Chapter 18 #2
Students rushed up and down the three floors, carrying messages to different desks and running to the Log Masters, who stood in front of rows of locked bookshelves filled with logs, ledgers, filed paperwork, and more.
In the center of the room, her arm tossed casually over a podium as she adjusted her spectacles with her free hand, was the leader of the trade translators, Chairwoman Errim.
The chairwoman was a Calnorian woman of short stature, no nonsense attitude, and tidy dress. Like Myth, she wore the trade translators’ signature jacket, pants, and boots, although hers were colored white and gray due to her position.
Myth had met her on three occasions—when she first became a student in the trade program, when she graduated and made the rank of apprentice, and once when she explained to Myth that they didn’t have a master translator to assign her to yet.
With so many translators under her, there was no possible way the older woman knew Myth. But Myth, driven by both her anger and the painful need that was her whole reason for coming, slowly approached the chairwoman.
Halfway across the massive workshop she glanced back, and was relieved to see only Grygg and one other Honor Guard were behind her. The rest waited at the open door.
Good. That’s fewer people to observe the sting of failure this might become. But I have to ask!
Myth rolled her shoulders back, and once she was at the proper distance she fought against her rising panic and called out. “Chairwoman Errim?”
The older woman turned around, her smile polite if not pleasant. “Ahh, good morning to you, Apprentice Mythlan.”
“Good morning.” Myth bowed her head to Errim.
“What brings you here today? I haven’t received your release papers from the social translators, so I assume you are still acting as His Royal Highness Crown Prince Arvel’s translator.”
“Yes, ma’am. That is to say, I have the day off…” She tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come.
Myth wouldn’t have thought she was afraid of much—unfortunately the past few weeks had rapidly corrected that, so the list now included fires in the library and, apparently, asking a supervisor for help.
This is silly. Even if she refuses, what’s lost? Nothing! It will hurt, but if she does help, it’s worth it.
Chairwoman Errim folded her hands behind her back with thinly veiled impatience. “Yes? And?”
“I’m here to ask for help,” Myth blurted out. “I need ledgers copied, and some new trade reports drawn up from all the Fultons’ trade records over the past two years.”
Chairwoman Errim narrowed her eyes, which nearly disappeared in the wrinkles of her face. “This is for the Fulton investigation His Royal Highness is conducting, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Myth said. “We gathered all the information he needed for His Majesty King Petyrr to convict them, but the records were destroyed in a fire yesterday. Fortunately, the main pieces of evidence—two personal ledgers from the Fultons—were kept separate and weren’t destroyed.
” Myth held up the satchel for reference.
“We have all the information we need between these and the trade records, but the information has to be cross-referenced and written up to prove the Fultons’ faulty reports and illegal dealings. ”
“When was the ruling supposed to be?”
“Tomorrow.”
Chairwoman Errim whistled.
“Arvel can’t work on this information now—he’s involved in the investigation of the fires. But if I can’t reproduce the information, the judgment will be canceled tomorrow,” Myth said. “Unfortunately, it’s too much information for me, and I’m a mere apprentice…”
Chairwoman Errim held up her hand, demanding Myth’s silence.
Myth’s heart fell as the chairwoman walked away from her.
She’s not going to help. I expected as much. The trade translators have their own assignments, and we aren’t strictly employed by the Calnorian royal family, so I can’t even guaranteethey’dget paid for the work. But I had hoped…
Chairwoman Errim stepped up to the tall podium and picked up the wooden hammer that hung from a leather loop. She smacked the podium, then whistled a loud and piercing note that made every translator, every apprentice, every student, and every Log Master stop and look to her.
“We have a change in our schedule, my children,” Chairwoman Errim drawled. “Our Trade Darling needs help. The Fultons ruined the work she and His Royal Highness Crown Prince Arvel had organized for their investigation.”
It took Myth a few moments to realize she was the “ trade darling ” Chairwoman Errim had referred to. She shifted nervously, but no one stirred as they listened.
“I want everyone— except for the translators working on the next set of order forms for Lessa and those who are recording copies of the most recent transactions with Lessa—on her work immediately. Students, get your laces tied—you’ll have to retrieve some palace tax reports.
Log Masters, we need all trade records we have on the Fultons from the past two years.
