Time Well Spent

[Tom Cashel]

I'll just perch here at the edge of this hole and keep watch, Tall magic-one.

You lay back, Lucius, and you think back many years.......

It was a cold night to be wandering by the docks in the city of Luskan.

Great chunks of ice drifted in the Sea of Swords, and the city had settled in for a long night’s sleep. Lights still twinkled in the thousand windows of the tree-like branches and spires of the Hosttower of the Arcane, though, and this fact has never ceased to make lesser mages nervous. For the Arcane Brotherhood is no less than the most dreaded magical organization in all the North.

You knew that your dalliances with Mela Haelstrom, gorgeous wife of Gustav Haelstrom (your mentor), would now have to end. What began as an affair of the usual sort had turned into an obsession. Not only did you satisfy your own lust with the woman almost nightly, but you’d grown jealous of her husband as well. Your illusions discharged the glamer of a foul reek whenever he tried to get close to her.

As a result, your mentor had grown stormy in temperament. He put you through your paces every day, keeping you at your studies until you were at the breaking point. In a moment of weakness, after a month of such treatment, you blurted out: “Perhaps a simple gust of wind would get rid of your wife’s foul odor!”

Gustav’s mouth hung open. “How did you know about that?” he whispered.

“I–I–I–” you stammered.

“Leave this place,” Gustav pronounced. “You will never learn invocations from me. You will never learn them at all.”

You would never know if his words were premonition or a binding curse, but from that day you forswore any magics of that forbidden school. Instead you turned to Illusion, and tonight you would meet your new mentor, Iago.

A shimmer in the air announced his presence; he’d been walking beside you for Tymora knows how long. Short, rotund, with arched brows and a bowtie mouth, Iago seemed always to be thinking of the next delicious plot or misdirection.

“Apprentice,” he said with an enigmatic smile. “Your new life begins now.”

Something about that smile made you shiver.

 

[Lucius Foxhound]

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[Tom Cashel]

You wake the next morning to Wisp's voice in your brain, Tall magic-one, we have visitor.

"Hey, up there!" whispers a male voice. "Foxhound!"

You groan and roll over, unhappy to be awakened before dawn after being plagued through the night by uneasy dreams of Luskan. At least you got enough sleep to study spells.

Looking down through the rope trick's hole, you see a shield dwarf in a simple tunic and breeches, with black hair and beard.

He bows deeply. "Good morning to you," he says. "I am Zevikk Wyrmslayer, apprentice to 'Wildwind.' I wanted to look upon the one who slew Old Gustav's wife with my own eyes.

"May I come up?"

 

[Lucius Foxhound]

"I'm afraid, Young Wyrmslayer, that you have me mistaken with someone else. In fact, a lesson most young apprentices learn by the time they reach your age is to be careful whom you call a murderer.

"But you may come up if you wish. Especially if you've brought some ale with you."

 

[Tom Cashel]

Zevikk looks chastised, but he shows you the cask of ale, then climbs the rope. After pouring a round into wooden mugs and handing you one, he says, "So...forgive my ill-chosen words, Master Foxhound. Master Haelstrom would annihilate me if he knew I was speaking to you now.

"So you weren't the one who sent the golden scroll? I've heard rumors that this was the case...but Master Haelstrom has always maintained that the note was written in your hand, and that you were the slayer of his wife."

 

[Lucius Foxhound]

Drinks the mead.

"Good mead. Dwarven? No, I know nothing of any golden scroll. But come, this spell is about to end. Let us walk a bit."

 

[Tom Cashel]

The two of you walk through the Magefair. Although most of the fairgoers are asleep, many still shop at the booths which are open all night.

"Although the Master is loath to speak of that night, every wizard in Luskan knows about the Golden Scroll. It was said to have arrived the night after you departed, delivered to the chambers of Master Haelstrom.

"The note, seemingly written in your hand--so the story goes--advised that the still active pre-amorous reek would be removed by application of the spell contained within: a gust of wind.

"Well, it was more than a gust--it was a tempest. A veritable hurricane that destroyed Haelstrom's lab. It blew Madame Haelstrom out a high window of the Hosttower of the Arcane. She fell to her death, naturally.

"Some say," whispers Zevikk, "That it was a Nether Scroll that old Haelstrom used, unbeknownst to him, on his poor wife."

 

[Lucius Foxhound]

"How horrible! Poor Mela ... she always did love that view.

"Well, I sent no scroll. You see, I loved Mela, I'd never do anything to harm her. In fact, if my old master was even thinking straight, he'd no that I cast no Invocation magics, so I couldn't have written that scroll.

Lucius narrows his eyes.

"Wait... did you say Nether? That's rather odd ..."

Mumbling to himself: "Funny how Calumn happened to summon me of all people to help him. And strange that he seemed to know who I was. But that was so long ago, he couldn't ... hmmm. "

"In any case, I thank you for coming to me, Zevikk. I had no idea what was going on. And it is good to see members of your race interested in the arcane arts. In fact, I travel with a ranger of Selune who adventured with a dwarven wizard in a place called 'Rooneydar.' I think Brawny was his name. Is he kin to you?"

 

[Tom Cashel]

"Hmm...Brawny? Never heard of such a dwarf. But it's not as though I've seen much of Faerun.

Zevikk bows deeply.

"It was good to speak with you, Master Foxhound. I couldn't let you walk into the mageduel blindly...you seemed not to know the meaning behind Master Haelstrom's challenge.

"In any event...perhaps we will speak again if you can find the time..." He winks, turns, and slips into the crowd milling about amongst the wares booths and component stalls.

 

[Lucius Foxhound]

Well, what do you make of that, Wisp? That young apprentice seems to know about our quest. I'm starting to like this less and less.

Hmmm. Another thought just came to me: if Gustav thinks I killed his wife, a simple, non-lethal mageduel probably won't satisfy him. My bet is that he has other plans for me.

Perhaps it's in our best interest just to find the hourglass and get out of here.

I'll begin asking some of the dealers who are open about some wonderous items ... perhaps hourglasses or other timepieces...

[How many hours till dawn? I need to memorize spells which will take an hour. I'll try to give myself enough time.]