“Sadly, not even Avempartha has that much power. I can’t find something I’ve never seen, or something I don’t know exists. What I can do, however, is find something I do know, something that I am very well acquainted with, and something I created for the specific purpose of finding later.
“Nine hundred years ago when Jerish and I decided to split up in order to hide Nevrik, I made amulets for them. These amulets served two purposes: one was to protect them from the Art, thus preventing anyone from locating them by divination; the other was to provide me with a means to track them with a signature only I know how to recognize.
“Of course, Jerish and I assumed it would only take a few years to assemble a group of loyalists to restore the emperor, but as we all now know, that didn’t happen. I can only hope that Jerish was smart enough to impress upon the descendants of the heir to keep the necklaces safe and to hand them down from one generation to the next. That might be asking too much, since—well, who could imagine that I would live so long?”
They crossed another narrow bridge, which spanned a disturbingly deep gap. Overhead were several colorful banners with iconic images embroidered on them with large single elven letters. Arista noticed Royce staring at them, his mouth working as if he was trying to read. On the far side of the bridge, they reached a doorstep where a tall ornately decorated archway was drawn into the stone, but no door was present.
“Royce, if you wouldn’t mind?”
Royce stepped forward and, laying his hands on the polished stone, pressed.
“What’s he doing?” Arista asked the wizard.
Esrahaddon turned and looked at Royce.
The thief stood before them uncomfortably for a moment, then said, “Avempartha has a magical protection that prevents anyone who doesn’t have elvish blood from entering. Every lock in the place works the same way. Originally, we thought no one else but I could enter—oh, and Esra, because he had been invited years ago—but it turns out that if an elf invites you, that’s all that is needed. Esra found the exact elvish wording for me to memorize for the invite. That’s how I got you in.”
“Speaking of which …” Esrahaddon motioned toward the stone arch.
“Sorry,” Royce said, and added in a clear voice, “Melentanaria, en venau rendin Esrahaddon, en Arista Essendon adona Melengar,” which Arista understood as Grant entry to the wizard Esrahaddon and Arista Essendon, Princess of Melengar.
“That’s Old Speech,” Arista said.
“Yes.” Esrahaddon nodded. “There are many similarities between Elvish and Old Imperial.”
“Whoa!” Looking back at the archway, Arista suddenly saw an open door. “But I still don’t understand. How is it you can grant us—oh.” The princess stopped with her mouth still open. “But you don’t look at all—”
“I’m a mir.”
“A what?”
“A mix,” Esrahaddon explained, “some elven, some human blood.”
“But you never—”
“It’s not the kind of thing you brag about,” the thief said. “And I’d appreciate it if you kept this to yourself.”
“Oh—of course.”
“Come along. Arista still needs to play her part,” Esrahaddon said, entering.
Inside, they found a large chamber carved perfectly round. It was like entering the inside of a giant ball. Unlike the rest of the tower, and despite its size, the room was unadorned. It was merely a vast smooth chamber with no seam, crack, nor crevice. The only feature was a zigzagging stone staircase that rose from the floor to a platform that extended out from the steps and stood at the exact center of the sphere.
“Do you remember the Plesieantic Incantations I taught you, Arista?” the wizard asked as they climbed the stairs, his voice echoing loudly, ricocheting repeatedly off the walls.
“Um … the ah …”
“Do you or don’t you?”
“I’m thinking.”
“Think faster; this is no time for slow wits.”
“Yes, I remember. Lord, but you’ve gotten testy.”
“I’ll apologize later. Now, when we get up there, you are going to stand in the middle of the platform on the mark laid out on the floor as the apex. You will begin and maintain the Plesieantic Phrase. Start with the Gathering Incantation; when you do, you will likely feel a bit more of a jolt than you would normally, because this place will amplify your power to gather resources. Don’t be alarmed, don’t stop the incantation, and whatever you do, don’t scream.”
Arista looked fearfully back at Royce.
“Once you feel the power moving through your body, begin the Torsonic Chant. As you do, you will need to form the crystal-matrix with your fingers, making certain you fold inward, not outward.”
“So with my thumbs pointing out and the rest of my fingers pointing at me, right?”
“Yes,” Esrahaddon said, irritated. “This is all basic formations, Arista.”
“I know it, I know it—it’s just been a while. I’ve been busy being Melengar’s ambassador, not sitting in my tower practicing conjurations.”
“So you’ve been frivolously wasting your time?”