Longing Ring

28

He is seven. There is something crawling in his thoughts. His mother stands beside him, breathing heavily. Weeping.

"Hello, J'role" the creature in his thoughts says. "You're a good boy, aren't you?"

J'role is afraid. He thinks nothing. He says nothing.

"Yes, yes, you are. And do you now what good boys don't do? They don't upset their parents. You know that, don't you? Look what you did to your mother: She's crying. You should feel terrible."

Several corridors, each forty feet tall, each with an arched ceiling coming to a point, led out of the huge antechamber. The dwarfs led J'role and Releana straight ahead, down a corridor that in turn branched off into smaller corridors. Their guides took one of these, and it led to more corridors. The dimensions of this final one was the standard for the rest of the kingdom: some ten yards wide and twenty feet tall. Glowing moss grew on the walls and ceiling, filling the corridors with a pleasant yellow light. Doorways stood on the right and the left, and many, many dwarfs passed them as they moved along the corridor.

Soon they came to the base of great steps that led up hundreds of feet. They climbed them, and arrived at a landing that connected with several other stairways, all of which rose up into the mountains of Throal. On the landing were benches and strange, red-leafed trees, and waterfalls that fell into a pool from which the dwarfs drank, urging their guests to drink as well. When he did, J'role found the water delightfully sweet, unlike anything he'd ever tasted. After only a few minutes of rest on the bench, he felt completely refreshed and ready to ascend more stairs. Everyone reacted to the water the same way, and they climbed on.

They came to a corridor where few other dwarfs walked, and their guides led the two young adventurers to some rooms, indicating that one room had been prepared for each one.

Borthum said, "I will have Merrox, Master of the Hall of Records, come and get you on the morn. He can help you find any information you seek about our stonecutting." The dwarf extended his thick, stubby hand to each of them. "Thank you both for your help."

J'role entered his room and found it decorated with glowing flowers and moss. A large, soft bed waited within. On long poles hung clothes in the dwarven fashion-square and heavy-but big enough to fit him. On a table at one end of the room sat a bowl filled with fruit and sweetbread.

But of everything he saw it was the bed that most drew his attention. He shut the door behind him, stripped out of his clothes and walked toward it. The covers were smooth and light, and when he slid between them, the mattress was like drifting on a cloud. He pulled up the covers and their comforting warmth enveloped him.

The magical plants in the room dimmed as he drifted off, and soon J'role was asleep.

The next day he awoke to find his clothes gone and an iron tub filled with warm water waiting for him. It took him a moment to understand what the water was for, then he slipped into it. It smelled of flowers as the suds floated up around him. He bathed and soaked, enjoying the smell of the water and its soothing warmth against his skin.

J’role felt relaxed, but it was not only because he was safe within the heart of the dwarven kingdom. He had successfully pushed thoughts of his father's fate from his mind. It was a tenuous moment of peace, but he would take what he could.

J'role smiled ruefully. Being a thief, what other choice did he have?

When the water cooled he climbed out of the tub and spotted a thick towel resting on the clothes rack. He padded across the smooth stone of the floor and dried himself off. From the rack he then chose a brown tunic with golden spirals, baggy golden pants, and a pair of sandals.

He went over t o the bowl containing sweetbread, dates, bananas, and oranges. He ate for a while, and then a knock came at the door. J’role went to open it, and found Releana standing behind an ancient-looking dwarf. Dressed in a robe of blue and silver, the dwarf wore his long silver hair flowing down over his shoulders. Like the other dwarfs he had a neatly trimmed beard.

"Greetings, J'role, the Honorable Thief. I am Merrox, Master of the Hall of Records. If you are ready?"

J'role nodded, and they set off.

