Chapter 8:

City of Adamant

*

Walking through forests and jungles had been a rough and slow trek, but the caves of Dalizar made Keolah wish she were back out under the trees. City of Adamant was a long way from Pearl, out on the far northwest tip of Kalor, and that jour­ney wouldn’t be so bad if it weren’t through end­less, confusing caves and tunnels where she never had any idea whether it was night or day out­side. How the Wind­riders could live like this was beyond her.

“Can’t we just fly there?” Haw­thorne griped.

Right. That was how the Wind­riders could live like this.

“Floka aren’t nearly as strong or capable of long-range flight as people think they are,” Silver said. “Yes, they could manage two people, but they’d have to stop con­stantly. They’re designed to carry their own weight. While they could carry off a horse, they wouldn’t be able to carry it off far.”

“Do they often… carry off horses?” Zen­dellor asked.

“Usually goats,” Silver chuckled.

“I guess it would stand to reason, even if they’re using magic,” Haw­thorne mum­bled. “My own Wind Magic isn’t strong enough to fly. I just really wanted to fly.”

“You already had a chance to fly,” Delven pointed out.

“Yeah, but I was too freaked out to enjoy it,” Haw­thorne rep­lied.

“What’s this, now?” Keolah asked.

“Haw­thorne fell off a cliff,” Delven said.

Keolah put her face in her palm.

“I won­der if the floka use Wind Magic to augment their flight,” Haw­thorne said.

“I don’t see why they couldn’t be full mages,” Keolah said. “They have the same sort of auras as elves do.” Keolah glanced to Delven. “And elvenoids.”

“Elvenoids?” Delven repeated with a smirk. “I’ll not comment on how we say ‘humanoid’ in common. I guess from your perspective, we’re the ones who are similar to you…”

“Do ordinary an­imals not have auras?” Haw­thorne asked.

“They do,” Keolah said. “But they’re dimmer and duller than intelligent beings. Don’t ask me why or what that means. Non-magical plants don’t have auras. Some magical plants do.”

“Right, well,” Haw­thorne said. “I want to fly. You guys can crawl through tunnels if you want, but I’m going to go praise Nar­cella and her pretty, pretty feathers a bit more in hopes of con­vincing her to fly me there.”

“Ah, but you’ll miss out on the water­fall caves and the hot springs,” Silver said, grinning at her. “And there’s a reason­ably friendly dragon who lives—”

Haw­thorne rushed back up to him. “You had me at ‘dragon.’”

“You’re not still caught up on being descended from dragons, are you?” Keolah asked.

“Come on, dragons are awe­some,” Haw­thorne said.

“Provided they aren’t try­ing to eat you or some­thing,” Keolah said.

“Penthelnor prob­ably won’t try to eat you.” Silver smirked.

Probably, he says,” Delven muttered.

*

Silver had said that City of Adamant was the largest of the cave cities in Dalizar, and Keolah could readily believe it. The tunnel they’d been following opened into a vast, glittering cavern the scale of which she hadn’t even ­imag­ined being down here. The place bustled with energy as a throng of blue elves went about their daily lives. Shops lit up with glowing signs branched off the tunnel-streets, and vendor stalls lined the ledges.

In the heart of the city stood the largest foun­tain Keolah had ever seen. One vast central geyser spurted out a flow of rainbow water, surrounded by several slightly smaller magnificent spouts in diff­erent colors.

“I’m guessing they keep the foun­tain going by magic and not pumps?” Delven asked quietly.

“They’re elves,” Sedder mum­bled in rep­ly. “every­thing is going to be magic. Even the things that don’t strictly need to be.”

“Especially the things that don’t strictly need to be,” Haw­thorne added. “Where’s the tavern around here? I, for one, am parched. I don’t even care if the booze is magic, too.”

Once the others had gone off to get some­thing to drink, Silver pointed out the place Keolah wanted to go. Adamant didn’t sim­ply have a rel­atively small lib­rary like Pearl had, but a sprawling academy teaching a variety of sub­jects, some of which she’d never even con­sidered. If Keolah ever wished to learn magical basket-weaving, she now knew where to go.

The lib­rary in the Adamant Academy touted it­self as being the last true bastion of the League of Wizards. These books had been care­fully preserved and copied with magic, and they still dripped with mana in multi­­ple colors. Keolah was al­most afraid to touch them, with­out knowing what sort of enchant­ments or residue might be on them.

A woman with a pur­ple aura noticed her hesitation and came up to her. “So you are here. Don’t worry. The books won’t bite you.” She tilted her head. “Elanyr. I teach magical theory and help look after the lib­rary.”

“Keolah Kedaire. Please tell me you’re not also related to Silver.”

Elanyr chuckled. “Not closely, and only by marriage.”

“That’s kind of a relief?” Keolah said. “I hadn’t realized until I came here how many Wind­riders were closely related to one an­other.”

“Well, Queen Therrin had seven chil­dren,” Elanyr said. “And most of them had several chil­dren of their own. Silver’s a member of House Renneck. Renneck had no less than thir­teen chil­dren.”

Thirteen?” Keolah exclaimed. “That’s a little ridi­culous.”

“You’re telling me,” Elanyr said.

Keolah gestured to the book­shelves. “How did the Wind­riders bring so many mat­er­ials across the ocean?”

“Contrary to popular myth, we did not fly across the sea on the backs of floka,” Elanyr said. “Nor did we cross aloft an island floating in the sky.”

“What, don’t tell me you did some­thing so mundane as sailing?” Keolah said with a grin.

“Nope,” Elanyr rep­lied. “The twins, Cammer and Tammer, opened a portal between here and the city of Tentisalu.”

“Damn, that must have been con­venient,” Keolah said. “I don’t suppose it’s still accessible? I may wind up having to visit Zar­hanna if I can’t find any answers here.”