Translators, we have two ledgers that must be copied in their entirety immediately into Elvish and additional copies in Calnoric .
Apprentice Mythlan will give the rest of the details, but it sounds like we’ll need to cross-reference the information between the royal tax reports, our trade records, and what the Fultons claimed they bought and sold versus what numbers they really had in storage. ”
Myth’s eyes bulged as the chairwoman continued on, rattling off all the types of paperwork they’d need.
She was so dumbstruck, so shocked , all she could do was stand there.
This wasn’t a reaction I hoped for. I never even dreamed of this as a possibility!
“Oh—you, student. Run off and send word to the governmental translation workshop that we need at least two—no, four—of their best translators to teach us what format our work needs to be in, and tell us if there are any extra forms we need.” The chairwoman finished with a business-like nod, and immediately everyone hopped back to their work.
Myth watched, astounded, as dozens of translators nonchalantly pushed their work to the side, capped their inkwells, and hurried down the stairs, making their way toward her .
She opened and closed her mouth a couple of times, feeling like a fish out of water as the translators swarmed her and Chairwoman Errim. “But… why ?” she finally asked.
The closest person, a senior translator, gave Myth a curious look. “What do you mean why?”
“Why would you put everything aside to help? I didn’t get a chance to warn you, but I didn’t ask His Majesty King Petyrr for his approval—”
Once again Chairwoman Errim held up her hand, and Myth fell silent.
“You don’t seem to understand, Apprentice Mythlan,” she said.
“But we’re translators. We work together—not as mere coworkers, but companions.
And you, our little Trade Darling, are the pride and joy of our section.
Of course we’re going to help you—particularly since you never request aid in any shape. ”
“I am?” By this point Myth had heard so many unexpected things, she was starting to wonder if something was wrong with her hearing.
Chairwoman Errim rolled her eyes, but the senior translator laughed. “Obviously! You’re the best translator to pass through the Circle in decades. Chairman Farthyndil of the governmental translators almost challenged Chairwoman Errim to a duel when you selected us as your translation path.”
Translator Krim, who had served as one of Myth’s instructors, added, “All apprentices are beloved, Mythlan, because it takes great intellect, perseverance, and love to continue the pursuit of languages. We get many applications, but it is usually only a handful who manage to make it to apprentice. And yet you were not satisfied with merely making that position, but you picked up additional languages and continued to work with diligence, never acting prideful even when your fellow apprentices requested your help.”
It seemed to Myth that whole chunks of the Translators’ Circle that she hadn’t even known of were falling into place. “You know I’ve studied other languages?”
Now all the translators who were gathered around her laughed.
“Of course we knew, dear,” Chairwoman Errim said dryly. “You’re our Mythlan. Now, where are these ledgers of yours?”
Myth fumbled momentarily with the satchel and pulled the two ledger books out. “Here.”
Chairwoman Errim took them with another snappy nod. “Excellent. Translators—let us begin!”
* * *
Myth shifted into a new position on the blue settee she was perched upon and made a valiant effort to scoot a strawberry across her plate.
“They should be done soon, Lady Mythlan,” Wilford assured her.
“And there’s no possible way King Petyrr found those scoundrels anything less than guilty as sin,” Grygg added.
Myth smiled. “It is to be hoped that is true.”
Wilford shook his head. “I imagine you and your Circle ruined many of Fultons’ schemes with your swift translations. I don’t think Lord Julyan even bothered to put together a defense, he was so sure they were getting away with it.”
Grygg sighed happily. “I still can’t believe my lucky stars that I got to be the one to escort Lord Julyan to the palace. He was so shocked the case was still on, he puffed up like an angry cat and yowled something fierce. I even got to threaten violence against him!”
Myth cracked a smile at the thought and finally ate her strawberry.
Thanks to the majority of all trade translators working on recreating Myth’s and Arvel’s findings, the translators finished everything by dawn the day of the judgment against the Fultons.
Myth—leaving an extra copy of everythingin the Translators’ Circle, because she wasn’t going to risk losing their research again —had rushed to King Petyrr and King Celrin’s private study and submitted the paperwork with enough time for the proceedings to still take place.
And they had, to Lord Julyan’s shock.