Merrox opened the great wooden doors to the Hall of Records, and J'role stepped into an enormous chamber that went on and on. The walls spread out into an enormous valley with a tall dark ceiling. Shelves towered overhead and ran the length of the hall, stacked with scrolls and parchments and books, so thickly packed that in the distance it all seemed a solid mass of paper. Dwarfs sat at heavy tables recording data from one book to another, or sliding tall ladders on wheels along the shelves, climbing up and down them, removing and pulling innumerable records from the shelves.

"We're doomed," said Releana, oddly brief in her summation of the situation.

"Not exactly," said Merrox, with a chuckle that suggested anything from good-natured encouragement to ill-conceived dark humor. "Our codices are quite ordered, and with information from you we should be able to cross-reference the records and find exactly what you are seeking." He paused and cocked his head to one side. "Just exactly what are you looking for?"

Sounding very pessimistic, Releana said, "A forgotten city, hidden from all memory with magic strong enough to blind even the Horrors to its presence; a city no one knows of, no longer marked on any map, and not mentioned for over four hundred years."

Merrox raised an eyebrow. "Well. That is a challenge."

J'role had no patience with any of them anymore, for he had worn the ring, and now the longing came full and strong. He had reached the dwarven records. He would persevere.

He strode into the hall. Chandeliers with thick wax candles burned overhead. Pools of light flickered on the floor.

He turned back to Merrox, who returned his gaze with one eyebrow lowered and the other raised, "Ah, well," he said. "If you're willing to press on …" He led them to an empty table, "Here, we'll use this table as our work area. Now. What information do you have?"

“It's a city to the northeast," said Releana. "Theran, perhaps. Invisible to the eye, but somehow present. There is a magic ring that lets the wearer see the city. However, you can only penetrate as far as the city walls, and no further …"

"So you suspect the walls are a key element of the city's wonders."

"Exactly," said Releana. "It's our hope that we can find the designs for the stones of the walls, and thus find the solution to bringing the city back. There might be some clue hidden within the design. Perhaps your people included a secret device to release the city from its hiding place. I don't know for certain. I have only heard of all this from J'role, and our communication is limited …"

Merrox listened carefully as Releana spoke, nodding all the while. Then he said, "I find it hard to believe such a city-"

J'role held up his hand, his face set with determination. He nodded.

"Very well then," the dwarf said with a forced smile. “Is there anything known? Perhaps the name of the person or persons who ordered the stones? I expect the name of the city was hidden as well. What about-"

J'role suddenly raised his hand again. The elf queen had spoken the name of the city.

What was it again?

Parlainth.

J'role nodded.

"What?" asked the dwarf. "You know something. What?"

"The people that ordered the stones?" suggested Releana. "The name of the city?"

J'role nodded.

They looked at him expectantly. He stared back and shrugged. Were they expecting him to tell them the name?

"Yes, yes," said Merrox, "you're mute … mute." He turned toward the table, gathering up paper and ink. "But can you write? Could you write the name of the city?"

J'role turned away, shook his head. He blushed; never had he been so ashamed of his inability to communicate. Here he was, possessed of the key bit of information to fulfill their quest, and he could not speak a simple word, nor impart it in any way to the others.

"If we had the name of the city," began Merrox. "There's no guarantee, of course, given the scale of the magic involved … But it might give us exactly what we're looking for."

"All right then," said Releana. "Let's do it."

J'role looked at her, perplexed.

"Let's sound it out, like we've done for other words. That's how our written language works anyway. I'm sure we can do the same now."

J'role's shame increased. He felt an intense bitterness burning in him. He had killed his father, a weak, gentle man, and here he was, about to play a game! What was the point of anything?

"J'role," Releana said, looking at him carefully, "we need this."

He nodded. He sighed. What else was he to do? Give up? No. He needed something. He needed to long for something just to go on.

"Or kill yourself," the creature said. The image of ragged wrists, blood flowing freely came to him.

He nearly began to cry, but pushed the image from his thoughts and began searching his mind for how to begin.

"How many words?" asked Releana, encouraging him.

He raised a finger.