Elanyr shook her head. “It took quite a bit of mana to main­tain, and the only reason they were able to pull it off was because they were born in­born Motion Mages. One stood on each side of the ocean, and they cast the spell in unison.”

“Right, most Motion Mages can only move them­selves or smaller ob­jects, and not over large dis­tances,” Keolah said. “Impressive that those two could pull that off.”

“If we’d gone by ship, it would have been a loud, noticeable event,” Elanyr said. “Everyone would have known we’d left, even if not precisely where we were going. The way we went, we were sim­ply there one day and gone the next.”

“Why all the secrecy, though?” Keolah asked.

“At that point, the League of Wizards was already under fire. War was brewing. We didn’t leave Zar­hanna just for the sake of settling in un­charted territory far from home. Although we did choose the place for its high level of mana and its rel­ative inaccessibility to any­one that can’t fly.”

“I’m sur­prised there isn’t any­thing on the surface of Dalizar,” Keolah said.

Elanyr shrugged. “Nothing but jagged, barren rock. We sus­pect that it might be a side effect of the makeup of Dalizar, but we never came up with a conclusive ex­­plan­ation.”

“Alright, I need to go find out which inn my friends have decided we’re staying at,” Keolah said. “And they’ll smack me if I forget to eat while reading again. I’ll definitely be back soon, though.”

Keolah headed back out into the main cavern-plaza and looked around for the others. She wound up having to track them by their auras, which was difficult with so many other people around, but not impossible. Every per­son had a unique magical sig­nature, after all, but it took a good deal of atten­tion to be able to tell the shade and pattern of one Wind Mage from an­other. While most of the local Wind Mages she saw had fairly sedate auras, Haw­thorne’s was wild and lively.

The party had settled in at a cavern called the Song’s Hearth. Keolah went to get some­thing to eat, and while she thought Haw­thorne was try­ing to get her atten­tion, her mind was wandering and more intent upon her research. Haw­thorne stormed off in a huff, leaving Keolah staring after her in puzzle­ment. The girl must just be being bored and weird again, she figured. Haw­thorne wasn’t nearly as ­in­ter­ested in reading as Keolah, after all. Hope­fully she wouldn’t wind up falling off a cliff again.

Upon returning to the academy lib­rary in the morning, or at least what she thought was the morning, she found Elanyr was not present at the moment, so she just set about to milling through the lib­rary her­self. For com­pleteness rather than because she thought they might actually have much infor­mation about it, Keolah started with the Witch­­wood. Unsurprisingly, the only books they had were ones she’d already read in Scalyr, al­though at least it wasn’t mixed up with the fiction. From there on, she dove into the aisle on lan­guages. She’d get to the bottom of this yet.

*

So long as he was in Dalizar, Sedder figured he should collect as much intel as he could about it. He wasn’t sure how much of it would wind up being use­ful to Sardill, but it’s not like he didn’t have other things to “Collect” while collecting intel. Spying, after all, some­times involved rooting through people’s possessions and confiscating goods. Sedder snorted quietly to him­self. He was a thief. He’d never minced words about it, to him­self. He had no need to justify it to him­self.

In a way, though, he was glad that Sardill stated that he, at least for the moment, meant no harm toward Dalizar. He was prob­ably still just try­ing to keep tab­s on his ex, for what­ever reason.

He poked his nose into various homes cautiously. They were elves. every­thing in here was prob­ably enchanted, and might have traps or alarms if he wasn’t care­ful about it. And unlike Keolah, he couldn’t just look at things and see mana in them. Still, it was worth a shot. He figured he could feign ig­norance and get away with it at least once.

Although the Wind­riders didn’t usually put doors on their caves, that didn’t mean that they left their valuables out in the open for the most part. They did keep some things in locked containers, some of which were even affixed to the rock or too large to readily move. Sedder won­dered what the point was in locking up jewelry in a small box, when he could just make off with the box and worry about figuring out how to get it open later. While he wasn’t an in­born Wind Mage, he had learned to use it to open sim­ple mech­anical locks. Most of the Wind­riders seemed to use locks that were too com­plicated or protected with magic, but he was able to get into some of them.

The residence he was currently burgling appeared to belong to a warrior of some sort, judging by the sword and crossbow sitting near the hammock. Not a paranoid enough warrior to be con­stantly armed even while wandering the city, or per­haps they sim­ply had more than one sword.

A heavy wardrobe sat at the other side of the room, made of dark wood that looked like it had been grown there some­how. It had been left un­locked, which Sedder took to indicate that there was prob­ably nothing of any great value inside, but he looked any­way. In addition to a few sets of clothes, the wardrobe contained no less than three sets of leather armor of various styles, and four diff­erent styles of boots. Maybe they had diff­erent enchant­ments, he speculated. And if they were enchanted, that meant they were prob­ably valuable.

Clothes were con­siderably harder to con­ceal to make off with than money or jewelry, but Sedder wasn’t dis­appointed to find a half-hidden side com­part­ment in the wardrobe containing a several rings and amulets. Sedder quickly scooped them all up into a sound-warded pouch and tucked it away in his trousers. He closed up the com­part­ment and the doors to the wardrobe, but froze. Footsteps were app­roaching, getting louder. He was still cloaked in illusion, and hoped none of the Wind­riders could see through it, but he didn’t want to bump into any­one.

A blue elf woman with midnight blue hair, al­most black, came into the room. Sedder shuffled back into the corner beside the wardrobe. She gave no indication of realizing some­one was in here, how­ever, and just went over to the wardrobe, opened it up, and started stripping. Sedder men­tally grumbled to him­self. Like he needed to watch a woman strip. She was blocking the way to the door, too.

prac­tically holding his breath, Sedder waited patiently while the woman set aside her clothes and went over into a side room. Probably a bath­room, though he hadn’t looked in there. He didn’t care right now, either. He took the oppor­tunity to get out of there, before she noticed her jewelry was missing.

