073 – Much Talking, Some Listening

Rox looked around the table, and noticed that Sharlot was in good humor, Mallob was unreadable, Rasgan was absorbed in his notebook, and Faxeld looked annoyed. The assistants echoed their masters, somewhat. Rasgan’s assistant looked like he wanted to get as far from Rox as he could, though that may simply be annoyance at an interminable meeting.

Faxeld continued. “Personally I think Pervical could use a good comeuppance.”

He turned to look at Roxanne directly, his expression softening. “Young Roxanne: so long as the books balance, I don’t care how much you spend or this adventure costs. On the other hand, I might be able to convince Pervical that it would be less expensive to let you keep your children, than for him to keep them here.”

Rox smiled a bit, and nodded. “Thank you, Master Faxeld.”

“Not ‘Master.’ Just Faxeld will do.”

Mallob took the conversation back. “Roxanne. How much do you know of ‘why you are here’? How much has The Mage told you of the motivations that have caused this adventure?”

Rox unexpectedly found she was the center of attention. She took a breath and started, hoping her language would be effortless.

“Well, Caspian has said that there is a kingdom, Kragg . . . something . . . which is to the south of here. The rulers of that place have some interest in my daughter and son in regards to some prophecy about themselves. Thus they sent to kidnap them. The kidnappers are currently in caravan heading south. It is expected that they are approaching their destination.

“Also that there is some similar prophecy in your hands about my children being the forerunners of some future villain. I must admit I did not pay as close attention when told about this as I now suppose I should. I gather that this villain is the worry of Pervical, and why he is considering kidnapping my children himself.

“The motivations of villains are of less concern to me than simply retrieving my children. The sooner Steven and I can finish here, the sooner we can get to our children.”

Rox felt herself flush with effort, and tried to carefully speak as the vocabulary seemed to slip just beyond her deliberate command.

Mallob nodded. “You apparently have the basics. I shan’t bore you with all the specifics. Starting with our own information: Your children line up to the prophesied circumstances to foretell the coming of the Chaos Bringer. This Chaos Bringer is essentially an individual who will cause planet wide upheaval and destruction.

“There is significant debate in some circles about the meaning of the follow on verses in the prophecies concerning the harbingers. Some say that the harbingers are simply markers of the time. Others say that they are involved and participants of the times and events.

“The most common school of thought on these is that they will be involved. The side they choose to be on will help to determine the duration of the Chaos Bringers doings. Some people speculate that it they can control the harbingers, they may be able to influence the Chaos Bringer. I am afraid Pervical is swayed by some of that stripe.

“Until events happen, there is never any sure answer. It is because of these various beliefs that your family has been drawn into this.”

Rox summarized as he took a breath. “So, my children are unique, particularly my son. I have come to understand that. This marks them as prophetically special, in relation to a villain. There are some who believe they can influence this villain, to an extent, by controlling my children.”

 Mallob looked at her as she presumed he did a student who grasped a concept at his first lecturing on it. Then he changed to a new subject.

“The Kingdom of Krogg is a bit more nebulous to me. The Mage informed us of some of their interest, and we have been researching to verify it. Unfortunately we do not have any record of their prophecies here. But some of Cuinton’s agents inform that there has been a bit of an uproar in their royal courts, as they have been collecting as much information as they could from as many peoples as they could about the Harbingers.

“What we have learned is that there was a prophetic curse put on the current monarchs that they would be killed by the harbingers. There are further intimations, some offering ideas on how this may come about, but we cannot verify anything yet. We are continuing to investigate.”

 “This brings me to The Mage. How aware are you of his abilities and disposition?” Mallob looked at Roxanne.

Rox took a moment to review her memories, and then started. “I do not have a broad range to compare him to, but he appears to know what he talks about, and what his own skill level is. He seemed to enjoy conversing with The Sorceress in Veradale, as they appeared to be approximate equals in ability. He is generally aware and cautious in his magic casting. For instance he has capability to teleport but allows himself, as I understand, to be constrained by social custom first and safety second in how he uses this ability. On the other hand, he is occasionally thoughtless in his preoccupation with something, and may forget or bypass something.”

As Rox finished, she realized she was no longer speaking the elf tongue, but the Veradale one.

Mallob nodded, and continued in the elf tongue. “Caspian was not our first choice, but was among those who we determined were skilled enough and had the experience necessary to accomplish the task. By your admission you are not aware of how the mages of this world are ranked. Suffice to say that Caspian is in the upper third for ability and responsibility in The School of the Orders.

“As such, he is skilled enough to stand even with any other magic user, should he so choose. He learned from his infancy the fundamentals of magic. While his skill at instruction is unknown due to his choice of vocations, his skill at application is well know and respected in certain circles. In short Caspian’s skill level is high and he is competent in that skill.

“His character is generally without significant reproach. Meaning that like all people, he has his flaws. Fortunately, or not for our purposes, it was because of one of those flaws that we were able to secure his cooperation in helping you.”

Roxanne interrupted, as an overheard snippet from The Sorceress resurfaced. “The Orders Library or the collapsed pass?”

Mallob did not even single-take at her interjection. “The collapse of the Hildyar Pass. He needed a little help, one of our mages obliged. I shan’t engage in gossip over the various versions of the story. I leave it to The Mage’s modesty to share what of the story he chooses to. The point being there was a debt to be repaid, which was called in.

“In summary, he is of good character, and sufficient power and ability to accomplish anything asked of him. He does chafe at what he feels are unreasonable restrictions, but then who does not. It is expected that he has endeavored with varying levels of success according to his and your innate talents to instruct you in the rudiments and fundamentals of magic, as well as acclimate you and your paramour in the local customs and society so far as he judged necessary.”

Rox responded, in good humor. “Right. He’s a good shlub.”

This got the light hearted response from several at the table that Rox had hoped, which served to lighten the mood some.