"All right. Give us the first sound of the word. Give us an object or idea or something that sounds like the first sound."

Parlainth.

Par.

Parchment!

He grabbed a sheet of paper from a dwarf at a nearby table and held it up before them.

The dwarf gasped.

"Parchment?" asked Releana. J'role nodded enthusiastically.

"Ment?" Merrox asked. J'role shook his head.

"Parch!" Releana said firmly. J'role pointed to her and nodded.

"Parch. Parch. Parch," the two of them said over and over.

J'role held his hands before him, squeezing the syllable shorter.

"Par," said Releana.

J 'role nodded and smiled. He liked this. "Par, par, par," the two of them said again.

Releana said, “The first sound is Par." Dwarfs from neighboring tables had begun to wander over to find out what was going on.

Next sound. Parlainth.

Lainth.

He couldn't think of anything so he decided to break it up one more time, saving the th for last.

Lain. What word could he use?

"Pain," said the creature in his thoughts.

He mimed pulling a dagger out of a sheath.

"Dagger" said Merrox.

“Draw," said a dwarf.

"Danger," said Releana.

J'role then pressed the imaginary blade against his wrist and cut himself with it.

A gasp went up from several of the dwarfs who had gathered, but some, along with Merrox and Releana began shouting out guesses.

"Death."

“Suicide."

"Murder."

"Doom."

J 'role turned his face into a grimace. Though he kept his mouth shut, he winced his eyes and swayed a bit. He grabbed the wrist and hugged it close.

“Agony."

"Despair."

"Murder."

J'role pointed at the dwarf who had shouted agony, then motioned with his hand, encouraging more suggestions along those lines.

"Agony," someone repeated.

"Hurt."

"Torture."

"Sacrifice."

"Wound."

"Pain."

J'role jumped up and down, clapping his hands together.

"Pain?" Releana asked. J'role remembered he wasn't quite done yet. He spread his fingers an inch apart.

"Close," said Merrox authoritatively to the others. “It's close." He turned to J'role. "It sounds like Paine?”

J'role nodded.

"Sane?"

"Plain!"

“Bane?"

“Cane!"

"Gain?"

"Lane!"

J'role threw his hands up and pointed at the dwarf who had said, "Lane." Applause rose up from the gathered dwarfs, and some patted their fellow dwarf on the back. Others nodded sagely to J'role.

A strange good humor began to rise in J'role. He looked around at the happy faces, knowing he had made it happen. Releana was looking at him, smiling a sly smile. She said, "All right. All right. Par-Lane. Yes? Is there more?”

J'role nodded. Th.

He thought for a long while, everyone looking at him expectantly. He could think of nothing, and looked around wildly for inspiration … seeing only the thousands of records upon the shelves. Thousands, yes

He waved his hands at the shelves, encompassing the entire Hall of Records in his gesture.

There was a pause, and everyone turned back to him, then a cacophony of suggestions.

"Records!"

'Scrolls!"

"Books!'?

"Bills!"

"Blueprints!"

"Designs!"

Realizing the group had taken the wrong tack, he once again waved his arms, trying to get them to understand he was dealing in scope. "Big!"

“Many!"

J'role pointed at the giver the last suggestion.

"Many!"

"Much!"

"Overwhelming!"

Hundreds!"

"Hundreds of thousands!"

J'role pointed again.

"Thousands?”

He nodded furiously.

"Thousands!" everyone cried as one.

"Sands," said Merrox.

J’role shook his head.

"Thou!" shouted Releana. J'role nodded and squeezed his fingers together.

"Th!" everyone tried to say, and the group sounded like a large snake with a lisp. J'role nodded.

"Par-Lane-Th?" Releana asked. "Any more?"

J'role shook his head.

"Parlainth?"

J'role nodded, clapped his hands together. Everyone joined him in applause. "Well," said Merrox. "It's a start. And even if we don't find it, at least we've brought more life into this place than I've seen in years."

