Chapter 9: The Codex
The captain, an agreeable enough if not overly laid-back sort of fellow, is taking his new guests on a tour of the ship. As soon as they get belowdecks, they all can’t help but notice one thing: books. Tons of books. Piles of books. Books on shelves tilted at a 45-degree angle to prevent them from falling out with every movement of the ship. Books in boxes. Everywhere they look, they see books. Newish books, tattered books, dog-eared books, all categories of book represented.
“We’re a sort of floating lending library,” the captain explains, “the Libros Majorum oversees libraries all around Upper Kleighton, and we travel between them, exchanging books. In this way, all of the Libros Majorum’s libraries are able to function as one giant library.”
“So what’s your problem with the Crucifers?” Zanther asks.
“We believe in spreading knowledge. Books are primarily sources of information, of learning. The Crucifers support ignorance; they burn books, they hate science and innovation. They’re constantly trying to stifle us, but our knowledge of science always keels us supplied with better weapons.”
Novanostrum looks confused. “I thought Librarians were basically guaranteed a kind of de facto non-interference in their travels throughout Upper Kleighton. I was unaware the Crucifers were acting in violation of that arrangement.”
The captain nods. “It’s true, there are few who would knowingly tempt the wrath of the Libros Majorum, but when this current Pontiflex Minor seized control of the Crucifist Church, he made it one of his priorities to hinder our activities.”
“Why him? Why now?”
The captain shrugs. “He must see our activities as a threat to his dominion.”
Looking glum, the captain leans on the wooden railing lining the main deck, gazing down at the clear, calm water below. He sees two fish pass each other going opposite directions.
After their tour, the captain leads the four of them to the galley and advises them to relax. They sit around a table, regaining their composure. Novanostrum smoke his longpipe. Zanther takes a sip from a flask he produces from his hip pocket. He stares at Varello.
“We walked all the way across the Continent looking for that scrap of paper...why’d you destroy it?”
Varello, tuning an old lute he discovered during their tour of the ship, gives Zanther a serious look. “I have an axe to grind with the Pontiflex Minor. It’s true, he originally hired me to acquire your map, but after he threatened to have me expaled, I became High Hell-bent on messing with his plans. So I took it upon myself to get your map and get rid of it before he could have a chance to find it. However, I didn’t realize that the paper you had in that church-brothel wasn’t the map.”
“Yeah, well, that was no ordinary piece of paper,” Zanther says, “it must have been some kind of holy relic--you and Novanostrum missed it, but once glace at it zapped that daemon to dust.”
“The Nexus Sketch was real?” Varello asks incredulously, “Well, that must mean the original painting is real as well.”
Madra, Zanther, and Novanostrum all turn their eyes to Varello.
“What do you mean, ‘the original painting’?” Zanther asks.
“If you’re really curious,” Madra says, motioning at the books surrounding them, “why don’t you do a little research?”
A messenger runs into the Pontiflex Minor’s chamber.
“News from Port San-torus, your Holiness.”
“Speak, messenger.”
“A daemon was sighted in a brothel, but all that remains of him is ashes. The atheists were located, but it seems they escaped aboard a Librarian ship bound for Arcania, your Holiness.”
“Send word to our main in Arcania that this Librarian ship must be intercepted upon its arrival.”
The messenger gives a deep bow and runs back down the corridor. Inside the chamber with the Pontiflex Minor, a dozen old men in funny hats have their heads bowed as they try to be as pious as possible but succeed only in being very quiet. The Pontiflex Minor paces the room, speaking to himself.
“Have they found it yet? It does not matter. We can’t risk a revolution, least of all a revolution by our own troops; they must be dealt with. They must be dodecimated.”
“You!” he shouts, pointing at one of the old men, “There is a silver urn in my bedchambers--fetch it.”
“And you!” he shouts again, pointing at another old man, “There is a statue in the hall outside the Grand Treasury holding a serpent-shaped staff. Bring it here.”
