her toy. She frowned mightily, her little brows bunched together in a display of incomprehension.
Selahri pulled the colourful cylinder out of her brother's grasp, and stuck her tongue out at him before toddling over to her father, seated at the desk and hunched over his work. She tugged at his robe. "Papa?" She tugged again. "Papa!"
Running a hand through his hair, Kadish snapped at his daughter. "Not now, Selahri. Papa's busy!" Instantly, her lower lip trembled and tears began to build at the corners of her eyes. The toy dropped to the ground with a clatter. He looked at her rosy-cheeked face and sighed.
"Kadish!" Valera chided as she swept into the room, picking up Selahri and pacifying her. "Sssh, my sweet. It's all right." She carried the child up the stairs, the disappointment apparent in her eyes. We will talk later, she mouthed at him as she moved beyond his sight.
He groaned and leaned back in his chair. If this drought of inspiration continued, his latest Age would never come to life. He glanced at Selahri's toy on the floor, and reached for it. It was a cylindrical container with four sections to it. The upper part was divided into three sections; each had a lever that rotated the section to create particular shapes within the cylinder. He picked up one of the puzzle pieces and tried to fit it in through the hole at the top. It would not budge. Upon closer observation, he soon realized that only if each section were properly aligned, in a combination, would the puzzle piece fall smoothly through to the lower part.
His eyes began to widen as he realized the potential the toy possessed. Quickly, he began to sketch…
Kadish blinked. He was seated on the damp floor facing the round chamber, his legs folded underneath him awkwardly. The two satchels of Books sat beside him, seams stretched to splitting point. He looked at his trembling hands, then at where the door was. There was no time to lose.
He groaned as he pushed himself off the floor, resting his hands on his knees momentarily to regain his balance. Retrieving the two bags, he half-ran further into the Age, emerging into the moonlit balcony of a high-ceilinged room. With one hand on the wall for support, he made his way to the bottom, hitting the buttons that altered the lighted pattern on the circular floor below. He followed the shadow path, swaying slightly as the floor rumbled before him and sections of it sank to form a series of steps.
Another path stretched beyond the steps, and he trudged through, stopping only to reset the safeguard. The steps rose again with a deep rumble, obliterating all traces of his path. The Bahro would have a harder time trying to get through the second safeguard, he thought…
"Kadish!" Valera gasped, her hand to her heart, as the newlywed couple emerged from the cave into a forest bathed in soft moonlight. The full moon hung large and high above the trees, casting a myriad of shadows mixed with patches of light. Stars shimmered lazily, giving the entire Age a silver glow. "This is amazing!"
"Do you like it?" He turned to his wife and held her hands, looking at his feet. "I wasn't sure if… if it was… what you wanted."
She smiled at the worried expression on his face. "It's perfect," she said, tipping his chin up and squeezing his hand reassuringly. "I love it." She looked up at the sky, eyes closed, and inhaled deeply. "Everything smells so crisp and fresh." Gazing at him, her heart skipped a beat as his serious countenance melted into one of relief and joy.
"I'm glad you like it."
She tugged him forward deeper amongst the trees. "Don't you get laconic on me again," she said teasingly, and then she sobered. "I love it that you remembered." She rested her head on his shoulder and sighed contentedly as he placed his arms around her. "I've always wanted to dance in the moonlight."
"I know." A rare smile graced his face, brilliant and assured in the moonglow.
So they danced slowly, weaving in and out of entranced light and darkness, each playing across their faces like fleeting butterflies…
He found himself standing before the vista, the trees of Kadish Tolesa reaching into the deep purple night, their roots invisible in the swirling mists below. They were the first things he wrote into the Age, the first things that had captured his imagination, these magnificent monoliths an ode to the Watcher, to the life and possibilities each branch represented… and to a memory of a happier time.
They would be here long after he died.
He turned towards the pyramid of stone in the near distance. He was far from his destination, but each step seemed ever the heavier and lengthier. His arm bumped against the Books, and he remembered his duty. They would not be completely safe until he reached the vault. Nothing, no one could reach them there. His safeguards would hold. They had to.
He walked up the steps leading to the pyramid, but faltered on the last one, sending him sprawling on the floor as the air was knocked out of his lungs. Books spilled out of the now-unfastened bags, sliding across the stone floor. He closed his eyes as the jarring pain threatened to darken his consciousness. Rolling onto his back, his chest heaved as starved lungs fought to reinstate a continuous flow of air.
