Half-Truth
The library of Alcaraz Hall contains tomes dating back centuries.
Ariana’s eyelids grew heavy, the toll of relentless hours pouring over thick tomes evident in the dark crescents forming beneath her eyes. She looked up from her studies, surveying the room she had called home for several straight days.
Alcaraz Hall’s library was a sprawling place, centuries of collected knowledge packed together in tall, mahogany shelves that rose like ancient guardians. Ladders on wheels stood at intervals, allowing access to the highest shelves. The air was thick with the scent of parchment and old wood. The silence in the room was so profound that one could almost hear the old books whispering their tales to one another.
Tall arched windows lined the walls, but instead of the moon or the stars, they reflected the ambient glow of softly lit lanterns, casting the room in a golden hue. The center of the room featured a grand, intricately carved table where Ariana sat, surrounded by days of open books, scrolls, and scribbled notes. She sighed loudly, pausing to rub her temples.
Long hours had passed since research had begun for the day. Like the past few days before it, Ariana’s research had extended through the day and night, all the way into the wee hours of the morning. It would be only a few minutes before dawn again cracked the windows, a sure sign that Ariana needed to retire and get some degree of rest.
“Just one more...” she murmured to herself.
She was close. She knew it. She reached for another book, brushing off the layer of dust from its cover to reveal an emblem of a serpent with three heads. With a steadying breath, she opened it to the table of contents.
“A girl is diligent in her studies.”
Ariana jumped, startled by the sudden incursion into her hours of silence. “Master!” she exclaimed.
“Good morning, Ariana.” Melika smiled and shuffled to where she sat. The wizened elder placed a steaming cup of tea by Ariana.
“Thanks,” Ariana said. She muttered the words more than she intended.
Melika took a seat on the stool adjacent to her. “A girl’s diligence is admirable, but perhaps some rest would also be beneficial, hm?”
“You’re awake,” Ariana pointed out.
Melika nodded. “Indeed. These old bones are restless. Early to sleep, yes, but also early to wake. The difference is a woman has had a full night’s sleep. But what of you, hm? How many sunrises has a girl witnessed from the library of late, hm?”
Ariana sighed. “I get it, I know. There just... I need to know as much as I can.” The words slurred off her tongue, heavy and sticky like thick honey. She shook her head in an attempt to banish the weariness. The tea helped some, but it couldn’t replace sleep.
Melika eyed the books and scrolls strewn about the table. “A girl seeks knowledge about the laughing snake. To what end?”
“I need to know about his powers. His magic.”
Melika pursed her lips. “No one has met the laughing snake in centuries, my dear. For all we know, he is dead.”
Ariana turned to face her master. She wanted so badly to trust Melika, to trust anyone. It would feel so good to finally unburden herself, to at last have someone sharing her secret. She knew she couldn’t, however, not until she found the information she was looking for.
The lie left her tongue before she even fully realized it. “I have reason to believe he’s going to return soon.”
Melika studied her. Could her master see through her deception? Did she know she was being lied to? Promises existed which could give a magus the power to detect lies. As far as Ariana could see, Melika didn’t have any oath tattoos bearing such promises, but that didn’t mean much. There would have been value, after all, in being able to detect lies without another person knowing.
“A girl has been spending too much time among beggars, I think,” her master said after a moment.
Ariana shook her head. “If you’d seen what I’ve seen, you’d believe too.” Wary of a possible truth-seeking spell, she tried to cover her lies with half-truths, though the intensity of Melika’s round, owlish eyes made it difficult to tell how successful she was.
“Is this why a girl fled from her own wedding?” Melika asked.
Ariana nodded. Another half-truth. “In part. I didn’t love Kazem, at least not in that way. But if I told him, told anyone in Tel Kellah, they’d think I’m crazy.”
“And Vahid? Does he think you’re crazy?”
“He doesn’t know what I’m doing,” she admitted. “But he’s willing to help me, no questions asked.”
“That sort of loyalty is difficult to find, even in a lover,” Melika observed.
Ariana found herself smiling. “He’s a rare kind of man.”
“Rasif will be disappointed.”
