Bargaining

“I have an ability, a faculty, with languages. It is not magical, not as I understand it, but I cannot explain it to you. It was not inherent in me, it was a gift from another being, but know that I cannot share or teach it. Essentially, I learn languages very quickly and can retain them indefinitely. Because of that, the more languages I know the quicker I pick up others - while studying the literature on the Empty City I probably was exposed to pieces of Ubyrian written language amidst the other half dozen. So, my mind was already putting bits of the alphabet together and making educated guesses as to how it worked grammatically based on the other languages I know. Then, reading this letter from, I take it, your sister, the pieces slipped into place after a few minutes.”

Noah spoke slowly, his head still as the tip of the Horologist’s sword pressed into his cheek. He had instinctively backed up in surprise until his head bumped into the wall behind him, but the Ubyr had gracefully kept the sword point touching him.

“But, to be clear, I am not hiding anything from you I think you would need to know. I am not a spy or anything from the human kingdoms or the, er, enemies in court your sister mentions. I truly am here for the map like I told you and my reasons are what I told you. I am not hiding a secret sorcerous ability for any nefarious purpose.”

As he spoke, Noah was mostly concerned with his continued inability to tell the Ubyr was going to threaten him physically. The young man had one trick, one talent for avoiding danger, and he was increasingly worried that it did not work as well as he thought. Which meant, if this went badly, he might not be able to simply escape as he assumed.

‘Or else the fact I don’t instinctively react and Second Chance doesn’t proc just means that he is not actually intending to kill me.’ The thought was reassuring in a way, but it also meant that Noah might not know if it would actually protect him until he was truly about to die… which would certainly make it tough to test. So how could he rely on it?

The sword slid back as the Ubyr pondered. Noah eventually noticed a stinging sensation as a few drops of warm blood dripped down his cheek.

“Hmm.” The Horologist said nothing, but he looked at the tip of his sword pensively. “I did not intend to cut you, my apologies. My sister would laugh to see how clumsy I am, I have not held my sword for years.”

He placed his thumb on the blade near the guard, then withdrew it, a drop of bright red blood showing against the grey-blue of his skin. Turning to his desk, he picked up a piece of thick cream coloured paper and placed his bloody thumb against it, and then used the same thumb and forefinger to take some of Noah’s blood from the sword point.

Pressing those fingers on the blank paper, he whispered a word. “There. By my family, my honour, and my name I accept the truth of the words given to me by the man Noah.” Placing the blank parchment down, he arched an eyebrow and mused, “The bit of blood could be useful for the creation of the map, I suppose. Still, sloppy of me.”

Noah was still tensed, understandably, prepared to flee. But the Ubyr placed the sword back down on the desk and said, “Come with me, I have something for you to look at.”

The basement was dusty, and as he first entered the room Noah could see another desk and chair, clearly also brought by the Horologist, along with some bright lanterns. The room was large, at the end of a long corridor underground, and it felt like the most secure space in the entire complex.

Four great sheets of bronze, leaning against the longest wall, were clearly the treasure the vault-like room was built to house. Each slab was taller than the Ubyr, and about 10 feet across. All were engraved in the language of the builders, and a cursory glimpse showed they were all unique.

“If you can help me make any progress on translating these, I will use my own magic. If you can translate them all, I will spare no effort in creating your map, and you may get it in a matter of a few years instead of decades.”

Noah nodded, his eyes darting between the slabs. “Some of it seems to be the same as the snippet of the language from the rubbing I found, the one that was partially translated. But this third panel is… not the same. Some different characters at least. And the last one is different again. But why? I mean, just because the metal looks identical, they may have been engraved over many years. Centuries.”

“I agree. I have studied these panels since I found this room. I believe they were created over as great deal of time. Each panel weighs several hundred pounds, and they are too large to be moved out of this room, so I assume the bronze was cast here to create a lasting document. A way to leave a record, even after the stone they carved so enthusiastically in their buildings is worn down by the elements these panels will remain legible.”

Noah pulled up the single chair and sat down. The slabs were angled slightly to the center of the room, and with the carved text being a few inches tall he was able to read almost all the panels.

“The writing is consistently left-to-right. The final panel seems to be the most recent, if I had to guess, because the syntax seems more complex. The first panel has 34 unique characters, but appears to be an abjad, not a true alphabet. Yes, that makes sense, the priest-caste form I found had glyphs standing for consonants, but no vowels.”

The man was mostly speaking to himself, but the Ubyr was impressed. “What is the difference?”