Finally, when he was able to sit up, he began to retrieve the Books, returning them to the satchels. Limping, he made it to the pyramid interior and switched the lights to their familiar turquoise glow. The floor turned into a hexagonal mosaic of illuminated tiles, each with a symbol. He ignored the rest, and walked only on those with the mark of the trees. It was a well-worn path to him, the symbols etched permanently in his mind.
Standing on the last symbol, a gush of cool air greeted him as the tile sank through the lift shaft, its gears clanking loudly around him. Another blue button silenced the noise and the path shut itself off behind him. He knew the pyramid room would return to its original lights, erasing the floor's symbols…
"I don't know why you dragged me out here today, Valera," he grumbled as his wife tugged gently at his arm, leading him across the crowded street of the Canyon shopping district.
"Nahven! Come back here!" She snagged her roving son's sleeve and brought him closer before replying tersely, "You needed the exercise. Cooping yourself up in the house is not going to solve any of our problems."
Kadish tried to ignore the pointed looks and hushed whispers around him. "Thank you for reminding me that my dismissal from the Guild has plunged the three of us into abject misery," he hissed back. "Or haven't you noticed that I am miserable enough for us three already?"
He watched his wife school her features into a look of well-rehearsed tolerance. "I'm sorry." She paused. "Things have not been easy for everyone, Kadish. But we must get by, somehow. I will not waste time commiserating with you when there are more important matters to be concerned about."
They both glanced at Nahven, who had managed to escape his mother's grasp again. He hopped from stone to stone on the paved street, arms flung out for balance. He was only four.
He sighed tiredly and looked back his wife. She too, looked weary. Her face was lined with creases of worry that had not been there before. "No, I'm sorry. Sorry for putting you and Nahven through all of this," he said. He held her by her shoulders and kissed her lightly on her forehead. "I'll make it better. I will."
He jogged over to his son, who was still jumping from stone to stone, and swung the child onto his shoulders. "What are you doing, my little frog?"
"It's too dangerous to step on the grey ones, Papa," the boy exclaimed. "If I do, the Hargaths will get me! So I'm sticking to the orange ones. Those are safe."
Kadish chuckled, recognizing the name of the creatures from Valera's bedtime tales. "Well then, you'd better stay up there, hadn't you? They can't get you if you're on my shoulders. We will outrun them all." He broke into a slow jog, rousing a fit of giggles from the young boy.
"Look, Papa!" His eyes followed the direction his son was pointing in. A man stood before a set of double-doors framed by a large archway, shouting to passer-bys.
"Everything must go! The gallery closes tomorrow and everything must go! Paintings and glass at half-price! See the manager for sculptures!"
He waded through the crowd surrounding the man. "What's going on?" he asked.
The man wiped the sweat off his shiny brow with a scarf. "Owner died suddenly in his sleep. Old age does that to you sometimes." He shrugged. " There's no one to take over, so the gallery's being sold. Everything in it too."
Kadish looked up at the building before him. A gallery…
He had seen the gallery through to better times, he remembered. And it had returned him the favour several times over, through sales and displays. Enough to keep his family comfortable for years to come. Enough to support him through his other… discreet ventures. It hid secrets no one else would realize had existed.
The pillar room stood a short distance away from the lift. Four great stone counterweights hung across the chasm, bridged only by four hexagonal pillars in front of them. He walked over, careful not to trip across the upraised panel where the levers were located. With each lever he pulled, the pillars rose from the chasm with ladders embedded in their sides. Finally, a series of concentric rings lowered the last ladder from the ceiling.
He groaned at the prospect of climbing with the load he carried. He slung the bags across this chest, testing their weight before moving to place a foot on the first rung. By the time he was halfway up the second pillar, a burning sensation permeated his lungs and his knees shook violently. Still he clung tightly to the rungs, not daring to even glance anywhere else other than up. Take the path upward, he reminded himself. Take the path upward.
The last ladder trembled slightly with his exertion as he climbed higher. He froze, almost expecting to plunge to a messy death below. The dizziness came faster and in greater waves now, and violent chills wracked his spine. While waiting for the shaking to subside, he tried to calm himself with a few deep breaths before continuing his ascent.