Sharlot took the control of the meeting back, as her mood settled. “The last thing we have to address is your own history and capabilities. Before we discuss you, I ask digression to address my sister, Rodira. Some here did not know her personally. To be brief, like several of our mother’s lineage she was a skilled mage; she traveled in her youth, and found love among the humans. When called back to begin her family with her betrothed, she refused. The aftermath of that is now general knowledge, and stands at the end of this table.

“That now brings me to her descendants, including Roxanne. Like your forbearer's you have exhibited a talent for magic. That is perhaps the most interesting thing we can tell you about who you are. Thanks to those who have assisted you to this point that is not a surprise to you. If you are as skilled as my sister, your capabilities are at least comparable to Caspian.

“This is all academic to the real reason you are important.”

Sharlot picked up a sheet of paper. “Some centuries ago, the prior Chaos Bringer was laid to rest in a rare ceremony where enemies worked together. There was a priest there who was taken by an outside spirit that caused him to prophesy, as follows.

“In future time, a new Chaos Bringer will arise.  A son and daughter will be born to one who is a forth generation half-elf.  Darkness will seek them, to make the daughter a powerful witch, the son a lord of battle.  Light will seek them to keep them from the darkness.  Nothing will stand before them that they do not countenance, and they will grind the wicked under their heel.  In their time will come a child, who will bring chaos to all that can be found.”

Sharlot put the paper down. “You, Roxanne, are that forth generation half-elf. Your son and daughter are the children mentioned. The rulers of Krogg are part of the darkness mentioned. Pervical sees himself as on the side of light, seeking to keep your children from darkness. It is expected that your children have plenty of potential within them.

“So, this is why all the trouble.”

Rox nodded. “And why so many think they can impose themselves upon my life and my family. I’d like a copy of that to share with Steven. It will help him make sense of things.

“It is not a surprise to me about Grandma Rhoda being a mage of some sort. My mother instructed me on putting a spell on my newborn children, as her mother instructed her. I now know it was a spell, but at the time I did not. That I have potential to equal Caspian, I had not considered that. I suppose there is much about me that I do not really know, by your perceptions and understandings. And vice versa much about me that you do not know. Thus this meeting, and the classes that have been scheduled.”

Rox paused and looked around the table. Sharlot was beaming. Her younger male assistant was making a note. Faxeld looked approving, and ready to leave. His younger female assistant likewise looked ready to go with her ledger closed. Rasgan’s assistant simply waited patiently, and Rasgan himself was engrossed in his book. Mallob nudged Rasgan to get his awareness back to the table. Mallob’s young female assistant appeared to be as anxious to end this as Rox was, and perhaps as friendly.

Sharlot spoke. “Well then. Are there any other questions to be answered?”

She surveyed the table. She turned to the Clerk. “The clerk will make no comment about the shift of language, from local to otherwise through the course of the meeting. This meeting is adjourned.”

The assistants each pushed back from the table, and then pulled the chairs for their respective masters, as they stood. Faxeld and his assistant took their books and left without any further discussion. He opened one of the doors to its lock and left.

Rasgan sat for a bit longer then took a sheet of paper and gave it to his standing clerk, who slid to over to Roxanne, the clerk politely keeping his distance from her. Later Rox would wonder if she should have been insulted by his behavior toward her.

“This is your introduction to Master Iver, and to Master Eklund. Take it with you in the morning. Good afternoon, young miss.” Rasgan closed his book, let his assistant pull his chair as he stood, then did not wait for the young man as he took his own book and left.

The assistant gathered his own book and all but fled in pursuit of his master.

074 – After Meeting Talking

Mallob and Sharlot stood out of courtesy, and then once Rasgan’s assistant was out of the door they both sat back down. The assistants set about cleaning up their respective sides of the table, taking the writing things over to a cabinet by the clerk.

Sharlot looked at Roxanne. “You may go, if you wish. Unless there is more you would like to know.”

Rox thought, formulating her questions. “Who or what is this chaos bringer, which everyone is so excited over?”

Mallob fielded this. “About every fifteen hundred years, there is born on this world a person who rises to power after some manner, and then sets the world on fire. This is more than the usual despots arguing over territory and seizing control. The humans are not as skilled at maintaining records as we are, and such is their loss, in this case. The three Chaos Bringers that we have clear records of were never after power, or authority. They were after destruction. Our records older than that are less clear as that forth cycle back the records were damaged and had to be reconstructed, by those then living. This leaves us holes from there back to the start of our records about seventeen thousand local years ago.”

Sharlot continued. “Sometimes there is warning, sometimes not. This time there is, insofar as what we have.”

The assistants put glasses of water down for Sharlot, Mallob, and Roxanne, and then withdrew to stand by the clerks table, and talk among themselves.

Sharlot picked up the piece of paper again. “. . .  a new Chaos Bringer will arise . . . No news there.  A son and daughter will be born to one who is a forth generation half-elf . . . Because of the fifteen hundred year loop there has not been much done until this time. In the last ten years or so there has been a concerted effort by some to check every forth generation half-elf, and monitor them for having two children. One of our agents got quietly into the records of an Alistair Kevan on Terra, and discovered you. Let’s see . . .  Darkness will seek them . . . Light will seek them . . . Here we go . . . In their time will come a child, who will bring chaos to all that can be found.”

“Near as I read, that does not tell us anything about the identity of the Chaos Bringer.” Sharlot concluded

Mallob punctuated her comment. “Or origin. Just that your children, Roxanne, are the markers for this future event in their life times. On the other hand . . . Caspian gave us an ear full about Krogg, among other things, when he met with us. I must admit that had Pervical been more forthcoming neither I nor Cuinton would have been as ill prepared about them. As it is, we are awaiting report form Cuinton’s agents in Krogg. Caspian may have more information to share, but Pervical will not allow us to ask him. I expect that you will.”

