The House of Wael by Chris Avellone

Author:Chris Avellone [Avellone, Chris]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Pillars of Eternity
Publisher: Obsidian Entertainment, Inc.
Published: 2016-03-17T05:00:00+00:00

– 3 –

PARTING OF THE WAYS

What the Diplomat’s Voice Spoke Of

was sharp and cruel, like truth itself.

“It’s not a parchment at all,” the Diplomat hissed, in his peculiar blend of accents, but always in the Vailian tongue. The language was his curse, and he had never spoken it fluently until the wardens had come, first with the knife, then the contracts for him to view, then the parchment as partial payment to the Priests of Wael. “Listen to it, it’s a game board, each fragment an empty space whether filled with words or not, and the rest, all of them, pieces... and fill in the absences with actions of your own for meaning.” He laughed.

“But you still have to read it, especially the bit on language - the author admits it. Do you think any of this is true? You truly believe there to be some great storehouse of secrets, waiting to be cracked open like a ribcage and let its innards spill out. Such a place... and manned by a lone priest of Wael. How long has that cycle played out, I suppose, in this mythical place?” He grinned, and his tongue clicked almost independent of its owner, in the Vailian gesture of disdain, and four times, the unluckiest of numbers in Old Aedyr.

The priests did not answer, already regretting their visitation.

“Of course it exists. The game wouldn’t be any amusement to the gods if it were not true, would it?” He laughed, and asked the sweating petitioner to read him the chapters again on the killing of gods, and he repeated them to himself, in a hundred different languages, as if

a mantra.

He did this until the jailers came to take his tongue, and if it was

to be believed, give it to another in the hopes of a different answer

that never came.

WHAT IS MEANT TO BE KEPT IS LOST.

On the day after Ouster struck Tarnish, Ouster returned to the larder, and Tarnish was not there.

He stood, silent. Numb. He had lost his only chance to tell the boy the hate was not for him, but it didn’t matter, for Tarnish already knew, and it had not stopped Ouster’s fist. It would not stop it again.

When Ouster returned, the larder was empty, the alcove was empty. The troll skin and the urn, still overturned, were no witness to what had happened. There were no snapped vines, no prints in the soil, no shreds of robe speaking to where he had gone - not even a body. As he entered the larder, Ouster’s robes flared with light, and finding the alcove empty, all of his eyes awoke, raking the room...

...but the boy who was supposed to illuminate him was now gone. Though disbelieving in the god he cursed, Ouster spat hate Wael’s way. Then, after one last glance at the room, he rushed to the exit and screamed Tarnish’s name, begging in a way that sounded false, with words that felt hollow.

His prized possession had slipped away, and worse, he knew not how or where he had gone.

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