Sedder won­dered if there was any­where in City of Adamant that was willing to fence hot goods. He kept an eye out, until he spotted what looked to be a tavern with a mat in front of the en­trance depicting a gray five-pointed star against a back­ground that was white on the left side and black on the right. The Shadowstar, one of the symbols associated with the Trick­ster. He recog­nized it in­stantly.

Once he stepped inside the cave, he froze again, and only after a moment rem­em­bered not to block an en­trance while invis­ible. He recog­nized the bard’s multi­colored coat in­stantly, too. Delven sat on a stool at the far side of the room, strumming on his lute. What was he doing in here? Making money in his own way, app­ar­ently. No help for it. Sedder moved out of sight of any­one and dispelled his illusions, then strolled back into the tavern like he had every right to be there and definitely wasn’t up to any­thing sus­picious.

Delven acknow­ledged Sedder’s entry with a nod and con­tinued playing with­out missing a beat. Sedder went up to the bar and took a seat. The bar looked like it had been grown here, too. Why were the elves growing trees under­ground, any­way?

“What can I get for you?” asked the barkeep in song elvish.

“Looking to trade some items,” Sedder said quietly in the same lan­guage. The barkeep didn’t intro­duce him­self, and neither did he. Names were best left at the door, in this sort of business.

The barkeep chuckled. “What makes you think I can help you with that?”

In day how dark the shadows are,” Sedder murmured.

But in the Void, the shade’s a star,” the barkeep whis­pered. “Have a drink, then I’ll tell you where to go.”

Sedder nodded, then said aloud. “Pour me a glass of your magic elf wine. And tell me how in the Abyss you grow grapes under­ground.”

The barkeep laughed as he put a glass on the bar and filled it up with deep pur­ple wine. “Magic. That’ll be a silver. But if all you got is human money, I’ll take two Hanna­derres shillings, or a Fly­lish mark and two pennies.”

Sedder passed over two shillings. “What, you’re not worried about the chance of me being Fly­lish?”

“You speak Zarhian with a Fly­lish accent,” the barkeep pointed out.

“Wait, really?” Sedder raised an eye­brow. He switched to snow elvish. “What about Tevric? I have an accent in that, too, don’t I.”

“Yep,” the barkeep said. “Even worse. Even more obvious. You prob­ably haven’t actually used Tevric much, have you. Stick to Zarhian or common.”

Sedder switched to common. “Do people around here speak much common?”

“The ones who will want to talk to a half-elf prob­ably do,” the bar­keep rep­lied. “There, see? No accent in common. And no, I don’t care if you’re Fly­lish. Especially since you’re part elf. You’re hardly the only half-elf here. At any rate, if you got this far into Dalizar, some­one must have let you pass. Not my business. I pour drinks, not guard gates.”

Sedder sipped his wine. He felt positively snooty drinking ex­pensive elf wine. He bet he could have bought the whole bottle for the price of two shillings. Oh well, the price of infor­mation and not being ratted out as a thief, he figured. Unless the barkeep had secretly triggered an alarm or called the guards tele­pathically and was just keeping him here drinking until they arrived. But no, he knew the proper response to the code phrase.

“Head down the left tunnel ‘til you see an en­trance with two glowing blue and amber crys­tals,” the barkeep murmured. “Look for a pur­ple-haired elf. Tell him you want violin lessons.”

“Right.” Sedder nodded, finished his wine, and headed out with a polite nod to Delven as he went.

The room in ques­tion was harder to find than the barkeep had let on, and Sedder spent far too much time wandering around in the twisting tunnels of City of Adamant. He could swear that he’d some­how wound up on the wrong floor en­tirely, as some of them sloped up or down. Once he did find the place matching that des­crip­tion, he stood awk­wardly at the en­trance for a moment. What in the Abyss did Wind­riders do in­stead of knock, since they had no doors?

Fortunately for him, a pur­ple-haired elf noticed him standing there, and addressed him in common, “Don’t just stand there. Are you going to come in or not?”

“Sorry,” Sedder muttered and went inside. If they were going to speak common, that was just fine by him.

“So, what are you looking for?” the man asked.

“Violin lessons,” Sedder said.

“Figured as much. Call me Jones.”

“Shadow,” Sedder rep­lied. A sure sign of an elf using an alias, when they used an obvious human name.

“The room’s sound-warded, so speak freely,” Jones said. “What have you got for me?”

Sedder pulled the pouch out of his trousers and started laying out the stolen jewelry on the table. Jones peered them over care­fully, looking at each item thought­fully.

“Is it enchanted?” Sedder asked.

“This belongs to Talmara,” Jones observed.

“Who?” Sedder asked. “Was she that woman with al­most-black hair I saw?”

“Yes,” Jones said. “She didn’t see you, did she?”

Sedder shook his head. “I was invis­ible, and she gave no indication she knew I was there.”

“Hmm,” Jones said. “Alright, I can take these two rings. They’re generic enough that she won’t connect them. This one’s water breathing, and this one’s protec­tion from the sun and heat. There are people who make these by the dozen. But the rest of this, I won’t touch. It’s too spec­ific and some of it even has her name keyed into it.”

“You can’t file it off?” Sedder asked. “Or send it else­where?”

“Take it else­where your­self,” Jones said. “It’s not worth my life. This sapphire amulet in par­tic­ular, I recommend taking across the damned ocean. She’d recog­nize that in a heartbeat.”

“Noted,” Sedder said. “Can you tell me what they all do?”

“Sure,” Jones said. “Nothing to protect them from being stolen, clearly. Aside from the common ones I men­tioned, this ring here is more ­in­ter­esting. Looks like it grants a small amount of protec­tion against most common forms of magical attack, plus deflect incoming mundane projectiles.”

“Use­ful,” Sedder said.

