The Prophecy Con (Rogues of the Republic) by Patrick Weekes Page A
Authors: Patrick Weekes
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he said as he came over. “Now, if I can . . . no, upside down, stupid primitive . . . there.” He slid the new crystal into place atop the first one, and the sky-blue glow turned into a vivid turquoise.
“Checking now.” Desidora tapped the panel. “Very little crossover, but . . . here. Ruminations upon the Unutterable by the Queen of the Cold River .”
“Well, that sounds promising,” said Hessler.
“Come on.” Desidora set off down the stacks. “It’s not far.”
Pyvic and Hessler followed her through the dim stacks. Their boots echoed on the bare stone floor, and the rich smell of old paper and leather grew stronger as they went on.
“I didn’t even know there were books by fairy creatures,” Pyvic said.
“Most of them don’t care enough to learn how to read,” Hessler said, “which leads human-centric institutes of learning to overlook their philosophy and culture, although to be fair, they could make the effort to learn new methods of communication . . .”
“It’s a small field,” Desidora said, “but the ones who do publish works are usually the oldest and wisest of the creatures. Some of them were formed just after the ancients left this world.”
“ Kutesosh gajair’is,” Ghylspwr said.
“Yes, yes, after fighting the Glimmering Folk and leaving the world so as to shut them out as well,” Hessler said, “although honestly, I don’t know that you need to remind us about it . . .”
“Kutesosh gajair’is,” Ghylspwr said again.
“Wait,” said Desidora.
“I don’t see that you need to make threats about it,” said Hessler. “I’m all for teaching the history of the ancients and their battle against the Glimmering Folk, but since you have a vocabulary consisting of three phrases, I doubt that . . .”
“Wait!” Desidora said more sharply this time.
“ Kutesosh gajair’is!” Ghylspwr said for the third time, very emphatically.
Everyone stopped.
And as they did, Pyvic heard what Ghylspwr had been warning them about.
At first, it sounded like a rustle, like coins rattling in a mostly full pouch. Then, as though his hearing had slid into focus, Pyvic made it out.
It was the sound of countless crystals clicking on the bare stone floor.
And the sound was coming toward them.
Six
N IGHT FELL ON Ajeveth. Craftsmen headed back to their homes after a good day’s work and a fine dinner at one of the city’s gourmet restaurants, miners stopped by the bars for a celebratory drink after another day with no accidents, and guards patrolled the streets, carrying cheery lanterns and greeting fellow citizens by name.
On the rooftop of an expensive inn, Loch, Kail, Icy, and Ululenia looked across the street at Irke’desar , the Bounty of the Past.
Loch had gotten a room on the fifth story of the inn, which was terraced like all the other major buildings in the city. At this height, standing atop the fourth story’s roof, they could look across the street to the second-story rooftop of the museum, which ended in a wall with a window that looked into the fairy-creature room, right next to the room with the damn book.
The window was wider at the bottom than at the top. With a bit of wriggling, someone of modest size should be able to squeeze through.
“Have you got the shot?” she asked Tern.
“Think so.” Tern was squinting through a series of lenses on her crossbow, which was resting on the edge of the rooftop. “Can’t risk a hook through the window, not with the rooftop still trapped with pressure sensors.”
“The earth-daemons bound to service cry out against their imprisonment,” Ululenia confirmed.
“Right, that. So I’m going with a daemonfire bolt. It’ll burn clean through the window and should punch into the stone. Cools in a minute or so, and once it does, it should be solidly embedded in the wall.”
“And it’ll support Icy’s weight?” Loch asked.
“Hopefully!” Tern said cheerfully. “That’s if the daemonfire bolt
“Checking now.” Desidora tapped the panel. “Very little crossover, but . . . here. Ruminations upon the Unutterable by the Queen of the Cold River .”
“Well, that sounds promising,” said Hessler.
“Come on.” Desidora set off down the stacks. “It’s not far.”
Pyvic and Hessler followed her through the dim stacks. Their boots echoed on the bare stone floor, and the rich smell of old paper and leather grew stronger as they went on.
“I didn’t even know there were books by fairy creatures,” Pyvic said.
“Most of them don’t care enough to learn how to read,” Hessler said, “which leads human-centric institutes of learning to overlook their philosophy and culture, although to be fair, they could make the effort to learn new methods of communication . . .”
“It’s a small field,” Desidora said, “but the ones who do publish works are usually the oldest and wisest of the creatures. Some of them were formed just after the ancients left this world.”
“ Kutesosh gajair’is,” Ghylspwr said.
“Yes, yes, after fighting the Glimmering Folk and leaving the world so as to shut them out as well,” Hessler said, “although honestly, I don’t know that you need to remind us about it . . .”
“Kutesosh gajair’is,” Ghylspwr said again.
“Wait,” said Desidora.
“I don’t see that you need to make threats about it,” said Hessler. “I’m all for teaching the history of the ancients and their battle against the Glimmering Folk, but since you have a vocabulary consisting of three phrases, I doubt that . . .”
“Wait!” Desidora said more sharply this time.
“ Kutesosh gajair’is!” Ghylspwr said for the third time, very emphatically.
Everyone stopped.
And as they did, Pyvic heard what Ghylspwr had been warning them about.
At first, it sounded like a rustle, like coins rattling in a mostly full pouch. Then, as though his hearing had slid into focus, Pyvic made it out.
It was the sound of countless crystals clicking on the bare stone floor.
And the sound was coming toward them.
Six
N IGHT FELL ON Ajeveth. Craftsmen headed back to their homes after a good day’s work and a fine dinner at one of the city’s gourmet restaurants, miners stopped by the bars for a celebratory drink after another day with no accidents, and guards patrolled the streets, carrying cheery lanterns and greeting fellow citizens by name.
On the rooftop of an expensive inn, Loch, Kail, Icy, and Ululenia looked across the street at Irke’desar , the Bounty of the Past.
Loch had gotten a room on the fifth story of the inn, which was terraced like all the other major buildings in the city. At this height, standing atop the fourth story’s roof, they could look across the street to the second-story rooftop of the museum, which ended in a wall with a window that looked into the fairy-creature room, right next to the room with the damn book.
The window was wider at the bottom than at the top. With a bit of wriggling, someone of modest size should be able to squeeze through.
“Have you got the shot?” she asked Tern.
“Think so.” Tern was squinting through a series of lenses on her crossbow, which was resting on the edge of the rooftop. “Can’t risk a hook through the window, not with the rooftop still trapped with pressure sensors.”
“The earth-daemons bound to service cry out against their imprisonment,” Ululenia confirmed.
“Right, that. So I’m going with a daemonfire bolt. It’ll burn clean through the window and should punch into the stone. Cools in a minute or so, and once it does, it should be solidly embedded in the wall.”
“And it’ll support Icy’s weight?” Loch asked.
“Hopefully!” Tern said cheerfully. “That’s if the daemonfire bolt
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