A poorly made fyros sword. Apparently deposited by a more or less masked Eeri, at the Fairhaven dealer's, if this swindler had been telling the truth. Before or after her disappearance. A sword she might not even have made herself. Ocyx, engraved on the handle, as a signature. Strange. Lyren had placed the sword on the table in the apartment his mother had bequeathed him. A huge bric-a-brac filled with objects and furniture she had amassed over the years. She manipulated the pommel, which moved slightly. The attachment with the blade left a bit of play, as if the sword was just waiting to snap in two.
But what if? What if she had to break that sword, that the secret was right there inside? Break it, or simply find a way to dismantle it? Lyren contorted herself to place her foot on the table and block the blade with the heel of her boot. She forced a little on the handle. It moved, but not enough. The fragment of bone that solidified the whole was still solid, so it might well have been ocyx bone of not too bad quality, all the same. We'd have to find something else. A sledgehammer? And risk blowing the whole thing up? No, not a good idea.
What if the sword simply had nothing to say? Simple coincidence, chance, a red herring, or simply one of her mother's unfounded delusions. Lyren shuddered. It was late winter, and Thesos was particularly cold this time of year. What if Eeri had got caught up in another experiment and it had gone wrong? Decidedly, there were too few elements to understand or even imagine where she might have gone. Lyren shivered again and decided to climb the few steps to sit by the fire, sword in hand. As she handled it, she noticed that the glow of the flames reflected differently on the blade. What if this was the secret? Eeri had told her about this technique for deciphering certain invisible texts, using a transparent flame... But these were skins, parchment. Nothing to do with a solid support, a blade. Impossible. And Lyren knew nothing about swords, so perhaps that was to be expected. But what else could she do? Still, she passed the sword behind the flames, around and in front of them, examining the reflections from every angle, until the handle slipped out of her hand.
- RAMÈCH, but what a clumsy idiot... Worse than an old Matisse lady!
She picked up the sword as best she could, grumbling and burning her hand in the process, then took a cloth out of a chest to wipe the burnt wood dust from the weapon.
But she stopped dead in her tracks. Beneath her eyes, dust had clung to the material in some places, and miraculously flown away in others. She blew gently at the middle of the blade, intrigued. Here, a small line, and next to it, a circle. There it was, far too clear to be merely the natural texture of the material. Signs appeared before her eyes, crudely traced but legible. Letters. A word. A WORD!
The trick? The trick... The trick of what? The tour of possible annoyances and she wanted to brag about it? Azazor's belly trick? It couldn't be just that. She needed more dust. Without burning herself this time. Lyren fetched a hatchet, and set about retrieving the finest material from the bottom of the chimney, dusting the sword from side to side. Then blow, gently, to make the letters appear. She sneezed.
- Well, the fall of the sword into the fire, and a whirlwind of dust. Is she a fortune-teller now?
She sneezed again, several times, then thought of placing the piece of cloth in front of her nose to breathe and continue blowing on the blade. More words appeared before her eyes, fragile but clearly legible despite the sloppy handwriting.
- It doesn't make any sense... If it is her, she's completely smitten...
Lyren stood there for a while, staring incredulously at the sword and its discovery. At least it wasn't about goo, so maybe it had nothing to do with the Zoraï researcher Jazzy's ...shall we say... wife had tried to protect a few days earlier. But who knows, after frippos and yubos, maybe she was working on a new drug to tame ocyx? Meh, it doesn't make sense. Still, balance and freedom were words Eeri often had on her lips, especially when she let herself finally tell stories after a good half-dozen glasses of shooki. "The key to keeping our freedom is to fight to preserve the balance."Something like that," she rambled very often. And when Lyren had asked her what it meant, her mother would reply:
- Things that are beyond you. But remember, the destruction of either could spell the end of us all.
- One or the other? I don't see how the Karavan could survive without the homins," replied Lyren.
- That's what I'm saying, you're in way over your head. And maybe that's for the best. You don't want to end up like your mother.
- Don't talk nonsense. Without them, you wouldn't be here...
Eeri didn't like being reminded of the battle that had cost her not only her eye and her arm, but also her pride and her independence. She often sank into a sort of torpor, letting out a few helpless sighs. It took nothing less than the sound of a new mug of shooki on the table to wake her up.
- They killed your father, remember," she said before taking a big gulp.
- I was always told it was poisoning. Only you would say that.
- One day, you'll learn to tell the difference between the truth we should tell, and... And the truth we shouldn't tell.
Lyren had fewer and fewer doubts. It was totally plausible that his mother had written the words on this sword, but he would have to find the keys to understanding, starting with what this Rebel Ocyx could be.
