The Pilgrim Stone

by J D Bowens

  “They are the only elven house to worship Arden still. They live in the Valenforn, just south of Alsalanc River. They kept many ancient tomes and manuscripts. But out of all their house, only one person is gifted. She became my Master and taught me everything I know.”

  “I don’t know how I would have ever learned to control this magic if you had not taught me,” he said. “Who taught her?”

  Leiwyn shrugged. “I don’t know. She is so old; I assume she was there when the gods left. She taught me to focus and to be calm during spellcasting. If one is going to wield Arden’s power, one must be calm.”

  “Otherwise the divina magic does not work,” he guessed.

  “Not necessarily. You may be able to spellcast but, from what I have read, there is a danger in doing so without emotional clarity. The magic can consume the spellcaster and cause great harm to others. Most manuscripts have been vague about the consequences.”

  Consus shuddered at the thought of magic consuming him. “What is the third major difference? Between mages and Children of the gods, I mean.”

  “Oh, that’s right,” she said. “Arcana does not allow for alterations or transformation spells on a person’s body.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Well, we can cast spells on ourselves or others to enhance strength or speed or to heal such as I did for you. Some of the old books mention those who would turn into animals.”

  “Really? Have you done that yet?”

  “No,” she said as she reclined against the wall. “I have yet to do so.” Consus could see that she was tired and he also felt weary. They rested in silence for a while longer, regained their strength, and continued down the hall.

  Chapter 31

  The ivy glistened with dew in the morning light as it clung to the rose granite of the library walls. Inside, the sunbeams streamed through the tall windows and illuminated the first floor of the building. Bookcases lined the walls and filled the room with row upon row of them. All wall space - and much of the floor – was covered in books. Even the supporting columns that held up the second story of the library also held sporadically placed shelves.

  At Valderma’s suggestion, Altin had spent almost two weeks interviewing Margaret’s current and former students. None had witnessed any suspicious behavior prior to her death nor did they know of anyone who harbored any ill-intent towards her. The interviews were fruitless, and none had any of the purple threads the Tracer Spell.

  Altin stepped over a couple of dogs, bellies up and snoring in the sunlight, and approached a desk buried in books. “Master Librarian?” he asked. No one answered. He rang a tiny bell on the desk meant to call for assistance.

  A halfling wearing thick glasses popped up from behind the desk. “What do you want? Can’t you see I’m busy?” He waved a collection of catalog cards at him, his face red with anger.

  “My apologies,” he replied. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been to the library. I needed to find a few books is all.”

  The halfling’s anger was replaced with embarrassment. “Oh, I thought you were another professor. They have been pestering me nonstop. It’s the damn printing machine we have now. Since we built, the blazing mechanism professors have been printing up a storm. They all think they’re authors and their books are worthy of the library’s attention. The major influx of publications now requires that we reorganize everything.” He rubbed his temples with tiny weary hands. “I’m just so tired.”

  “I can understand why,” Altin said. “Reorganizing this library is not for the light-hearted librarian. They are truly fortunate to have you here.” He was not familiar with this halfling, but Altin knew from experience how susceptible they were to false adulation.

  “Yes, they are.” The halfling ate up the obvious flattery. “On top of all this, I’ve also been retrieving the appropriate literature for student projects and the like. Oh, and the whining from the library assistants. They have me running ragged.”

  “They should be grateful that you are here to lead them through this hard time,” he said. “Only someone with a mastery of cataloging and sorting could keep this place in order.”

  “Thank you, so much.” The halfling beamed and twirled his mustache. “It’s so nice for someone to notice how much work I’ve been doing.”

  “Well, I hate to be a burden to you,” he began, “but I have a task that perhaps is best suited for only a master librarian. But I suppose I could see an assistant if you are too busy --”

  “Bother! Tell me the task.” He poked his thick glasses up the bridge of his nose.

  “I’m looking for a collection of ancient texts and obscure manuscripts.” Altin produced a list from his pocket and handed it to the halfling.