The search seemed hopeless. For the rest of the day Merrox and Releana searched the main codices for any mention of Parlainth. The dwarven language of pictures-with symbols added to the illustration of a dragon's head or a sunset to highlight certain syllables of the object presented- allowed countless permutations for representation of the word Parlainth. Though most common words or names had well-known, standardized presentations, the hidden city was not well known at all. The search took days.

Meanwhile J'role studied one dwarven map after another, looking for a city located in the area where he had found Parlainth. He found nothing, and a fear began to grow in him that it had all been a dream; a fulfillment of desire created by his confused mind.

When they had completed the search of the maps and main indexes without success, Releana suggested that the group scour the stacks anyway. If the memory and maps of the city had been altered, she reasoned that the indexes could have been transformed as well.

So the three of them walked up and down the stacks, climbed up and down ladders, and generally made a nuisance of themselves to the other dwarfs busy at work. Releana had made a list of possible spellings of Parlainth for J'role, and he compared the symbols on the list with those he found on the scrolls and tomes. As the days passed J'role became dizzy from the constant cross-referencing of the titles with this scrap of paper. With each passing day it all seemed more and more hopeless.

After a week had gone by and they had still checked only half the Hall of Record's massive stores, they gathered around their table, slumped dejectedly in their seats.

"Are you sure this is the name of the city?" Merrox asked J'role.

Was he? It was what the elf queen had called it. Did her people have a different name for it. Had she lied to him?

He shrugged.

"Maybe we're going about it all wrong," said Releana. "J'role got the name of the city from the elf queen. But the people of Parlainth probably didn't count on people under the spell's influence meeting with her. J'role found the city, and then deduced that the stones were where the magic was stored. So what matters is the stones, not the name; and because the name itself seems to have been erased from the records, we need a new approach anyway."

"If that was the name," Merrox said and shook his head. "It all seems so improbable …"

“If the entire population of a massive city-and according to J'role's visions it was massive-invested themselves into the spell it might be possible. Add the tight restrictions that the city put on the spell-they could not bring themselves back, that only a single ring indicated that they even existed, and that the ring itself provided few clues-

and such power is definitely possible. The limitations on the spell were enormous. The effects could be enormous as well."

A silence fell over the table, and each of them slipped into deep contemplation. Then Merrox said, "What a horrible decision they made; to hide themselves away like this. To have no power over returning home."

"They must have been terrified of the coming Scourge," agreed Releana.

"Were they more frightened than the elves of Blood Wood?" asked a dwarf who stood nearby and had overheard the conversation. "What they did to themselves …"

"No," Merrox said firmly, his voice tight. "I cannot imagine doing what the people of Parlainth did. But to do what the elves of Blood Wood did, and what countless other peoples did for protection, corrupting themselves to stave off the corruption of the Horrors…. It is unconscionable."

Another silence came, even deeper than the last. Then Releana said, as if speaking from a terrible distance, a sadness cutting through her words, “The Scourge did things to us that will never truly heal."

J 'role found himself nodding, though he had no desire to share his thoughts or feelings.

But no one noticed. The truth of the matter weighed on each one. And in that moment they were bound together in a way no words could express. They had all been reminded of the pain that each living person shared in being alive.

"Well, at least we can try to get this city back," Releana said firmly, rousing the group from its deepening despair.

"Yes," said Merrox, shivering as if shaking off a chill. “You suggested we look at the stones we cut for Parlainth."

"Yes. Let's leave the name behind for now. It might not exist anywhere in this room. But they would have left something behind so the city could be brought back. It might well be in the records of your stone quarries… I don't know. But let's get to it. Let's search through the construction work you did before the Scourge."

"And we can make it more specific because, if it is a huge city, the stone work would be listed under our city records, and would bet quite detailed."

"Well, let's look," said Releana.

"But what are we looking form asked Merrox with exasperation.

"Anything," said Releana. "Anything at all."