‘That implies you’ve had the translation finished for some time. A fortnight? A year?’ Tosan shook his head. ‘You should have brought it to the Academy before reading it in public.’
Sodar bowed his head. ‘Again, I apologise. I confess, I thought this section was innocuous enough, and I was excited to share it with our congregants – but I see that was a mistake.’
‘Indeed, it was,’ Tosan affirmed. ‘You should have brought your translation efforts to my attention years ago. In case you’ve forgotten, I was Ancient in the Art of Antiquated Languages before I became headmaster.’
‘Ah,’ Sodar said, sounding surprised. ‘Yes. I had forgotten.’
Annev coughed – he’d heard Sodar mock the headmaster for his exaggerated translation skills multiple times – earning a glare from Tosan.
‘Now that you mention it,’ Sodar continued, ‘perhaps we can collaborate. There is still a section which has eluded me.’
Another lie, Annev thought, though this time he succeeded in hiding his reaction. Sodar finished translating the Speur Dún manuscript last winter. He’s been spending his free time copying it.
‘Just one section?’ Tosan murmured, neither accepting nor rejecting Sodar’s suggestion. He smiled, but it was all teeth. ‘Translating heretical scriptures may seem worthwhile to an idle priest, but I consider it a poor use of the Academy’s resources.’
‘Even the details surrounding the six-hundredth Regaleus gifts?’
‘You mean that speck about the Oracle?’ Tosan scoffed. ‘Your translation barely mentioned it—’
‘I’m convinced the record contains more detail. There is mention of a cistern.’
‘For catching rainwater?’ Tosan sniffed. ‘I’m not impressed.’
Sodar stepped closer to the headmaster. ‘A cistern for skywater – for quaire. A vessel to house the Oracle.’
The priest and the headmaster locked eyes, and Tosan looked uncertain. The ancient stroked the point of his goatee and flicked a pinch of stray whiskers to the cobblestone floor.
‘You think this cistern is … still operational?’
Sodar thoughtfully combed his fingers through the long white strands of his own beard. ‘Many artifacts from the First and Second Ages can still be found today – that manuscript, for example – and I would think an artifact made by Odar would have a greater level of permanence.’
Tosan nodded, eyes beginning to sparkle. ‘I meant to ask. This manuscript …’ he held up the sheaf of parchment he had taken from Sodar. ‘The pages should have been compromised, if not by age then by wear and tear. And what you said just now …’ Tosan smiled. ‘This is an artifact, isn’t it?’
Annev held his breath: Sodar had made a mistake, and Tosan had noticed. The priest’s lies were starting to unravel.
Sodar frowned. ‘I suppose it could be—’
‘It is,’ Tosan said with finality. ‘That’s why the pictographs are still legible – they’ve been magicked to resist wear and prevent decay.’ When Sodar didn’t respond, Tosan tsked. ‘You’ve been keeping artifacts from the Academy, Sodar. This belongs in the Vault.’
‘But, given the nature of the magic, perhaps—’
‘No exemptions,’ Tosan said. ‘No exceptions. The manuscript stays here.’ He set the pages down on the table, as if to emphasise his point.
‘I see.’ Sodar bowed his head. ‘As you say.’
Tosan smirked. ‘Just like that? You’re not going to fight to finish your translation?’ When Sodar did not answer, Tosan chuckled. ‘No. You’ve made other transcriptions, haven’t you? You’d prefer the original, but you don’t technically need it, do you?’
‘My transcription would be less than worthless to you.’
Tosan studied the priest, then let his gaze drop to the manuscript in his hands. ‘Do you really think the Oracle is just sitting there? Abandoned in Odarnea, waiting for the right person to uncover it?’
Sodar shrugged. ‘Given what I have gleaned from the translation … yes. It’s probable the Oracle is still buried somewhere in the desert.’
‘Buried? Not lost or stolen?’ The priest nodded and Tosan scoffed. ‘Explain.’
Sodar glanced between Annev and Ancient Jerik then took a deep breath. ‘The Halcyon Knights—’
‘—were heretics,’ Tosan snapped.
Sodar smiled. ‘That is common knowledge. But they guarded the Oracle for most of the Third and Fourth Ages.’
Tosan glanced to Ancient Jerik who nodded, if reluctantly.
‘Less commonly known,’ Sodar continued, ‘is that the Order did not have the Oracle when the Sky Keep was destroyed during the Fifth Age. Devout priests and treasure hunters have since sought the Oracle, but none have found it. This translation contains a detailed description of the Oracle’s original location – a cistern in the Odarnean desert, set apart from the settlements of men. I am convinced there is more still, but the translation is cumbersome.’
Tosan considered this, eyes shrewd. He licked his lips. ‘And if an expedition were mounted and the Oracle found … what then?’
‘We would put it in the Vault along with the manuscript. An artifact of that power … the ability to answer a man’s unspoken questions?’ Sodar shook his head. ‘I fear what would happen if it fell into the wrong hands.’
‘You think too small, Brother Sodar. If Odar saw fit to give men the Oracle, then men should use it. If the Academy had it, our efforts to recover magic would improve a thousandfold. We could use the Oracle to locate other magic artifacts. We could ask the Oracle how to obtain those artifacts.’
Sodar’s bushy eyebrows lifted in surprise, though Annev guessed the priest was still following a carefully plotted script. ‘I hadn’t considered that, but yes. The translation suggests the Oracle has that capability.’
Tosan nodded, coming to some decision, then gestured to Ancient Jerik. ‘Have Master Narach bring me any records about the Oracle from the Vault – and see if you can find an old map of Odarnea. When you’ve done that, search here for any references to the Oracle.’ Jerik took his lamps and left as Tosan turned to Sodar.
‘How soon can you finish this translation?’
The priest paused to consider this. ‘A few weeks? Maybe a month. The problem is that Yomad pictography leaves much room for interpretation – especially when conveying thoughts in Darite – and if I can’t name the exact location of the Oracle, an expedition would be lost …’ He shrugged. ‘I can pinpoint an area, but the geography will influence how the pictographs should be interpreted – and I cannot leave here, I have my congregation to attend to.’ He tapped his chin. ‘You could lead an expedition, but it seems beneath your station – and interpreting the pictographs may be … fickle.’
For a long while, Tosan remained silent. Annev studied the headmaster’s face and could almost see the man’s thoughts working their way to a solution.
‘You will go,’ Tosan said at last. ‘Accompanied by some of our masters.’
Sodar frowned, though Annev got the sense this was precisely what he wanted. ‘But my congregation—’