When he finally felt solid ground beneath his feet again, he reached for the blue button weakly, pressed it, and then let his legs give out under him as the darkness consumed him…
"Thank you, Madesh," said his father-in-law Valoren as he ushered the Healer out of Kadish's house.
"Not at all, Valoren. Just make sure Valera receives sufficient rest and medicine. The child in her is safe, as long as she doesn't exhaust herself again."
Kadish sank into a chair by the dining table and let his head cradle in his hands. A scraping noise to his left told him that Valoren had seated himself beside him. He waited for the lecture to start.
"This must end, Kadish. Both mother and child are safe for now, but not much longer if you keep up these antics of yours."
He looked up into the older man's frowning face, feigning ignorance.
"She cannot be running both the gallery and caring for Nahven at the same time. Especially when you are off gallivanting in the damned pub of yours. What else are you doing anyway? She has not uttered a word, but the servants tell me you disappear for several nights in a row. She cries herself to sleep in a lonely room. I warn you, I will not let my daughter suffer any longer." The veiled threat hung heavily in the air.
He thought of the Path, and the numerous Ages he was working on. "There… there are important- " He jumped as Valoren's clenched fist slammed the table loudly.
"There cannot be more important things than your family, you fool!" he roared.
Oh, you would be surprised, he wanted to tell the older man. There are far greater things at play here than you could ever imagine, beyond food and drink, beyond friends and family. You are but slivers of wood in the Great Tree. Nevertheless, he held his tongue, and strived to look apologetic.
His father-in-law pushed the chair back harshly and stood. Kadish followed.
Valoren jabbed a stiff finger in his face and said coldly, "You will reflect on your responsibilities and see that you cannot keep everything, my son. You need to decide what weighs heavier in your heart; this work you claim to do," he scoffed, "or your family. If not, by the Maker, I will take her and the children away from you."
He watched as Valoren spun on his heel and stalked out of the house…
He came to in a dizzying rush of memories. Propping himself up on one elbow, he rubbed the bridge of his noise sharply and tried to will himself awake. He staggered to his feet, gathering up the bags, and continued to move down the corridor towards the open cavern that held the vault.
No one would understand him and what he had to do. Not the Guild, not his father-in-law, not even his wife. No one saw the great deeds he would accomplish. The D'ni read the Words of the Watcher, but not a single soul comprehended the significance of it all. Even after the Guild of Writers had summarily dismissed him, he continued to pursue the fulfillment of the Words, for there was nothing else he could do. It was his life.
When he reached the steps leading up to the doors of the vault, he stopped to marvel. The vault hung in the middle of a great fossilized tree, a looming vertical cavern that stretched for lengths above and below. It was supported by several sets of cables as thick as his waist, suspending the large building in the air sturdily. It would have been his greatest, save for the uncompleted Ahnonay.
He struggled up the steps with the Books, each weighing like a boulder on his back. The cubic building seemed to shimmer before his eyes, tilting precariously out of balance. His vision blurring, he leaned against the vault console, entered his combination and watched in deep relief as the double doors slid apart, revealing the confines of the vault. He painstakingly ascended the last flight of steps and walked into the vault.
A slight rush of air tickled the back of his neck as the doors hissed shut behind him, his hand lightly caressing the last blue button that marked his end of his journey. Now that he was safe, the gaping emptiness within threatened to swallow him whole. At a loss, he walked blankly to the centre of the vault and stood there silently, taking in his surroundings.
Light bounced off the piles and chests of gold coins in every direction, sending sparkled reflections onto the drab stone walls. Colourful tapestries and vases he could not bear to sell in the gallery had made their final home here. Shields, stained glass and intricate carpets rounded out his vast collection of wealth, thanks to the Maker's blessing and a remarkable dose of Kadish's own ingenuity.
He let the bags on his shoulders slide to the floor with a muffled thump. Here he would wait and rest, until he could be sure the danger had passed. Here the Books would be safe from prying hands. Here he would bide his time until he could re-emerge to give life back to D'ni. Here he would…
Kadish felt an uncontrollable manic laughter bubble out of him. Who did he think he was fooling? He would die of the plague, as surely as his family and the rest of D'ni had. The only difference was he would, at least, die with proof of his life's work and achievements around him. Not in the filth and indignity of the yellow muck.
