Miss Adler gave the girl’s shoulder an encouraging pat. “Now, watch as the smith crafts the weapon.” She turned to Ryne. “Follow me.”
She led them from the room and down a long, lamp lit hallway with vaulted, steel ceilings. Miss Adler walked with a swift, purposeful gait unhindered by her long dress, but Ryne still needed to shorten his steps by a great degree to make sure he did not pass her. As they walked, he couldn’t help but open his Matersense again with the reaction of his Scripts to all the Forgings around him.
Beneath his feet and through the steel floors, he sensed the magmatic essences of fire powering the armory’s vast forges. Water essences ran through pipes around him to every room. Forms abounded and metallic scents permeated the air as hammers rung on metal, and steam swished from bellows.
Craft rooms lined the hallway, each occupied with a Matus and a smith. Some contained three people-a teacher, a student, and an artisan. In other, much larger rooms, there were double bellows, and those rooms held up to four Matii and several weaponsmiths. All around, Matii drew on the essences as they imbued weapons into divya.
Signs above the doors announced shield, axe, hammer, sword, and scythesmiths. Figures painted on the thick steel walls in reds, blues, and yellows next to each door depicted the artisans. The clangs and rings from the metalwork flooded the hall in a ceaseless din.
Ryne followed Miss Adler to the end of the hall. Two Dagodin, in white uniforms with red stripes on the arms-a stark contrast with the dark gray metal around them-stood in front of a blank wall. One soldier moved his silver-hafted lance to one side, turned to the wall, and a heavy metal door slid open. Ryne and Miss Adler passed through. The door slid shut behind them, and the sounds from the smiths cut off abruptly.
“So, Knight Commander Varick sent you?” Miss Adler said as they continued down another hall.
“Yes, he said you were the one I needed to speak to.”
“Oh? How’s the old bat doing anyways? The last I saw him, his face looked like old leather, worn and dry. Tried to convince him to eat more and maybe take a break, but he refused.”
Ryne smiled. “Much the same. Grumpy, rude and still in command at the Vallum.”
“Good to know much hasn’t changed with him.” Miss Adler stopped at a door and pushed it open.
Ryne ducked inside. Miss Adler entered, locked the door behind them, and dropped a steel bar in place.
“One can never be too cautious,” she said in response to Ryne’s questioning look. She took a seat at a large oak table. Filled bookshelves lined the walls behind her, and in one corner sat a small cot. “I would offer you a seat, but judging by your size, you wouldn’t fit in any chair I own.”
Ryne shrugged and stood across the table from her. “It’s fine. I’m used to it.”
“So, why’d Varick send you?”
Ryne unsheathed his greatsword. With a quick move, the old woman brought a longsword up from beneath her table.
“Like I said, one can never be too cautious,” she said at Ryne’s raised brow and kept her longsword between them.
With great care, Ryne laid his sword lengthways on the table. The grip stretched a foot past one end, and the blade stopped at the other. Ryne fixed his gaze on Miss Adler’s piercing blue eyes. “Varick said you’re the only Dagodin he could think of who may be able to tell me about my sword.”
The wrinkles on Miss Adler’s face doubled as she frowned and pointed at the runes running along the blade and hilt. “What are those?” She rested her sword next to Ryne’s weapon and traced her fingers along the markings.
“Scripts,” Ryne said and paused. Miss Adler raised her face to him and squinted. Ryne continued in answer to her apparent confusion, “I can use them to manipulate almost any element of Mater to empower my sword. It’s like imbuing except my weapons are already crafted.”
Miss Adler’s head jerked back ever so slightly. “I’ve never heard the like. I don’t think it’s even possible. Imbuing can only happen when the components are at their base levels. Before Mater has already formed the item.” She shook her head. “As I look at your sword, I see nothing but a plain, oversized greatsword. It’s not a divya.”
Ryne reached down and held the sword’s hilt. Through the Scripts on the sword, he touched the light essences around him. The Scripts shifted and swirled as he drew light into the weapon until first its Scripts, and then the sword itself glowed white. Miss Adler gasped. Ryne released the weapon, and the white light faded as the Mater receded back into the air around them.
Miss Adler stared from Ryne to the sword. “I’ve spent over seventy years creating divya, and I’ve never seen anything like those Scripts. There isn’t an Imbuer or a Dagodin I know who can manipulate Mater within a divya that way. We can only imbue and wield them. Once a divya is created, only the essences imbued within it can be used. We cannot increase or change their properties. I would’ve said no one can but…” She gestured to Ryne. “A long time ago, I read about something like this, but I always thought it a myth.”
Ryne’s heart leaped. After so many years searching, he would take even a myth if it meant progress. After all, he was living proof myths held some semblance of truth. “Where? Can you show me the book?”
“It’s in the possession of the Tribunal at the Iluminus’ great library. I could request-” She stopped talking, her eyes narrowing as his body stiffened at the mention of the Tribunal.
Taking a deep breath of resignation, Ryne forced his body to relax. “Miss Adler?” He picked up his sword and sheathed it.
“Yes?” Miss Adler’s gaze met his.
“Please don’t mention-”
“You don’t need to say it. With Varick sending you like this, and your reaction, I know not to say anything to any Ashishin or to anyone else.” A pained expression crossed her face. “I still remember what I went through in my younger days when they found out I could imbue. Yet, only with their training did I finally understand my power. You’ll need to face that decision some day. I wish you the best when that day comes. To think I almost asked your name. Now, I’m glad I didn’t.”
He nodded, unlocked the door, and ducked outside.
Trudging through Felan Mark’s crowded streets did little for Ryne’s troubled thoughts. Here, he’d finally found some information which he hoped would lead to more about himself, and it was in the Tribunal’s hands. Years of fruitless searching boiled down to him having to deal with those he despised the most.
He let out a weary breath as he took in Felan Mark. The fortress city’s steel walls shone with the setting sun’s purplish hues. The same colors lit up the Barrier Mountains and their long dead volcanoes sprouting to the north. Ryne often wondered why the Felani built everything with metal in a land plagued by flash thunderstorms. Massive steel frames highlighted towers under construction around the city, and immense statues portraying Ilumni decorated the metal city’s central spire. Here and there, a person stopped among the bustling crowd to voice a brief prayer to the god of Streams.
The crowd gave Ryne ample space along the street’s flagstones. Being shunned felt strangely familiar even after so many years in Carnas. Many in the crowd murmured or gaped at his great size. Among the throng, Ryne could pick out the dark linen coats without buttons donned by Felani men, and the earth tones favored by their women in their airy cotton dresses. Their height and their favored braided hairstyles had drawn him to them in his search, but that led nowhere. Sprinkled among them were a few bald-headed Banai, slit-necked Cardians and Astocans, and he even spotted a huge Harnan, his skin the color of bronze.
The Granadians among them stood out, preferring brighter, often multicolored, brocaded silks, extravagant and frilly. The men’s patterned shirts and trousers and the form fitting breeches the women flaunted made the colorful garb of the Cardians seem dull by comparison. They kept their hair cropped neat and short, and a few heads were shaved on one side-a sign of nobility.