Ariana flushed. “I-”
Melika’s smile broadened. “I tease. A girl can relax, I think.” The elder traced her fingers over the pages of the tome Ariana was studying. "Azhi Dahhak," she mused aloud. "A legend that has intrigued many a magus before you."
Ariana looked up, her eyes reflecting the desperation she felt. "Legends attribute so many feats to him: immortality, creating monsters, transferring bodies... it’s hard to say what’s real and what’s fiction."
“Perhaps a girl should look somewhere other than legends,” Melika suggested. “Firsthand accounts, maybe, hm? These are often more reliable.”
Ariana’s brow furrowed in thought. “I’ve been through a few of those, but they’re confusing too. There’s one account that claims the laughing snake conjured a storm covering the whole continent. Another says he turned all the firstborn sons in a village to stone by snapping his fingers. But no magus could be that powerful, could they?”
“You can’t believe those, yet you can believe he is immortal?”
Ariana looked back at the book. “I don’t know what I believe.”
Melika nodded empathetically. “It is true that such accounts defy the imagination. But remember, Ariana, not all accounts are to be taken literally. Stories get exaggerated, especially over time. The truth might lie somewhere in between.”
Ariana nodded, absorbing the information. "Then I need to find out which parts are real. I need to be prepared."
Melika reached out, touching Ariana's face gently. "A girl's determination is admirable, but remember, one must also be cautious. Not all paths should be ventured down. There is darkness to be found if one delves too deeply in some places.”
“I understand, Master. But... I have to do this. I have to.”
Melika nodded, her eyes softening. "Then, may I suggest looking into the accounts of the Seers of Uzun? They lived during his time and were known for their detailed recordings. Their texts might offer insights into the true nature of the laughing snake’s powers."
Ariana smiled. “Thank you, Master. I’ll look into it.” She yawned. “Maybe after some sleep, though...”
“Come on, lordy lord... wake up, muppet.”
Kazem awoke to the feeling of being slapped repeatedly on the cheek. He groaned and opened his eyes. His vision was blurry, and a dull ache in the back of his head made it hard to think. He tried to wipe his eyes, but his hands were bound behind him. He was seated indoors somewhere, a rope tying his wrists to what felt like a wooden chair. He blinked a few times, trying to focus on what was in front of him.
As his vision cleared he found himself in what looked like an old wine cellar, shelves of dusty bottles lining both sides of the room. Most of the bottles were uncorked and empty. In front of him stood two men dressed in worn, beige turbans and shalvar robes. It took him a moment to remember them as the two surviving bandits from outside the tavern: the shorter man, Hopper, and the apparent leader, Rash.
“Well, look what we have here,” Rash purred. “A little lord a long way from home.”
Kazem realized that he had been stripped to his underwear. He spotted his armor and weapons in one corner of the room, atop a pile of other trinkets and potential valuables. The only thing missing from the corner was his new spear. Rash held the spear in front of him, the shaft wrapped in a dirty rag where Rash held it.
The bandit shook the spear in front of Kazem’s face. “But you’re no ordinary lord, are you? Certainly not if you’re wielding a weapon like this.”
“An empyrean spear,” Hopper offered.
“Yes,” Rash said. “An empyrean spear. Now, I’m no expert on big, fancy lord words, but from what I saw earlier I’m guessing that means it’s some sort of magical weapon - the valuable kind.” He turned to Hopper. “How much did you say?”
“At least a million gold honorables, probably more,” Hopper said.
Rash turned back to Kazem. “Mmm, quite the payday. Normally we’d kill you for butchering our men like you did. Lucky for you, though, we can’t get the spear to work. Can't even pick it up without wrapping the shaft first. So, here’s what’s going to happen. You tell us how the spear works and we’ll think about ransoming you off instead of murdering you plainly. How does that sound, eh?”
“Let me kill them. Let me drink their blood.”
“What?” Kazem asked.
“Did I stutter?” Rash asked. Again he turned to Hopper. “Did I stutter, Hopper?”
“Nope, no you did not.”
