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?”

082 - Rox's Morning

Roxanne found herself waking in the hotel bed. Reviewing her recent memory, she wondered how she had gotten from the porch behind Master Iver’s shop to here, and how much time had passed. Looking herself over, she was in her own usual sleeping garb, with her clothes laid over a nearby chair as had become her custom. So she had probably got herself here.

Cyrril chirped from the lintel over the fireplace. The little dragon looked at her quizzically.

The light direction and intensity said it was morning. She was scheduled for some fitting with Masters Eklund and Senisith. This was not supposed to be long. Then she would spend the majority of the day with Master Iver.

Rox bathed, then dressed; she had the white off-the-shoulder-gown as her dress for the day. Cyrril disappeared while she bathed.

She put her local underwear and a shoulder less shift on as foundation for the dress.  As she was putting the dress on, there was a knock at the door. Roxanne adjusted the shoulder and sleeve on her right arm. She wrapped the front over her bust and under her left arm, and back around to her right shoulder. The top corner of the panel slipped through the buckle-ring at her shoulder, and back through itself, holding snug. The wrap around panel closed at her right side from under her arm to her waist by a sequence of tiny buttons under a fine flap.

The door was knocked on again.

Rox walked over, adjusting the dress as she walked, to settle it to her torso.

Caspian waited with a breakfast cart, Cyrril on his shoulder. “I thought you might need to be woken up. When you went right to bed before dinner yesterday, you looked a bit distant.”

Rox ushered Caspian in, standing aside for the cart, and then closed the door.

“I don’t remember yesterday evening. Last I remember was being at Master Iver’s, with the Talent, Macsam.”

Caspian had not been kept explicitly up to speed on the goings on, and paused as Roxanne said this. He watched as she stepped over to the dressing area, and used a stool to put each foot on as she put on some slippers that then tied with ribbons up around her lower leg.

As she came back to the table, he arrayed a plate for her, and opened the few dishes that the hotel had arrayed, with the usual assortment of fruits, cheese, bread, and juice. Caspian then held the chair for her as she sat, and then stood aside as she helped herself to the food.

After a moment, waiting to get her with a clear mouth he spoke. “Are you sure you are awake yet?”

Rox looked over the fruit and selected some more. “Yes. I am aware of here and now, but feel that my memories are a bit scrambled. I dreamed in the local language; I remember something about circles and shapes and writing. Also something about fluids, mediums and controlling them.”

“Are you aware you are speaking the local language?” Caspian watched carefully, with all his senses, to gauge her reaction.

She paused. “Am I?”

He nodded. “Yes. With your own accenting to the words, but yes.”

Rox concentrated. “The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy red dog. Mare’s eat oats, and doe’s eat oats, but little lambs eat ivy.”

This was said in English.

“The river ran down hill, through the crags and over the cataracts. You can fish from it.”

Rox said this in the language she had learned in Veradale.

Roxanne then ate some fruit, and started to spread some cheese on a hunk of bread.

Caspian watched. Cyrril leaped and flew over to the window, and started to preen in the sunlight.

Rox gestured to the food. “Going to join me?” She was back in the local language.

Caspian declined. “No. I ate already. I was up before dawn. What are you up to for the rest of the day, looking so primped up?”

Rox swallowed. “First another fitting. Then the rest of the day with Master Iver, and magic practice.”

The fitting was non-eventful. Mostly it was trousers.

Upon arriving at Master Iver’s, he commented briefly on her white gown being a bit more formal than necessary. Once able to get the lesson going Roxanne talked with Master Iver about what had happened the afternoon before, and her lack of memory. He explained that Macsam had transferred, effectively copying, knowledge from Master Iver’s mind to Roxanne. That they were both a bit disoriented was expected. However, Roxanne now had several decades’ worth of magical experience, instruction, and experimentation in her head. Now her mind would catalog and process it, and she could then access it and base her own use on this. It is not the recommended way compared to personal practice but it worked in a pinch, as they had here. As for the language, she had already acquired it once; now it had been written in again, in a more permanent form.

To prove his point, Master Iver spent an hour drilling Rox on various formulas and theories of magic. In retrospect, it was like a comprehensive math final that covered college algebra, geometry, trigonometry, pre-calculus, and calculus, on the second day of high school, and discovering that she could ace every subject without consciously remembering the lessons the information came from.