Jones pointed to the amethyst talisman. “This amulet here is a trans­lator charm. Wear it and you’ll be able to under­stand and speak any lan­guage that the enchanter could. It’s not unique, but rare enough that it would stand out if I tried to fence it.” He paused. “And depending on how old it is, it might make you sound rather archaic in what­ever lan­guages it was enchanted with. I doubt Talmara has rep­laced it recently. Well, maybe this in­cident will encourage her to buy a new one with updated lan­guages.” He chuckled.

“And what does this one do?” Sedder gestured at the sapphire amulet. “You said it was special?”

Jones nodded. “I’ll bet you that if you sneak back into her apart­ment and put that one back, she won’t even bother investigating the others and write them off as just lost. Other­wise, well, I recommend leaving the country. Or the con­tinent.”

“If she’s that attached to it, it must be an awfully powerful magic item,” Sedder said.

Jones laughed. “No, not at all. It’s not enchanted at all. It was a gift from Talmara’s former lover.” He indicated a small engraving on the edge of the setting. “Or don’t you read elvish script?”

“I hadn’t really taken a close look at them before I came over here,” Sedder said.

Jones tsked. “Lucky for you, she doesn’t have any tracking enchant­ments of any sort on these.”

“So her lover died?” Sedder asked.

Jones shook his head. “It would have been kinder. No, rumor has it that the women had some sort of falling out, and one of them moved to the other side of the country to get away from the other. I don’t know the spec­ifics, but Talmara always seemed to blame her­self for it. Which was prob­ably why this keepsake was hidden away some­where and not around her neck.”

“If it’s not enchanted, then it’s only really valuable for the metal, gems, and craftsmanship any­way.” Which weren’t insig­nificant, but now he was feeling bad about it.

“Right,” Jones said.

They agreed on a price for the water breathing and heat protec­tion rings, and made the exchange. Sedder put the other ring and the two amulets away, cloaked him­self in shadow, and headed back out into the tunnels. He slipped on the shielding ring on the way out and made sure to cover it with an ex­tra illusion so that no one would see he was wearing it. That one might just be too use­ful to sell. Now if he could just find Talmara’s residence again before she checked on her jewelry cubby­hole.

He wound up taking several wrong turns and poking his head into the wrong apart­ment a few times, al­most winding up being det­ected a few times after being sur­prised by people. Heart pounding, he finally found the place again. Why had he decided to do this again? Sighing silently, he looked around to make sure Talmara wasn’t any­where in sight before going up to the wardrobe and hurriedly opening it. The sapphire pendant went back into the secret com­part­ment. He still half ex­pected her to show up again before he could make good his escape, and skewer him with that sword.

Talmara didn’t show up again, but Sedder didn’t relax until he’d gotten back to the Song’s Hearth and safely back in his room. In hind­sight, maybe it had been foolish to trust Jones to properly appraise the jewelry. He could have vastly undervalued the items he bought, or lied about the enchant­ments on the shield ring. Sedder wished he could just ask Keolah to ­iden­tify them for him, in­stead, but he doubted she would be quite as open-minded about what he did for a living.

*

Keolah went out of the lib­rary, feeling like she’d barely scratched the surface. Still pondering the mys­tery, Keolah returned to the inn. The others were out doing who knows what, but Sedder was in his room. Two additional magical sig­natures registered on his body, in addition to the magic item enchanted with Mind Magic that he’d picked up before leaving Scalyr. He must have bought some new magic items. Probably wise, con­sidering she thought they were due for more traveling in the near future. One of them had formed a wispy layer of cyan around the out­side of his aura. Some form of ward, clearly.

She went over to Sedder’s room and paused in the en­trance, awk­wardly looking around for some­thing to knock on, even raising her hand before realizing there was nothing but rock. She was going to have to ask Silver just how Wind­riders announced their presence and requested en­trance to a room.

Maybe they just did it verbally. Feeling silly for not thinking of it sooner, Keolah said aloud, “Hey, Sedder. Mind if I come in? You’re not naked in there, are you?”

Sedder barked a laugh. “Nah, come on in.” Once she was inside, he observed, “You tried to knock, too? I kept doing the same damned thing. You find out any­thing ­in­ter­esting at the lib­rary?”

“Plenty, but I’m still missing some­thing,” Keolah said. “I see you’ve been out shopping.”

“Oh?” Sedder looked sur­prised for a moment. “Oh. Oh, yeah.”

“A… warding ring?” Keolah asked. “And an amulet with Speech Magic, I think that is?”

“Yes, the ring gives some protec­tion against arrows and attack spells,” Sedder said. “And it’s a trans­lation amulet! I’m not actually sure what lan­guages are in it.”

“Did you buy that for Haw­thorne?” Keolah asked.

“Uh…”

“That was kind of you,” Keolah said. “She’s really been struggling, and I’m sure she’ll appreciate it.”

“I’m sure,” Sedder rep­lied in a strained voice.

“Oh, but it must have been ex­pensive.” Keolah pulled out her pouch. “How much did it cost? I’ll com­pen­sate you. And, uh, I’ll throw in a bonus if can we pretend it was a gift from me? I think she’s a little annoyed at me right now.”

“Sure, no prob­lem,” Sedder said, chuckling and relaxing. “How much do you have? I don’t want to take all your money.”

A quick dis­cussion later saw Keolah with her pouch lighter and Sedder with his heavier, and an amethyst talisman in her hands. Now she just had to find Haw­thorne. She scanned the city, try­ing to pin­point Haw­thorne’s energetic cyan aura. Hope­fully the girl hadn’t gotten up to too much trouble in the mean­time.

She didn’t have to go far. Haw­thorne was dancing on the edge of the rainbow foun­tain and looked in danger of falling in at any moment. Sighing, Keolah clambered over to her, climbing down precariously and slipping in the process. Haw­thorne caught her before she fell into the water.

“Hey,” Haw­thorne said with a grin.

“You’re a real pain in the butt, you know that?” Keolah smirked.