Rash turned back to Kazem. “So if I didn’t stutter, then what the fuck are you asking me ‘what’ for? Did Hopper knock your brain loose with that bottle, eh, little lord?”
“Let me kill them for you. You don’t need to say a word. All you need to do is nod.”
That voice again. Soft, like intimate whispers spoken over velvet bedsheets. This time Kazem realized the voice was speaking in his head. For a moment he worried that Hopper really had knocked his brain loose, then the memory hit him all at once; the burning in his spine and lungs, the weight crushing him as light emanated from his body. He smiled to himself, realizing the spear had answered him at last. A little too late, of course, but late was better than never.
“Oi! What are you smilin’ about?!” Rash exclaimed. “Do you not see that you’re fucked right now?”
Kazem chuckled. “Sorry. It’s just that your turban is too big for your head. You look like a little kid with it, makes it hard to take you seriously.”
The bandit smacked him across the face, the jagged golden ring on Rash’s hand causing Kazem’s lip to bleed. He spat blood at the bandit’s feet.
“What happened to my karkadann?” Kazem asked. “You take her, too?”
Rash backhanded him again. “I’m the one asking the questions.”
“The karkadann ran away,” Hopper supplied. “We tried to take her, but she just wasn’t having it.”
Rash whirled on his comrade. “Hopper! What did I just bloody say?!”
Hopper’s eyes widened like a dog caught rummaging through the trash. “Oops! My bad.”
Rash grunted. He may not appreciate the short man’s frankness, but Kazem did. That frankness reminded him of what Hopper had said when Kazem had first encountered these bandits. Do you remember how we found Kuth? Man didn't even have his head anymore! And the other three guys... Could the short man have been talking about the bodies Lord Kohler had obtained from the morgue, the ones supposedly killed by Executioner? Kazem hadn’t realized it then, but now, thinking about it, the stories lined up. He decided that he had a few questions of his own.
Rash sighed. “Well, there you have it. Your stupid bloody beast ran away. Thought karkadanns were supposed to be loyal. The way you rich folk talk about them, you’d think they’re bloody sentient. Guess it’s just another example of you pretty lords overrating the things you like. Wouldn’t be surprised if that myth exists just to drive up the price.”
“Just like how they launder money through art!” Hopper exclaimed.
“Yes, just like-” Rash paused. “What?”
“Art,” Hopper repeated. “You know that thing rich people do, where they have appraisers artificially inflate the value of art so they can use it to launder illegal money or get tax write-offs from the Shah?”
Rash glared at Hopper. “Do you really think I’d be a bandit if I knew how to artificially inflate the value of art?”
“Well, yeah. I mean, only lords can really do it, and since you were of the commoner’s caste-”
“You know what, I don’t care!” Rash exclaimed. Hopper looked crestfallen. “Anyway. The spear, m’lord. The spear. Tell us your secrets. Pretty please with all the Xs and Os.”
Kazem grinned. “You want to know about my magic spear, huh? I’ll tell you. It was a gift from the Shah to help me on my quest. See, I’m not just any lord, like you said. I’m Kazem Davani.”
Rash burst into laughter, cackling madly, his whole body shaking. “HA! Oh, that’s good. That really is rich, m’lord.” He seized Kazem by the throat, pulling him closer and causing the chair to tip forward. “You really expect me to believe the Lord Commander of the Shah’s army was just mucking about in some tavern in Makhun?”
“Let me do you one better,” Kazem said. “Do you really expect you’ll live once word gets out that you’ve taken Ashezama Davani’s eldest son captive?” He raised an eyebrow.
Rash studied him for a few moments, then paled. He turned and marched a few paces away, grabbing Hopper by the shoulders to bring him along. A slew of harsh whispers passed between them, though Kazem only caught a little bit.
“No way that’s Ashezama Davani’s son!”
“I don’t know, Rash. The karkadann, the spear... it kind of makes sense.”
More whispers passed between the bandits. Finally they broke apart. Rash approached Kazem again.
“Okay,” the bandit said. “Let’s say I believe you. Let’s say you’re actually Ashezama Davani’s eldest son. I assume Lord Ashezama would be quite pleased to have you returned to him.”