Squatting down, he began to remove the Books from the satchels. His journals. His notes. His Ages. He had spent years honing his Craft, learning the sacred glyphs that bridged worlds. Many more writing in notebooks, experimenting and testing. He had a brilliant mind, he was told. One of the youngest Guild Masters in many years. Then he stumbled across the Words of the Watcher. From there, his dreams took a different turn, spurring him to greater heights as he strived to achieve what the Guild said was impossible.
He had considered his dismissal a blessing in disguise; a sign from Yahvo that he, as the Grower, needed to devote himself wholly to restoring D'ni to a newfound glory. He could not longer afford to be distracted by the petty needs of the Guild, catering to their endless demand for mundane Ages such as granaries and livestock lands.
Of course, he regretted the loss of the young Maintainer. But it was an honest mistake, one committed under a period of intense exhaustion as he struggled to juggle both Guild work and his own. A single mis-word was all it took to turn the agricultural Age into a blazing nova that melted the Maintainer suit in seconds.
But it destroyed much more than that…
"We need to talk."
"This is not the best moment, Valera."
"It never is. You aren't even around enough to have moments."
"That's because I work. Work that keeps this family fed."
"Don't lie to me, Kadish. I deserve better than that. You're hardly at the gallery; even Jalesmo says you're always away from the pub."
"My work goes beyond that! Can't you understand? The gallery and pub are flourishing; it's time I moved onto other things. Things that mean more than just paintings or tapestries!"
"Please. Not this again. None of this Watcher nonsense."
"His Words are wiser than all of us put together. We are headed for something, Valera. You don't see it but he does. And I'm doing all I can to make sure we make it through."
"At the rate you're going, there may not be a 'we' to pull through." A pause. "I don't see any other husbands leaving their wives and children behind to disappear for days on end."
"This is different!" His hands running furious furrows through hair. "Oh Maker, how can I make you see this?"
"I've seen more than enough, thank you. I've seen the way Nahven looks at you when he comes back from school with tales of other boys spending time with their fathers. I've seen the way Selahri's face crumples when you can't be bothered to pick her up for a simple hug. I've seen the way you try sneak silently back into the room at night, when you think I'm sleeping. And that's only on the rare occasions that you choose to grace us with your presence! Haven't you put this family through enough already?" She mows on; the words have simmered inside her for too long.
"When they dismissed you, I thought we could survive that. Being poor meant nothing as long as I had you and Nahven and Selahri. So what if they took your job? So what if they confiscated our family Age Book? They didn't take you away from me and I was content. But I was wrong." A sob. "You were lost to me long before that."
She is left weeping as he turns to flee. He cannot cope with this now. Too many unfinished things await him on Ahnonay.
The next time he sees her, she is already dead.
A soft noise distracted him from his ruminations. He looked down to see a leather-bound volume resting on the floor between his feet. His copy of the Watcher's Words. Inside the well-thumbed book, he found portraits of Valera and the children bookmarking the last pages he read. Cradling the book and portraits in his hand, he leaned backwards to rest stiffly on the stone floor.
His family was beyond his abilities now; no amount of Writing could revive their cold bodies. Everything he held dear now rested alongside him in the vault. He held his other arm against his side, bracing his stomach as deep, phlegm-filled coughs wracked his body. He smiled at the bitter irony; that his flesh would wither and rot away while these paintings and gold remained as pristine as they were the day he deposited them in the vault.
It would not be long now, he mused. He used his arms to slowly shift himself to lean against a stack of crates. He could feel the head-splitting pain, each joint in his body protesting every movement. Another bout of coughs left his lips wet. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he saw that it came away red. Blood.
He let his head sink back to rest against the crates, glancing sideways at the Books scattered across the centre of the room. Reaching for a last sheet of paper and ink, he wrote slowly, savouring his last words to the world. And when he was done, he slumped back and closed his eyes…
"I have reached my end. Death cannot diminish me. I see its minion. It is watching and waiting for my guard to falter. It rejoices over my weakness.
The linking books are here but I will not waver. I have triumphed. I am here with all I could desire. Nobody can take it from me. I will die here with them. This place is secured and it will remain secure.
If these words are found, please understand that I would not leave. I did not die with nothing. I died with everything; these aggregations of my life. They belong to me and will be with me forever.
Peace,
Guild Master Kadish."
THE END.