by Garry Spoor
In spite of her lack of knowledge about politics and power players, she was surprised she was able to identify so many of them. Colonel Barshed arrived alongside Master Folkstaff and, much to her surprise, Master Bororo. She had hoped to live out the rest of her life without seeing that man again. She was also able to spot Lord Bollen of Callor and Lord Warren of Denal. She had never met Lord Warren personally, but she had seen him during a few of her trips to the city, back when she was still delivering mail. Lord Kestler of Azintar sat on the far side of the room. The only reason she knew him, was because Lord Bollen called out his name upon his arrival. Of the other people present, she recognized a few, but really couldn’t bother trying to put names to faces. Like the two lords who were practically in Lord Bollen’s back pocket. Didn’t they have anything better to do than follow his Lordship around?
“What do you think Vesper?” She asked the yarrow sitting on her shoulder. “You think they’ll get anything resolved today?”
-Don’t know. Don’t care. Hungry-
Vesper had a way of saying, hungry, that made her feel as if she hadn’t eaten for a week.
“When aren’t you?” she laughed. “Let’s just wait until they get settled in and start yammering away before we go raid the kitchen.”
She really wasn’t sure what the purpose of the Council was. Roland did try to explain what they hoped to accomplish, but most of it just seemed like common sense. For starters, there were the distributions of food and supplies to the hardest hit areas, as well as patrols into the wastelands. They also wanted to reestablish a treaty with the Rojan and to organize a trade deal with the Balaa Empire. The way Kile figured, there really wasn’t anything to discuss, they just had to do what needed to be done. Roland then went on to tell her it wasn’t that simple and they had to work out deals with the guilds, taxes as well land compensations and farming subsidies and a whole lot of other words that she couldn’t understand.
The council had just gotten around to food distribution and was arguing over which province would provide which province with food and what each province was going to get in return. Let them talk about food, she thought. She was going to go find some in the kitchen. Pushing herself away from the rail, she was heading to the door when she heard whispering. She stopped and looked into the corner of the room where the shadows were the thickest. She almost expected to see the pale man with the haunted look staring back at her, but there was nothing there. Did she hear it, or was it her over-active imagination?
Noise from the floor caught her attention and she moved back to the rail. The council had ceased their talk of food and their attention was now drawn to the front of the room. Kile tried to see what they were looking at but, from her vantage point, it was difficult. She didn’t have to wait for long, though. Three robed figured entered the great hall and approached the King at the head table. She may have only seen them for a brief, although memorably, moment back in Forthbar, but she easily recognized the Alva ambassadors.
What were they doing here?
There were no shadows following them this time, or at least none she could see. Were there ever shadows? Did she imagine them before? They tried to tell her it was fatigue, but they seemed so real. The Alva appeared quite normal now, or as normal as Alva could appear in a room of full of vir. Kile watched as all three of them stopped before the King’s table.
One of them stepped forward and drew back his hood. She couldn’t see his face since his back was to her, but his hands were thin and delicate and his hair was long and blonde. He retrieved something from the Alva standing on his left side, and presented it to Roland. One of the King’s advisors, an older man by the name of Colin Piarais, stepped forward to accept the gift.
It appeared to be a small wooden chest or possibly even a coffer. There was writing on it, but it was much too far away for Kile to read it. Colin placed it before Roland, who thanked the Alva before opening it. He pulled out some golden object which almost appeared to radiate its own light, but she figured it had more to do with the flicking fires than any real magic.
“Quite impressive, isn’t it?”
Kile jumped back from the railing and spun around.
A man in long dark green robes threw his hands up in defense and quickly took a step back.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said.
“Who are you?” She asked.
The robes were kind of a giveaway, he had to be a mystic, and from the smell of him, a powerful one at that. It wasn’t that he reeked of anything unusual, but she was getting better at smelling magic, although she usually kept it to herself. If she had to guess, she would say he was influenced by several spheres, but mainly earth, and possibly water. Either that, or he usually smelled like mud. He wasn’t bad looking for a mystic, rather young with short brown hair, which was neatly trimmed and a clean shaven face. It gave him a boyish look, all but his eyes. Mystic’s eyes never seemed to go with their faces. They either looked too old, or too young. For this man, his eyes looked far too old.
“My name is Elmac Okalis,” he said, slowly lowering his hands. “And you are Kile Veller, are you not?”
“Yes, but how did you…”
“Know your name. I assure you, it was not by any mystic arts, if that’s what you were wondering. One of my… elders… told me to find you. They described you quite accurately.”
“Morgan?”
“No, not Morgan, he’s not an elder. It was Mystic Lon herself.”
“Mystic Lon?”
It took Kile a moment to realize who Elmac was referring to, she had never heard that title used to describe the girl before, not even by Alex. “You mean Emara?”
“Yes, Emara Lon.”
“Emara’s an elder?”
The young mystic laughed.