Rox nodded at this, sipped her water, and spoke. “One other question. When I came in, I could speak, however haltingly, you local tongue. I know right now that I am not. Somewhere in the middle of the meeting my language changed. On the other hand, I presume you are still speaking your native tongue, and I hear and understand it fine. Can either of you explain that?”

Mallob nodded. “I probably can, though Master Iver, or Caspian are the ones to really ask. Caspian probably used the common magic tool of implanting the local language into an individual, on you and your paramour. However because of the magics' that are now inherent to this city, such spells do not take as well as they might elsewhere. The result is that its effects dissipated from you in here.”

Rox understood. “I trust no offense was given. But why do I still hear you?”

Mallob gave a positive nonverbal cue. “None given, and you would do best to ask the magic-mongers.”

Rox nodded. “I will ask. I suppose that is all. These Masters will report how things go and any changes will be decided on later?”

Sharlot nodded. “Yes.”

Roxanne took the sheets of paper that had been left her, seeing it only as writing without any wax seals that she had seen on other documents, she rolled it up. “I will be on my way then. Good day to you and yours.”

Rox bobbed slightly, turned and stepped down off the platform she had been standing on at the end of the table, and strode across the room to the doors, and then retraced her steps out of the building.

The young female elf that she had previously been escorted by appeared to escort her again. “I am to escort you home.”

“Good. Am I speaking a language you comprehend?” Rox answered.

The elf looked at Rox a bit puzzled.

“No I am not.” Rox answered to herself.

They sat in silence as they traveled back to the hotel. The elf looked Roxanne over, as Rox looked over the writing on the sheet.

The writing was a cursive of some kind, and Rox could make out individual words, and some characters, but it was indecipherable to her.

The carriage stopped and Rox accepted the assistance of a footman as she again lighted from the vehicle. Without looking back, Rox heard the carriage pull away, so she gathered her skirts and went inside.

Rox entered the room and found Steven had his things spread about the bed and table, sorting out between short term and long term carry items. The kids’ things and the money were off to one side, his bedroll and cold-weather gear next to his pack and vest, his assorted toys piled next to that. His sword and clothes sat on their own, last.

Steven picked up the ongoing conversation as Rox paused and looked around. “They said they were going to teleport me, to save time. But that I might be several days. So I am sorting what is trail-useful versus general-useful. How did it go with you?”

Rox put her rolled up sheets on the table, and moved to sit in a window seat, out of Steven’s way. “I suppose it went well. They spent as much time talking past me to each other as to me. But they have a schedule for me to follow. I go to see a Master Iver tomorrow morning. Once he is done with me I go to a Master Eklund to get my own equipment sorted and approved. Frankly the only part I have any complaint with is the boots. But maybe these people can do better and surprise me. They also mentioned you going to a Master Mundrl for your refitting, once you get back from your errand.”

Rox was still processing the meeting in her mind. “I learned that there is more to the motivation of the people who started this with our kids. But I still don’t think I have it all straight. We know that there is the kingdom to the south-“

“Krogg,” Steven interjected.

“-that sent those guys that kidnapped me and the kids. I understand that they did this for a couple of reasons. One has to do with the unique nature of our kids, Alex in particular.” Rox was looking a bit blank, reading the text in her mind’s eye.

Steven leaned against the table, folding his arms. “We have learned that half-elves, like yourself, usually only have one child of their own sex. You had two; that is apparently odd, and one of the opposite sex, which I understand is apparently unheard of.”

Roxanne nodded. “Right. This marks our children as unique and therefore harbingers of some future villain. Somehow that is of interest to Krogg, and they want to control that villain through controlling our kids.

Rox looked back at Steven. “The elves suggested that Caspian knows more about this than they do. He seams to suggest that as well, when we have got him to talk about it.”

Steven nodded “But does this matter enough, to try to pump him for information? Or do we let him divvy it out at his leisure?”

Rox thought this over. “I don’t think that matters. We got enough other things to think about. On a different tact, the spell that Caspian put on us to speak the local language ran out on me in the middle of the meeting. One of the elves there suggested I talk to the magic-user tomorrow about it. Thing is, I could still hear and comprehend their language, I just no longer had mastery of speaking it.”

Steven nodded. “That is odd, but not fully unheard of. I can hear and comprehend a bunch of Spanish, but can only speak about twenty words coherently. Maybe somehow this local language is just ingrained in you. Want to ask Caspian?”

Roxanne shook her head. “No, not yet.” She looked away, thinking.

Steven put his vest on and started repacking his toys he was not going to take into it. He looked at his rolls of film. He was on his last roll.

Picking up the camera, Steven aimed and focused at Roxanne sitting in the window seat in a shaft of light from the window, adjusted the f-stop and shutter speed, refocused, and clicked.

The noise of the camera brought Roxanne back to here and now. She held still until she heard its final click as Steven advanced the film. Then she turned to watch her husband, and spoke.

“Those elves said a few curious things about Caspian. Evidently he was not their first choice. But he is someone that owed them a favor. They said that I have potential to be as powerful and capable as he is.”

Steven finished putting the camera away. “You want to stay here and find out?”

Rox looked at her husband. He had always been the one to want to get the job done and get back home. He enjoyed the adventure, but always wanted to get back to his own bed in the end. Rox came at it from the other end. Slow to start, once going she was always ready to go see more. This was not her concern though.

“No.” Rox answered after a brief pause. “Sharlot mentioned about Grandma Rhoda being a magic-user herself. I gather that this trait is somehow hereditary. I am wondering how it passed to the kids. Pervical is anxious to train Diana and Alex to whatever capacity they will have. Sharlot read something that said nothing will stand against them. I wondering what all this means. Diana has always been a quick learner. As has Alex.”

Steven agreed. “She reads every book I bring home. Wasn’t she tested at a few years above her grade level?”