  “Well, what in the cosmos are you studying?” he asked as he perused Altin’s list. “It will take me a few hours to find all of these books, but I know for a fact that we have them. Except for this one: Ergin’s Between Divina and Arcana. That book is already checked out by Dean Psarikt.”

  “The Dean of Enchantment?” he asked. “What is he doing studying with that old tome?”

  “Oh, some hogwash on animal enchantment.”

  “Is he expected to return it soon?” Altin asked.

  “Bah, he was supposed to return it a week ago. He’s a forgetful mind. You’re better off getting it from him. He should be in Manaan Hall but be careful; it’s Malzin Day. There’s no telling what mess you could be walking into.” The Master Librarian disappeared to collect the rest of the books as Altin settled himself at a table.

  --------

  Altin went to Manaan Hall after finishing his studies. He had collected all that he needed from the several books and scrolls that the Master Librarian had gathered. However, he needed the last book to be certain of his theory. Ergin’s Between the Divina and Arcana was the only book he knew of that talked about animal enchantment.

  The wards on the Vault protect against living persons. They may not protect against animals though.

  As Altin entered Manaan Hall, he lifted his hat and opened his True Eye. With so many of the spellcasters in the city gathered in one place, there was a great possibility that he might see a trail from Margaret’s Tracer spell.

  He cast a spell to make his True Eye appear closed to those around him. People did not react well when they knew someone was observing them with a True Eye. The last thing he wanted to do was stir up an atmosphere of paranoia and suspicion.

  Malzin Day was the first day of autumn and was always a fascinating time of year. Students from each of the schools of arcana displayed their projects. Each project was judged by the committee of deans. Overnight, the interior of Manaan Hall was transformed into a bizarre spectacle of magical talent.

  It was not uncommon for representatives of nearby kingdoms and realms to visit Anidrack to see how they could apply – and purchase – some of the talent displayed. The School of Alteration was located on the first floor of the school. Several rooms contained either floating stones or piles of dirt or both. Frequent “popping” sounded through the charged air.

  “What is that noise?” Altin asked a passing student.

  “It is a side-effect of the levitation spell,” she said. “If you apply too much force to the stones they crumble – or explode.”

  In the center of the hall was a rotunda that was open to all four of the floors above it. A large boulder, several paces wide, floated in the center. He went to the second floor to get a better look. A scale model of Anidrack, with all its buildings and walls, sat atop it. Dean Eldermann of the School of Alteration stood beside him. He was a short, middle-aged gnome - no taller than a halfling. He stroked his dark mustache as he observed the small floating city. Altin congratulated Eldermann on his students’ achievement and asked him about their research and spellcasting process.

  All the while Altin searched the Dean and his students for the Tracer Spell. They did not see his True Eye, and he did not see any trace of the spell, not even a purple thre
ad.

  The air became cold as Altin climbed the stairs to the next floor. Frost sat on the railings, like rust upon steel. Small patches of ice covered the top of the staircase. Along the hallway, most of the windows had been frozen shut, and heaps of snow littered the base of the walls. Many students walked warily down the corridor in thick winter garb.

  Still, there’s no sign of Margaret’s spell.

  He recognized Dean Ganbe, a short, rotund older woman, skating on a patch of ice with a silly grin.

  “Localized weather control,” one student explained. “With our spellcasting technique - and under a controlled environment - we are able to alter weather patterns. One can experience the frosty winters of the Northern Kingdom in the Southern Empire.”

  Altin slipped away from the people as the students explained their work in depth to Dean Ganbe and the foreign representatives of the Southern Empire.

  From the corner of Altin’s eye, a rat scurried through the snow. A shimmering purple thread of magic twirled about its tail. The glow was weaker in appearance than Altin had expected. The thread must have rubbed off from the original source. Margaret’s killer must have handled the rat.

