“My pedagogue disagrees,” Farilane said. “He is willing to accept the official imperial dogma just the way it is, all whitewashed and tidy with no inconvenient questions like: If Persephone insisted on having the capital built on the site of her childhood home, and Nyphron obliged her out of his intense love, why was Percepliquis built on the wrong side of the Urum and Bern rivers, since every known record describes Dahl Rhen as being just south of the ruins of Alon Rhist, placing it in western Rhulynia?”

“A mapping error,” Virgil said.

“Not likely. Percepliquis is located in the Imperial Province of Rhenydd, which is clearly elvish for New Rhen. Can’t have a new Rhen without an old Rhen, right? And do you honestly think Nyphron betrayed his own people—led a war against them—for the love of a woman whom he’d just met?”

“As you already mentioned, there are many who believe Nyphron wasn’t an elf at all, and his real name was Novron. To some, he was purely human, or even a god, depending on who you talk to.”

Farilane’s brows rose. “Oh my! So the cultists have gotten to you.”

Virgil smiled, and a glint of mischief was in his eyes. “I thought you knew the meaning of fun.”

“Ha ha.” The princess pretended to laugh and added three slow claps of make-believe applause. “Isn’t it about time you stowed that sense of humor back in your pack?”

“So I still don’t understand,” Kolby said. “What did the monks call their god?”

“That’s easy.” Farilane bent down, and placing her face close to the floor, she blew what remained of the dirt and dust away from the markings.

BUT BY THE NAME OF GOD WILL YOU ENTER HERE

A quick check proved all the necessary letters were present. Placing her thumb on the “M” in the word name, she pressed. The stone on which the letter was engraved dropped slightly into the floor. Then she moved to the “A” and did the same.

“They’re levers of some sort,” Kolby said, then looked around for the effects of her actions, but nothing had changed.

“Fifteen hundred years ago or so,” Virgil began in his lecturer’s voice, “the early monks enjoyed a friendly relationship with the Belgric Kingdom. Those dwarfs likely showed them all manner of insidious mechanisms.”

Farilane depressed the first “R,” then the “I,” then the first “B.”

“I can’t read,” Cedric admitted as he studied Farilane’s movements. “What is the name she is using?”

“The monks believe the god of humankind is named Maribor,” Farilane said, as she finished by depressing “O” in of and the second “R.” “Maribor, Ferrol, and Drome—the three sons of Erebus, father of the gods.”

An instant later, they felt the ground shake—not really a tremor, more of a short-lived jarring as if a massive hammer had hit the floor. Nothing else happened.