But Roxanne knew from her own teaching and martial arts training: knowledge did not equal experience. So Rox continued her magic training under Master Iver’s watch.

She stood in the practice room watching him construct and cast a spell. He had a large wood disk on the floor of the room, with about a quarter of his stuff sitting on tables or shelves arranged around the edge of the disk, leaving the center free. She was aware of the mana, and sensed him put the pieces together. First he arranged a container defining the limits. Next the failsafe for bleed over energies. The matrix for the spells final action. Then the energy that would drive it. All this was done by chanting, moving his hands in specific patterns, and concentrating his will to move the mana. And then the disk with his tables and stuff slowly lifted a hand span off the floor.

Roxanne paid most attention to the energies and least to the physical actions. The disk settled back down, and then it was her turn. She had been taught the actions, and words, and had been given a telepathic crash course on the elfin language, in addition to what Caspian had magically done for her. But try as she did, she just could not follow in the path Master Iver was showing. Three times he had worked the levitation, and two times she had failed.

This time, she was going to try a different tact. One suggested by The Sorceress. Roxanne concentrated, not on constructing the components, but on them simply already being.

“Float,” she said under her breath in the Veradale language, focusing on the end result, letting the magic find its own way. Suddenly the room was full of floating objects. The disk was still on the floor, but everything else was moving.

Rox almost panicked, as did Master Iver’s Assistant who had been puttering in the front of the building.

“Try it again. Float.” She mumbled through clenched teeth, reaffixing the idea in her mind.

Suddenly the disk was pushing against her as it jumped to her own waist height in the air, and all the stuff flew back to their places with a clatter. Roxanne felt the power flowing around her, and bending to her will. It was hard to hold, and near intoxicating to feel. She realized that she was holding her hands out to her sides, and formed a new image. As she lowered her hands, the disk settled back to its base.

Master Iver looked around and then at her with evident concern. “Do you know what you just did?”

“I made the disk float.”

“Before and during that?”

“I used magic to float everything else, and then corrected myself to just float the disk.”

“You used force of will alone to shape and hold a spell. Without any buttressing or support to bleed off or control excess.”

“I thought that was what magic was. What you were doing,” Rox replied

He continued. “Magic IS bending the world to your own desires, by your own authority. The ONE Single Difference that really matters between this and having God’s Power, is whose authority it is being done by. Built on to this are a few ideas, among them are these; magic is always temporary, God’s power may be permanent. There are other arguments about the principles these are based on, and why, which lead into a religious discussion; this is not the place for that.”

There were no chairs in here, so Rox stood to attention facing him as he continued his lecture.

“God by His authority said ‘the laws the worlds are run by are thus…’ Magic says ‘that’s fine, will you please do it this way for a while?’ Doing as you did, shaping the spell by will power alone, risks impinging on the powers and realms of God. Most magic users who work this way eventually get intoxicated; overpower a spell, and self-destruct. So there are trappings about magic. They are there for only one real reason – the safety of the spell caster. A lesser reason is the safety of everyone and everything else around the caster. Others will build ritual and rites out of this, and claim in their pride that these are more important. But that is not so. Others, including myself, will say these are aids in focusing the mind and will. That is a corollary to safety.”

Rox interjected. “Do it right and it is safe to do it again.”

Master Iver continued, with pleased tones at her comprehension. “Ultimately it all boils down to individual safety. Now watch.”

He cast the levitation spell again, but instead of just a hand span, he lifted the platform to his waist height off the floor, and held it there, with her standing on it.

He held the spell as he looked at Rox. “Now, use your senses and reason. What is happening, and why with this spell?”

Rox gathered her skirts, hopped off the disk, and opened her magic senses. Still being raw to these senses she had to focus to use them. Slowly they resolved.

She spoke. “I sense energy, mana? swirling about floor level, into a pillar about half the diameter of the disk. This is the levitation part.”

She cast her senses about. “I sense part of the energy is flowing over the rest of the stuff in the room, holding it in place, before flowing into the column.”

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.