“I can see where that would be confusing,” he replied. “Elders aren’t necessarily old, at least not in the Tower, not anymore anyway. They used to be, but that was before the twenty first Grand Magus, Mystic Uberan Endel decreed that age had little to do with wisdom. He set about defining the twenty six traits of becoming a mystic elder which he wrote down in the Tomes of Errendel which is still…” Elmac stopped and looked a little embarrassed. “I’m sorry, you really don’t want to hear about mystic history, do you?”
“Not really?” Kile replied sheepishly.
“I don’t blame you, to tell you the truth, I always found it quite boring. But, they forced you to learn it anyway.”
“So, why did Emara tell you to find me?”
“Oh, sorry, I almost forgot,” Elmac said, searching through his robes. “I was supposed to find you and give you… this,” he shouted, producing a rolled up document. He handed it to Kile.
“Thank you, I think,” she said, taking it carefully.
Never casually accept anything found in a mystic’s robe.
“I assure you, it won’t explode,” the mystic grinned. “It’s a pass. You’ll need it if you want to stay at the Tower.”
“Stay at the Tower?”
“Well, yes. As far as I know, Morgan has put in a request to the elder council for you to stay there for an undetermined length of time. Usually non-mystics aren’t allowed in the Tower for more than a day, although, certain exceptions have been made. There was a time, under the fourteenth Grand Magus, Mystic Voyrin Malan, where six men stayed for over a year but you really don’t care about that, so I’ll just shut up now,” Elmac said, shaking his head.
“Well, at least you know your history.”
“A little too well, I’m afraid,” he replied. “Anyway, Morgan got his clearance and, since I was on my way here, Mystic Lon asked if I would deliver the pass to you personally and to inform you that she is eager for your arrival. She says she is going to take a personal interest in your problem.”
“My problem?”
Great. How many more people knew she was losing her mind?
“Don’t worry,” he said with a waving gesture of his hand. “That’s not my d
epartment, I don’t know anything about it.”
Well, at least that was something, Kile thought.
“So, why were you coming here in the first placed? If I may ask.”
“Research.” He said, leaning on the rail. “It’s what all mystics do. That and experiment. If we can’t learn from someone else’s mistakes, we just have to make our own.”
“And what exactly are you researching?” she asked.
“Them.” Elmac said, pointing to the three robed figured sitting at one of the tables. “Arbane, Galan, and Darfin.”
Kile joined him at the rail. “You’re researching the Alva.”
“Trying to, but we don’t have much to go on. They want to help us end the war, rid the realm of the Uhyre and bring back the wastelands. It sounds too good to be true, I know, but so far, everything checks out.”
“And they think this artifact can do all that?” she asked.
“Ah, so you’ve heard of this miracle of miracles.”
“Rol… I mean, the King might have mentioned it, during one of our meetings.”
“Yes, they believe this ancient artifact can heal all our wounds and set the world right again.”
“And I take it, you don’t believe.”
“I’ve been a mystic for nearly fifteen years, I’ve seen a lot of strange things, but what they’re suggesting, it’s just not possible. Personally, I think it’s a last-ditch effort of a dying race trying to save itself.”
“So, that wasn’t the artifact they gave Roland.”
“That? No. That is, supposedly, a key, or a map, or a compass, or a something which is supposed to lead us to the artifact. No, we have no idea where this thing is, what it is or how to use it.”
“And that’s what you’re researching.”
“Exactly.”
“So, what did destroy the wastelands?”
“Who knows?” Elmac shrugged. “It could have been just about anything. A natural disaster, a drought, a disease, blight, deforestation, termites, forest fires. As far as I know, it could have always been a desert.”
“But what about the stories of the Alva experimenting with wild mystic energy, or the stories of the vir…”
“Using mystics to destroy the Alva? Yeah, I’ve heard those tales as well. The problem is, it’s just not possible. The amount of energy would be too great. Even the Mystic arts have their limitations. Even if you were able to get all the mystics from all the provinces together, and train them to use the same skill at the same time on the same target, the effects would be devastating, but it wouldn’t create something as vast as the wastelands. Personally, I don’t think there ever was a great forest there to begin with.”
“You think they’re lying.”
“I am a born skeptic, I’m afraid. I think everyone’s lying until they can prove otherwise.”
“But why? Why lie about something like that? What can they possibly gain?” she asked.
“That’s the big questions, isn’t it? What is their endgame?” He asked, looking down at the Alva. “I suppose it’s possible they don’t even realize they’re lying.”
“How would they not know?”
“Think about it. If someone told you a story, every day of your life when you were little, you might believe it was true when you grew up. It’s quite possible they’ve been led to believe that this mystical artifact is their panacea.”
“Their what?”
“Their cure-all, the solution to all their problems.”
“I guess we all believed in fairy tales at one time or another.”
“Sad, but true.” Elmac said, stepping away from the rail. “Hopefully we can separate the truth from the lie, before things go too far.”
“And that’s where the research comes in,” Kile added.
“And that’s where the research comes in,” he grinned. “Windfoil is said to have quite an old library within its walls. I can’t wait to get my hands on some of those rare books. Now, if I’m not mistaken, you were on your way to the kitchen to feed your yarrow, correct?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I was,” she replied. “It’s nice to meet someone who knows the difference between a yarrow and a rat.”
