The Imperial Relay Station always looked like a scar on the mountain to me. It sat on a high peak above the city, commanding a line of sight to both the endless sand to the east and the endless sand to the west. A wall surrounded the compound, and Imperial Legion guards ensured that only approved visitors passed the gates. The "Needle"—an incredibly tall metal spire sticking out from the center—pierced the clouds, held upright against the ferocious sandstorms by thick iron struts. So much metal. No wonder it was so highly guarded.
Of those kept in the royal stable, Old Blue was not my favorite tuspak. He was slow and even-tempered to a fault. I rode the wagon as he plodded up the long switchback road built by the Imperial Engineers. The whole place, including the road, was built before I was born, but we were always friendly with the Imperial staff. The Endless Staircase was the far faster route, but more arduous. I just took Old Blue and used the time to think.
In my childhood, the Imperial Legionnaires guarding the gate had been statues of polished steel. But as the years ground on and each successive rotation came and went, they had become less and less careful. This time, they weren't even holding their heavy crossbows; they were playing dice in the dust. Rather than polished breastplates, they wore common tunics. When they saw me, they didn't ask for identification.
"Prince Elyan," the sergeant grunted, not bothering to give me more than a glance. "The Observer is inside. Probably counting rivets again."
I was happy that the guards felt safe enough here to relax. But I knew they had a duty to the Empire: to ensure that the science of the machines remained exclusive. If Qulomba or the Spartov Hegemony ever learned to build these machines, the Empire's dominance would shatter in no time. Even a small breach of secrecy would be punished with the utmost severity.
I hitched Old Blue up outside and entered the courtyard. The _thud, thud, drag_ of the four tuspaks turning the great wheel that powered the station resounded in my ears. Elias had described these stations in his journals, nervous systems that transmitted messages instantly across the whole world, the key to the Empire's conquest. But the inner workings were a mystery, guarded by practice and law.
I went into Danio's office. And there he was, sitting at his desk like a prison inmate. The short, stocky man looked up at me, hope warring with boredom.
"Did you bring a book?" he asked. "Oh, and some cheese? The next supply run isn't for three more days, and I'm ready to throw myself off the edge."
"No cheese, I'm afraid," I said, fully entering the office. "I have a bag of dried fruit. I hope this and some company will suffice for now."
His face lit up. "Not as good as a book, cheese, _and_ company, but close enough for the moment. I'm sure you heard the news from Olympos. I delivered the message from the Curia Imperii to your father in person. All those stairs..." He shook his head. "I want you to know that I'm really sorry about their verdict. As long as the grain flows from Carth and the taxes flow from Qulomba, the Empire will not march. Your father had a compelling case. Does the City Council have a plan?"
"No, Danio. Ideas have been thrown around, but nothing workable."
"I was afraid of that. I'm really sorry, Elyan. I already sent my condolences to your mother." He picked up a rag and started absent-mindedly polishing an intricate little bronze device. "If it breaks, I have no way to fix it. I have to call in a team from Thensapolis using backup codes. I'm just the messenger."
"I wanted to ask you about something," I said, taking a deep breath.
Danio was a friend—a true friend—but he was the Imperial Observer. He was in charge of ensuring my family ran the city in accordance with Imperial standards. He knew full well the situation the city was in. He was just a messenger, not a decision-maker, but he was loyal to the Empire, even above his loyalty to my family. I still had to be careful.
"I found an old document. Supposedly taken from ruins in Qulomba. The script looked similar to what they use in Olympos."
I reached into my tunic and retrieved the leaf of Elias's book that contained the poem. I placed it on his desk.
The polishing stopped. He looked at the document and turned pale.
"Elyan," he said, his voice trembling. "There are certain things that we are trained to look for when going to school for this kind of posting. Legion Intelligence has rules. There are parts of the Imperial government we are not supposed to talk about. But if someone were to be found with certain artifacts..." He breathed heavily. "Even if they were a prince. Even if they were well-connected. It wouldn't matter. I have certain obligations. A duty to report."
My stomach turned over. "Just this text, Danio. Just this text. That's all I'm interested in."
I was well aware there was no way to hide the desperation in my eyes. He knew me. He knew I couldn't lie even if my life depended on it.
Danio looked at everything in the room except me. He shifted in his chair, the conflict plain on his face. The loneliness of this post, the secrets kept even from him—it weighed on him. He valued the few friends he had.