086 – Of Aristocratic Elves And Bourgeois Elves

The boy had disappeared, while Master Mundrl and Steven’s escort were sorting through his clothes. They put his underwear aside, discarded his worn socks into a separate pile, and were going over his BDU trousers. They looked at the setup with the pockets and storm flaps pulling a bandanna from a pocket, jabbering to each other in their tongue. Then the escort turned to Steven, translating.

“You carry things in your thigh pockets?”

“Gloves, bandanna, other soft things.” Steven answered.

The elves jabbered a bit more, as the trousers were turned inside out and the Master examined the seams. The translator spoke a bit more.

“Do you kick much in your fighting? Crawl around, or stretch your legs wide?”

“I don’t kick much, but full movement at my hips is good.”

This was relayed as the trousers were put aside. The costume from the Palace was glanced over, and then put on top of the discarded socks. The rest of his clothes were looked over, but little asked of. Most of his actual gear was ignored, but his leatherman got a few moments of play before being put back down. Then his vest was all but ripped apart as every pocket and seam was examined.

The boy had returned with a notepad and his father, Master Mundrl, began jabbering at him as the boy recorded. Then the two adults jabbered.

“Do you find the vest and pack acceptable?”

“How do you mean? I’m used to it. Everything is where I expect it.”

The adults jabbered, as the Master continued to inspect the vest, hefting it and testing its openings.

“Does it repel water? Does it dry quickly?”

“Parts of it act as a sponge. But it is tolerable.”

Master Mundrl stopped as this was relayed. He then put the vest on the pile with the suit and socks. He examined the pack inside and out, removing the water bladder in the process and setting it back down when done. The Master then spoke through the other elf to Steven.

“Is the pack as tolerable as the vest?”

“Yes, but I would have brought a different one, had I known what I was getting into.”

This elicited a rapid back and forth that Steven correctly guessed the generals of. Steven interrupted it, with a wild idea that came completely out of the blue into his mind.

“I presume that this is the discard pile. And what’s here is to be replaced. If I could get the pack I would prefer, what would happen?”

The escort translated this. The Master looked from the escort to Steven, and back, and then spoke a staccato of words. They went back and forth for a bit, and then stopped. The escort stayed quiet. Steven had no clear idea about elfin gestures and expressions, but guessed that his escort was frustrated and feeling put upon. The escort then spoke, making a swirling motion with his hands. Master Mundrl beamed.

The escort turned to Steven. “I will need to tell my clan leader. How fast could you do your merchandising were you sent home?”

“I would guess one, maybe two days.”

The escorts look darkened, as the other beamed and picked up the old sword. He inspected it, mumbling to the boy, who filled a page on his stack of notes just about the sword. The other sword was next, the scabbard dismissed as serviceable, but obviously not made by a craftsman.

A question was relayed. “Do you intend to keep and use this sword?”

“Keep? Yes. Use? Doubtful, if the older one is better.”

The crossbow and its bag for bolts were looked over and moved on from with little comment.

Steven interjected, picking the weapon up. “This is small for me.  Could I find one bigger? I have not been anywhere that I could wait for one to be made, before arriving here. Nor have I really had time to shop here for one.”

Steven shouldered the weapon as he was want to, and then moved his hands to where he would prefer, moving the weapon off his shoulder, and his front hand off the stock to slightly in front of the bow.

The translator made no effort to provide any input. The Master looked thoughtful, and the son just made notes. After a moment, Steven put the crossbow back down.

The rest of the stuff was sorted and finally the bedroll exposed. It was the only part of the kit that Steven felt any embarrassment about. He pulled it apart, keeping 2 blankets as the third was immediately put in discard. As the Master inspected the other two, he moved one to the discard that Steven pointedly moved back.

They looked as each other for a moment.

Master Mundrl nodded once, and left it in the keep pile. Finally the Master picked up Steven’s greatcoat, which he had managed to keep in good condition. He looked it over, and held it out to Steven. Steven put it on, and they moved over to the block in the dressing area. Steven secured it in place and settled it. The Master babbled to his son, as he pulled and adjusted.

Then the elves looked at Steven’s boots. These elicited a bit of an argument between the elves. Through the translator, Steven was asked if he wanted new boots, as those he wore were very definitely showing wear. Steven responded that if he could get new ones from home that could be then taken apart and used as a base, that would suit him; the boots he had seen here did not impress him at all and the few he had tried were not comfortable.

