Chapter 21 Codric
CODRIC
"The first step in decoding any mystery is recognizing that there is something to decode."
—From 'The Art of Intelligence Gathering'
By Theron Blackwood
The other cadets were already being collected by riders, dragons descending one by one to the circle's edge to carry them back to the Citadel. The aerial dance was impressive, all that coordinated flight, but I found the inscriptions on the pillars far more fascinating.
Dragons were no longer a mystery to me, while these ancient symbols represented a puzzle I was eager to solve.
They weren't random, and they weren't purely decorative either. The thing was, they didn't resemble the common script of Aurorys, not even a little, so they couldn't be an older form of our language. That only added to the mystery. Why was the original written language of Aurorys lost?
Perhaps this script had been reserved only for temples, and the script we were familiar with had been given to the common people?
Maybe the shamans of old had invented a secret language only they could understand, something like what I had done for Alar and me when we were teenagers.
What had they been trying to hide, though?
The more I thought about it, the more curious I became, and that was dangerous. I was an easygoing guy in most things, but I was like a dog with a bone with mysteries. I just wouldn't let go until I solved them.
I walked up to the nearest pillar and ran my fingers over the carved grooves. The cuts were deep, precise, and hadn't been eroded by the winds over thousands of years.
The symbols flowed in clear directional lines—left to right, mostly, with occasional vertical elements that might be modifiers or emphasis markers.
"You're going to wear new grooves in the stone with all that touching," Shovia teased.
I didn't turn around. "Look at this sequence." I traced three symbols that appeared together frequently. "See how it always starts with this mark, then one of five variations in the middle, then ends with this curve? That's not decoration. That's syntax."
"Or it's a pretty pattern ancient people liked to repeat."
Now I turned. She stood with her arms crossed, hip cocked, that skeptical expression she wore when she thought I was being ridiculous.
Which was often, to be fair.
"It's not a decoration," I insisted. "These symbols are saying something."
She stepped forward, angling her head to examine one of the symbols. "Scholars have been trying to decode these for a thousand years and failed. What makes you think you'll do better?"
I probably sounded arrogant to her, but she wasn't seeing what I was seeing. "The three languages of Aurorys are all very similar. Elucian, Elurian, and Sitorian use the same script, while this is something completely different. The problem is that it's impossible to decipher without a key."
Shovia sighed. "You might be seeing patterns because you want to see them. That's how human brains work. We find meaning in clouds, faces in random shapes. It doesn't mean that they really exist."
Frustration bubbled in my chest. This mattered. I couldn't explain why, but looking at these symbols felt like standing at the edge of something enormous, something that would reshape everything if I could just crack it open.
"Look." I pointed. "See this symbol? It appears forty-seven times on this pillar alone."
"You counted?"
"Of course I counted. And every single time it appears, it's followed by one of these three marks." I pointed to each in turn. "They don't form a pretty pattern. There is nothing symmetrical about the combination. Why would you think that this was meant to be a decoration?"
She studied several of the sequences I had pointed out to her and frowned. "Okay, I have to admit that you are right."
I felt like doing a victory dance. Shovia rarely agreed with anything I said.
"Right? And this grouping here appears on several of the pillars I've examined." I traced a more complex sequence. "Exact same order. That's not a coincidence."
"Maybe they had a strange artistic style, and this was a decorative pattern they liked to repeat. That doesn't necessarily make it a language."
I wanted to shake her. Or kiss her. Maybe both. Dear Elurion, she was infuriating and sexy in equal measures.
No, she was definitely more sexy than infuriating. Not always, though.
"Fine." I stepped back. "You're right. I'm probably seeing something that isn't there. Forget I said anything."
"Codric—"
"No, it's fine. You made valid points."
She narrowed her eyes at me. "You're using that voice."
"What voice?"
"That fake-agreeable voice you use when you're annoyed but don't want to fight."
I was saved from responding by Alar. My cousin had been standing with Kailin a few steps away, but now he joined us, studying the pillar with that thoughtful expression he got when he found something interesting.
"I see what you mean about the repetition," he said. "These three symbols appear together frequently."
"Thank you." I shot Shovia a pointed look.
Alar ignored our dynamic. "But without a key, it's impossible to decode. You'd need to find the same text written in both this language and the one we can read, and as Shovia pointed out, if such a text existed, it would have been found a long time ago."
I nodded. "Remember the cipher we invented?"
Alar chuckled. "That was all you from start to finish."
Shovia blinked. "What are you two talking about?"
"When we were teenagers, Alar and I created a secret language for passing messages. It looked like nonsensical scribbles unless you had the key—a piece of paper showing how our symbols mapped to letters."
"You made up a whole language?" She sounded impressed.
"A cipher, technically. Not a full language." I turned back to the pillar. "But it taught me about language structure. The problem is that interpreting it is impossible without a key, and you are right that someone would have already discovered it if it existed."
"Hey." Morek had wandered over during our discussion, and now he clapped a hand on my shoulder. "Archeologists find new things all the time. Your key might still be found one day."
I appreciated his encouragement, but logic was logic. If Shaman Saphir Fatewever, who'd lived for a thousand years, hadn't found a translation key, one probably didn't exist.
