Page 86 of The Cradle of Ice
Rami found his voice first. “Why … Why do you say that?”
Bewildered, Kanthe stared across the shocked group. He realized Rami had never heard the rest of the story, what had befallen Frell within the Abyssal Codex. Kanthe set about telling them, leaving out no details, describing everything from the Venin to the winged image shadowing a wall.
Loryn shook his head as Kanthe finished his tale, his voice aghast, dwelling on the least of this story. “The Abyssal Codex … it was torched. That was the smoke we saw rising from the Imri-Ka’s gardens.”
Aalia waved this off. She focused on Kanthe, stepping closer, her eyes shining with interest now. “The pages stolen by your mentor. He still has them?”
Kanthe nodded. “It’s why I sought you both out. Most of it is written in ancient Klashean.”
Aalia shared a look with her brother. “And you want us to help decipher it? That’s why you came here?”
Kanthe hadn’t mentioned this, but she had extracted his intent, nonetheless.
Aalia stepped forward, brushing past Kanthe. “Show us.”
* * *
FRELL HOVERED BEHIND the two Klasheans, his patience wearing thin.
For an entire bell, the pair had crossed back and forth between wall and table, examining all three pages ripped from the ancient tome.
Aalia carried Pratik’s reading lens. She peered through it often to better discern the writing. She stopped frequently to whisper with her brother, not that she needed to keep her voice low. The two shared their thoughts with each other in ancient Klashean, keeping cryptic what they were able to discern.
All Frell could do—along with Pratik and Kanthe—was wait them out.
“This is taking forever,” Kanthe mumbled.
Frell knew a good portion of the young prince’s impatience stemmed from hunger. He kept rubbing his stomach and looking at the door. Pratik concentrated on Rami and Aalia, cocking an ear, trying to eavesdrop, but his fluency in ancient Klashean remained poor. Whenever Frell cast the Chaaen an inquiring look, Pratik would merely shrug.
So we’re at a standstill for now.
The impasse was finally broken by a knock on the door. Kanthe opened it enough to allow a crewman to pass over a platter of soft cheeses and hard bread, along with a flagon of sweet wine. The server tried to poke his head inside, plainly curious, but Frell closed the door in his face.
“Finally,” Kanthe grumbled, and rested the fare on the lower bunk.
Each took a turn gathering a small repast, except for Aalia. She had returned to studying the image of a shattered moon. When she finally faced them, her eyes looked pensive, resigned, as if accepting the truth of moonfall. Earlier, she had engaged Frell in a discussion about the frequency of quakes and wilder tides. She had even tied the latter to the increasing severity of storms that had been plaguing the coasts. Frell had not considered this and was left rubbing his chin.
Clearly, Pratik was correct about the sharp intelligence of the Illuminated Rose.
Aalia crossed back to the table and swept an arm to encompass all of the pages. “Some of this is written in a challenging dialect of ancient Klashean. But it’s decipherable enough.”
“What does it say?” Frell asked.
Rami stepped forward, but before he could open his mouth, his sister silenced him with a raised hand.
She studied Frell with narrowed eyes. “I will tell you—but not before exacting a promise from you all, a sworn oath.”
Frell could guess her intent and stated it. “We will free you and your brother once we have sought out the buried Sleeper. We truly mean you no harm.”
“That’s well and good, but that’s not what I desire.”
“Then what?”
She gazed around the group. “I’ll leave it unspoken for now. But fear not, it’s something easily attainable and will not thwart your efforts.”
Pratik frowned. “You want us to swear an oath to perform a future act of unknown consequences?”
She arched a brow. “Do you wish to know what is hidden in these pages?”
