attacks."
Tash groaned. "A few
dragons who'd die right away! Think, everyone. Ishtafel killed thousands of
dragons in Requiem. Maybe even hundreds of thousands. He's good at killing them.
Just opening a few collars won't work. We'd all need to fly as dragons,
together—all of us, the entire nation of Requiem, roaring fire at once,
surprising the enemy. That's the only way we'd stand even a tiny chance. To do
that . . . we'd need over half a million keys. A key for every slave, kept
hidden, secret . . . then all used at once." Her eyes shone.
Meliora winced. "According
to legend, it took the Keymaker six days and nights to forge this key and embed
it with dark magic." She sighed. "I don't think we'd have time waiting for half
a million keys."
"We don't need to wait."
A sly grin spread across Tash's face. "I know some magical secrets too. There
is a way . . . and there is a map."
Tash took a round
obsidian box from her pocket, the kind pleasurers kept spice in, and opened it.
Inside, instead of hintan, was a folded piece of parchment. She unfolded it
carefully, as if handling an ancient relic, revealing a crudely drawn map,
showing mountains, rivers, and a coastline.
"It's the world outside
the walls," Elory whispered, staring in awe. "How did you find this map?"
"The pleasure pits are
the empire's hub of knowledge." Tash nodded. "Every man who comes into our den,
who smokes our pipes, who drinks our wine, who moans under our kisses, his
words are ours to collect. And we hoard that information like a miser hoards
gold. This is a map to the most important, most magical, most sought-after
treasure in the world." She pointed at a drawing of a ship upon an eastern
coast, and her voice dropped to an awed whisper. "The Chest of Plenty."
They all stared
silently, and Meliora struggled not to laugh. The Chest of Plenty? She had
outgrown believing in that artifact years ago.
"Tash." Meliora spoke
gently. "The Chest of Plenty is just a myth. Just a tale they tell children in
the palace."
"Not a tale!" Tash's
eyes flashed angrily. "It's real. One man who came into the pleasure pit, he'd
even seen the ghost ship from a distance, beached upon the shore. He swears he
heard the ghosts who guard the ship, who guard the chest within. Imagine it,
Meliora! A chest that can duplicate whatever you place inside it—food, coins,
jewels." Tash's eyes gleamed like jewels themselves. "For years, I dreamed of
finding the Chest of Plenty. Of placing my own humble jewels inside it, only to
see them multiplied a thousand times. I would have enough money to live as a
queen. To build a castle somewhere, to have servants, to . . ." Tash's cheeks
flushed. "Well, I suppose that dream is rather childish. An impossible dream.
But the Chest of Plenty is real. Thousands of men have sought it, dreaming of
growing rich off a single gold coin, but I'm the only one who has a real map."
Meliora sighed. Tash
seemed earnest, excited, and she had saved Meliora's life. But how could Meliora
believe this tale?
"Tash—" she began.
"Hush!" Tash glared at
her. "I don't want to hear your doubt. The Chest of Plenty is real. It has to
be real. It's real or . . . or all my dreams are meaningless. And I won't
believe that." Her eyes dampened. "I won't! I'm going to escape with you on
your boat. I helped you escape from your prison cell; you will help me escape
from the city walls. You owe this to me. I will travel alone if I must,
following this map, until I find the Chest of Plenty. Until I bring it back
here and place your Keeper's Key within it."
"No." It was Vale who
spoke this time. The gaunt young man rose to his feet, staring with hard eyes.
Tash glared right back
at him. "And who are you to tell me what not to do? You're nothing but a—"
"No," Vale repeated,
voice hard. "You will not follow this map alone. I'll go with you."
Everyone stared at him,
silent. Tash gaped and rubbed her eyes. "You . . . want to come with me? You
believe the Chest of
Tash groaned. "A few
dragons who'd die right away! Think, everyone. Ishtafel killed thousands of
dragons in Requiem. Maybe even hundreds of thousands. He's good at killing them.
Just opening a few collars won't work. We'd all need to fly as dragons,
together—all of us, the entire nation of Requiem, roaring fire at once,
surprising the enemy. That's the only way we'd stand even a tiny chance. To do
that . . . we'd need over half a million keys. A key for every slave, kept
hidden, secret . . . then all used at once." Her eyes shone.
Meliora winced. "According
to legend, it took the Keymaker six days and nights to forge this key and embed
it with dark magic." She sighed. "I don't think we'd have time waiting for half
a million keys."
"We don't need to wait."
A sly grin spread across Tash's face. "I know some magical secrets too. There
is a way . . . and there is a map."
Tash took a round
obsidian box from her pocket, the kind pleasurers kept spice in, and opened it.
Inside, instead of hintan, was a folded piece of parchment. She unfolded it
carefully, as if handling an ancient relic, revealing a crudely drawn map,
showing mountains, rivers, and a coastline.
"It's the world outside
the walls," Elory whispered, staring in awe. "How did you find this map?"
"The pleasure pits are
the empire's hub of knowledge." Tash nodded. "Every man who comes into our den,
who smokes our pipes, who drinks our wine, who moans under our kisses, his
words are ours to collect. And we hoard that information like a miser hoards
gold. This is a map to the most important, most magical, most sought-after
treasure in the world." She pointed at a drawing of a ship upon an eastern
coast, and her voice dropped to an awed whisper. "The Chest of Plenty."
They all stared
silently, and Meliora struggled not to laugh. The Chest of Plenty? She had
outgrown believing in that artifact years ago.
"Tash." Meliora spoke
gently. "The Chest of Plenty is just a myth. Just a tale they tell children in
the palace."
"Not a tale!" Tash's
eyes flashed angrily. "It's real. One man who came into the pleasure pit, he'd
even seen the ghost ship from a distance, beached upon the shore. He swears he
heard the ghosts who guard the ship, who guard the chest within. Imagine it,
Meliora! A chest that can duplicate whatever you place inside it—food, coins,
jewels." Tash's eyes gleamed like jewels themselves. "For years, I dreamed of
finding the Chest of Plenty. Of placing my own humble jewels inside it, only to
see them multiplied a thousand times. I would have enough money to live as a
queen. To build a castle somewhere, to have servants, to . . ." Tash's cheeks
flushed. "Well, I suppose that dream is rather childish. An impossible dream.
But the Chest of Plenty is real. Thousands of men have sought it, dreaming of
growing rich off a single gold coin, but I'm the only one who has a real map."
Meliora sighed. Tash
seemed earnest, excited, and she had saved Meliora's life. But how could Meliora
believe this tale?
"Tash—" she began.
"Hush!" Tash glared at
her. "I don't want to hear your doubt. The Chest of Plenty is real. It has to
be real. It's real or . . . or all my dreams are meaningless. And I won't
believe that." Her eyes dampened. "I won't! I'm going to escape with you on
your boat. I helped you escape from your prison cell; you will help me escape
from the city walls. You owe this to me. I will travel alone if I must,
following this map, until I find the Chest of Plenty. Until I bring it back
here and place your Keeper's Key within it."
"No." It was Vale who
spoke this time. The gaunt young man rose to his feet, staring with hard eyes.
Tash glared right back
at him. "And who are you to tell me what not to do? You're nothing but a—"
"No," Vale repeated,
voice hard. "You will not follow this map alone. I'll go with you."
Everyone stared at him,
silent. Tash gaped and rubbed her eyes. "You . . . want to come with me? You
believe the Chest of
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