“No, that’s just from hitting the rock,” Haw­thorne said. “You okay?”

“Nothing’s hurt but my dig­nity,” Keolah said. “Let me guess, you wanted to get a closer look at the foun­tain? Being up top wasn’t good enough?”

“Live adventurously, my dear,” Haw­thorne said. “The chance may never come to you again.”

“Well, tech­nically our souls will be reborn into new bodies after we die,” Keolah said.

“But the world may be diff­erent, then,” Haw­thorne said, pulling off her boots. “And we won’t rem­em­ber any­thing, any­way.” She set aside her boots onto the rocks beside her, sat down on the damp rocks, and dangled her toes into the water. “Mm, the water’s cool. Come on, put your feet in.”

“Only if you pull me out if I slip and fall so I don’t drown,” Keolah said with a crooked grin, pulling off her boots.

“It’s okay,” Haw­thorne said. “I’m a Wind Mage. I’ll just breathe fresh air into your mouth.”

“I’m sure kissing is not strictly necessary for Wind Magic.” Keolah sat down next to Haw­thorne and put her legs over the edge.

“You’ve been spending so much time reading I was won­dering if you were ever going to come up for air,” Haw­thorne said.

“I’m not even en­tirely cer­tain that I’m making progress,” Keolah said. “I can’t even ­iden­tify the lan­guage, never mind decipher it enough to learn what it does and use it.”

Her mind drifted as she watched the spurting water. Red, magenta, green, pur­ple, white, blue, cyan, yellow… Eight jets of water in a circle around a ninth central one that combined all their colors. She counted the jets again. Eight plus one. No won­der Lumenth had thought it un­likely that the eight-spoked wheel was of elven origin, just because it was an even number. There were eight spokes, but there was also the hub. Could this be a missing link?

“No idea who even built it?” Haw­thorne asked.

Keolah shook her head. “I think I need to look into the League of Wizards, though.” She gestured to the foun­tain. “Take a look at that foun­tain. Do you see the resemblance, too, or am I just ­imag­ining things?”

Haw­thorne cocked her head at the foun­tain. “How do you mean?”

“The pattern,” Keolah said. “The way the jets are arranged.”

“In a circle, with one big one in the middle?” Haw­thorne said, then blinked. “Eight jets? I suppose it could be coincidence, but yeah. I see your point. I won­der if we just need to ac­­tiv­ate it by putting eight foun­tains around the circle of runes.”

“Probably not literal foun­tains,” Keolah said. “I don’t know. But if the Wind­riders built this foun­tain, and they’re descended from the League of Wizards…”

“Before you run off back to the lib­rary, want to stay and cuddle first?” Haw­thorne asked.

Keolah giggled. “Sure. Oh! Before I forget. I got some­thing for you.”

“A present?” Haw­thorne asked. “For me?”

Keolah pulled out the amethyst talisman and handed it over to her. “For you.”

“Oh, pretty!” Haw­thorne held it up against the water and looked at it. “What’s it do?”

“It’s a trans­lation charm,” Keolah said. “It—”

Haw­thorne leaned over and pressed her lips against Keolah’s, inter­rupting her.

*

The next time Keolah went to the Adamant Academy lib­rary, Elanyr was in again. While she felt like she’d made a bit of progress on her own, maybe Elanyr could answer a few ques­tions for her. No, she corrected her­self. She felt like she’d made ab­solutely zero progress on her own. Not from the lib­rary, at any rate.

“So you are here, Elanyr,” Keolah said, app­roaching her.

Elanyr nodded to her and returned her greeting. “What brings you to Adamant Academy, any­way?”

“I came here looking for infor­mation about the League of Wizards,” Keolah said.

“You’ve come to the right place, then,” Elanyr said.

“Let me ask you a ques­tion here,” Keolah said. “A book I read in Scalyr indicated that the League of Wizards once covered the ‘en­tire world’. Was this actually the en­tire world? The League of Wizards knew about Kalor and Albrynnia?”

Elanyr nodded. “It was indeed the en­tire world.”

“The world must have lost a lot when it fell,” Keolah said. “How did that happen, any­way? What sort of enemy took it down?”

“It wasn’t any­one of any par­tic­ular race or nation,” Elanyr said. “They were necro­mancers and demon summoners. Before we left Zar­hanna, we kept getting reports about battles that wound up with both sides wiped out when demons turned on those who summoned them before returning to the Abyss.”

“I can see why the Wind­riders wanted to get out of there, then…” Keolah said.

Elanyr nodded. “Some decades after the move we sent a small team to scout things out and get a status report. Our former city, Tentisalu, had been com­pletely taken over by undead.”

“Did the League of Wizards use any sort of magical ­con­structs covered in runes of some sort?” Keolah asked.

“Runes? Not really, no,” Elanyr said. “Although the rebel wizards used large enchanted ­con­structs. Reanimation and summoning plat­forms, for instance.”

Keolah’s blood went cold. “You mean there could be random struc­tures around the world still that they used to summon demons with?”

Elanyr nodded. “Yeah, if you see one, don’t mess with it. Destroy it if you can, or come back and ask us to do it if you’re afraid it might still be cursed.”

“How would I recog­nize one?” Keolah asked.

“They were generally made up of circles drawn or engraved on the ground,” Elanyr said. “It would not sur­prise me, though, if who­ever sur­vived the war destroyed any evidence of them and delib­erately suppressed the infor­mation.”

“What about obelisks?” Keolah asked.

“Hmm,” Elanyr said. “Obelisks are generally used as stab­ilizing struc­tures. One by it­self would generally be used to do some­thing like confer a blessing to those nearby. A line of obelisks might be used to hold up a wide-area ward.”

“What about a circle of obelisks?” Keolah asked. “Would that also be used for warding?”

“It could,” Elanyr said. “But a circle or square would have much greater applications.”

