A Poisoned Needle in a Haystack
Updated June 2018
More than 700 years in the past the Seventh Legion had set about fortifying the ruined city of Deheleshen. It had been their orders, given by the region's Daimyo; The last Daimyo. They had never stopped following those orders, and on the ruins of Deheleshen, they had built the city of Lookshy from whose walls they defended the river province.
One of their greatest strengths was their command of mighty weapons of mass destruction from the first age. Some of them had been equipment possessed by the Seventh Legion. Much had been recovered from the ruins within the River Provinces, the Scavenger Lands.
Agents of Lookshy watched those who hunted such ruins. And when a discovery of importance was made, it was almost inevitable an agent of Lookshy would appear, to appraise and to offer to buy; if what had been found was important.
Most knew that it was easiest to just take the money that Lookshy offered. For those that refused, well, Lookshy was very good about paying the heirs of such people. The forces of Lookshy usually got what they wanted, one way or another.
The magpie-like actions of Lookshy's procurement agents sometimes resulted in Lookshy acquiring objects that, in truth, they did not understand. They had to be important, that was something they believed, and it was best that they had control of such things if only to deny them to others that might know how to make use of them.
Such items were stored in vaults, deep under the city, locked behind powerful first age defences.
Vault Nightingale Seven was one such storage place.
The General Staff of Lookshy would have been horrified if they had known that the lock of the vault was about to be defeated by a nine-year-old girl. Knowing that the nine-year-old girl was Chosen of the Sun and carried in her the power of that god would not have likely made them feel any better.
The door to Vault Nightingale Seven, three feet thick, made of white jade alloy, run through with Moonsilver, swung open. On the other side of the door stood the girl, red-headed, golden-eyed, dressed in a light blue kimono. Beside her stood a beautiful man, so beautiful he was often mistaken for a woman. He had long black hair and green eyes and wore a black and silver kimono with black hakama.
"You're getting good at that, faster than before Golden Eyes," the man said.
The girl looked up at him, smiling widely.
He ushered her into the room and began to close the vault door. She reached into the sleeve of her kimono and removed a small cylinder. She twisted the end cap of the device, and it began to glow, growing brighter as the door closed. When the vault door sealed with a soft, 'wuff' the cylinder illuminated the room as if they stood under a noon sun.
Heron Jade Eyes turned away from the closed door. "Vault Nightingale Seven," he said, and took a folded piece of paper from the inside of his kimono.
"What are we looking for?" Ivory Peleps asked as she placed the light rod on a table, crowded with strange objects.
Heron unfolded the paper. "Item one, a sword, daiklaive class, made of an unknown material, grey in colour, covered in fine etching."
"Found it," Ivory said, walking over to where the sword rested on a rack, upon a table.
Heron stepped close to and leaned over Ivory to take a look at the weapon. "What do you think?"
Ivory pulled a small case from out of the opposite kimono sleeve from which she had removed the light cylinder. Within the case were a collection of metal probes and a jewellers glass. Ivory put the glass to her eye, turning the base so it would adhere to her skin—it had just been a jewellers glass when she had received it, but since then she made a large number of modifications to it, improving it significantly.
Within the glass' body lenses shifted back and forth with the soft whir of clockworks. "It's not engraving," Ivory said, leaning in close, taking one of her probes from the case. "It's like a puzzle," she said, "all the pieces fitting together."
"Why?" Heron asked.
Ivory said nothing, just ran the end of the probe along one of the seams. After several seconds she said, grudgingly, "I don't know."
"Perhaps the pieces can be rearranged to make it something other than a sword? A key perhaps? A gear for some great machine?"
"Good ways to hide those things."
Ivory took the glass from her eye, it came free with a soft 'pop'. Going up on her toes she climbed onto the table and put her ear to the sword. Her hands blindly took a felt wrapped hammer from the case, and she brought it around to start tapping the weapon. "Sounds hollow."
"Maybe it holds a sample of the Great Contagion," Heron suggested.
Ivory fell from the table, knocking her case down as she dropped, ending up sprawled inelegantly on the floor.
"It was just an idea," he told her.
"Don't say things like that," she snapped, a flush spreading across her cheeks.
"Well, it has to hold something," Heron said.
Ivory got onto her hands and knees and began to gather up her tools. "This better not be broken," Ivory said more to herself as she picked up the jewellers glass, and then louder, "not necessarily. Maybe whatever it held is gone now."
"I say we put this on the list."
"We've put almost everything on the list." Ivory's tone skirted a whine.
"When you can guarantee me one hundred percent that these things are in no way a danger to the city I'll leave it off the list."
"I don't see how it's my fault we can't narrow it down to one thing." Her tools gathered and secured she got to her feet. "What's next?"
Heron looked at the paper. "A Sphere the size of a man's head consisting of nested Orichalcum rings, an unknown object at centre."
"Sounds strange," Ivory said as she looked around the room.
"Everything in these vaults is strange," he told her, and then, "over here." He crossed the room to a shelf upon which were several objects, including the sphere. It rested on a velvet covered stand, a depression in the stand holding it secure. Heron picked the heavy object up and moved to one of the tables so that Ivory might have a better look. Ivory reached out and rolled the sphere back and forth, trying to understand it.