"You have a good eye, Cadet Teress," Saphir said from behind me.
I spun around to see him standing a few feet away with Moki perched on his shoulder as usual. How long had he been listening? The shaman had a way of materializing from thin air.
"Thank you, Shaman." I suddenly felt self-conscious.
"What makes you think that these symbols are a written language rather than symbolic art?" He sounded curious rather than mocking, which made me more confident.
"Several things. First, the directional flow.
The symbols consistently move from left to right, which suggests reading order.
Second, complexity variations. Some symbols are simple, others elaborate, which often indicates different grammatical functions.
Common words tend to be simpler. Third, positional meaning.
Certain symbols only appear at the start of sequences, others only at the end. That's structural, not decorative."
Saphir's eyebrows rose. "Interesting. You've figured all of that out only from observing these symbols for a few minutes?"
"I'm good at recognizing patterns." The words came out defensive. "I like solving puzzles and mysteries."
"He invented a secret language with his cousin," Shovia offered, her skepticism apparently forgotten. "When they were teenagers."
"A cipher," I corrected automatically. "Not the same thing. A cipher is a system for encoding and decoding messages in a way that is unreadable to anyone who doesn't know how to reverse the process."
"What prompted you to do that?" Saphir asked.
"Annoying tutors," I said.
I explained about Alar and me needing ways to communicate that our tutors couldn't intercept. How we had started with simple letter substitution and gradually built something more complex, with symbols that combined to create meaning.
"It taught me about language structure," I finished.
Saphir nodded sagely. "So, a translation key is necessary to unlock the language of these symbols."
"It's the only way. Without something bilingual, we'll be just guessing at meanings. We could assign any translation to any symbol and never know if we were right."
Saphir was quiet for a moment, studying me with those ancient, wise eyes of his. Then he smiled. "Perhaps we'll get lucky and find such a document." He winked.
Wait, was he mocking me?
My face heated. Of course, he was.
I was just a first-year cadet, an Elurian, and I was suggesting that I could solve what Elucian scholars had puzzled over for centuries. He probably found me arrogant, or just stupid.
"How much longer until Nyxath returns?" Ravel walked over, either having not heard the entire discussion about deciphering the ancient language of the temple or ignoring it. "It'll be dark soon, and I'd rather not have cadets in underground chambers at night."
"Nyxath didn't expect me to need her so soon," Saphir said. "So she wasn't immediately available, but she's on her way."
I glanced at the sky. There was still plenty of daylight left, and more importantly, I had time before Nyxath arrived with Saphir's key.
I pulled my journal from my pocket. It was supposed to be my rider journal to record training observations, but it had quickly become a catch-all for anything interesting. Right now, 'interesting' meant symbols.
Finding a clear spot on the ground, I settled cross-legged and began sketching.
The trick with reproducing symbols accurately was treating them like maps rather than art. Every line mattered, every angle. I'd studied cartography in the academy, and it had been one of my favorite subjects.
I rendered the most frequently recurring symbols first, the ones I'd seen dozens of times. My hand moved quickly, capturing the curves and straight lines, the way certain marks connected or remained separate.
"When did you learn to draw like that?"
I glanced up. Morek crouched beside me, watching what I was creating on the page.
"Cartography," I said. "I love drawing maps."
"You're really good."
"Thanks." I finished the symbol I was working on and moved to the next. "It's all about accuracy. One wrong line and your map could show a bridge where there's actually a cliff."
Shovia peered over my shoulder on my other side. "You have all these hidden talents you never mentioned. Why is that?"
I kept sketching but couldn't help smiling. "I prefer you to want me for my body and my lovemaking than any of my other skills."
Her fist connected with my shoulder hard enough to make me drop my pencil.
"Ow! Shovia!" I rubbed my arm, laughing. "What was that for?"
"For being an ass."
"You could've dislocated my shoulder."
"Don't be dramatic." She picked up my pencil and handed it back. "Keep drawing, although I don't see the point."
I returned to the symbols, trying to ignore the way she leaned against my back, her chin nearly resting on my shoulder. Having Shovia this close always made it hard to concentrate.
"The point is," I finished another symbol, examining it critically. "That if we ever do find that key, I might as well start recording the symbols now so I'm ready when that happens."
"That's..." she paused, "actually, pretty smart thinking."
"Don't sound so surprised."
"I wouldn't be surprised if you told me more about yourself instead of using your tongue in my ear for things other than talking."
That was true. Being the charming idiot at court, the one nobody took seriously, had given me a great advantage. I had been Alar's eyes and ears because everyone had assumed that I was too dumb to understand what was going on around me.
After years of perfecting my act, though, I didn't know how to be any other way.
"You're talented, Cadet Teress." Saphir made me jump as he once again snuck up on me. "Those renderings are excellent."
"Thank you."
"May I?" He gestured at the journal.
I handed it over, trying not to feel nervous as he flipped through the pages. His expression remained neutral, giving nothing away, but Moki chittered with approval.
Or at least I thought he approved of my work. The truth was that it was hard to tell the difference between excited chittering and angry chittering.
Saphir glanced at the sky. "Ah, here comes Nyxath now." He handed my journal back to me.
"Finally," Ravel muttered.