“A square?” Keolah asked. “I thought elves eschewed even numbers.”

“We do,” Elanyr said. “Humans use them extensively, though, and humans were members of the League of Wizards, too.”

“How about a circle of eight obelisks?” Keolah asked.

Elanyr raised an eye­brow. “What, exactly, did you run across?”

“Here, let me pull out my diagrams,” Keolah said.

She was growing in­creasingly concerned about the arcane ­con­struct in the pocket-world, and seriously hoped that Haw­thorne’s impulsive attempt at ac­tiv­ating it hadn’t al­most summoned demons or some­thing. Keolah laid out the notes they’d taken on the table for Elanyr to see.

“What in the Abyss?” Elanyr breathed, picking up one sheet and staring at it intently.

“No one else I’ve talked to has been able to ex­plain this,” Keolah said.

“Well, add my name to the list of people who are stumped,” Elanyr said. “This may be a summoning plat­form of some sort, yes. But I’ve never runes like this before. The wizards normally used markings like this for indicating infor­mation, but never any­thing this com­plex. What could possibly require so many indicators? For all I know, it could be some sort of warding scheme, or a teleportation plat­form, or a time dilation field.”

“Do you think it might be Tinean?” Keolah asked.

Elanyr shrugged. “That guess is as good as mine. Tinean is a dead tongue. The only extant examples of it were the Tinean books, and those have long been lost. I don’t know how you’d be able to con­firm or dis­prove that, though, barring finding an­other match.”

“I’ve been able to find very little infor­mation about Tinean, never mind its writing,” Keolah said. “Is there any­thing here that even does more than men­tion it in passing?”

“Hmm, there’s got to be at least one,” Elanyr said, frowning.

“Tell me at least one of you has invented a spell to search for words in nearby books,” Keolah said.

Elanyr chuckled. “Sadly not. That might be very difficult to do. But you’re wel­come to try, if you like. I’m going to check the index.”

The index, app­ar­ently, was a glowing yellow-green crys­tal near the front of the lib­rary that Elanyr ac­­tiv­ated with a touch. After several moments of con­centration, Elanyr turned around and went down one aisle, and brought out a book for Keolah labeled Tinean: The Lost Tongue.

Keolah thanked her and read through it. Although it was mostly wild speculation rather than actual facts, she learned a few ­in­ter­esting things. The lan­guage was supposedly taught to the teppers, by the ‘great trees’, what­ever those were. Keolah had run across reference to the teppers in other books, but so far as she could tell, it was just a term for humans with Mind Magic, al­though the books called them a separate race.

There was a set of magic books written in Tinean that the early League of Wizards had trans­lated into their own lan­guages. No one knew where the Tinean books came from, never mind where they dis­appeared to, and the book speculated that they never actually existed in the first place and that the Wizards had sim­ply claimed their magic to be of ancient origin in order to aggran­dize them­selves.

The book promptly went on to speculate that the Tinean lan­guage, the ancient tongue of magic and the great trees, also never existed as such. It called it a fan­ciful myth­ological term for the Proto-Zarhannic lan­guage from which the various lan­guages spoken by the elves, gnomes, and goblins had been derived, and that any­one who attributed it to an arcane tongue was merely ig­norant in lin­guistic science.

Only one men­tion was made of the writing system associated with Tinean, and that that the Tinean books were supposedly written in a runic system unlike any other used in the world. It naturally went on to dis­miss this as being most likely an early version of the common script used by the elves and gnomes.

Trying to find any infor­mation about these supposed ‘great trees’, Keolah found a book aptly titled Trees of Lezaria. While Albrynnia and Ked­resida contained some rem­ar­kable trees, the largest trees in the world were app­ar­ently the giant trees of Thalarey, but they were inhabited by a primitive society of fly­ing furry creatures called zephyli who didn’t let elves get close. Keolah doubted that the spear-shakers had any­thing to do with archaic magical lan­guages, and figured the only reason the elves left them alone was because the elves didn’t really care about their stupid trees.

Keolah returned to the Song’s Hearth and got a drink with Haw­thorne. She really didn’t feel like eating at the moment. Delven sat across the room speaking animatedly with what looked to be a Wind­rider bard. Not even feeling very social, Keolah just bought a bottle of wine and dragged Haw­thorne into their room.

“Wine and privacy, but you don’t seem very romantic at the moment,” Haw­thorne said with a smirk.”

“Yeah, you could say that,” Keolah chuckled.

“You look glum,” Haw­thorne said. “All that reading getting you down?”

“I keep running into dead ends,” Keolah said.

“Well, maybe you’re going about this the wrong way, then,” Haw­thorne said.

“What would you sug­gest?” Keolah asked.

“Alright, tell me what you have learned and your best guess,” Haw­thorne said.

“My best, wild guess, purely speculation with no foundation what­so­ever, is that it’s a pre-League of Wizards struc­ture engraved with Tinean runes, built by who­ever it was who actually used the Tinean runes.”

Huh,” Haw­thorne said.

“Note that I only say that because it’s the only thing so far that I haven’t yet disproven,” Keolah said. “If only because of the com­plete lack of infor­mation on Tinean.”

“Well, hey, finding out what some­thing isn’t is im­por­tant to finding out what it is, right?” Haw­thorne said.

“I guess.” Keolah stared at the wine in her glass, swirling it around. “But I have no idea how I’m going to get any­more infor­mation on Tinean. Researching a dead lan­guage might be more ­in­ter­esting if it weren’t also so frus­trating.”

“Is there any­thing connected to Tinean that we could look for?” Haw­thorne asked.

“Hmm,” Keolah leaned back against the wall thought­fully. “There were supposedly a number of magic books written in Tinean, but they were long since lost. The League of Wizards made copies of these books trans­lated into each of their lan­guages.”

“So why don’t we try to find one of these sets of books?” Haw­thorne asked.