Lyren recopied the sentence, then went back downstairs to clean up and get dressed. Now was the time. She had to find Azazor, warn the Drakani and flush out that damned researcher.
But what if? What if she had to break that sword, that the secret was right there inside? Break it, or simply find a way to dismantle it? Lyren contorted herself to place her foot on the table and block the blade with the heel of her boot. She forced a little on the handle. It moved, but not enough. The fragment of bone that solidified the whole was still solid, so it might well have been ocyx bone of not too bad quality, all the same. We'd have to find something else. A sledgehammer? And risk blowing the whole thing up? No, not a good idea.
What if the sword simply had nothing to say? Simple coincidence, chance, a red herring, or simply one of her mother's unfounded delusions. Lyren shuddered. It was late winter, and Thesos was particularly cold this time of year. What if Eeri had got caught up in another experiment and it had gone wrong? Decidedly, there were too few elements to understand or even imagine where she might have gone. Lyren shivered again and decided to climb the few steps to sit by the fire, sword in hand. As she handled it, she noticed that the glow of the flames reflected differently on the blade. What if this was the secret? Eeri had told her about this technique for deciphering certain invisible texts, using a transparent flame... But these were skins, parchment. Nothing to do with a solid support, a blade. Impossible. And Lyren knew nothing about swords, so perhaps that was to be expected. But what else could she do? Still, she passed the sword behind the flames, around and in front of them, examining the reflections from every angle, until the handle slipped out of her hand.
- RAMÈCH, but what a clumsy idiot... Worse than an old Matisse lady!
She picked up the sword as best she could, grumbling and burning her hand in the process, then took a cloth out of a chest to wipe the burnt wood dust from the weapon.
But she stopped dead in her tracks. Beneath her eyes, dust had clung to the material in some places, and miraculously flown away in others. She blew gently at the middle of the blade, intrigued. Here, a small line, and next to it, a circle. There it was, far too clear to be merely the natural texture of the material. Signs appeared before her eyes, crudely traced but legible. Letters. A word. A WORD!
The trick
The trick? The trick... The trick of what? The tour of possible annoyances and she wanted to brag about it? Azazor's belly trick? It couldn't be just that. She needed more dust. Without burning herself this time. Lyren fetched a hatchet, and set about retrieving the finest material from the bottom of the chimney, dusting the sword from side to side. Then blow, gently, to make the letters appear. She sneezed.
the fall Le tourbillo
- Well, the fall of the sword into the fire, and a whirlwind of dust. Is she a fortune-teller now?
She sneezed again, several times, then thought of placing the piece of cloth in front of her nose to breathe and continue blowing on the blade. More words appeared before her eyes, fragile but clearly legible despite the sloppy handwriting.
In the balance of falling The whirlwind leads to freedom Ocyx Rebelle
- It doesn't make any sense... If it is her, she's completely smitten...
Lyren stood there for a while, staring incredulously at the sword and its discovery. At least it wasn't about goo, so maybe it had nothing to do with the Zoraï researcher Jazzy's ...shall we say... wife had tried to protect a few days earlier. But who knows, after frippos and yubos, maybe she was working on a new drug to tame ocyx? Meh, it doesn't make sense. Still, balance and freedom were words Eeri often had on her lips, especially when she let herself finally tell stories after a good half-dozen glasses of shooki. "The key to keeping our freedom is to fight to preserve the balance."Something like that," she rambled very often. And when Lyren had asked her what it meant, her mother would reply:
- Things that are beyond you. But remember, the destruction of either could spell the end of us all.
- One or the other? I don't see how the Karavan could survive without the homins," replied Lyren.
- That's what I'm saying, you're in way over your head. And maybe that's for the best. You don't want to end up like your mother.
- Don't talk nonsense. Without them, you wouldn't be here...
Eeri didn't like being reminded of the battle that had cost her not only her eye and her arm, but also her pride and her independence. She often sank into a sort of torpor, letting out a few helpless sighs. It took nothing less than the sound of a new mug of shooki on the table to wake her up.
- They killed your father, remember," she said before taking a big gulp.
- I was always told it was poisoning. Only you would say that.
- One day, you'll learn to tell the difference between the truth we should tell, and... And the truth we shouldn't tell.
Lyren had fewer and fewer doubts. It was totally plausible that his mother had written the words on this sword, but he would have to find the keys to understanding, starting with what this Rebel Ocyx could be.
Lyren recopied the sentence, then went back downstairs to clean up and get dressed. Now was the time. She had to find Azazor, warn the Drakani and flush out that damned researcher.