"Of course," he said, his voice tight. "Of course. Your family has always had an interest in intellectual pursuits without practical value. I do recognize the document. It's written in an ancient tongue that only a few Scholars in Thensapolis know. I don't know what it says, but..."
He took the document over to a lamp in the corner of the office.
"You don't understand, Elyan. If you stole the complete schematics to this station, the Empire would hang you as a traitor. That is a military secret. It protects us. But _this_? This is something much worse. The Legion would burn this city to the ground and kill everyone in it for these artifacts. Even the words of this document. I don't know what it says, but they trained us to recognize it. It's part of the training."
He touched the irreplaceable document to the flame.
"NO! Danio! NO!" I gasped and lunged at him. It had never occurred to me that my friend might burn it.
He shouldered me away from the burning document. "You don't understand the difference, Elyan," he whispered, holding the paper as it curled and blackened.
I tried to snatch it out of his hand, but the little man was surprisingly strong and managed to stay ahead of my desperate grasp.
"Military secrets protect borders," he said, watching the fire consume the ink. "But this? This threatens the order of the world."
Finally, when the flames were too close to his fingers, he let the remainder float to the floor.
My jaw was slack. I watched as the gray flakes fell to the floor.
"That was irreplaceable!" I whispered, my face flush with fury. "You burned history!"
"I burned your death warrant," Danio corrected, grimacing. "I'm sorry, Elyan. But I care about you and your family too much to let you keep it. Just that alone... If Legion Intelligence knew..." He shuddered.
Of course, I still had the copy I'd made with my attempt at translation. But destroying an original Elias document was not merely unacceptable; it was unthinkable. Danio, of course, didn't share my family's reverence for the dead man; he just knew him as an author.
He picked up the mechanism that he had been polishing from his desk and placed it in the cabinet. From a different shelf he removed a similar looking one and sat back done.
I still stood staring at the ash of the destroyed document on the ground.
"I don't think I've shown you one of these before," Danio said, looking at me. He reached out with the mechanism in hand, inviting me to take a look. "It does a series of calculations that authenticate messages. It's only good for a few years."
I nodded, still numb.
He gestured for me to take a seat again. "It's a fascinating device." He smiled weakly. "I know how to use it for message authentication, but I have no idea how it works. The math eludes me." He waved his hand above his head.
"I've never seen anything like it," I said. "May I?" I put out my hand to touch it.
"This one went out of effect three years ago. It's invalid."
He handed it to me. "Technically, possessing this is theft of military property. I'm supposed to have destroyed it. But I don't see how an obsolete one could cause any harm."
"I'm sorry I had to destroy that document, but I hope this will make it up to you." He pushed the device across the table to me.
I picked it up. It looked like a stack of gears. Each was etched with symbols of the Order of the Axiom, the powerful religion of mathematics and logic in Thensapolis. On the prime wheel were symbols: squares, triangles, lines, circles.
"It will give you something to put your mind to figuring out. It's just a paperweight now, but the gears still turn. You can spend endless hours on it; take it apart if you like. Figure out its mechanics. It's a much safer, and hopefully more rewarding, intellectual pursuit than that old document."
"You just burned an irreplaceable historical artifact," I said, staring at the wheel. "Written by the hand of a dead man that my parents and I adore. And now you give me illegal military intelligence hardware?"
"Because it's trash," Danio said. "It's for messages that expired years ago. No competent operator in the entire world would accept a message authenticated with this."
He paused, and a genuine smile broke out. "Of course, competence is an uncommon commodity these days. There might be an incompetent operator somewhere far from Olympos who might accept it. I wouldn't bet two coins either way."
"Thank you, Danio."
"No need to thank me," he said, turning back to his current device. "Just... be careful, Elyan. The Empire doesn't care about Heliqar, but the Order of the Axiom cares very much about its math. Keep that out of sight."
"I will."
"And Elyan?" He didn't look up. "My duty is to relay information, regardless of the message. But if you do find a way to fix this..." He flashed a smile at me. "I wouldn't mind having _that_ message to send."
I pocketed the device and headed for the door.
Outside, the tuspaks turning the great wheel were being unhitched and replaced with fresh ones.
"Would you find me a book," Danio called out, "and make sure to tell the suppliers to hurry up with the cheese?"
I smiled back and headed back to Old Blue.