Kazem shrugged. “Sure. Free me now and I’ll make sure you’re paid your weight in gold. Otherwise, I can’t make any guarantees about your safety. Honestly, knowing my father, he’s probably got two Paladins on their way here by now.”
“Clever,” the voice in his head whispered. “A pity you won’t let me just kill them, though. It’s been so long since I properly drank an enemy’s blood...”
“Fat chance,” Rash sneered. “We’re well hidden.”
Kazem scoffed loudly. “Have you ever known a Paladin, Rash? I’m guessing not, so allow me to give you a word of advice. No matter how well hidden you think you are, they can find you. In fact, I came to Makhun to rendez-vous with Executioner. You know what’ll happen if she comes looking for you, don’t you?”
Kazem thought the bandits had looked pale before. At the mention of Executioner, however, both men seemed to become ghostly and translucent.
“E-Executioner wouldn’t really come here, would she?” Hopper stammered.
“Knowing her, she could be here any minute,” Kazem said. “But if I tell her you were cooperative, maybe, just maybe, you get out of this alive. For a start, I’d like to know about your man Kuth. You mentioned you found him without a head.”
“Oh my god!” Hopper exclaimed. “What happened to him and the other guys was carnage, man. I totally puked when I saw it.”
“There were three of them, right?” Kazem pressed.
“Yeah, some of our lower tier-”
“Shut up, Hopper!” Rash snapped. He returned his gaze to Kazem, seeming to regain some color. “Know what? I think you’re bluffing. It’s easy to throw all these important names around. I’ll bet you’ve never even met Ashezama Davani.”
Kazem shrugged again. “Your funeral.”
“Rash, shouldn’t we talk about this first?” Hopper insisted.
Rash held up a finger. “Hopper, I swear to the Eternal Destroyer, if you don’t shut your fucking mouth right this bloody second...”
“Okay, okay,” Hopper said. “Geez, man. Chill out.”
Rash withdrew his curved knife from his belt. He pressed it to Kazem’s throat so closely that when Kazem swallowed it cut the apple in his neck a fraction, drawing blood. “Let’s start again, shall we? Tell me about the spear, or I’ll cut your throat this instant.”
Kazem pretended the knife to his throat didn’t make him nervous. In theory his Iron Skin oath should protect him from such a blade, but Hopper had managed to down him with the blunt force from a bottle. Kazem didn’t know whether this was some sort of anomaly perhaps caused by the spear, or else whether one or both men had a way around Iron Skin. The thought that they might be able to negate his most potent defense made him nervous.
He laughed derisively. “You aren’t really going to sell the spear, are you? What an utter waste that would be! Do you have any idea how powerful that thing is? Wielding the spear would be far more lucrative than the sum you’d get for selling it to some collector.”
Rash’s eyes narrowed. “Is that right?”
Kazem nodded at Hopper. “You seem to know what an empyrean spear is. Why don’t you tell your man what it can do?”
“Empyrean weapons give their wielder access to the spells of previous owners,” Hopper said.
Rash’s eyes widened.
“Powerful, right?” Kazem said. “And get this. There are only twenty one known empyrean weapons in the world. The first twelve go back a thousand years. The other nine were made before any of us were alive. Know how many have been made in the last century? Zero. For whatever reason, people can’t make them anymore.”
Rash sneered. “If these emperm weapons-”
“Empyrean,” Hopper corrected.
“Whatever. If these weapons are so valuable, why haven’t I heard of them before?”
“You’re sitting on a weapon that even most Paladins have nightmares about,” Kazem replied. “It’s best if most people don’t know about them. The Eidolons in Ibrahim declared their existence secret to all but a select few among the warrior and magi castes.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Rash asked suspiciously.
“Because not just anyone can use an empyrean weapon. There’s a process you have to go through to get it to accept you. If you cooperate with me - answer my questions and let me go and all that, I’ll teach you how to wield it.”
Rash considered, stroking his chin thoughtfully with his free hand. After a moment, he grinned. “Know what? I’ve got a better idea.” Then he punched Kazem in the face.
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