He waits a few moments, and both men return with the requested artifacts. The Pontiflex Minor unscrews the top of the urn and shakes handfuls of glowing green powder onto the floor, drawing a large circle. Within the circle he drops more powder, creating a septagram. The Pontiflex Minor then takes the staff and pounds the tip of it into the edge of the circle, causing the powder design to burst into flame.
The Pontiflex Minor waves the staff in a complicated series of movements and a shimmering portal opens above the star. An angry looking daemon pokes his head out of the portal, looking around cautiously before emerging. After a moment, more daemons follow until there are a horde of angry daemons standing in the center of the chamber, looking confused.
Immediately, the daemons swarm the old men, tearing them apart as more daemons run out of the portal.
After a gross of daemons have trooped out of the portal, the Pontiflex Minor waves his serpentine staff and the dimensions are once again separated. He pounds his staff on the ground, the flames go out, and two hundred eighty-eight eyes are focused on his holy visage.
“I have summoned you, High Hell’s High Guard, the most vicious fighting force between here and eternity, to find four individuals. A wizard, a knifesman, a queen, and a bard. They will shortly be making their arrival in Arcania by ship, and whomsoever of you manages to kill one of them will be given your freedom in this world. After seventy-one bellchimes, the incantation I have used to summon you here shall expire, and you will be sent screaming back to High Hell.”
It takes the daemons a few moments to process this information, after which they scramble through the doorway. The shrieks and screams of priesters and janitors can be heard as the daemons slaughter their way out of the Deus Palatium.
Zanther and Madra sit on the floor in one of the ship’s book-filled corridors. They each pore over a stack of books, looking for anything pertaining to the Nexus Sketch.
“So,” Madra says, “are we dating or what?”
Zanther looks taken aback. “Dating?”
She gives him an angry look. “Well, what were you doing coming into my room back there in Zweissergrund? Were you not about to try to seduce me before we heard that daemon in the room next door?”
“Seduce you? I just wanted to see if you had an extra bucket in your room so I could fill it and wash up a bit.”
She throws a book at his face. “What’s the matter with you? Do you not find me attractive?”
“Well, no, I mean...yes. It’s not that.”
She narrows her eyes at him. “You already have another woman? Is that it? You could’ve mentioned that before.”
“No, I don’t,” Zanther says, “it’s just, well, you frighten me, to be quite honest. I’d prefer not to get involved with someone where I have to spend one week every moonth wondering if she’s going to have me put to death for some arbitrary reason.”
Madra slaps him hard, the snap of her hand contacting his cheek echoing throughout the hull of the ship. She rises, stomping down the corridor away from him, passing a running Novanostrum.
The wizard races toward Zanther carrying a book.
“It took the help of three Librarians from the crew, but we were able to find this,” the wizard says, handing Zanther a catalog of religious relics mainly dealing with descriptions of which churches have which fingers of which saints, but also bearing the following passage, which Novanostrum has bookmarked:
> During the Battle of Abbot’s Cove, when the Trinese Forces overwhelmed the Crucifers defending the Deus Palatium, an Ex-plosion knocked loose a Wall exposing a giant Antechamber containing a certain Painting. One of the Trinese Soldiers, overwhelmed with Emotion at the Sight of the Painting, used a Piece of charred Wood to make a rough Drawring of the Painting to show his Family.
All of the Soldiers present, upon seeing the Painting, swore Allegiance to Pontiflex Chastis ZI on the Spot and drove away the Remainder of the Trinese Forces. Pontiflex Chastis, upon seeing the Power of the Painting upon the Minds of the Enemy Soldiers, ordered it destroyed in the Name of the common Good.
The Trinese Soldier who made the original Drawring became a Priester and founded his own Church in a City by the Sea. What the Drawring and the Painting actually depict is a Subject of much Debate and Speculation by Phillosophers.
After Zanther reads the passage, Novanostrum skims it again.
“Destroyed in the name of the common good?” Novanostrum asks, “Something with that kind of power? Just doesn’t seem very Crucifer-like to me.”
“You think the painting is still somewhere within the Deus Palatium?” Zanther asks.
“I’d bet your life on it.”