The Legend of Cniva

Looking around, Noah decided to stand until told otherwise.

The Ubyr had a graceful stride, that, combined with his silent steps, gave him the air of a jungle cat hunting. He walked into the dark room while Noah paused at the doorway in the gloom of this less ruined section of the observatory.

An alchemical lantern started with a faint crackle. Able now to see, Noah took in the spartan room - a desk with a single chair, dozens of books in careful stacks, a wooden chest on its side honeycombed with slots holding parchment scrolls, a single cot and smokeless heat block for cooking.

Turning, the Horologist placed his sword on the desk and the lantern on a shelf above, then sank down onto the chair. With a nod, he gestured to a sturdy wooden crate by the door and Noah sat on it. Better than the stone floor, at least.

“Why do you want this map? Clearly you have gone through much to come here,” the Ubyr looked down at Noah sitting on the low crate, his eyes now a dark red that shone with a dull inner light.

Honesty. Honesty… and careful omission would be Noah’s watchwords now.

“Several years ago, I travelled to a land on a different continent. They had magic there, of a sort, perhaps similar to how magic works here. Perhaps the same source but a different tradition or method of utilizing it - either way, I was totally ignorant of it. Still am, I suppose. But I went to this place and did not realize how different it was to my homeland.”

A frown creased his forehead as he went on, “I stumbled into something I didn’t understand. And I almost died. I was hurt, quite badly, and a handful of people helped me. They didn’t know me, I couldn’t understand their language, and they risked a lot. But they still saved my life.

“Unfortunately, in helping me they unwittingly created a problem that will devastate their lands. I did it, I didn’t know what I did at the time but that doesn’t change the fact that all the people who helped me, and everyone they know, are in great danger until I fix what I did. But to do that, I need to be able to see time.”

After a few moments the Horologist nodded and said, “Well, that made almost no sense to me, but it was truthful. Perhaps delusional rather than empirically accurate, but still. If nothing else, it is a more noble reason for your journey than I was expecting - guilt and obligation would explain your willingness to risk your life like this. You are a real Cniva in the flesh, I suppose.”

The Ubyr sat back in his chair, his eyes drifting away, so Noah asked, “Cniva? I am unaware of that name.”

“Just an old legend about a young man who, foolishly but without malice, created a disaster for his people. It is a fable to tell children, about a boy who did not tend to his chores and in a roundabout way caused a magical tree that his village depended on to sicken. So Cniva had to travel far, and face certain **** three times, in order to correct his mistake. Traditionally, Ubyr tales of heroic journeys involve three trials of mortal danger.”

Noah cleared his throat, “Well, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. I was rather hoping this part of my journey would be without danger.”

“You are facing ****, I can not let word of my presence out, you understand? There have been disappearances and whispers of a new threat to the river trade; I am sure the Duchy to the south would send soldiers to search if they knew I was here. It would make my studies untenable.” The Horologist spoke dispassionately, but after a moment he shrugged and continued, “But I find myself rather enjoying the chance to speak with someone so unusual. So, I find myself hoping you are able to convince me to accept your terms, so that we can enter into an agreement and I can be assured you would keep silent.”

With a hopefully confident smile, Noah grabbed his satchel and rummaged in it. Pulling out a book shaped item, he held it up, a leather-bound tome with a strap of canvas tied around it twice. The straps were fixed with a clasp, and when it was removed Noah flipped the cover open.

The cover had a clever hinge, but it did not contain paper. The Ubyr raised an eyebrow as the peered closer at it, a shiny block of greyish material, an inch thick and the size of a normal book. With an audible snap, Noah swung what appeared to be the leather cover around and it stuck to the other half of the leather cover.

“Is that a puzzle box?”

“No, but you press it here and here…” the young man said, and suddenly a cold light shone. The Horologist was not yet impressed - it was shaped oddly for an alchemical light, but the blue-white glow was familiar - until the man made a few gestures, and the light went out.

What took the place of the whiteness stunned the Horologist. The blackness of the thing was pitted with tiny dots of light, but as he watched the dots moved and swam. Lines formed as the dots shifted, and the old scholar breathed out, “The stars!”

The human did not reply, even as small words appeared, and the date. With a finger, another gesture and the stars shifted again, and the date changed.

“This is the record of the night sky above the northern plains. You can use this to see what the stars looked like any day of the year, going back almost 1500 years. It also shows the moon and the path of the sun. As I'm sure you know, they all move in long, established circuits across the skies.”

“…How?”

