Surprised, Garindor regarded him more closely. “I was not always a good man in Drycht, my dear,” he said, his voice kind and honest. “I can only profess to be better now than I once was. Had you been born in Adra-al or Rasha you would not have had an easy time, but I am glad Kion thinks differently. You are very beautiful, either way.”

Likh blushed. “Th-thank you.”

I continued with purpose, “We’ve found a book in the Isteran library contradicting what we know of Blade that Soars’ and Dancing Wind’s origin.”

“Was that your concern?” Garindor chuckled. “Few people know of it. The original is not quite as compelling and romantic as the famous one penned by Vernasha.”

“You mean it’s true?” Kalen asked. “That’s the oldest incarnation of the legend?”

Garindor nodded. “The volume in the Isteran library has no known author, but we believe it was written by Rashnu the Just himself.”

“Rashnu of the Five Great Heroes?” Rahim exclaimed.

“Rashnu was the budding historian of the five and served as their chronicler. Samples of his writing exist in other works, and they were easy enough to compare to determine authenticity.”

“But why would Vernasha write a different version?” Khalad asked.

“It is difficult to understand someone’s motivations with so little of their text available.” Garindor spread his hands. “We have even less of Vernasha’s writings than we do of Rashnu’s. She only kept one diary, and it was not a personal journal. It dealt with the problems of founding a city. She may have intended to use the legend as the basis for the darashi oyun and knew that her version would make for a more interesting performance.”

“The original version mentions a First Harvest,” Kalen said. “What does that mean?”

“That too is a question every scholar would dearly like to know. Rashnu was Drychta—an enlightened man who would have railed at the behavior of his descendants today, I might add—and his writings were in his mother tongue. Old Drychta was hieroglyphic, and this ‘First Harvest’ is in a similar syntax as one might write ‘runeberries.’ From context, this ‘First Harvest’ is the only plant of its kind, immortal until plucked.”

Tucking the cigar between his teeth, Garindor selected a book from one of his shelves. “Rashnu refers to the First Harvest in one other document. Here: I have seen those strange blooms with my own eyes. Its name does not accord with its appearance. I have seen lovelier roses flowered, seen taller, prouder sycamore trees. But when brave Ashi reached for the sapling in curiosity, I felt its magic flow through the air, cracking like a whip. We were not worthy.

“‘It is not ours to take!’ I screamed, but too late. For an instant, I saw the tree, a Sacred Tree, beckoning me into light. Then it blinded me, sent me to my knees, threw me through the air.