The Royal Residence was sleeping as soundly as I imagined a condemned man slept the night before the gallows. I skulked silently along the corridors with the stones in my pocket, making my way to my father's study. Light from an oil lamp shone from the crack under the door. He was awake. Of course he was awake. I knocked once, then entered.
The room was sparse, almost cramped with meticulously organized parchments. Walls not covered with shelves were covered with schematics of our aqueduct system and granaries. All was coated with a thin layer of soot from the decades-long stream of oil that my father used to light the room at night.
My father sat at his desk, his good eye visible through his thick, iron-rimmed lens. His blind eye was lost to shadow and scars. He was studying a financial ledger. No doubt searching for a solution in numbers.
As I entered, he looked up at me, not like a king but like a man who'd been carrying a mountain for decades and had been told another mountain would be added.
"Elyan," he said, slumping. "It's late. You need to get some rest. We may have two days before the next council session, but you'll be no good to any of us tomorrow if you don't sleep tonight."
"How exactly can I sleep tonight?" I asked, stepping closer. "I suspect you need it even more than I do, yet here you are…"
He leaned back in his chair. "When you get older, sleep becomes more difficult. Enjoy what you can while you can."
I nodded.
He sighed and looked back at the ledger. "General Kael ran the numbers for me on raising an army. He's right. There's no way we can make it work. Heliqar is too small. Without the Empire to enforce the law..."
"I'm not here about money. I'm here about data." I took the stones out of my pocket and placed them on his desk, right beside the oil lamp, where he could see the odd interaction with the light.
"I tested them with every instrument we have."
"And? Did you find the magic?"
"I found anomalies." I crossed my arms. "Pick up the white stone."
He took the dodecahedron. "Feels as solid as stone." He shook it lightly. "Obviously some kind of mineral."
"Exactly!" I said. "Measurements indicate it has the density of heavy wood. It should feel like pumice in your hand, but it doesn't. It feels like a solid rock."
"Odd..." He paused. Still holding the stone and squinting at it. A fine crease appeared above his eyebrows, pulling them together.
I continued. "I tried to measure the hardness." I handed him the black stone. "I took an awl to this. I tried to scratch it. It stripped iron from the tool, and it looks perfect."
"Elyan..." He said, putting the stone back on the table and looking at me.
I knew where he was going, and I panicked to cut him off. "I took our hardest quartz. Same result. The microscope shows no structure. It's as amorphous as glass. Glass that eats quartz."
He tilted his head up at me with a sad half smile. "Elyan..." he said again.
I couldn't let him finish. I heated them and watched as they cooled. It was unnatural." I put up my hand, begging him not to say anything. "It's like the stones are screaming to us: 'I'm not really a stone.' We just have to figure out how to listen. What if they are from the First Empire? What if they are from before? Anything is possible!"
"Son," he said softly. "Have a seat."
I did. My heart was pounding. He wasn't going to listen, was he?
"Elyan, the first rule of governance is the same as the first rule of engineering. When water stops flowing, you check the aqueducts for blockages; you don't try to appease the river gods."
He picked up the white stone again but looked at me. "Your claim is that this feels heavy but weighs little. Have you considered that your arms are tired? The exertion from a near-death experience will do that to a man. I know you believe that the stones refract light in a strange way, that they almost glow. Consider. Are your eyes perfect? Do you have instruments for measuring all the ways light interacts with minerals? If you discovered a new mineral, how would it help you?"
"What about the way it cools, Father? I may not be able to prove these stones are special yet, but didn't Elias say, 'Not everything that can be measured matters, and not everything that matters can be measured'?"
He leaned forward and grabbed my hand. "You are looking for magic because you are young. For all you know, magic could be just around the next corner. You are desperate, as desperate as I am. You are hurt. You lost Aukoa. You saw a woman die. You want that pain to mean something. You see anomalies because you need them to be there."
His words were loaded with compassion. His hand was a warm anchor. But more than that, he felt pity for me while he said things that hurt.
"The old woman said something to me in a language I didn't recognize. She knew our language. I remember sounds of the words and the way she said them. They didn't sound like the ravings of a broken mind. They were like an desperate incantation."
"That is called trauma, son," he said gently. "When the fever took my father, his last words to me were to protect your Aunt Dalia. When I thought she was dying with the same fever, I heard his voice in my head, reminding me of my failure. Over and over again. But it was just me. I was demanding too much of myself using his voice."
He squeezed my hand. "We chart the ocean with a steady hand," he quoted. "You are trying to chart a storm while you are drowning in it. You need sleep. You need to clear your head. When you wake up, you will see these for what they are: interesting but useless stones."
He handed them back to me.
"Keep them. They are a memento. You nearly died on the journey that brought them to you. But do not bring them to the Council again. I do not need a geologist. A geologist will not keep the Spartovans away from our caravans. I need my son, the Prince of Heliqar.
I looked at him. Right in his good eye. He was a wise man. His wisdom had saved the city. His compassion had ruled it. His logic was unimpeachable. Everything he said was probably right. The stress and desire to find something interesting had probably clouded my mind and body. There would be no way to tell. It cut me to the quick.
"You're right, Father." I said, my mouth dry. "Of course, you're right."
The stones went back into my pocket. They felt hot. Such perceptions were not to be trusted. I was looking for what I wanted to see. Evidence needed to speak for itself and that data wasn't there. I stood up and walked to the door.
"Sleep well, Son. Your mind is strong. Perhaps we can find a way out of this."
Of course he was right.
As I walked down the hallway, my hands brushed the stones. My father had built this world on the foundation of what could be seen and measured. But what Elias had said was that what we know is tiny, insignificant, compared with what we don't know. My parents claimed that he was the wisest man they had ever met. I had read his works. I agreed. He said that if we seek knowledge only for promised rewards, disappointment will be our harvest. But to the one who searches without expectation, nature yields her treasures freely, pressing them into the arms of an open mind.
I changed my mind. I wasn't going to my quarters. I was going to see the Queen.