The Master elf turned to the escort, and they spoke at length for several minutes. Steven got down, pulled the coat off and began to repack his stuff in the discarded bag, when Master Mundrl stopped him.

“Go home. Get your things. Come back.” The Master spoke in English.

Master Mundrl smiled at the escorts discomfort, as the boy left the room sniggering. The escort left, motioning to Steven to follow. The boy returned with a box that all Steven’s ‘keep’ pile went into.

Master Mundrl spoke again. “You get new clothes, new vest, and pack. You bring comfortable pattern. We make it.”

He bowed, with bubbling mirth in his eyes.

Steven returned the bow, finished packing the discard pile in to the pack, took his coat, belt knife, camera and film and followed his escort.

The escort was still huffy over being the butt of the merchant’s humor as he entered the suite where the Caplan’s were staying. He first spotted Roxanne, then found Caspian there and spoke rapidly to the mage and left.

Steven collected Roxanne as the others talked, and watched the elf leave. Caspian stood dumbfounded. Rox watched the elf leave, with a look of amusement.

Finally Steven broke the silence. “Well?”

Caspian turned to them. “Pack for Terra. You’re going shopping. How did you manage to offend him?”

The conversation during dinner in the café oscillated between offense given and taken, and what would be wanted to purchase and otherwise acquire on return to Earth. Just as dinner finished, Master Iver’s Assistant brought two stone disks a bit larger than dinner plates, gave them to Roxanne, and left.

With the meal done, Caspian took the disks in hand and led out from the café back to their rooms. “We need to leave the city to use these. Then Roxanne will teleport us to the convergence point. I will take us to Terra. However, we had best keep things quick. Any more than three days, and the elves will presume that you have given up.”

“Earth days or local days? And then what will they do,” Rox asked.

“Probably local, which are longer than Earth. Then they retrieve your children on their own, and raise them themselves here.”

Steven stood. “I say we go as soon as we can. I just left all my clothes at the outfitters.” He put his coat over his arm.

Caspian shrugged. “Fine with me.”

Roxanne moved toward the bedroom. “I’m going to change. I’ll be right back.”

Steven looked around after watching her leave. “Where’s Cyrril?”

“Out, somewhere. I send him away when I have to talk to elves. The stuffy galumphs needn’t have him to tell them what I think of them.”

Half an hour later, they walked out of the hotel where Cyrril joined them. They headed for the city gate. Master Iver joined them as they walked, but stayed quietly aside, and perhaps unrecognized by all but Roxanne.

Once outside the gate, Caspian picked a spot off the road and where it looked like few came directly and set one of the disks on the ground. Using it for a locus, Caspian guided Roxanne in the teleport spell to carry then across the continent to the stone circle where Roxanne and Steven had first set foot on Tywacomb. This took a bit of work; Rox had no clear memory of the circle, so she he instructed her in finding it by its unique arrangement. Once done, she set up the rest of the spell and cast it.

The spell was a variant on the one Caspian used, using Rox’s staff for the center. They all watched the land fall away, arc under them, and finally tip over and accelerate at a mountain.

They landed in almost the center of the circle of stones. Rox and Steven stepped aside and sat on stones large enough to hold them. Caspian leaned on his staff for some support and walked aside.

“I have no idea at which of the two points on Terra we will land, or what time of day. Also I hope you know just what you are after.” Caspian dropped the second disk out of the way.

Steven patted the parchment that he had written his and Roxanne’s wish lists on, hoping nothing had happened to shut down their financial accounts. He also had his camera and film; he used up the last of his third roll as they waited, taking a multi-image panorama of the view. Rox had a few things with her, including a leather bag containing her new jewelry set, and another with all her dirty laundry. They rested a bit, as Caspian set to charging up with mana, Cyrril doing the same. Roxanne looked about in some wonder, and stretched her awakened sensitivity to magic, soaking in the sensation of the several ley lines.

It was late afternoon, and the sun was low on the horizon, with one of the twin moons visible at about its zenith. After an hour of sitting and taking Caspian reported that he was ready.

The three stood in a circle at the center and each gripped Caspian’s staff with their right hands. Caspian then cast the spell to travel the ley lines to Terra. They all felt awareness leave them, coupled with a sense of upward acceleration.