Rox nodded. “Yes, so was Alex. He is writing legible cursive already; some of his classmates are still struggling with basic script. My point is that I wonder what potential our children have, or might have if we did stay here.”

Steven spread his hands out to the city beyond the walls of their suite. “With these people?”

Rox looked around, out the window. “Hadn’t thought it out that far. They can’t all be bad.”

Steven put his vest back on the table; it clunked from the heavier things in its pockets. “We will see. Personally, I would rather take them home and let them come back when they choose.”

075 – Next Steps – More Tests

Journal of Steven Caplan: Day 115

I’ve sat through some pointless meetings before. This was not so much pointless for me as it seemed to be a contest of egos. At least we know clearly who one of our adversaries on this planet is. The rest seem to be high-minded and of sufficiently elevated ego that Caspian’s opinion of them is not entirely unfounded. I expected a bit more snootiness, for my part.

Humor them, play their game, and get on with life

The next morning after Roxanne left, Verigan, the elf that had been acting as the go-between for the elves and Caspian, and the evaluator for Steven, arrived with an amulet on a necklace and a bit of paper with some writing on it. He was as formal and polite as ever.

Steven let Verigan in, closed the door and turned to follow him into the suite. Caspian was already here. Cyrril was absent as usual. Also as usual Verigan started at the reason for his coming.

“Steven, it has been decided that you need to retrieve a sword. This particular sword historically was wielded by a line of kings. Our research about its’ reputed characteristics lead us to conclude that it will be a useful tool in your potential dealings in the kingdom of Krogg.”

Caspian was a moment ahead of Steven to the punch. “What’s special about it, and how will Steven recognize it, and obtain it?”

Verigan looked at his notes, and read from them. “The wielder of the sword apparently ‘could not be touched by magic. It is described as being a straight two-edge sword, simple crossbar, wire wrapped grip.’ As for obtaining it, the kingdom it is in was conquered and destroyed over four hundred years ago.”

Steven had started getting dressed once Verigan had started his briefing. Much as Caspian was of general disposition to verbally spar with the elves, Verigan in particular had ceased to rise to Caspian’s barbs. Now Caspian was apparently trying to puzzle something out.

Steven settled his coat and backpack. “How many days am I expected to be?”

Verigan turned and looked down to Steven. “It is expected you will not be more than two days. You are being sent to a ruined city to hunt through. Our last reports of the area said that things were still of good general condition, but uninhabited. The Kingdom that destroyed the city looted it thoroughly, but left it standing as a monument. It is off any current trade routes, so there are few people who travel there.”

Caspian interrupted. “You are talking about Umieswe, aren’t you?”

Verigan looked to Caspian. “No. Umieswe is to the south east of the continent, and next to the eastern inland trade routes. That was sacked two hundred and forty three years ago, during the Trades-Mans War’s. Steven is being sent to Nydecia’s capitol, east of the center of the continent, destroyed during the Charman Empire consolidation.”

Caspian had to think, this was not a name he readily recognized.

Verigan turned back to Steven. “Our research suggests that the area has some residual magic about it, but it should not be anything belligerent. Also that the sword was not among the treasures looted from the city. The published histories report that the city fell with the death-by-old age of the last king and that the remaining royal family was slaughtered and buried on site rather than taken prisoner. It is expected that this sword is still in the city, and most likely in royal possession. Therefore find The King. Take his sword as your own.”

Steven considered this. “Will I need a shovel?”

Verigan put his paper aside and held out the necklace. It was a silver link chain with a medallion the size of a large coin on it, a stone set in the center of the medallion. “We don’t know. You are being sent alone to scout as a test of your abilities. When you are ready to return, squeeze the medallion, it will activate a teleport and bring you back to where you are teleported from. On your report we can further assist you. Such as to send you with a team of diggers.”

Steven nodded, took the necklace, put it on, and tucked it under his collar. “If I can’t return of my own accord, how long until someone comes looking?”

Caspian answered before Verigan could “They give you two days, I will come on the forth.”

Verigan considered this, and then nodded at Caspian.

Steven patted himself down: belt with a few things and the sword; pack with water bag, and food for a few days; blanked tied to the pack. Coat, hat, gloves, necklace, a few sundries in his pockets. Did he want the camera? No.

Steven looked at the crossbow. He had put it aside, figuring this was a quick effort, and decided he was right to leave it behind.

“I suppose I am ready, Verigan. Where do I leave from?”

Verigan had watched, approving. Now he picked up his paper and motioned to the door. “The café across the street will do. So long as we go quickly.”

Steven got the door, and Verigan stepped out, followed by Caspian. Steven closed the door and followed. Verigan apparently chose a point at random, drew a stick of chalk from his pocket, and put a quick mark on a paving stone in the café’s courtyard.

He turned and looked at Steven. “Hold still please.”

Caspian watched as Verigan set up the teleport spell, locking its locus to the chalk on the cobble. Then with a swirl of energy and a brief puff of displaced air Steven was wrapped up and gone.

Caspian finally had a compliment to Verigan as he started to walk away. “That was very efficient. How will we know when he is returning?”

Verigan stopped and turned. “The barriers around the city warn when someone is passing through them. The spells are discriminating enough to forewarn the correct parties. I expect that you are not among that group.”

Verigan picked up a pebble from a planter. Caspian sensed him put a spell on it that connected to the mark on the paving. He then handed the pebble to Caspian.

“That pebble will vibrate when the mark is activated as the return teleport locus. Good day, Mage Caspian.”

Caspian found himself replying by polite habit. “And good day to you, Verigan.”

Caspian picked a second pebble from the planter, and put them in a pocket as Cyrril swooped in to land on Caspian’s shoulder. The little dragon looked from his master to the departing elf, curious that the usually base level antipathy was not in his master’s mood. Rather his base level mood was mostly puzzlement.

Shortly before Verigan arrived, Rox was met by a two-wheel horse drawn cab and taken to a small shop on the lower flats of the city. Here she was met by a young male who showed her into a work room, and then disappeared. An older male elf was bent over some apparatus. Rox opened her magic senses and identified that there were assorted objects that carried static levels of magic. It reminded her of The Sorceress’s work room.

The older somewhat wrinkly elf was doing some delicate thing, but Rox could not see what through his back, so she stood and waited for him to finish. The elf straightened and arched his back to relieve some strain, and then put a white cloth over his current workspace, and turned on his stool to face Roxanne. He looked her up and down.

Rox had worn one of the skirts she used for travel, with a tunic and vest. She had the staff with her and the chains in a pack over her shoulder.

“So you are Rodira’s descendant.” He spoke in the local language.

“Yes sir.” Rox answered him in English. If this was going to be a powers test, it could go in both directions.

Whether he understood her or not, he continued. “Rasgan was supposed to send you with a note of introduction.”

Roxanne held up the paper she had hitherto wrapped around her staff. “Right here, Master Iver. I will also need it for my introduction to Master Eklund.”

Master Iver took the note and glanced over it, then held it out to return it.

Rox noticed a change on it and stopped herself from taking it. Before she gave it over it was totally mundane, now it glowed to her magic senses. She switched to the first language she knew from this planet.

“What did you just do to it?”

The older elf almost cracked a smile. “Very good, you are magically aware, and have potential to use more than one language.” He waved a hand across the sheet and its energy evaporated.

Roxanne now reached out to it, sensing that it was now unchanged from when she had last possessed it.

Master Iver changed to the same language Rox last used. “You will need to know the local language when you deal with Master Eklund. Unless you know the local traders dialects.”

He stood up before she could take the conversation further in that direction. Standing, Master Iver was nearly half again as tall as Rox, but just as skinny, where many of the elves were proportionally heavier.

“As you should be aware, I have been instructed to determine your fundamental levels of ability and your current level of instruction. The former can be done with a spell, the latter with some time in both classroom and on a training pitch. Please follow me.”

He turned and walked with the gate of someone on their early old age, beginning to loose equilibrium but as yet too proud to use a cane. Rox followed to a work area, and quickly recognized a personal work area.

He stopped at a work table with several things in array. In the clear area before this table sat a stool and an array of items on the floor, in a chalked design of an octogram with inscribed pentacle.

Master Iver pointed at a cleared table. “Deposit all your magic imbued items there. And to your perhaps embarrassment, I mean everything.”

Rox was pleased that she had not worn the local clothes today, and so was spared the embarrassment from when The Sorceress had done the same thing to her. She left the staff and bag of chains on the table. She had not cast spells on anything else, and by her own senses could not sense any other magic on her that she knew how to remove.

“I believe I am as you require, Master Iver. Would you please check to be sure?”

The old elf looked at Roxanne first with some potential annoyance, then with his magic senses. “You are correct, child of Rodira. Step onto the stool.”

Rox looked at the pattern on the floor, and went clockwise around it to ‘north’ and then stepped right into the middle and onto the stool that had been set in the middle. Master Iver looked briefly pleased, than set about finishing his spell setup. His method was not as constrained as Rox remembered The Sorceress using. She figured it was telling in the difference in the skill level of the two casters.

Shortly he had the spell up and running. This time Rox was able to follow it, and sense the pieces of the spell being put together and into motion. When done, Rox felt she was outside herself looking in and could sense a not-quite sphere of energy that swirled around her that had its poles at points above her head and below her feet, and that there were swirls or nexus points of energy within her own body at the chakra points, with streams of energy moving through them. There were secondary points in her limbs that had lesser swirls running out to them and back to the corresponding central points. Last all the cells of her body gave off energy that were effected by and contributed affect to the swirl and overall passage of energy around her.

Rox looked at Master Iver, and for a moment, could see a similar pattern of energy in him and around him.

Then he collapsed the spell, ending it, and swiftly Rox felt her senses return to within her and to normal.

076 – Passing And Being Listened To

Rox had to draw on her past personal training to hold her balance and not collapse as she suddenly felt as if she had run a marathon in ten seconds. After a moment, her equilibrium reestablished, Rox looked around.

Master Iver was scratching with a quill pen on a sheet of paper.

Rox waited until he finished, then spoke up. “What did you find?”

Master Iver turned to her, and held out a cane to her. “That you inherent ability is approximately equal to your progenitors. This is a mild surprise, as most cross-breeds usually loose that in successive generations.”

Rox took the cane in one hand and his proffered hand in her other and stepped the long wobbly step off the stool. “When The Sorceress did this same general thing in Veradale, it was not anywhere near so intense.”

“My apologies for that. I expect I used a much more detailed and advanced spell than was used on you previously.  It has told me several things. Do you know much about genetics?”

“Some,” Rox answered.

“Well, your genetics show you to be exactly one half elf. If I were to unravel your genetic molecule, one half of it would be of human stock, the other of elf stock. This is mildly unusual, as most cross-breeds eventually dilute in favor if which ever side is most dominant in their lineage.

“This has also revealed that your potential for magic is that of your progenitors, not just of your immediate ones, but of the lineage that my top student Rodira, and I myself, are from. I have noted this and will pass it on in my report to Sharlot and Rasgan.”

Master Iver looked at her with a studied neutral. “Now, the questions are: how much do you know? How much do you need to unlearn? How much can I teach you in the time available? And how much are you willing to do?”

At this last, Rox smiled, remembering a similar circumstance in Veradale. “Don’t tell me what I can’t do. Though you may want to advise me on why I should not do some things.”

Master Iver almost smiled at this. “Your progenitor told me almost that, once.”

As he turned to use the counter to keep from falling as he knelt on the floor, Rox waited a moment then asked the hanging question. “And what happened next?”

He turned to her, looking her almost in the eye from his knees. “She blew a building from its foundations. Help me clean up this mess.”

Both of them crawled on their hands and knees as they picked up the few bits of stuff, and wiped up the chalk from the floor. He started into her knowledge of theory as they tidied. He did not ask her to belabor anything, but simply quizzed on what she had learned. She started with what The Sorceress had taught her, and continued with what Caspian had taught.

The mess back on the table, he got onto a stool, and she likewise, and he asked what spells she had cast on her own, and how well. She mentioned her spell on her children, and then moved into what she had done since arriving on planet. This brought Rox to the tools: the chains and the staff. Rox explained about them, as best she could. He examined the staff, noted a familiarity with its design, but was otherwise unimpressed. He checked the chains over, and again was not impressed.

“Tools are useful, but the best measure of skill is in how they are used. Time to go show me what you can do.”

Master Iver led Rox to a larger room with assorted things piled about its walls. Rox felt she was in a dojo or similar training room. The next while Master Iver quizzed her on her practical magic skills, by having her do. Rox showed herself to be a shaky novice by his standards, but game to try all she could do. First she was able to light any candle or torch on command. She could push or pull things with ease, in focused efforts or wide areas. She could sense the flow of power, but was not yet using that sense as effortlessly as her others. She could shield herself, and anchor herself with her shields. She could do some low level energy projection, i.e. small energy balls of assorted temperatures and destructive capacities.

The main problem, he told her at the end of the lesson, was that she kept skipping the buffers that normally kept spells from getting out of control. She was putting plenty of power into the spells, and they were generally doing what she wanted, but she was akin to trying to manage a river as one would an irrigation ditch.

At her insistence, he let her put on the chains, and then run through her spells again. He noticed that the chains acted as amplifier and buffer to her efforts. But she was less dependent on them than he feared she might be. They did nothing for her senses.

Finally he called an end to the lesson, citing it was approaching lunch. Master Iver led her back to the work room, and sat on a stool as he began to write on a piece of paper.

“I am instructing Master Eklund to have your chains reworked. As they are, they do adequate, but they could be better. Allow him to do so. I can correct any damage his journeymen do to the magics on them.”

He pulled another sheet and began to fill it out. “Have you been introduced to what a Talent is?”

Rox nodded. “Yes, Master Iver.”

“Good. I will have one here this evening. Stop by on your way from Master Eklund’s. I am not sure which will be showing up. That is irrelevant. The Talent will be imparting into your mind a lot of information in a very short period of time. Have your mind at rest when you come, things will go easier that way. We are done for now. You may show yourself out.”

He kept writing as the young male elf reappeared, carrying a tray with lunch arrayed on it. He set the tray on a table and began unloading it.

“What about language, Master Iver? You said I would need the local language for Master Eklund, but we have not addressed it. It seems to be the one thing you deliberately avoided addressing.”

Master Iver did not look up from where he had paused in his writing. “What do you propose be done about it?”

Rox had taken time to consider this the night before, and had her options ready. “Well, there are three methods: teaching me as one does a child, but that will take too long. Using magic in one of two methods that have been used on me previously, to give me at least a temporary command of the language. Or that Talent you mentioned installing the knowledge in me. However that is not viable for the moment, as you say the Talent is not here just now.

“In relation to the magic forms, Caspian tried to cast a spell on me, and my husband, that would draw on the minds around to glean their language knowledge and copy it into me. But apparently the spells intrinsic to this city have not allowed that process to take permanent hold the way that the same spell did previously to provide me with the language of those I was among in Veradale. As I stand, I can comprehend the local language as well as every other language I know. But I cannot speak the local language. I have comprehended this language every time I have heard it spoken, even before I had it introduced into my mind by magic.

“Mallob suggested I take this up with you, when I asked him about this yesterday.”

Rox stood her ground and waited, uncertain what nonverbal cues she was seeing Master Iver give. Master Iver looked at his assistant, apprentice, whatever who simply continued setting up lunch for two and then sat waiting for Master Iver to join or give leave to begin.

Finally Master Iver gave his almost smile. “Fine.”

He turned to Rox and pointed at her, chanting in quiet rapidness. She felt a spell organize around him, then transfer to her.

He put his hand down. “You evidently have not realized that the spell you put on your children, and your mother put on you, was not a new spell of your own creation, but rather a transfer of an existing spell. This spell was created and cast by Rodira on herself, then transferred to her offspring. You did not need to mention it much, as it is most likely the typical spell done to change physical features, and runs off the energy of the current host. Knowing what I knew of my student, she probably put her knowledge of a few things into the transference. This would include her fluency with languages. I surmise by the age of the spell, or by her choosing, the spoken fluency has not obtained. That is simple enough to fix, but as you have reported, it will not permanently take if the spell is cast within the boarders of this city.”

Master Iver paused. “The talent this evening is apparently the quickest remedy. In the mean time, I have restored the spoken fluency, from the mages previous spell. It may not last long, but should last at least through the afternoon.”

Rox made a conscious effort to use the local language now. “Thank you, Master Iver.”

He finally let the smile out, briefly. “You are welcome, Student Roxanne.”

He turned to his lunch and his notes, and she to the door.

Rox went outside, and was startled briefly by how much brighter it was outside than inside. Blinking her eyes to adjust, she looked around and spotted the same cab from earlier, and had it take her home, for lunch and her gear.

Lunch was unremarkable, as was the trip back to the shop of Master Eklund. As she went, Rox felt that this was a bit more superfluous than the meetings she had been subjected to. But she was willing to humor things. She had packed up all her clothes she had worn on the trail and the gowns and under things that had been made in the last few days here.

She was wearing her skirt this day, as her trousers had been damaged during a sparing session with Caspian and Steven; the inseam on the crotch had been ripped out, and there was not enough material to properly repair it a third time.

The shop had bolts of fabric on tables and shelves to one side, rolls and laid-out furs and leather to the other. There were a few elves gossiping, as they purchased fabric. Rox was shown to the back area of the shop, and between a pair of tables chest-high to Rox.

A younger elf approached. “You are the niece of Sharlot?”

Rox nodded through the pile in her arms. “Yes I am.”

“Good. You can lay out all your things here. The Master will be with you shortly. He is helping to fit an unruly child.”

Rox put her pile down, and then lay everything out. The four gowns, white, blue burgundy and motley; then the elf foundation garments with five of the thongs. Rox had anticipated being told to strip again, so she had put on a pair of spandex shorts with one of the elf-thongs under it under her skirt. She put down the stockings and slippers that came with the gown next to them. Then she put down her freshly washed tunics, her irreparable trousers, her poncho, her spandex bras and shorts, her socks, and her leather equipment in its various subgroups. As Rox put it down, she spread it out just to keep it in discrete groups. She had not brought her bow or arrows. The tailor who had made the four gowns and other things showed up with a list of Rox’s measurements.

Rox was leaning against the table as this older female elf approached.

“Good day, young lady.”

Rox inclined her head at the taller elf. “Good day, Ma’am. Are you to help here?”

“Yes and no,” the Tailor responded. She put her list of numbers down, and then looked at Rox’s trousers. She picked them up and examined the seams, and the fabric.

“What happened?” She had the trousers inside out, looking at the repaired and ripped out seam.

“Jumping high kick split the seam the first time; a dodge the second time; a kick the third time. By then, as you can see, there was not enough good fabric to repair the seam. If it was constructed the way my clothes at home are, with a piece of fabric here in the form of a bellows, it would not have ripped.

Rox described what she meant using a scrap of fabric, as the Tailor watched intently. As Rox finished, she noticed that a tall, skinny older male elf had shown up and was respectfully watching.

The tailor turned to the older elf. “Master Eklund.”

“Master Senisith.”

“This delightful young woman was just explaining how these trousers were not constructed correctly, and how they could be.”

“So I observed as I approached.” He turned from the tailor to Rox. “You have a letter of introduction?”

Roxanne produced the letter that she had earlier presented to Master Iver. Master Eklund did not even give it a first look. He took it and set it aside.

“So much for formalities. Now, tell me young lady, what can we really do for you?”

077 – Rox Shows Her Worth

Roxanne floated out of the shop; this was the most enjoyable time she had spent with the residents of this city so far. Master Eklund had a tempering influence on Master Senisith. As a result they were almost completely non-condescending. Master Eklund had spent the majority of his life out of Shalaia, and enjoyed dealing with humans, for their diversity of designs and the dynamics that each generation brought.

Master Senisith was only recently in her Mastery, and was looking to leave Shalaia to go east for a time. But her family was an impediment to immediate departure; which family Rox had already met some of.

As they discussed things, Rox initially wanted little done. She wanted the trousers repaired or redesigned, and maybe a second set. But otherwise she was already content with her gear. Somehow these elves got Rox into ‘sky’s the limit thinking’ and asked her what she would do if she was at home.

This ended with Rox saying that she would start with a different design of outfit, which she could explain from memory. The one thing she really wanted was boots from home. But those were out of the question. New boots could be made here, easily enough. The other thing she wanted was a night gown.

After some talking, Master Senisith announced she would replace the trousers, and make anything that Roxanne requested. But if Roxanne was content with what she had, there was no point in replacing what worked. And she would get a nightgown or two.

Master Eklund, for his part, would see to the boots, and replace the leather girdle which Rox was disappointed with. As for her gold chains, they could have these remade and made more publicly presentable, and have a mage work them over.

Rox walked back to Master Iver’s shop. She did not pay much attention to anyone around her, her mind elsewhere.

As she got to the door of Master Iver’s the back of the building was rocked by an explosion that blew several large panels out of the wall and roof, smoke plumes following. One of the panels about as wide and tall as an average elf blew out of the wall above Rox, broke from some restraint cords that otherwise held it and tumbled out into the street, stopping the traffic. The sound was not loud enough to ring ears, but was enough to startle.

Rox sensed magic in operation about the panel, channeling energy up. She also remembered the rule of thumb that smoke usually meant that magic had gone wrong.

The door opened inward, and Rox was unable to budge it for a bit. Finally a sound of something moving within and the door was opened by the Assistant Rox had encountered earlier. The front of the young elf was covered in soot.

Rox looked him up and down as the young elf just leaned on the door breathing fresh air.

“Is everything o.k.?’

The elf looked at Rox, and coughed as he tried to get his voice going. After a futile moment, he motioned that Rox enter.

At this point, Rox realized that there was apparently no one coming to investigate why a building had unexpectedly blown its windows open. She picked her way in, noticing that there was plenty of light entering the building through the blown out panels.

Earlier there had been only the upper level windows letting in sun light. Now there were more openings all about the same size as the one from the front of the building missing what Rox guessed were blow-out panels. Smoke hung in the air turning everything inside a bit gray. Anything that could be pushed was against outer walls. Master Iver was leaning against a counter, perched on a stool, breathing though a handkerchief. Like his Assistant, his front was covered in soot.

Rox walked up to him, waving her hand to clear the smoke. “Are you alright?”

Master Iver coughed, and looked a bit stunned.

Rox thought about what needed to happen, and how she could make it do so. She sized up the building and focused her magic abilities. She drew on the principles she had been taught, and started first the magic and then the air in the building moving from the street side through to the back and out the blow-out panels. Shortly the magical local breeze cleared the smoke, and the soot pattern on every surface showed more or less what happened.

Rox left the breeze going after Master Iver was finally able to breath easy. She saw that the Assistant was also breathing easier at the door. She started to look for a sink or other water source to allow the elves to rinse their mouths out.

Shortly a distinguished looking nondescript clothed human showed up. He stood about average sized for all the locals Rox had met, looking straight ahead into her chest. He paused and appraised the Assistant, who still leaned on the front door frame. 

-Is everything well, here?-

Rox had to double take. “Did you just say that?”

The man looked briefly at Rox, as he surveyed the shop.

-Yes. Is everything well, Master Iver? It looks like you had another miscalculation?-

Rox heard the words in her mind, past her ears; the tone was droll and unexcited. Master Iver coughed and then looked at the man, giving a kind of dismissive wave.

-Oh, I see. She is whom you have asked for my services for? Very well. Here and now or elsewhere?-

Rox rightly felt she was hearing only one side of a conversation that did not include her. On the other hand she was quick to realize that the man was the Talent, and was somehow broadcasting his thoughts, for whatever reason.

-Yes, ma’am, I am. I don’t know what language to speak in and have you understand, but thoughts are nearly universal.-

This was in a quieter tone than prior; Rox comprehending that he was directing this thought directly at her, rather than to all around. Also that he was doing his best to be universally polite.

Finally Master Iver croaked out audible words. “Roxanne daughter of Rodira, this is Macsam son of Voloam; Talent. To answer, Macsam, let us adjourn elsewhere. My Assistant and I will return later and clean and repair anything.”

Rox handed Master Iver his walking stick that he had used or ignored earlier, and then walked behind the older elf as he not quite tottered through the debris of his shop front.

Master Iver stood approaching half again the height of Macsam, and was chest and shoulders taller than Rox. Even so he tottered slightly. The Assistant, as tall as his Master when at full height, followed behind as they made their way around the side of the building to a balcony on the edge of the city terrace level.

Master Iver stepped past three blow-out panels that leaned against the building next door, and onto a porch that looked almost undisturbed by recent events. A wrought iron table and set of chairs occupied the porch. Master Iver chose a chair and settled into it.

Taking a moment to catch his breath, Master Iver watched and motioned for Rox to choose a chair, and for Macsam to do likewise. The Assistant took a chair slightly apart. The chairs were over sized for Rox and Macsam.

Master Iver pointed at a sink and cupboard. Rox rose and got the cups from it then sorted the sinks controls and got water from it, after letting it run a moment to clear. She returned with four cups of water, and distributed them.

Master Iver rinsed his mouth and spat into a planter. After a few more tries he spoke almost normally.

“Macsam I requested you here to do a knowledge transfer: from me to the young lady. She is the descendant of one of my better students, with similar capabilities to her forbearer. But she is from a non-magic world, and so unlearned in its arts and principles. I also need you to fill in a gap in her language comprehension. She can hear the local language to understand it, but cannot speak it, without assistance.”

Macsam nodded.

-Simple enough. Ma’am/Roxanne Stevens Wife, Do you have any issues with this?-

Rox had had all afternoon to think about it, and had only one issue. “So long as it is positive and helpful, and not damaging I can’t think of any real issue. I am of course unfamiliar with this and anxious about it, but I suppose I have enough background ideas from the literature of my home world to make uneducated guesses about it. I’ve never met you before, so I can only trust you as far as I can those recommending you. But if I were untrusting, I wouldn’t be here. Is there any kind of initial scan or preparation you need to do, or mindset you need me to be in?”

Macsam put his water aside and stood to Rox’s side and put a hand to her head, carefully.

-Hold still. This will be a little disorienting.-

Memories flashed through Rox’s awareness, as vivid as when the events happened. Then she felt sensations run through her body, and she was aware of every bit of herself from her fingers and toes to the water in her stomach. Rox came back to awareness of the world around her.

Macsam had moved and was standing next to Master Iver, with a hand on Master Iver’s head. Both had their eyes closed in REM. They stayed this was for a few moments. Then Macsam opened his eyes, and let go of Master Iver.

Macsam looked at Rox.

-Ready?-

x nod��tr���pile in her arms. “Yes I am.”

“Good. You can lay out all your things here. The Master will be with you shortly. He is helping to fit an unruly child.”

Rox put her pile down, and then lay everything out. The four gowns, white, blue burgundy and motley; then the elf foundation garments with five of the thongs. Rox had anticipated being told to strip again, so she had put on a pair of spandex shorts with one of the elf-thongs under it under her skirt. She put down the stockings and slippers that came with the gown next to them. Then she put down her freshly washed tunics, her irreparable trousers, her poncho, her spandex bras and shorts, her socks, and her leather equipment in its various subgroups. As Rox put it down, she spread it out just to keep it in discrete groups. She had not brought her bow or arrows. The tailor who had made the four gowns and other things showed up with a list of Rox’s measurements.

Rox was leaning against the table as this older female elf approached.

“Good day, young lady.”

Rox inclined her head at the taller elf. “Good day, Ma’am. Are you to help here?”

“Yes and no,” the Tailor responded. She put her list of numbers down, and then looked at Rox’s trousers. She picked them up and examined the seams, and the fabric.

“What happened?” She had the trousers inside out, looking at the repaired and ripped out seam.

“Jumping high kick split the seam the first time; a dodge the second time; a kick the third time. By then, as you can see, there was not enough good fabric to repair the seam. If it was constructed the way my clothes at home are, with a piece of fabric here in the form of a bellows, it would not have ripped.

Rox described what she meant using a scrap of fabric, as the Tailor watched intently. As Rox finished, she noticed that a tall, skinny older male elf had shown up and was respectfully watching.

The tailor turned to the older elf. “Master Eklund.”

“Master Senisith.”

“This delightful young woman was just explaining how these trousers were not constructed correctly, and how they could be.”

“So I observed as I approached.” He turned from the tailor to Rox. “You have a letter of introduction?”

Roxanne produced the letter that she had earlier presented to Master Iver. Master Eklund did not even give it a first look. He took it and set it aside.

“So much for formalities. Now, tell me young lady, what can we really do for you?”