13th of Chardot, yr. 150 A.V., continued
Among the companions, the feeling in the room was a mixture of hope and fear. Surielle could read it on her friends’ faces. She felt the same – after all of the travels and the dread of pursuit, here was an opportunity for answers and perhaps release from their troubles. It would all depend on what kind of man Kelkarrin was.
Liam had led them into the magically obscured tower, revealing a rather plain and utilitarian structure inside. Surielle had expected talking paintings and animate gargoyles, but they had found the interior to be quite mundane. Liam had scoffed at such questions – wasn’t an invisible tower enough of a wonder?
The group now sat at a table that could seat twelve guests. Another had joined them – a painfully thin man named Nieman. He was introduced as an apprentice to Kelkarrin. It was obvious to Surielle that he held little concern for her group and noticeable contempt for Liam. She found herself wondering about the history of their association.
As Surielle watched, a white ferret with pinkish eyes emerged over Nieman’s left shoulder and glared at her group, its scrutiny matching that of its owner. Snowmelt, who had been sitting quietly behind her, now moved up to the table and sniffed in the ferret’s direction. As she turned to warn off her wolf, a door opened at the far end of the room, revealing a robed man marked by a black and silver beard. He walked with an air of authority – this tower surely belonged to him.
“So, you’ve been searching for me. I truly hope it is for a good reason.”
Surielle and the others were caught off guard by his entrance. Tréan was the first to respond.
“We’ve been tasked with finding you. We find ourselves in great need, and our troubled path has led us here.”
“Who are you?” he asked. Introductions were quickly given around the room. “And who sent you to find me?”
“If I may approach…?” Surielle was already standing. She could feel the amulet growing cold upon her breast. The wizard watched her intently, but did not answer her request. She took a tentative step towards him, then another. As she moved, the cold from the red-and-gold amulet grew in intensity. She hoped the effect was the missive that she had discerned in the woods that day, and not some dangerous magic meant for the wizard. She was five paces away from the wizard now. And then the voice began.
“Tishragh ek ain tendo. Gorest Kelkarrin amn fuut tay credendos quey…”
All eyes were upon Surielle as the amulet recited the dying words of Marus, Gerad’s mentor in Quelsk. The memories of his bloodstained hands grasping her arms and begging this favor returned fresh into her mind. Still she could not understand the language that he dictated to her. Kelkarrin had stepped towards her, his gaze intent upon the amulet. She hoped that he could make sense of the stream of words before they were gone. Within moments, the last of the words had emanated from the amulet. Surielle could begin to feel the cold lessen upon her skin as the echoes died down.
“Was that Ancient Ledean?” Gerad asked. She knew he had spent time within the Ledean training schools in his youth. Perhaps he knew some of the language.
“I believe so,” Nieman answered, suddenly interested in both the message and purpose of their group.
Kelkarrin waved his fingers at the group, and walked from the chamber lost in thought. Surielle turned to look at those remaining in the room. Tréan and Gerad had looks of surprise, unaware that she carried a message for the wizard. Nieman was talking to himself, trying to piece out words from the missive. Yet Liam had the greatest look of concern, his halfling features having paled.
“Was that voice…? Was it Marus?” he asked, looking up at her. She nodded slowly.
“You knew Marus?” Gerad answered. “He was my mentor in Quelsk.”
“Yes. He actually brought me to Kelkarrin so that I could study the arts. He was also an apprentice under Kelkarrin.”
Surielle watched as the two began to compare notes, dreading the question that would come. From the door where Kelkarrin had left, Marus’ words drifted toward her distantly, as if the mage had summoned them from the abyss.
“So why did Marus not come himself?” Liam asked. No one answered at first, both looking at her. Surielle had borne the message for him, and so she would speak of his passing.
“He was grievously wounded when I found him. His request and this message were the last words he spoke.”
Gerad took charge of the conversation from there, recounting how he knew Marus and how his death had come about. Kelkarrin returned to the room, but did not interrupt the tale. His face saddened at the news of his student’s death.
“I have transcribed his message,” Kelkarrin said to break the silence following Gerad’s tale. “He spoke of a grave discovery, one he felt that I should know of. The missive was meant for mine ears alone, but you have traveled far for his words. You should know what it is he said.”
There were no protests. Kelkarrin read from a piece of foolscap upon which he had hastily scrawled the words.
“This should be known to you, Kelkarrin. A piece of the Globe of Aggamar has been found. It was dredged up by fishing boats in the Blossoming Sea, and now resides in Calastian hands. I had planned to seek your guidance on this, but alas, I cannot.”
“What is the Globe of Aggamar?” Tréan asked.
“The name is familiar, but I cannot recall. I have many tomes here which I can research and hopefully gleam more information.”
“It was something Marus was willing to die for,” Gerad said.
“Yes,” Kelkarrin replied, “and I shall not take this lightly. If you wish to remain as my guests for a few days, I hope to shed more light on this matter. We can also speak of recompense for your journey.”
“Your hospitality is kind,” Surielle began and then hesitated. “You should know that our steps have been followed to Oakdale.” The old man looked up at her with displeasure.
“I have taken great efforts, as you can see, to conceal my presence in this town. Who follows you?”
She told the story of their flight from Quelsk with occasional help from the others. The three inhabitants of the tower listened intently. Kelkarrin's initial apprehension towards the party seemed to melt away as she told of their harrowing journey. When she finished, Kelkarrin turned to Liam.
“You had best cover their tracks into the village.”
“I’ll go have a talk with my snitch, Blackwater, on the morrow,” Liam said.
“We met him, when we first came into the city.” Tréan said. Liam grumbled.
“Then I should do this soon. Today, perhaps?”
“I’ll go with you,” Gerad offered. “Perhaps we can speak more of our dear departed friend.”
