I raised an eyebrow. “Care to explain that?”
“Well, as I mentioned, the Beobona kind of comes and goes as it pleases. The Kroten Yoso Va is supposed to go on the right, but it’s only here during those times when it doesn’t have a Keeper.”
“Wait,” I uttered a little forcefully. “What do you mean by ‘Keeper’?”
“The Kroten Yoso Va is intended to keep Incarnates in check. That being the case, it’s not supposed to be in their possession. Ergo, although it can be given to a Chomarsus for safekeeping, it’s usually entrusted to the care of a virtuous and principled individual who’ll only use it as intended, and when necessary.”
“You mean a normal person.”
“Correct.”
“But if that’s the case, what’s to keep an Incarnate from just taking the Kroten Yoso Va from the Keeper?”
“There are allegedly protections in place — presumably something that will drain the power of an Incarnate who tries to take it from a Keeper by force.”
“Well, could an Incarnate fashion a knock-off of the Kroten Yoso Va — something that would let him steal sivrrut from another Chomarsus just like the real thing?”
Ursula seemed to consider this, then shook her head. “I don’t think so. To make it that powerful, an Incarnate creating it would have to imbue it with so much of their own potency that they’d drain themselves.”
“But what if they had another source of power, to either fuel their knock-off or replenish their own sivrrut?”
She frowned in concentration. “Like what?”
“The Beobona,” I said, gesturing toward the artifact.
Her eyebrows went up. “It can do that?”
Suddenly I wanted to kick myself. I felt like I could trust Ursula, but in my current situation knowledge was power, and I’d basically just given up a key piece of intel.
“Uh, I don’t know,” I mumbled. “I just remembered you saying it was a powerful relic.”
“Hmmm,” she muttered, sounding skeptical. “Well, I’m not sure I can answer that. However, there’s a legend that says if a person brings together all three parts of the Triumvirate, they’ll become, like, a super-Incarnate.”
“Really?” I said, trying not to sound as surprised as I felt.
“Yeah, but it’s unlikely to happen because, according to rumor, these things move through time,” she stated.
I didn’t say anything, but that somewhat jibed with my past experience involving the Beobona. At the very least, it had — at one juncture — seemed to be in two different places at the same time. (In truth, based on the known facts, that was probably the case at present.)
“On top of that,” she added, “the Third is missing.” As she spoke, she motioned toward the metal rod to the left of the Beobona.
“What exactly is the Third?”
“That’s the thing,” she said, sounding exasperated. “No one knows. It’s always been missing, so nobody has a clue what it is, where it is, when it is, or what it looks like.”
I mused on that for a moment, then stated, “Maybe that’s the point.”
“What is?” Ursula asked.
“Maybe whoever created the Triumvirate didn’t want them brought together.”
“Then why create them at all? Why go through the trouble of creating something like the Third — whatever it is — just to hide it in the dark recesses of space and time?”
I shrugged. “I’m guessing that’s something that may only be figured out by the person who brings them together.”
Chapter 28
Ursula really didn’t have any more information to impart, so she bid me adieu and went back to her duties. I, on the other hand, wanting a little time to digest everything I’d learned, eschewed teleporting to my room and decided to walk back.
I had hoped that talking to the laamuffals would clear things up, but it hadn’t been nearly as helpful as I’d thought it would be. More to the point, I didn’t seem to have learned whatever it was the killer was afraid of me finding out. (Unless it was something too subtle for me to pick up on.) That said, I’d found the information Ursula gave me on the relics to be interesting, to say the least.
I was reflecting on all this when I caught movement with my peripheral vision. I was passing through a midsized room at the time, which was decorated with a fresco painted on each of the walls. Turning in the direction of the motion I’d noticed, I found myself staring at a wall that depicted a forest scene: towering trees, thick grass, a babbling brook…
Once again, motion drew my attention, and I was caught off guard by the appearance of a man running through the forest. More specifically, he was running straight toward me.
Oddly enough, it didn’t immediately strike me as bizarre that I was seeing a figure moving in a two-dimensional painting. Aside from being an obvious sign that I was getting far too accustomed to strange occurrences, my only concern was whether or not he was armed. Thankfully, he appeared to be weaponless, but — bearing in mind the recent episode with the statues — I phased and backed up slightly as he stepped from the wall.
He was about my height and perhaps in his late thirties, with hair that appeared somewhat unkempt and a beard that looked a bit scraggly. Likewise, his clothes (which seemed to consist of a pair of khakis and a loose-fitting, long-sleeved shirt) were a bit scruffy as well. Finally, I noted that he was a bit like a ghost in that I could actually see through him.
Almost immediately upon exiting the painting, he began talking to me — imploring, to be honest — and gesturing wildly. On my part, I gave him all due attention, but couldn’t hear anything he was saying. In fact, the only sound I could detect was a curious rumbling that seemed to come from all around us. That said, it was pretty clear that whatever he was trying to convey was important.
Giving up on the verbal path, I reached out for him telepathically and found nothing. It was as