“How would that get us closer to finding infor­mation about Tinean?” Keolah asked.

“I don’t know,” Haw­thorne said. “But they’re old as hell magic books. Even if we find out nothing about Tinean from them, we still found some legendary relics. And they might just be able to lead us to the Tinean books.”

Delven’s voice came from out­side the door­way. “Hey, are you ladies clothed in there? Or is talk of dead lan­guages the strangest sort of pillow talk ever?”

Keolah snickered. “Come on in, Delven.”

Delven entered the room. “I’ve been learning some new songs and teaching the local bards some. What did I miss?”

Keolah filled him in, then finished her wine.

“Hmm,” Delven said. “Yes, definitely look for these magic books. Think about it. Even if you did some­how manage to find the Tinean books, you wouldn’t be able to trans­late them.”

“That… is a good point,” Keolah said. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“And just where might we look for them?” Haw­thorne asked, brightening. “This smells like an ad­ven­ture.”

“Lib­raries?” Delven ventured.

“Lib­raries aren’t ad­ven­tures!” Haw­thorne insisted.

“Finding them can be,” Keolah said.

“Well, maybe,” Haw­thorne said. “Okay, where might these lib­raries be found, then?”

“I’ll ask Elanyr,” Keolah said.

“Elanyr?” Haw­thorne asked.

“The lady who’s been helping me in the lib­rary.”

“Have you been hitting on a sexy lib­rarian?” Haw­thorne asked.

Keolah rolled her eyes. “No. Besides, she’s married.”

“To a man or a woman?” Haw­thorne asked. “Because it doesn’t count un­less she’s married to a woman.”

“Five pounds says she doesn’t know,” Delven said.

“That’s awfully neg­ative,” Keolah said.

Delven shrugged. “That’s just the way things go.”

“Alright, I am going back to that lib­rary, and you two are coming with me.” Keolah handed the half-empty bottle of wine to Haw­thorne, and dragged them off.

Fortunately, Elanyr was still hanging around the lib­rary. “So you are here. Friends of yours?”

Keolah made quick intro­ductions. “Would you happen to know where any of the magic books of the League of Wizards that were trans­lated from the Tinean books might be located?”

“No idea,” Elanyr said.

“You owe me five pounds,” Delven said.

“I never agreed to that bet,” Keolah muttered.

“Alright, I have one idea,” Elanyr said, chuckling. “There used to be a thriving magical society in the Valley of Gal, before the fall of the League of Wizards. It was prob­ably the magical center of Zar­hanna. I don’t know what might be there these days, but if you’re deter­mined to find those magic books, that might be a good place to start looking for clues.”

“I take it there aren’t any of them here,” Keolah said.

Elanyr shook her head. “The Wind­riders never had any of them in our possession.”

“This sounds like an ad­ven­ture!” Haw­thorne said. “Where in the Abyss is the Valley of Gal?”

“Zar­hanna, I assume,” Delven said.

“Wait, you’re not just try­ing to get rid of us by sending us on a wild goat chase to the other side of the world, are you?” Haw­thorne asked.

“Do you care?” Delven asked.

“Well, no,” Haw­thorne said. “But if we’re leaving soon, can I at least fly for a bit? Pleeeeeease?”

“You’ll have to con­vince a floka for that,” Elanyr said with a touch of amuse­ment. “As for where Gal is, I recommend con­sulting a map.”

*

“She was cute,” Haw­thorne commented.

“She’s married,” Keolah said.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Haw­thorne said. “Aside from the fact that she’s married, she’s also boring. She saw all these ex­citing things, untold mys­teries we’re looking to uncover, and what does she do? She just sits around in that school of hers. She didn’t seem even the slightest bit tempted to drop every­thing and come with us to the other side of the world. Ah, well. She had nice tits.”

Haw­thorne!” Keolah exclaimed.

Haw­thorne grinned back at her. “You know, I think I’ll keep that name. I like the way you say it.”

“Did I hear we are heading back to Scalyr soon?” Silver asked.

“Ugh, it’s a long walk back there, and there’s a per­fectly serviceable seaport not far from Dalizar,” Haw­thorne said. “You Wind­riders don’t seem to have any ports, do you?”

“We don’t really have much need of them,” Silver said. “Especially not given how secretive we are. We don’t have trade with other countries, period.”

“If you’re supposed to be such a big secret, why were you parading Nar­cella so openly in Scalyr?” Haw­thorne asked.

“Because she likes the atten­tion and doesn’t care,” Silver said.

“I don’t think we should hire a ship in Starton,” Delven said.

“Why not?” Haw­thorne won­dered.

“I don’t really like the place,” Delven said. “They’re kind of shady there.”

“Do you think they’ll give us trouble?” Keolah asked.

“They’d prob­ably over­charge us, and we might wind up on a smuggler ship by mis­take,” Delven said. “Port Fins or Scalyr would be a better op­tion.”

“Starton is already a long way to walk,” Haw­thorne grumbled. “Why couldn’t we fly there?”

“I’ll take us back by a diff­erent route,” Silver said. “I heard rumor that City of Topaz has been having trouble with an infestation of giant spiders in its deep mines.”

“Excellent!” Haw­thorne said glee­fully. “Yes! Let’s kill some spiders!”

“Hey!” called out a woman with a blue aura, app­roaching them, a cloud of bluish ebony hair trailing behind her and a sword hanging from her belt. “Is that a trans­lation charm you’re wearing?”

“Yes,” Haw­thorne said. “Why?”

“Thief!” the woman cried.

“Excuse me?” Keolah said. “Who are you?”

“I am Talmara the Unforgettable. You are strangers in this city, and my trans­lation charm went missing shortly after you arrived.”

Talmara the Unforgettable?” Haw­thorne repeated. “Seriously?”

“Don’t be ridi­culous,” Keolah said. “I bought that amulet for her in City of Amethyst.”