Concentric rings of Orichalcum, each rotating on a different axis, creating what looked like a pitted sphere, and in the middle, something caught the light and reflected back a warm, golden glow. Ivory put the jeweller's glass to her eye and used one of the probes, using it to reach inside the sphere and set one of the inner rings spinning.
"Looks like a puzzle," Heron said.
Ivory nodded. "Looks like one." She climbed up onto the table, knelt in front of the sphere.
"But do you think it is?"
"It could be, but..." Ivory left the sentence unfinished as she leaned in closer to the sphere. "I wonder how many hours you could spend trying to arrange the rings so you could see what is in the centre?"
"Well, the notes say that the sphere has been studied for one thousand, three hundred and sixty-two hours."
"So it only looks like a puzzle," Ivory said. The inner rings she had set turning were still doing so, generating tiny puffs of air that gently ruffled the hair that hung down the side of her face. "But it is simpler than that, not meant to be solved, just known. All you have to do is..." she blew gently across the surface of the sphere, her breath mixing with the sphere's breath, the sound echoing within the continually changing chambers, creating soft, haunting music.
"It's a musical instrument," Heron said.
Ivory said nothing, just continued to modulate her breath, seeking something out. The sound grew more sombre, and ivory wiped a tear from her cheek. Then there was a soft pop, and a click as all the rings suddenly spun to the same axis, forming a disk with a hollow in the middle that contained a golden crystal. "It's a musical lock," Ivory said. "Or something like that."
"And what it is locking up?" Heron asked her as he looked at the revealed stone.
"Not sure. It looks like a little like a Hearthstone." She took one of her probes and ran it gently over the golden stone, tracing out the gentle angles that made up an almost egg-shaped sphere, almost, if not for the sharp, almost ninety-degree angle that slashed down where the egg's base should have been. "So maybe this is all some sort of setting, or the stone powers it."
"So you don't know," Heron said.
She turned and looked up at him, frowning. "Well there's a lot it could be," she told him, her tone defensive.
"Is it an obvious danger?"
Ivory turned to look at the strange item, reaching out to gently stroke the stone. It felt warm under her thumb, and for a moment she thought she could smell fresh grass. "Hearthstone, she said with confidence. Powers this device. No idea what it does." She sighed. "It goes on the list."
Heron nodded, not appearing particularly surprised.
Ivory reached out and stroked her finger across the metal disk. There was a soft whispering sound as the rings swung out onto different axes, once more creating the sphere.
Heron gently picked it up and put it back where they had found it. "Last item," he told her. "A Moonsilver cylinder, four feet tall, 10-inch diameter, rough, circular patch on top."
As Heron looked around Ivory packed away her tools.
"Over here," Heron said.
Ivory slid off the table and crossed the room to Heron's side. Sitting on the floor was the cylinder that he had described. She looked at it for a moment, then, her caste mark lighting up, placed her forehead against the rough, circular patch.
Heron looked surprised but did not say anything. It was not the first time Ivory had used her caste mark to operate some piece of first age technology.
There was a soft hiss, and around the top of the cylinder, a seam appeared. As Ivory stepped away the cylinder cap was pushed up by a central piston made of white jade. Attached to the piston were cradles made of Orichalcum wire, and within more than half those cradles were spheres of adamant.
Heron stepped forward and knelt down, taking a close look at what was revealed. At first, he thought the spheres were solid, or if hollow, empty, but after a moment he caught the subtle shift of colour within each one, and, in that light, he caught sight of some slight imperfections within the material.
No, he thought a moment later, not imperfections, but writing.
He reached towards one of the spheres, then paused and looked towards Ivory. She nodded. He put his fingers around one and gently disengaged it from the cradle. It felt cold and smooth in his hand, but there was a tingling in his fingertips that was not altogether unpleasant.
"Is that old realm?" he asked Ivory as he turned the sphere to better pick out of the lettering.
"Yes," Ivory said as she leaned in close, her hair brushing his face.
"What does it say?"
She leaned in closer, her body against Herons. "Operation Wyldhand, lot three of three, unit seven of twenty-one."
"What's operation Wyldhand?"
Ivory said nothing for several seconds, then, "This is the most dangerous thing we have found."
Heron did not immediately ask how she knew that, but instead, "Is this what we are looking for?"
Ivory shook her head. "Only a Twilight could open it."
"How do you know that?"
Ivory gently bit her bottom lip and shook her head.
Heron nodded and put the sphere back in its cradle. Ivory's odd memories were something he had almost grown used to.
Ivory stood up on her tiptoes so she could press down on the cylinder cap. The piston began to descend. A moment later it locked down, the seam fading away.
"So," Heron said, "we're no closer to finding out what the Mask of Winters wanted to have placed here."
Ivory nodded, but her eyes were on the cylinder. "Guess we think about it, and then look again. Maybe I can try the watch."
Heron shook his head. "The Mask of Winters would not have put the watch in play if it could have detected his actions."
"That is assuming he did."
Heron did not feel like debating it. Instead, he told her, "We can't stay here too long. Eventually, everything I've ordered will be ready."
Ivory was silent for a few seconds, then looked up at him and smiled. "We'll figure it out."