His eyes never stopped darting around, but distractedly Noah replied, “A particular characteristic of an alphabet - as opposed to a syllabary or an abjad - is its ability to adapt to represent entirely different sounds and languages. It is crucial for a written language to spread between cultures. This language evolved, the last panel shows a phonemic orthography, a system for writing a language, in which the written symbols correspond to the significant spoken sounds. So, in other words, the graphemes correspond to the phonemes.”

Noah trailed off. For the next half hour, he did not speak, his eyes glazed over, as he let the contents (266,490 individual characters over 53,298 discrete words, with a further 733 that were likely pictographic logograms) swim in his mind.

He stood and shook his head. The Ubyr had been silently standing and watching, and Noah said, “I think I can do it. Some of it, certainly. Maybe all of it. I’ll need some time.”

“Take all the time you wish.”

“Hah. Yes, but if I can finish before dawn that would be best.” For the next hour, Noah stood and walked, his eyes alternating between close study of certain sections and absent-mindedly scanning of the whole panels.

At some point the Horologist had left and returned, since a pitcher of water was on the desk along with some hard bread. Noah took a drink and sat in the chair. He closed his eyes, the full texts were burned into his brain and he focused on making the language ‘fit’ in a way that he understood.

He did not move for three more hours.

Suddenly, his eyes opened. Swaying in his seat, he reached for the water and took a long gulp. “Damn, it takes a lot of me when I try to **** it, but it’s working. The last panel is almost done, it’s the third panel and the first that are mostly opaque now. The last section of the fourth panel ends with the line, ‘Come then, there are worlds other than this, better worlds’.”

The Ubyr had brought his other chair to the room at some point. His eyes blazed a bright triumphant red as he gazed at the huge bronze tablets. “I have some paper and writing implements. If you can translate out loud, I can transcribe.”

The third panel was the hardest, and only when Noah realized that most of it was calculations of time and space did it snap into focus. The builders had described the complex math using words more than numbers, and it was the middle of the night when Noah had his breakthrough.

The Horologist was beyond pleased, but something in his manner disturbed Noah.

“That is it, it’s done.” A bone deep weariness fell on Noah, he had never pushed his ability with languages in such a fashion before and the mental strain had his head aching.

“This is beyond my imagination,” the Ubyr said, his pages of notes laid out before him. “Not only the tale of what the builders were trying to accomplish, but an invitation to follow them to a new world! Not that I require an invitation to pursue my goals.” His grin was wolfish, and the gleam of his fangs in the alchemical light was unpleasant.

Biting his lip, Noah studied the Ubyr and said, “You will create my map, then? You won’t just try to follow them immediately?”

“As agreed, I will focus on your map. I will need a decade or more to even think about attempting what the builders here did – they had a whole civilization dedicated to creating a doorway to step through. I have many years to prepare, so your map will be done first.”

“I have to go back now,” now that it was done, Noah wanted to leave as soon as possible. His limbs heavy, he groaned as he picked up his satchel from the ground where he had at some point dropped it.

“Indeed. I will show you to the most convenient exit, or I can lead you to the docks? If you can’t see in the dark like I can, the City at night can be difficult to navigate.”

“No, I’ll be fine,” Noah said stiffly. He did not appreciate the Ubyr assuming he was leaving by boat, although logically it was the only possibility. Certainly, the crew would not be thrilled to see Noah’s new ‘friend’.

On the trip back to the Nawyet, the steward pondered his choices. He should be ecstatic that he found a way to get the map created, as it was the solution he desperately needed, but something about the bargain he had struck bothered him.

Perhaps it was the fact the last bargain he had struck with a powerful creature of unknowable motivations had resulted in the problem he was currently bargaining a solution to? Yeah, maybe.

Travelling through the City quickly, Noah decided to pause before his campsite just to ensure no one was there. So, he skipped up to the second floor of a ruined warehouse next door, taking a quick glance out to confirm his campsite was empty-

-and fell into nothingness as the stone beneath his foot gave way.

With a thump and clatter, Noah landed on the rubble of the first floor.

“FUCK!” he yelled as he rolled in the dust. “Stupid fucking idiot!” Everything hurt, but as he took stock he was relieved that at least he didn’t seem to have broken any bones. Gingerly, he stood up - his right knee had taken the brunt of the fall, he had torn his clothes and his lantern was lost somewhere but he counted himself fortune.

Limping to his campsite in the dark, Noah cursed his carelessness. He could have broken his neck as easily as anything, and this sort of over-confidence was going to be his downfall. What good is the (theoretical?) ability to avoid mortal danger from others if you fall through a hole in the dark just because you’re tired and distracted?

His thoughts angry, his body bruised, and his mind fuzzy with fatigue, he gathered some of his supplies and began the painful walk back to the boat.

He could not be done with the Empty City soon enough for his liking.