  He followed but kept his distance. The rodent headed toward the west end of the building. The further Altin walked, the warmer the hallway became until there was no longer any ice. As he turned the corner of the wide corridor, the rat squeezed itself into a small hole in the wall. Altin realized that he had wandered into the School of Enchantment.

  This is where Dean Psarikt’s office is. Is the murderer a student here? Or perhaps the Dean?

  Altin walked into the first room along the corridor and found a handful of students waving brooms at the ceiling. He looked up to see twenty cats walking upside down on the ceiling ignoring the students and their brooms. A myriad of questions ran through Altin’s mind, but he knew better than to ask. Besides, none of them had been touched by the tracer spell. He walked further down the wide corridor to Dean Parsikt’s office.

  A voice yelled from inside the office, “Shoo, come down from there!”

  Dean Psarikt was an elderly balding man. He was tall with brown skin, and his pot belly jiggled as he waved to a brown spotted cat on the ceiling. The cat did not move but was content to lick its paws. A large friendly hound at the dean’s side looked up at the inverted feline and wagged its tail in amusement. An occasional bark evoked no reaction from the cat.

  Altin checked the spell hiding his True Eye before entering. “I can return at a more convenient hour,” he said from the doorway.

  “What? Oh, Altin. Hello,” Psarikt said. “No, now is just as good a time as any.” The dean waved him into his office. A countertop on the far side of the room appeared like a garden with its collection of moss, bark, mushrooms, branches, mud, and various unidentifiable plant life. The window above it filtered in sunlight which made the odd table glow. The remaining half of the office was filled with books – some that Altin presumed had never returned from the library – and empty inkwells. Psarikt leaned the broom against a table decorated with scraps of paper and undecipherable notes. “How are you? How can I help you?”

  “The library said that you might have a book I am looking for, Between Divina and Arcana?,” Altin said. He held his breath as he shook hands with the Dean. Shimmering purple threads of the tracer spell were twined about his fingertips. It was still weak and dim but stronger than the rat. His mind began to race. Psarikt is the murderer? But why? What does he gain? He’s not stupid enough to try to break the wards of the Deep Vault. Stay calm. There’s more to this. He took a deep breath before speaking. “What have your students been working on here?”

  “Ah, yes the cats,” the dean said. “Well, they have been investigating animals as an effective carrier for spells. For example, could we place a light spell on a bird so that it lights up the sky at night.”

  “That is quite creative,” Altin said.

  “Yes, I have been teaching them how to do so without harming the animals. My aide, Dandrea, believed we could find a similar spell in some ancient literature. We had some success as we were able to enchant the rats. The students were able to get the rats to walk on water. However, when we placed the same enchantment on cats, it has a different effect.” Psarikt waved his hand at the cat on the ceiling. “Now we have rats on the water and cats on the ceilings.” He turned and looked at his hound. “I’m not sure what we will do with you. Shall we teach you to fly?”

  “D-Dandrea Gannon?” Altin stuttered. Psarikt was the dean she had been working for? But that would mean that-

  “Yes, do you know her?” Psarikt asked. Altin could only nod in response. “Oh, well it is a small world. Has she told you of our studies?”

  “No, I have not seen her,” he lied. “I’ve only just returned.” He felt all the pieces of the puzzle click into place as his mind assembled the clues. Yet his heart would not let it be true.

  “She should still have the book. Proved to be quite useful.” He leaned forward and whispered to Altin with a sly smile. “Don’t tell the library, but I borrowed it on her behalf.”

  “I promise I won’t inform the library of your lending infraction,” Altin said. He tried to smile at their shared disdain for bureaucracy, but he did not have it in him. “I suppose I should go bother her for the book then. Good luck with your cat.”

  Chapter 32

  Altin left Manaan Hall puzzled. Animal enchantment was a great part of his theory on how the perpetrators circumvented the wards on the Deep Vault. Why else would Dandrea be looking for similar information?