“I had it made, but I don’t quite know how it works. Or had it created, using some craft of my homeland and a great deal of money. Initially, I had the notion that I would use it myself to create the map I needed, assuming the builders of this city had the secrets I was looking for. Luckily, I can see you are studying the passage of time as seen by the stars, and this instrument could be an incredible boon. And it’s yours, if you can make me a map.”

Noah handed the thing over, and the Ubyr held it. It felt solid enough, the light gave off no heat and the thing felt nothing like stone. The man told him to make a gesture, not a hand sign like a lizardkin thaumaturge would make while bringing their elemental powers into the mundane world, but more like you would to control a clockwork tool. There were a few small dials and a button that made the thing go dark, and within a few minutes the Horologist was able to make the stars move backwards and forwards, the years skipping by in moments.

“I need to do numerous calculations every time I wish to check the tracks of the starfield carved into the stone,” he told the human man, in near disbelief. “This is accurate? With this I could easily check the year of any carving. There are hundreds, and they use the stars to indicate the year, rather than counting years in writing.”

The instrument went dark, and when the Ubyr touched the small dial a single star appeared then faded. He looked at the man, who nodded, “It is perfectly accurate. I will need to show you how to unlock it, it won’t work again until I do. But if you agree to make me a map, the instrument is yours.”

He thought of it for a few minutes, but in the end, there was no real decision to be made. The Horologist turned to his desk, and picked up a pencil. He sketched out some calculations while Noah waited, patiently. Finally, 10 minutes later the Ubyr put the pencil down.

“I accept. I can make you a map that will do what you ask, I had never considered such a thing but there are several ways to accomplish it. With our agreement, I can be sure you will keep my secret. I have some quality vellum, that would do nicely for a map, and I have ink aplenty. With this ‘instrument’ I will save so much time in my own research I will not even begrudge the effort that will go in.”

Letting out an audible sigh, Noah smiled and asked, “How long will it take?”

The Ubyr tapped his finger on his notes and replied, “I will utilize every full moon to harvest the ambient magic available, and every new moon I will pray to Mother Night and press the energy into the vellum. The passage of time will even help imprint the spell; I think. So, I estimate it will be around 20 years. Maybe 25. It will take several hundred moons to gather the magic, since I dare not waste my own, and I can only gather minute amounts from the lunar passage.”

Noah’s heart fell, along with his expression. “No, no. That is far too long!”

“Is it?” With an unassuming look the Ubyr shrugged, “You are young, for a human, no? You should be still in middle age when I am done. Regardless, even if while creating the map I think of more efficient ways it will be close to 20 years to get enough thema selenica.”

Desperately, Noah said, “Is there no other way? You say you won’t use your own magic, that you have been saving it for decades? Surely the instrument is worth using some of your own power?”

“No, I do not believe it is. It is worth decades of my effort; it is worth my knowledge. But it is not worth the Élan vital I have saved at great cost. However, there is something you may be able to provide me. You say you are good at languages, and that you were able to read some of a carving because some of it was translated from ancient Kherban. Can you read this?”

Handing the steward a parchment, he sat back down and waited, his chair only an arms reach away.

Noah studied it, nervously. It did not appear to be old enough to be fragile, and he could not see any obvious signs that it had been copied. Two short paragraphs, with what appeared to be a salutation at the top. Perhaps a letter?

In his mind, the strange characters went fuzzy as he began to run through the various permutations. It was not instantly readable for Noah, but he often had to focus when it was a language he had minimal experience with, or one he had used briefly. But, as he had previously told the Horologist, he had learned some ancient Kherban so he expected to be able to read it.

“Hmm, it may be another form of Kherban. Let’s see, the syntax is odd, and it’s not an abjad like the priest-caste form that was on that rubbing. Uh… that’s weird, this part says something-something ‘brother’, and then, ‘time’ and ‘home’, but that must mean this line is ‘come home’. Oooh, yes, it’s ‘come home, there is not/no news of family’… and this must be ‘obligation’ or ‘duty’, huh that’s…”

Noah’s eyes went wide as the language snapped into focus. Also, the wicked blade of the Horologist was pressed gently into his cheek, and he hadn’t even heard the man shift in his chair.

“Well, you are interesting. That is not, in fact, Kherban, as you figured out. So now you can explain to me how you are able to read high Ubyrian? I doubt there are more than a handful of humans on this continent who can, it is a language with no relation to any human tongue, and here you are learning it in a few minutes, even as you do not recognize it. So, I ask again, are you using magic? How?”

The blade pressed just hard enough to let Noah he was serious.