dust. A single wall had cracked, and roots pushed forth like an ancient tentacled creature forcing slow entry, but other than that, the outside world remained outside.
Finally, the corridor opened into a space with multiple workstations. Old screens of antique computer consoles. It reminded Munira of the secret room beneath the Library of Congress where they had found the map that led them here. That place had been cluttered, but this one was left in perfect order. Chairs were pushed against desks, as if by a cleaning crew. A coffee mug from a place that bore the name of a Herman Melville character sat beside a workstation, as if waiting for someone to fill it. This place had not been abandoned in a hurry. In fact, it hadn’t been abandoned at all – it had been prepared.
And Munira couldn’t shake the uncanny feeling that whoever had left it this way over two hundred years ago knew they were coming.
An open response to His Excellency, High Blade Tenkamenin of SubSahara
I categorically refuse to honor your unethical and offensive restriction on MidMerican scythes. I will not now, nor ever, acknowledge the right of any High Blade to banish my scythes from any region.
As I’m sure your own parliamentarian will tell you, scythes have free reign to travel the world over, and can glean whomever they see fit, whenever, and wherever they see fit to do it.
Therefore, any restriction placed has no validity, and any region that joins SubSahara in this wretched endeavor shall see an influx of MidMerican scythes, if only to make my point. Be warned that any action taken against my scythes in your region will be responded to in kind, and swiftly.
Respectfully,
Honorable Robert Goddard, High Blade of MidMerica
4
Objects of Great Value
The first week of the Endura salvage had been all about mapping the wreckage and the expansive debris field.
“Here’s what we know,” Captain Soberanis told Scythe Possuelo, bringing up a holographic display. “The Island of the Enduring Heart sank right along the ridge of a subsea mountain range. It hit a peak on the way down, and split into three sections.” Jerico rotated the image. “Two segments came to rest on this plateau east of the ridge; the third dropped into a trench on the western side. And it’s all within a debris field that spans twenty-five nautical miles.”
“How long until we start bringing things up?” Possuelo asked.
“It’s a lot to explore and catalogue,” Jerico told him. “Maybe a month until we can begin. But a proper salvage is going to take years. Decades, even.”
Possuelo examined the image of the wreckage, perhaps studying what was left of the skyline, looking for familiar landmarks. Then he took it upon himself to rotate the map, and pointed to the section way down in the trench. “The map looks incomplete here. Why?”
“The depth. The treacherous terrain is making it difficult to map – but that can come later. We can begin with the debris field, and the sections that came to rest on the plateau.”
Possuelo waved his hand as if swatting at a gnat. “No. I’m more interested in this section in the trench.”
Jerico took a moment to study the scythe. The man had been affable and forthcoming thus far; perhaps there was enough trust between them now to gain some information Possuelo might not be willing to share with others.
“If there’s something specific you’re looking for, it would help if I knew.”
Possuelo took a moment before he answered. “The Amazonian scythedom is interested in the recovery of priceless artifacts. Those artifacts can be found in the ruins of the Museum of the Scythedom.”
“The enduring heart?” asked Jerico. “I’m sure the heart itself is long dead, and devoured.”
“It was in a protective case,” Possuelo told him. “Whatever remains of it should be preserved in a museum.” Then he added, “And there were other items.”
When it was clear that Possuelo was not going to reveal any more, Jerico said, “Understood. I’ll instruct the other crews that they can salvage the sections of the city on the higher plateau. But my team, and my team alone, will take on the wreckage in the trench.”
Possuelo relaxed a little bit. He took a moment to look at Jerico with what was either curiosity or admiration, or a little bit of both. “How old are you, really, Jeri?” he asked. “Your crew tells me you turned a corner before assuming command, which would put you at about twice your physical age … but you seem older. Wiser.