  Could it be a coincidence? In a magical city, there is plenty of room for coincidence. Or it could be--

  No, he refused to think that. He banished the thought from his mind. What reason would Dandrea have to do such a thing? How would he broach the topic with her?

  Altin made his way quickly to her home. He tugged at his tunic and took several deep breaths. He placed his hat on his head but then removed it. He needed to keep his True Eye open. He needed to know the truth. He checked the spell on it once more and hoped Dandrea wouldn’t notice.

  Dandrea answered the door when he knocked, a rat on her shoulder. “Hello again,” she said. “I am so blessed to have you visit me twice and such a short interlude.”

  Altin laughed at the sarcastic remark. He relaxed when he saw no spell on the rat. “Well, I thought perhaps we could have lunch instead of breakfast. I’ve never really been one to eat in the mornings.”

  “Would you care to join me for tea?” She invited him in, and the rat on her shoulder climbed down and darted off towards her living room. The large orange tabby ignored it as it passed by.

  Altin sat down at the table and accepted the cup Dandrea handed him. She peeled off her gloves and poured tea from the small pot. She poured some for herself and then sat down just across from him.

  He struggled to maintain his composure. Bright purple strands of magic were tangled all over her hands. The gloves were hiding it. Did she know I would see them? Or was it just luck that they were covered?

  “I was just visiting Manaan Hall,” Altin said. “The students are having a great deal of trouble retrieving the cats from the ceiling.”

  Dandrea chuckled at the remark. “I am partly to blame. I’ve been assisting them with their endeavors in enchanting animals.”

  “Yes, Dean Psarikt informed me. How long have you been working with him?”

  “Only for a few years,” she said. “His teachers and students needed someone familiar with arcana enchantment and animals. It went along with some of my personal studies.”

  “What are your personal studies?” he asked as she sipped her tea.

  “Don’t tell anyone, but I have been studying the migration of souls into the Veil.” Dandrea frowned at him as he scoffed. “Do not judge me like that. It is an unexplored area in arcana. It is important to know how our souls are tethered to our bodies.”

  “I am sorry,” Altin said. “I should not be
surprised by your focus on something so dark. The college hates that kind of study. It’s awfully close to necromancy.”

  “It is only dark because men are afraid to know the truth,” she retorted. “And, as long as I don’t murder anyone, raise the dead, or become a vampire, then the school has no issue with my studies.”

  “Promise to tell me when you start hearing voices?” He hoped she thought he was joking. He hoped she would tell him the truth. If she killed Margaret, it could’ve been an accident.

  She rolled her eyes and smiled. “I promise. I have nearly completed my studies though. I have learned all I can from Anidrack. I expect I will leave soon.”

  “You’re leaving?” Altin coughed on his tea. She was running away. Anger mixed with sorrow and created a storm of conflict within his heart. “Where will you go?”

  “I will serve the courts of the Southern Empire. They are more generous in their patronage and not nearly as restrictive.”

  “I thought you liked it here in Anidrack,” he said.

  “I have never felt at home here,” Dandrea tsked at him. “Remember all the times we talked about travelling the continent and exploring the unseen realms? I still want to do that. You should come with me. We always spoke of leaving together.”

  “I cannot do that Dandrea. I am tied to the work here and to my family.”

  She sighed and set down her tea. “We used to be such good friends.”

  “I never stopped being your friend, Dandrea.” He reached across the table to hold her hand. He held it for a moment before she withdrew hers.

  “It was the animals, wasn’t it?”

  Altin shook his head, but a chill ran down his spine. Margaret should have taken those memories from her. She shouldn’t remember them -- unless the necromancer’s madness had returned. If she knew about the animals, then Dandrea remembered what Margaret did to her. That would be motive enough.

  “You were sick, you were not to blame,” Altin said. There was a cold look in her eyes, no hint of remorse. She nodded and turned to her tea. Several silent moments passed before he spoke again. “Psarikt mentioned you had a book I’ve been looking for: Between Divina and Arcana.”