So, it seemed Sedder was a thief. She’d thought the price he asked was very low, es­pec­ially after she double-checked on their prices at a nearby magic item shop, but had figured he was just being generous to the group. But no, she figured he just wanted to get a stolen item off of his hands that badly and gaining the goodwill of the group was worth taking a loss for it. She didn’t for a moment think he’d actually bought it. Not after Talmara showed up looking for her stolen amulet.

Silver stepped in. “Talmara. You can’t go accusing people of thievery with­out evidence, just because you misplaced your charm.”

“Do you know these people?” Talmara demanded.

Silver sighed. “Yes. They’re my friends. I brought them here to do research.”

“Really now, I’ve spent most of my time here in the academy lib­rary,” Keolah said. “And Haw­thorne couldn’t be stealthy to save her life.”

“I’d protest that characterization, but under the cir­cum­stances I’ll not argue.” Haw­thorne smirked.

“You vouch for them, Cenemor?” Talmara asked Silver.

Silver made a face. “Call me Silver, please. And yes. I’ll vouch for them.”

“Fine,” Talmara said. “But if I ever find out other­wise, I’m skinning you all alive.” She stormed off, still annoyed.

Keolah scanned the area for Sedder’s dark gray aura. He’d been hanging around nearby when they were talking, but he’d fled like a panicked horse when Talmara showed up. Not that she could blame him. Talmara had looked about ready to use that sword of hers if she didn’t get the response she wanted. His aura was pretty distinctive, though. Come to think, none of the Wind­riders had a black aura.

Sedder hadn’t gone back to the inn. That would have been too easy to find, most likely. He was prob­ably hiding from her, too. Keolah was the only one who knew he’d had the amulet, after all. It was difficult to track a spec­ific aura in the middle of a crowd, but since his stood out so much, she was easily able to pin­point him, and caught up to him in a tunnel at the outskirts of the city. He was invis­ible, of course, but that did nothing to stop her from seeing his aura per­fectly clearly. She went up to him and tapped him on the shoulder.

“Ah… so you are here, Keolah,” Sedder stammered, casting about hastily and letting down the illusion.

“So you are here,” Keolah rep­lied. “You owe me.”

“W-What?” Sedder said.

“And you owe Silver, too,” Keolah added. “I told Talmara I bought the trans­lation charm in City of Amethyst, and Silver vouched for us. You don’t have to worry about her skinning you.”

“Ah… thank you.” Sedder relaxed a little.

Keolah folded her arms across her chest. “Did you sneak into that room in the Scalyr lib­rary we were working in just to ogle Silver, or were you planning to rob us?”

“I really wasn’t planning on robbing you,” Sedder said.

“Then stick with us,” Keolah said.

“You’re not angry with me?” Sedder said.

Keolah shrugged. “You didn’t steal from me, and the others don’t know where the amulet really came from. I’m going to ex­pect that you use your skills to help me, though.”

“Of course,” Sedder said. “How did you even find me?”

“I’m a Seeker, rem­em­ber?” Keolah said. “Nobody else around here has an aura even close to yours.”

Sedder winced. “That black aura is always getting me in trouble.”

“I only just found out exactly why people take a dim view of necro­mancers,” Keolah said.

“I’m not even a necro­mancer,” Sedder said. “I’m an in­born Illusionist.”

“Black is the aura color associated with Death Magic, regard­less,” Keolah said.

“Yeah,” Sedder sighed. “Don’t I know it.”

“And I guess you can’t just use illusions to mask it,” Keolah said.

“If there is a way to do that, I don’t know it,” Sedder said.

“Well, I won’t tell any­one,” Keolah said. “Why didn’t you just tell me you’d stolen it? Well… I guess I don’t need to won­der that.”

“I didn’t know how you’d react,” Sedder said. “You know, I was afraid you’d give me some rant about how stealing is wrong and demand that I return it, or haul me off to be im­prisoned or executed.”

“No,” Keolah said. “I really don’t care all that much. At any rate, it’s not like you’re sacrificing babies or any­thing. You don’t sac­rifice babies or any­thing, do you?”

“I have never sac­rificed a baby,” Sedder said. “I’ve never even sac­rificed a goat.”

“Let’s get back to the others before they start won­dering where we ran off to. We’ll be leaving City of Adamant in the morning and making our way out of Dalizar, any­way, so even if Talmara figures it out in hind­sight we’ll be long gone by then.”

As they headed back out to the Song’s Hearth, Keolah mulled over in her head just how use­ful those sorts of skills might be. She was willing to bet money on the fact that the magic books she was looking for weren’t in some public lib­rary. Some might be un­guarded in for­gotten ruins, but she would have bet that most of them were in private collections. Keolah had believed Elanyr when she’d said she didn’t know where any of them were, but that didn’t preclude the possibility that one Wind­rider or an­other brought some of the books across in secret. And if the League of Wizards really covered the en­tire world and they’d trans­lated the books into every lan­guage spoken, then the ones written in human lan­guages – or earlier versions of human lan­guages, at least – should be some­where in Kalor, Albrynnia, or the Sun­rise Islands.

Keolah really hoped that these books had been magically preserved some­how, al­though she figured that was pretty much a given. People tended to put protec­tion spells of various sorts on every rare or im­por­tant book, and she didn’t think magic books based on ancient arcane tomes would be any diff­erent. If any­thing, they’d have more protec­tions than usual on them. Still, it would be just her luck if the reason that they couldn’t find them and no one knew where they were any­more was because they’d already decayed into dust because they were thousands of years old.

Still thinking, she went in to get dinner and some­thing to drink. For once, she was in high spirits. While she had no idea whether the lost magic books would lead her to the Tinean books, even if the lan­guage in the pocket-world really was Tinean, finding them would be a great achievement in and of it­self. Just think of the for­gotten secrets and magical tech­niques that might be contained therein! That alone would make their quest worth­while.