“It all comes down to the research,” he grinned. “So, I won’t take up any more of your time. I’m sure we’ll meet again,” he said, extending his hand.
“I’m sure.” She said, accepting it.
Elmac pulled his dark green robes about him and left as silently as he came. She watched him go, and with all his talk, he did little to alleviate her suspicions of the Alva. If anything, he only added to them.
Leaving the balcony, she took the stairs to the left and cut across the servant’s hall. It was the roundabout way to the kitchen, but it kept her away from prying eyes, although most of those eyes were focused on the great hall at the moment. She had learned the layout of the old castle and could move from one end to the other without being seen, if you don’t count the rats. But then, the rats were the ones who taught her the layout in the first place. There wasn’t a corner or a corridor they didn’t know about. She entered the kitchen through the back door and found the place in chaos. The cooking staff was pulling out all the stops for the evening meal. She kept to one side, so as not to get run over, and made her way to the back storage room. There she filled her pockets with apples, carrots and potatoes before sneaking back out. She did pause for a moment to look at the old refuse grate and wondered if the hole at the bottom of the well was still accessible, and if there was an old fox still using it.
She left the kitchen through the side door, which exited out into the courtyard and headed toward the stables. The two stablehands on duty acknowledged her when she entered. She had become a regular visitor to the place. She made her way through the building, and although the place was now packed with new faces, Grim was still isolated in the back of the stables.
“I see you’re being anti-social again,” she called when she spotted him.
-As if I would mingle with their type.-
Grim replied.
“It won’t be much longer now,” She said, climbing up the gate and sitting on the rail. “We’ll be leaving soon.”
-Growing tired of the place are we? Or are we growing tired of the people in it?-
“Don’t start, or I won’t give you the apples I brought you.”
She pulled an apple out of her pocket and held up it for Grim. The pony took it in one bite and casually munched on it.
-So, when are we leaving?-
He asked.
“Soon,” she said as she started to cut up one of the potatoes. She handed a slice to Vesper and set the rest on the dividing wall before taking a bite of her carrot. “Maybe even tonight.”
-That is soon. What does your King have to say about that?-
“I haven’t told him yet, okay. But he knows I have to leave.”
-Are you even going to say goodbye?-
It would be so easy to leave right now. There really wasn’t anything stopping her. She could go back to her room, collect her stuff and be on the road within an hour. She could be halfway to Littenbeck before their little meeting broke up. Just run away and leave all those unasked questions behind her, because she knew it was only a matter of time before he asked them. Then what? She didn’t have the answers, or at least not the answers he wanted to hear. Did she really want to stay? Did she really want to stay with him? Why wouldn’t she? He was smart, caring, funny, good looking. But was that enough? He was also the King, which brought up the question, why her? What did he see in her? Kile touched the pass in her pocket. She had a destination now. There wasn’t anything stopping her. So why wasn’t she gone already? Could it be, she actually…
“I see you found that damned beast, or did it find you?”
“Tullner.” She shouted upon seeing the young soldier when he limped into the stables. She jumped off the gate as he approached. “What happen? Are you hurt?”
“Why don’t you ask that thing?” he
said, pointing at Grim. “He’s been a menace from the moment we set out. I told you it wasn’t a good idea.”
The mountain pony laughed.
“What happened?” Kile asked.
“Well, besides not giving me a moment’s rest, I mean, three minutes is hardly enough time to stretch my legs, let alone relieve myself. I barely get off the dammed beast before he’s on his way again, and that’s not the half of it. He kept taking shortcuts through every field and steam, which wouldn’t have been so bad if he hadn’t been aiming for the low branches. I swear we must have hit every low branch from the wastelands to Forthbar. And then, when we finally reach the barracks, mind you, this is after he tried to take my head off with every hanging store sign along main street, he throws me into the guard shack and walks away.”
“He what?”
“Yeah. We approach the barrack gates and, before I could even think of getting off, one buck and zoom,” Tullner said with a fling of his arm. “I’m flying, right into the guard shack. And that’s not one of those cheap guard shacks either; the freaking thing is made of stone. I bounce off it, land in one of the shrubs, the guards are having a good laugh and he goes walking off.”
“I am so sorry,” Kile apologized. “Grim, how could you?” she asked, turning to the mountain pony.
-Oh please, don’t give me that. You have to admit, it was kind of funny-
Grim replied and within his words she saw Tullner flying through the air and bouncing off a stone guard shack. She hated to admit it, but it was kind of funny. She managed to refrain from laughing when she turned back to the young man.
“I am so sorry,” she apologized again.
“Yeah, well… just keep that… that beast away from me. I told you he never liked me.”
“Well… I’m glad you’re all right, otherwise,” she said. “I’m guessing you got the message to Colonel Barshed.”
“Oh yeah, he got the message. He dispatched one of the Hunters, although it appears you arrived long before I did.”