She picked up another collection of pages, looking for translator's notes on the text's internal chronology. But even strange dates mentioned were noted as vague or approximate and without correlation. In most cases a time reference wasn't present at all, leaving only a guess concerning the chronology of how one text might fit among the others.
Wynn rubbed her eyes. The elven calendar, based on the seasons, each divided into named thirds, had been taken on 483 years ago, when King Hräthgar had first united territorial clans in the beginnings of Malourné. From that time forward was now known as the Common Era. But how many years, centuries, or more came before that, since the lost time of the Forgotten History? No one knew, not even the elves, the Lhoin'na… supposedly.
Any dates mentioned by the ancient authors of these texts would be of little use. There was no point of reference to compare a long-lost calendar system used at that time with the one now part of life in the Numan Lands.
Domin Tilswith, Wynn's old master, believed the war had taken place well over a thousand years ago. No one was certain of this, even among the guild, and the large gap in time made determination of long-past events unverifiable.
And Wynn realized part of why the guild was being so secretive.
Without proof, including time frame, these writings could be dismissed as speculation or a mere collection of accounts from differing periods as well as places. And not from the same war that had devastated the known world.
Varied ideologies and religions, including the major four of the Numan Lands, believed the war never took place. Or if it had, that it wasn't nearly as far-reaching as the catastrophe suggested by the guild. Wynn knew the royal family would take great pains to avoid anything that might cause unrest or discord—or open outrage and conflict. Even if solid proof were established, what could be more threatening than having one's beliefs shown to be in error?
If anyone learned what Wynn believed—what Most Aged Father believed—that the Enemy was returning, even those convinced of the war's magnitude might turn on those who didn't, and in more than just heated disagreement. Fear would spread, and those who clung to unfounded beliefs or even incorrectly reasoned conclusions would in turn look upon others as the carriers of an incurable disease.
Wynn quieted her wandering thoughts. Was this what the undead killer searched for—proof that the enemy was returning? But to what end? She put aside any conclusions. At least now she understood part of High-Tower's and Sykion's fears—as well as il'Sänke's warning.
She began trying to determine which pages or volumes listed in the codex weren't present—the ones stolen by the black figure. She scanned section after section of the codex, taking notes on the breadth of the project. She turned to organizing and checking off volumes and pages of completed work, searching for what was missing.
Within the catacombs, without a window or the sound of city bells, she had no idea how long the task took—but long enough that the twin columns on the pages began to blur before her eyes. She took a pause before continuing.
Of course, she couldn't guess what was in those missing folios, but she could look at adjacent pages and sections that she did find. Perhaps therein was a clue to what the black figure had sought and stolen. She returned to inspecting more pages—and she found a gap.
There were pages listed in the codex as worked upon that weren't in the loose stack in her hands. She flipped back to the last present page before the gap.
She came upon something that made her cold inside.
The page was covered in dots, much of the original being unreadable, though the words could be counted. There were also blanks in the right column for equivalent parts in the left one, indicating a section of text that had so far defied translation. From what Wynn could tell, the original had been written in one or more lost dialects of Sumanese. Of what had been translated, one term appeared a number of times.
What children? Whose children? And why the emphasis, as if it were a title? Baffled, she scanned the three pages that followed what was missing and then stopped. Her eyes fixed on another strange phrase within an incomplete sentence.
Wynn shifted to the left column of original text rendered in Begaine symbols.
At first it didn't seem like the same phrase, but she was reading ancient Sumanese. She'd heard one of the Ancient Enemy's names spoken in more current Sumanese, as repeated by Magiere and Chap, and its translation had been the same:
