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.

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.

083 – Rox Learns Magic, Caspian Learns History, Steven Learns Jewelry

Master Iver thought a moment. “You are hand fighting trained?”

Rox nodded. “Yes.” She held her thoughts in check, waiting.

“Come with me.” The elf led her out of his work room.

He led Rox to a nearby building, a gymnasium, and to one of the large rooms.

As they walked, he quizzed her. “Have you tried to couple magic with your physical moves?”

“No,” Rox answered, and then changed her mind as she thought. “Yes. While learning with the Sorceress, I would instinctively move to a still, focused mindset, as I have tried to do with you. I haven’t tried to throw any magical punches. She did try to teach me to create a magical rope and maintain it as I climbed it. I could not split my focus sufficiently to maintain the rope and climb it. Caspian has taught me some, but more practical than formal.”

Master Iver acknowledged this. “Some of our magic users initially have to discipline their minds before they are still enough to do magic. Then, as you are showing, they tend to do magic by finesse, rather than form; so ‘still and focus’.”

Rox stood to her ready stance, and focused.

The elf backed out of her line of sight. “Now, orient to the flow in the room.”

Rox opened her magic sense and then turned to her right, and stopped. She faced into the flow. Brief thoughts of feng shui went past, and then she returned to now. She felt and let the energy flow around her.

“Collect some energy,” she was instructed.

Rox again had several thoughts run through her, and let all of the cartoons slip away, and just let the energy flow into her, not just around her; to fill her, not just go past her.

She sensed the elf as an eddy behind to her left. “Find something in this room. Remembering all that I did, all the components, make that thing float without making a mess.”

Rox looked around and pointed at a rack of bo-staves. She grounded herself against surges; she pictured what she wanted to do, have a swirl of energy lift the rack up the wall, top flow balancing bottom flow; the energy nearby holding things down and as it went over the rack to hold the rack together; and the control mechanism in her hand. 

“Float.” Rox put it in motion. Energy flowed from her out through her arm and hand over to the rack of staves, and around it. Rox lifted her hand and the rack lifted.

She thought about it moving toward her, but nothing happened. She set it back down, and let the energy dissipate to ambient.

Rox turned to her instructor. “What about movement in the other directions?”

He challenged her. “What do you suppose?”

Rox thought about this. “Two ways. One: tilt the column, and balance the setup in the desired direction and so forth. Two: a second column in the direction of travel. Maybe put the second on a swivel to control direction.”

He confirmed these. “Also, a third column for the third axis. As well add spin around each, and you can move things anywhere. Or, you could just use your hands”

They spent what felt like a few hours moving things around the gym. In the end, Master Iver challenged Rox to put everything back where it was. This one Rox knew, thanks to lessons from The Sorceress: the intelligence or spirit that maintained the physical form of the object also knew its proper place in the order of the world, both in space and in use. She put into the guiding matrix of the spell a node for each object to return to its home spot at a reasonable speed and without these things doing damage to each other. This resulted at first in the confused jumbling about of objects, as smaller objects moved toward larger objects, as the larger objects bumped about moving to their own spots around the room. Slowly the larger objects settled to their spots and the smaller objects settled into their spots within the larger objects.

They returned to Master Iver’s shop. Master Iver had been considering and thinking the whole way. Once in his shop, he sat down and began lecturing Rox. He prefaced by saying that much of what he had to say was already within her head, but she had not yet had the experience to order it properly. Then he started in.

“Magic is an imperfect art. Approach it wrong, and it will destroy you. The approach you are using is very dangerous. I set up and start running spells that can pickup the excess tension, one way or another, for the result that I want. That way I minimize the risk. You went straight for the result. It obviously works, but if your idea is not completely clear, you will get unexpected and dangerous side effects.” He scolded, as he instructed Rox.

“Such as lifting all the stuff, instead of the disk,” Rox contributed sheepishly.

“Precisely. Simple magic is generally safe enough to do this way. But for more complex magic, the power levels alone dictate a need for extra safety. Means to harness and bleed off excess energy.”

“So that it does not turn back and bite me.” Rox turned and pointed at a jug across the room. “Pow.”

A bolt of magic reached from her to the jug and popped it like a balloon, spilling a powder all over the floor. He gave her a scolding look for the mess. She sheepishly accepted his unspoken chastisement.

“Evidently that is your mode of choice. So we will proceed in that direction of training. Be careful that you have the end result clearly in mind; to focus the mind and clearly dictate the desired outcome. That is why most practitioners of magic use several languages, images, and bits of stuff in casting spells. As they get more practiced, they begin leaving bits out, because the end result is already clearly known.”

He looked at the shattered jug of powder. “Now, put it back how it was.”

Roxanne was off learning and practicing magic, and Steven was on his second day out of the city. So Caspian had gone to the library and indulged in some historical investigation.

Now Caspian sat in the café across from the hotel, passing time after his own dinner reading about the Charman Empire consolidation. He had been generally instructed about this history as a boy, but being four centuries and half a continent away, it had little direct impact on the specific history he had been instructed on. Nydecia was one of six kingdoms that had been consolidated into The Empire. The Charman Empire itself had then lasted three generations of leaders, and held the center trade routes of the continent. Then it splintered into factions that were subsequently picked off by surrounding nations. The direct remnant still existed, by a different name.

The former kingdom of Nydecia was east of the center of the continent, and now part of a kingdom that stretched further east. The elves library had little current to say on the subject. The older records had been put into storage, and were out of easy reach for Caspian’s interests.

With the sun going down, the wait-staff had lit the few torches and candles. As he read from the book, the rocks nearby that Verigan had marked and tuned to Steven’s amulet vibrated. Caspian put his book down, and watched.

First the glyph glowed, and then the dust swirled and picked up to a man-sized whirl of energy. Steven materialized and stabilized as the whirl of energy dissipated. Steven was filthy, from dust and dirt. But he had two swords. His first in its scabbard, another tucked through his belt just above the first. His bedroll had something rolled in it, and his shoulder pack was full of stuff.

Caspian followed Steven to their hotel, and ran him a bath. The bag was emptied; the clothes and bag were sent to be laundered. The large scroll was set aside, the smaller one set by the sword. Caspian was curious about the scrolls, but Steven was not yet talking about them. They lastly unrolled the bedroll. Steven let Caspian take the pack of parchment. He then rinsed the bedroll. Once all the blankets were hanging to dry, Steven set to washing himself in earnest. As Steven bathed, Caspian rinsed and set out the jewelry. By then Roxanne had shown up, having spent the last while with Master Iver. Once Steven was dry and dressed, Rox and Steven went to dinner and Caspian went to a hotel lounge to keep reading.

The next morning Caspian went with the Caplan’s to the jeweler, and had all the stuff from the tomb appraised.

Some of it was purely ornamental. The gold mail was dismissed as old artisanship. It was small rings in a one-to-six interlink pattern, but each ring was actually two as the gold would be too soft to support its own weight, so a second set of rings of another metal backed the gold. The mail dress would be worth more melted and separated. Or they could have a jeweler remake the dress, if they would give him one of the tiaras in payment. Caspian showed a heretofore hidden knowledge base when he said that for the labor involved, and the metal, if they wanted to have the dress remade the price was good.

The Caplan’s both passed on the dress. It is just to be separated and the metal recycled.

The tiaras were of good quality; most likely master-jeweler work, especially with the abundance of small gems in silver and platinum alloys.

The earrings were mostly semi-precious stones, and little more than costume. Two sets were of master-cut diamonds, matching a respective necklace each.

The rings were like the earrings, being mostly costume, but three were of significant jewel value with two matching the earring/necklace sets, four were signets for wax-seals.

The six necklaces were the real prize, only one was costume, the rest were of assorted makes with various levels of precious stones through out.

Last to be sorted were the bracelets. Nine were jeweled ladies bracelets, four matching the growing sets of jewelry; another dozen were men’s bracelets, some chains, some bands, most of costume value, some of significant value. None of it was magic. But it was worth a bit cumulatively.

All the pieces were laid out and sorted on a chamois.

After they had all been laid out and sorted Roxanne claimed one of the diamond and platinum sets for herself. This set had a necklace with herring bone base chain with diamond encrusted filigree hung from it, with some thirty individual stones dangling within the filigree. A set of bracelets, earrings, and a diamond crusted ring matched. The ring would have to be sized to fit Rox’s finger, but the rest hung comfortably. The hooks for the earrings smoothly fit the piercing in her ears.

“I’m going to keep this set,” she declared.

Steven looked at his wife, wearing the recently recovered jewelry. It looked a bit out of place compared to her current dun colored costume. “What are you going to wear it with? Looks like for our world, it would require black, or white.”

Rox interrupted Steven. “Well I will have to get a new gown, then.”

“You don’t wear gowns. Or you didn’t at home.” Steven did not bother to argue further.

�
� n>����le='color:black'>Rox knelt, sensing under the disk. “I sense the column spiral out under the disk, and up around its edges. I think this is stabilizing it, keeping it level and still.”

She looked across the disk. “I sense some of the energy holding everything on the disk in place. Then it flows into a column that spirals up off the disk and dissipates out above head level. I am not sure what this is beyond venting the energy.”

Master Iver appeared pleased, and spoke. “Elementary physics; the energy needs a place to go. Also the upper column is pulling the disk up, to balance the pushing underneath. There are two more components you have not mentioned. One is around me, to push excess energy away past me, so that I do not get hurt by any surges. Another is within me, so I can control how high the push and pull of the columns are.”

Rox spoke as she reviewed her own immediately previous efforts. “I just wanted the disk to lift. Then was nervous as I felt I was trying to balance on a ball. It’s apparent I did not do so complex, or as safe a spell as you are.”

Master Iver lowered the disc, and the flow disbursed. For a moment Rox could sense the natural flow of energy through the room without effort. Then like a surge in a river, it was passed and the flow returned to its normal unnoticed level.

084 – Steven Among The Academics

Journal of Steven Caplan: Day 118

At least this sword is not a Red Herring marked blade. Rox used one of those back in Veradale, for carving up fish.

Upon their return, the jeweler had the funds on hand to buy all the jewelry, they will separate the steel and gold rings, and melt and press the gold to local coin size, which will be given to them. He will keep the steel as the part of the price for his labor.

The Caplan’s walked out with a significant bag of coins of assorted types.

Their carriage dropped Roxanne at the outfitters for another brief session of fitting. She would then walk to Master Iver’s for more training. Thus would be her day. The carriage then continued to the hotel to drop Steven and Caspian off. Verigan was waiting when they arrived, and went in with them. Cyrril flew off as soon as Caspian saw the elf.

Verigan’s slight blue tinge and tall mohawk set him apart from the average populace; his skin was lighter and almost human in tone, while his mohawk was kept about twice as long as average, the sides clean shaved. His usual silks were closer to the human standard color pallet than the local motley.

Steven was to present the sword to Cuinton and Mallob to be sure it was what was desired.

Steven left his money with the hotel concierge, and got a receipt for it. In his room, he gathered the sword, the parchment book, the scroll in the wooden tube and the scroll he kept wrapped in a cloth, and put these into his bag. Verigan and Caspian waited patiently. Steven wondered whether Caspian was invited. Whether he was or not, he had self-invited and was coming.

Verigan hailed a passing carriage and they went into the center area of the upper tier of the city. Verigan led them up the front stairs of the building into the main annex and then into a side hall and up to a third floor and into an area that looked to Steven to be a cross between a library and office building.

Again the scale of things was larger than Steven was used to, but growing accustomed to here. Against his expectations the shelves were of various heights, almost too close for comfort, full of bound books, scrolls, and piles of papers, and were apparently used as the dividers of the working areas. Verigan led them along a main corridor past the areas, each with a table staffed by males and females poring over documents. At the end of the corridor, against the outer wall was a larger area with three parallel tables making three islands of activity in the area, with shelves all the way around this area. Verigan took them to the table to the right, where Steven recognized Mallob and Cuinton among the gathering. As Verigan approached, the gathering involving these two broke and two younger females and three younger males picked up papers and books and departed. Several other elves hung around in the background, watching and waiting.

Cuinton, the darker colored of the two, stood a bit stooped with age. Yet he stood as tall as Mallob who was built heavier than his companion. Cuinton turned and leaned against the table with several papers and books scattered across it, as Mallob turned to greet Steven. Verigan moved past and went around the table, pulled a stool out and sat down.

“Welcome,” Mallob greeted the men speaking in Caspian’s native language. “We trust this is the sword of the Nydecia Kings.”

Steven put the sword down on the polished stone top table between some books and piles of papers, and then put his backpack on top of it. He unloaded the scrolls and parchment as he spoke.

“I hope so. It was the only serviceable sword I could fine. There were a few buried with their apparent owner. However this sword came with a bit of a vision, which led to a hidden safe that contained this sheaf of parchment, and some seals that I left behind.”

Steven pulled the parchment last, and presented it to Mallob. “My best guess is that this is the genealogy of the royal line of that place you sent me.”

Steven handed the wooden scroll over to Caspian. “Open this carefully. I think it is a scroll that lists the same genealogy in better detail.”

Steven then took the cloth wrapped scroll and removed the shirt he had wrapped around the gilded scroll case, and carefully put the case down. Then he stuffed the shirt into his backpack.

“I found the scrolls in a storage room in the church attached to the fortress. This one was the only one put separate from the others.”

Mallob was leafing through the parchment as Caspian pulled the fragile scroll out. Verigan opened the gilded case. It hinged in two lines opening to show the scroll within, the outer two pieces of the case holding the rods that the scroll wound around.

“I can’t read any of this particular script, but recognize the alphabet.” Mallob put the parchment down.

“I can have it translated. Is it important to you?”

Steven shook his head. “No, not really. To me the best they could be called is a bunch of guys that died before anybody I know was probably born, on a planet I did not even know existed until I arrived on it. But it might be useful for your records. It struck my fancy. But the gilded scroll, there, has my interest. I expect it is the local scriptures, or holy book, or what ever the local word is.”

Steven pulled a stool out and climbed onto it.

Verigan carefully slid the scroll over to Cuinton. The older elf rolled the scroll back and forth carefully, and then paused to read. He spoke in a language Steven did not recognize.

When he stopped, Mallob spoke first. “Have that translated, a copy brought back here, a copy for storage, and three sent to the church. If they want the scroll, we will turn it over per the usual process.”

Caspian beat Steven to the punch. “What was just read?”

“A version of the Chaos Bringer prophecies,” Cuinton answered, as he handed the scroll over to a runner. “The difference is this reads as a copy of the original text, rather than a commentary given by another writer. I am passingly familiar, but it has been some time since I read the original.”

Steven was a bit impressed.

Cuinton looked at Steven. “May we see the sword?”

Steven turned and moved his bag and moved the sword hilt first over to the old elf.

Cuinton picked the sword up, cradling the hilt while holding the blade. Steven had not yet polished or sharpened it, but he had wiped the loose stuff off. As he had handled it he judged from its hardness that the crossbar and pommel were bronze, not gold. The wire in its grip was a tight braid of steel and gold inlayed into the knurled ivory. The double edged blade still had some discoloring from the leather it had rested in, that Steven intended to polish off, but had not yet taken time to bother with.

Cuinton turned to an aid, which stood up and stepped forward. Cuinton spoke in the local language and the aid moved off quickly.

“He sent the aid for some oil and alcohol to wipe the blade down.” Caspian said this to Steven, and then directed his attention up to the older elf. “What do you hope to see, sir?”

“We found a description of this sword that said it had some letters very lightly etched into its blade. It would have been useless to tell you before now: We only found it yesterday, and just as you cannot read the script on these books you brought back, you might not have seen them on the sword.”

Cuinton put the sword down and looked at Mallob. “While we wait for this, let us move on to informing the young man of what we have found since we talked to his paramour.”

Mallob nodded, and drew a pile of papers to him. He looked it over. “We talked with Roxanne some about the last Chaos Bringer, and what we had gathered about Krogg’s motivations. How much did she tell you?”

“Some. I had other things on my mind at the time,” Steven answered.

Steven then explained all he knew, and where he knew from it. He mentioned all that Caspian had told him; he filled in from what he had picked up from the things he had heard from the meeting he had participated in; he filled in from what Rox had reported. Steven then summarized. He knew Krogg wanted his kids for their own reasons, which he was still unclear on, and had sent the caravan, to go kidnap his kids and return them to Krogg. That Pervical wanted the kids for his own reasons, among these fears over the Chaos Bringer, and his desire to train Diana and Alex to be able to combat this Chaos Bringer. Now he and Rox were racing the clock to get properly trained and equipped and to Krogg before something dire happened to the kids.

Mallob inscrutably listened. When Steven concluded, he nodded, and looked over the sheet he held. He put it down and shuffled through the papers in the pile.

“There are a few other things we have found, from disparate sources. Most of it is reading that only the truly devout can tolerate without dozing off. We have cataloged a few overall themes. Would you like to hear them?”

Steven shrugged. Caspian leaned against the table.

Mallob glanced at Cuinton who motioned for him to continue. “From our own records: A fourth generation half-elf, parenting two fifth generation half-elves. The kids will be descended from one of our clans. And they will be born on ‘the foot stool of the Messiah.’”

Mallob paused. “That is an interesting title. It only appears a few times, and always in relation to the Anointed Lamb of God.”

Steven was not moved. He was well read in his bible; even if he did not attend any denomination. “It’s not a surprise. My home planet is called that a few times in our own scriptures. Do you need the meaning, or shall we go on.”

Mallob went on. “It is self evident, if one knows his scriptures. One last thing unique from our own sources: the Chaos Bringer will be a child of incest.”

That got a little attention, but only in the realm of distaste.

Mallob put that sheet down, and picked up another. “Both Light and Dark forces will be present, around the harbingers. The two children are harbingers of the Chaos Bringer; we have been over that. . .  Here we go . . . this is from a human kingdom. ‘The common interpretation is if the parents are unable to keep the children, then it is presumed that the Chaos-Bringer will be born to the children, when they are of age. If the parents are able to hold on to the children, they will be leaders for good.’ There is a bit more about if they are good they will not be the parents.”

Steven perked up at this. “Sounds like something to tell Humber Shroober.”

Cuinton agreed. “Indeed. But I doubt it will sway him. Right now, it is simply yielding to the majority that he is not being more tyrannical.”

Mallob continued, as he ran his finger down the sheet. “In the life span of these fifth generation half-elves the Chaos Bringer will be born. That is from an eastern kingdom. Evil hopes to control the harbingers in a bid to control the Chaos Bringer. That is from an elf up north. . .”

Mallob ran his finger over the sheet, and looked over a few others. “Everything else that I have appears to have been covered one way or another.”

“I have a little,” Caspian spoke up. “I don’t have my notes but I recall that the Chaos Bringer will be able to travel to several worlds, but never the ‘foot stool of the Messiah.’ But he/she might be able to cause trouble there, if the time is right, and the kids don’t stop him/her first.”

Steven listened to this. “Fun. So my kids have a bit of excitement in their futures; immediate and long term. Rox will want to hear this.”

Steven looked at the papers Mallob had. “Are those in your local script?”

“Yes.”

“Can I take them to let Rox read them?”

“Yes. These are my personal notes. She can give them to Master Iver. I will get them from him.”

085 – Of Swords And Equipment

Shortly the aid returned with two bottles and some rags. Several of the papers and books were moved and piled aside. Cuinton took a rag, opened one bottle, put the rag over the opening and splashed a bit onto the rag. He handed the bottle back to his aid, which closed it and put it on the table. He picked up the sword and started at the hilt wiping the grime and scabbard residue from it.

Steven could see that he probably would not get all the staining off the metal, but the blade was soon cleaner, and the surface features caught the light. Steven could see some of the grain of the metal.

Cuinton cleaned both sides, for about halfway from the crossbar to the tip. The rag was put aside and another used to wipe the alcohol off. Then he used the first rag with the second bottle, this was evidently a light oil that left a sheen on the blade. Cuinton stepped over by the window, Steven and Mallob following.

He held the blade in the light, letting it glint off the surface features, and examined it. He soon stopped. Then he called out short words in language that Steven did not recognize.

Cuinton finished and handed the sword back to Steven. He then moved back to where another aid was writing and comparing to another written document. The two elves conferred in their own language.

Steven held the sword in the light, and was quickly able to see a series of characters that ran along beside one fuller. These were a different color from the rest of the steel of the blade.

Finally Cuinton turned back to Steven. “I believe that is the sword we selected for you. From the history we have of if, it should serve you well.”

“How so?” Steven vaguely remembered Verigan saying something about this, but was focused on other things at the time.

Cuinton picked up a sheet of paper and looked it over. “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'.”

He put the sheet down. “It looks like the wielder of this sword has some protection against magic. Its history is that the first recorded wielder used it to win the kingdom of Nydecia. It was then passed down the line of kings, defending the kingdom, and expanding it a little from time to time.”

Cuinton picked up another sheet. “This is from another source: the sword with have the characters 'TI=SO+ND' inlayed on one side. Which we have just found.”

The old elf moved on to other information. “From what we have learned about the rulers of Krogg, this will be a good tool for you. The queen has some kind of magic bargain, and has not been seen in public in years, but is known to still be alive. The king used magic imbued armor and other tools to preserve his life on the battlefield, but has not been reported on the field in some years. There are reported to be several casters of assorted flavors in their employ.”

“My wife encountered one of them,” Steven interjected.

“So,” Cuinton continued. “We do not know all the facts. But have given you all we have at the moment. Now, I understand you are due at Master Mundrl’s as soon as you can get there, whether this afternoon or in the morning tomorrow.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Very good. He and his family are well skilled, and will be good for you. Now, unless you have something else for me, I have other business to be about.”

Steven considered. “No. There is not anything I can think of.”

The old elf nodded to Mallob, gathered his notes, and then turned and left; his three aids who had been in attendance following. One paused long enough to retrieve the bottles and rags that had been used on the sword.

As Steven reviewed the meeting that evening to Roxanne, he presented Mallob’s notes. As soon as Steven finished his report, she took the notes aside to the window and began to read them in the late afternoon light.

After briefly marveling at being able to recognize and read the elf alphabet, she settled into reading and sorting the information out.

Steven got the sword out, and the two bottles he had acquired on his way home. The first was white alcohol, with which he rubbed the blade down. With some patient work he had most of the discoloring off of the blade and all of the residue. Then he worked over the hilt, being careful not to let the alcohol soak into the ivory. When finished he put the closed alcohol bottle aside and opened the second bottle. This had light oil that he rubbed into all the metal components of the sword. The oil rubbed into the blade, causing the darker grain to be more visibly distinct from the lighter grain. He also could see the pattern of the characters that looked stamped into the blade between the fuller and the edge on one side. The bronze did not soak in the oil as quickly but did take in some. Steven carefully rubbed oil into the crisscrossed wire wrapped around the ivory.

Just as Steven carefully worked the sword over, Rox carefully digested the notes she read.

Steven put the sword aside on a chamois, then left and quickly returned with a cart with dinner for the two of them.

As they ate Rox reviewed the notes with Steven. She would read the notes in the written language, translate it to English, and then they would discuss it at length. Their discussion came down to one topic that Mallob had sprinkled in comments through out the notes. How would all this be resolved? The largest hole in information was what the real motivation of Krogg was.

As they talked about this, Steven wrote things down in his journal. Roxanne came to a realization about a way to ‘force’ things to swift conclusion. The bad guys in Krogg wanted the kids and would keep coming back for them. So, do not wait for the bad guys to come again, rather go hunting for them. But would the kids be ready?

Roxanne reviewed the available notes, retranslating them for Steven, and explained what she was comprehending them to say. Then she told Steven that depending on what they found in Krogg, she wanted to get the kids, and then go confront the Warlord and Queen, and hope that the kids can win, rather than run and hide until they are adults.

Steven listened to this, and did not like it. He just wanted to get the kids and go home. Since they do not have the full understanding of Krogg’s pieces of this puzzle, they would have to hold off a final decision. In the mean time Steven had his appointments with his outfitter, Rox was to finish with hers, and continue her magic lessons. Once both outfitters were done, and Master Iver was happy with her abilities, they would be on their way.

Journal of Steven Caplan: Day 119

Rox has been learning magic and occasionally visiting her outfitter. Now I get to get my costume reworked. There are a few things I would change if I had the means. The question is can I communicate what I would like to change things to effectively?

Steven had finished eating and cleaning up breakfast when the elf came for him. It was not Verigan.

“I am here to take you to be outfitted. Don all your gear, and come with me.” The tall elf just stood by the door, passively waiting.

Steven quickly turned to, pulled on his vest and belt, shouldered his crossbow, and picked up his coat and pack with bedroll, then followed the elf out. Outside the hotel they climbed into a waiting coach. Steven settled into his seat putting his bedroll and bag, coat, and crossbow on the seat next to him, and adjusted his sword's position so he wasn’t sitting on it. The elf watched with passive interest, like many officers that Steven remembered from years ago.

They moved through the morning traffic and into the market district. The coach slowed as it moved through the crowd. Steven watched, curious at the activity. He felt that the markets he had seen were much like open-air malls, but with the sellers actively hawking their goods.

The coach pulled up to a shop on the side that Steven was not watching.

“We are here.” The elf moved to the door as it opened from the outside.

Steven grabbed his things by their straps and climbed out. As he stepped onto the dusty cobblestones of the sidewalk, Steven looked up at the sign. The script was unreadable, but the writing looked plain, and relatively unadorned. The sign was stained embossed leather over wood, the meaning was later apparent.

The elf moved forward, Steven following in his wake. They moved through the door as an attendant held it. Steven entered the shop unsure of what he would find, and feeling a bit self-conscious; both from his being in full kit, and being the shortest adult there.

Half the shop looked like a cross between a leather and cloth shop; furs and tanned leathers on tables and rolled up in shelves arrayed like wine racks. Bolts and rolls of fabric were somewhat intermixed in the middle of the area, and filled one entire rack. Six female elves with young children in tow were conversing over one of the tables of material. The other half to the shop looked like a condensed and abbreviated version of an outdoor equipment and outfitters shop, with bits and pieces of all sorts of stuff on the shelves and in bins. For all this, the front room looked a little more than sixty feet wide to his left and twenty feet deep from the door in the corner. To the right by the door was a counter where a petite female elf, taller than Steven, was minding the cash box and books.

Steven’s escort barely noticed her as he glided straight to the back and through the rear entry to a room of equal size, though oriented deeper than it was wide. On Steven’s right were changing booths along the wall with high windows above them. A work table and stool stood on the left, with shelves lining the walls, floor to ceiling; Steven estimated about sixteen feet up. A ladder stood to one side against a shelf. Another elf walked in from the opposite door, a young elf who was evidently his son in tow. Both were dressed for utility, with a chamois apron over silk shirts, linen trousers and leather shoes.

The two adult elves conversed quickly, the escort motioning to Steven. The boy was about a hand span shorter than Steven, but looked like he was in his early teens. The adults finished and turned to face him, the escort addressing him.

“This is Master Mundrl. He is to outfit you properly, for much of what you carry is deemed unsuitable for what lies ahead for you. As he does not speak any language you know, I will remain as interpreter. Now, please empty all your pockets, pouches and so forth onto the table, including unsheathing all your weapons, and unrolling your bedroll.”

Steven was not sure about the unsuitability of things, but was not yet ready to argue.

First he put the bedroll onto the table. Used to tables at just below belt level, he felt a bit awkward reaching for one that was almost at chest level. But he quickly filled the area of it with stuff from his pack and vest. First he unrolled the blankets, and put his larger things down into them. Next he emptied his pack, pulling out the change of clothes; this included several sets of socks and underwear, his own and the two sets for his kids. Two swords were put down on the end of the blankets, one with a leather scabbard and belt. Several knives and various implements for equipment care went next to these. His coat, gloves and hat were put down beside the bedroll. In the middle of the blankets Steven put down his tinderbox, and all the toys from Terra; a leatherman, his camera with two rolls of the film used, the third roll a bit more than a third done, his binoculars, mess kit, and so forth. Some pebbles, twigs and leaves fell out and got brushed aside as things were opened up and set out. This left Steven standing in his trousers, shirt, and boots.