Releana looked intently at the small blocks as they flipped by. "It looks like the smaller square is the same as the big one, but showing a different side. But why? The purpose of the glyphs is to drive the Horrors away. They have to be able to see them."
J'role understood immediately and excitedly tapped the illustration of one of the smaller blocks. Everyone looked at him, waiting for the explanation. It was so obvious, but he could only keep pointing at the picture of the smaller block and wait for them to see.
Releana got it first. "Yes," she said slowly. “This is how they moved the city to the other plane, and how to bring it back. They didn't face the block out, because they didn't want the Horrors to see it. They hid the glyphs between the stones. The glyphs were used to save themselves. Brilliant."
"All well and good," said Merrox. "But that cannot be so. Look at this." He turned one page after another, and jabbed his short, stubby finger at each of the small stones. “These symbols don't mean anything. They're nonsense."
J’role became furious that Merrox would quash their victory. He turned to Releana, watching her examine each of the blocks. Any moment, he knew, she would solve the last bit of the problem. She was a magician.
She nodded to Merrox. "You're right. If it makes sense, it's a sense I can't understand."
J'role snatched the book away from Merrox and flipped through the pages. He stared down at the pictures of the stone blocks trying to see some sort of order.
But as he stared at each illustration-bits of ink formed into lines and blotches-he saw nothing but confusion. He turned one page after another, and a shame overcame him. He couldn't begin to read at all. What made him think he could read signs that were made to be secret?
He looked up to find them staring at him, concerned. He threw up his hands, turned, and walked toward the door.
"J'role!" Releana called, but he paid no heed.
"Let him be," he heard Merrox say. "We're closer, but we need to rest. It's amazing we've gotten this far. But your friend can only be so useful in these matters. I'll call in several of our kingdom's best magicians …"
J'role reached the door and left. Useless, he thought. Useless, useless, useless.
He walked down the corridor and didn't care where he went. What was the point? He'd be dead before they ever found Parlainth. He'd lived out his life with the creature in his thoughts, ever unable to speak.
He thought of his father's death-murder. Remembered the blood, the shocked look on his father's face. His muscles tightened at the memory, and he embraced the thoughts, finding perverse comfort in the shame and agony. This was who he was, a pathetic fool whose only accomplishment was the murder of his father. Despite the terrible nature of the deed, it confirmed everything J'role thought about himself, relieved him of having to move forward or try to change his circumstances.
The dwarfs he passed quickly parted to make a path for the grim-looking boy with his head leaning forward, his quick pace carrying him on toward some unknown destination.
For days Releana and several dwarven magicians hovered around the seven mysterious tomes. They also brought in other tomes from throughout the kingdom, compared the symbols to other arcane references, scribbled notes, and stared thoughtfully at the ceiling.
J'role wandered through the underground kingdom of Throw.
He discovered that most of the dwarfs lived in rooms that led off from the endless corridors, much the way J'role had lived in his kaer. He saw dwarven men and women walking the corridors. He saw craftspeople working forges in wide rooms with magical fires that produced no smoke. He saw jewel-cutters sitting in small alcoves surrounded by another two dozen or so dwarfs all watching intently, their breathing stilled as the jewel-cutter made the final, precise incision. He saw dwarven miners, picks slung over their shoulders, marching down dark tunnels in the morning, and returning dirty but happy each night.
Eventually he stumbled into large construction sites- huge caverns filled with half-finished towers and halls. The dwarfs sang songs in their deep, rich voices as they worked.
A dwarven foreman saw J'role looking quizzically at the construction and said, "Going to be a new city down here. For the newcomers. We've already got Bathebal, but that filled up faster than we expected." He smiled at J’role expecting some response but J'role only looked at him, his face set and angry. The foreman hesitated a moment, then walked away
Time passed, and one day J'role found a series of corridors where no one seemed to go.
They were so small that eventually he had to duck down to walk through them. Moving in this fashion for a bit he finally saw that the quality of the light ahead had changed, that the tunnel opened into another cavern. A wind began to sweep around him. Reaching the end of the tunnel, J'role peered out, then took a quick step back.
A path of stone, six feet wide and with thigh-high railings on either side, led out from the corridor. The top of the cavern was ten or fifteen feet above the path, and on either side of the railings dropped an immense gulf of space. The floor of the cavern was far, far below.
The echo of the wind filled J'role's ears and the air rushed over his face.
At the base of the cavern stood a large city. Not as huge as Parlainth, but big enough.
From J'role's dizzying height the people filling the streets around the spires and halls and buildings looked like tiny children.
The buildings and streets of the metropolis formed a beautiful pattern, as if designed to be seen from above; an elaborate interlocking of squares and circles, with fascinating textures provided by the buildings themselves. He assumed that below him rested Bathebal, the city that the dwarven foreman had mentioned.
The stone path extended out impossibly across thin air, meeting with other paths at the center of the cavern high above the city. Where the paths met was a huge platform covered with plants, like a garden. J'role noticed that glowing moss, more brilliant than any he had yet seen in Throal, grew under the paths and the garden, illuminating the city below.
Intrigued by the garden sitting above the city, J'role cautiously stepped out onto the path.
He trembled with fear that his extra weight would make the paths and the garden and himself plunge down and down to the city far below. But the path held, and he walked along it, carefully staying in the middle, keeping his gazed fixed ahead, resting his fingertips on the railing for balance.
The garden was much further than it seemed at first, and was also much bigger. When he finally got there J'role saw that it contained glowing red trees with wide leaves surrounded by a thick underbrush of blue-leaved bushes. The life was even heavier than in Blood Wood, all cramped and pushed together, as if wildly overgrown on a plot of land too small. Half-hidden in the dirt and underbrush were the remains of a path. Picking his way carefully through the brush, he followed it.
The path met up with other paths, and the further he traveled, the clearer the path became.
Soon he saw the footprints of those who had come before.
"Halt!" someone said fiercely, and then appeared two dwarfs dressed in bronze armor holding their swords toward him. Though they were shorter than he, J'role doubted they would have trouble killing him.
He remained motionless.
"What is it? Is she coming?" someone from around the bend of the path called out in a distracted tone. From the same direction came another dwarf, this one wearing a scarlet cloak over his gold and brown robes. His hair was white, His face lined with wrinkles. He looked at J'role, first with suspicion, then with a smile. ''Ah, and who have we here?"
J'role simply gazed at the three of them.
One of the dwarfs approached, raising his sword. "His Majesty, King Varulus of Throal, has just-asked you a question.”