Chapter 6:

Scalyr

*

Sedder spotted his mark while making the rounds along the docks, though he was hard to miss. The blue-skinned elf rode a giant eagle the size of a horse cart. Long, silver hair whipped away from the Wind­rider’s handsome blue face as he slid off the back of his great bird.

Setting aside his rounds, Sedder cloaked him­self in shadow and tailed him into the House of Gnomish Ale. This took priority.

“Back again already, Silver?” asked the pink-haired gnome proprietor. “You’re always coming back for the booze.”

The Wind­rider elf took a seat at the bar. “It dis­appears much too quickly. Get me a round of the usual.”

Sedder always won­dered what the blue elf’s real name was, but his assign­ment precluded any dir­ect con­tact. Pity, really. Being able to actually be­friend the man might have made keeping an eye on him easier. Sedder figured that Silver would be at this for a while, and slipped off.

Once back at his own hide­out, he retrieved a pur­ple crys­tal from beneath the floor­boards and gripped it firmly in his hand. With a thread of mana channeled into it, a connection quickly appeared in his mind, as well as the image of a hooded face with glowing red eyes.

<Sedder, report.>

<My lord, your ex is back in Scalyr>, Sedder thought. Tepped, really. That was what teppers called what they did, after all. While Sedder was half-tepper, he rarely thought of him­self as such, but it was the en­tire reason why this arrange­ment could work.

<Tell me, is he drinking again?>

<Yes,> Sedder rep­lied. <He’s in the House of Gnomish Ale, drinking away at their ques­tionable swill.>

A dis­gusted noise emerged from the image of the hooded face in his mind. <Keep an eye on him, as usual. Report back any­thing un­usual or if he leaves again.>

<Yes, my lord,> Sedder tepped.

The connection severed, and Sedder put the thought crys­tal back in its hiding place. He had work to do.

*

Following the waves of mana wafting out from the pocket-world, Keolah led the party out of the Witch­­wood, care­fully try­ing to make sure they weren’t walking into any places that might still be on fire. They came upon a road with a warded wall along the near side, and crossed over.

“The forest is a lot less nice than the pocket-world,” Haw­thorne mum­bled.

“So, did we manage to get back to the same road?” Keolah asked.

“I don’t think so,” Delven said, looking to the sky and shielding his eyes from the sun. “My guess is we wound up on the road running north of the Witch­­wood, not the one on the south where we started out.”

“We can still get to Scalyr from here, can’t we?” Haw­thorne asked.

Delven nodded. “This is the road that runs along the bay.”

“Bay?” Haw­thorne repeated.

Delven chuckled. “Shall we head down to the water so you can see for your­self?”

They turned off the road into a small fishing village that prob­ably didn’t get a lot of traffic, and went down to the shore. Keolah gaped at the ex­panse of water before them. She thought she might be able to see a dis­tant line of moun­tains along the each side of the bay, but in the center, water stretched on to the horizon as far as the eye could see.

“Holy Valissa’s breasts, that’s a lot of water,” Haw­thorne said.

They bought fish for lunch. After weeks of trail rations and fast-grown fruit and veg­etables, it was a nice change, es­pec­ially since Keolah and Haw­thorne had rarely seen fish. Haw­thorne took the oppor­tunity to try out her lan­guage skills on the locals.

“There must be plenty of fish in the sea,” Haw­thorne commented.

Delven chuckled. “You know, that’s an idiom.”

“Are you calling me an idiom?” Haw­thorne glared at him.

“A phrase, my dear,” Delven said. “A figure of speech.” He helpfully repeated that ex­plan­ation in elvish.

“Oh, right,” Haw­thorne said, switching back to elvish. “So, what does this ‘idiom’ mean?”

Delven waved a hand. “Never mind. How about we stay here for the night? We can prob­ably make it to Scalyr tomorrow.”

“Hmm, an actual bed might be nice,” Haw­thorne said. “Keolah doesn’t even know how to grow a proper hammock.”

Keolah snorted. “I told you, I’ve never done that before. It’ll just take a bit more prac­tice to get it down. When we get back there, I might sim­ply grow an en­tire city just to prac­tice.”

“Can Earth Mages work with stone, or just plants and dirt?” Delven won­dered.

“Yeah, but I don’t know how,” Keolah said. “Elves don’t normally teach stone shaping. I’d suppose a dwarven Earth Mage would prob­ably know how to work with stone and not plants. If you’d rather have stone buildings, you’ll need to talk to a dwarf.”

“Hmm,” Delven said. “Maybe it’ll be a good idea, once we get to some­where that people might actually speak elvish and be over­hearing us, not to dis­cuss the pocket-world.”

“Why not?” Haw­thorne won­dered.

“Do you want every­one to know what we found?” Delven asked.

“I doubt any­one’s even going to be able to get to the place with­out me,” Keolah said.

“And what if they force you to?” Delven asked.

“What?” Keolah said. “Nobody’s going to force me to do any­thing against my will.”

“You know Mind Mages exist, don’t you?” Delven said. “I’m sure some of your elves must have been Mind Mages.”

“Well, yeah, I guess,” Keolah said. “But they’re not exactly common, and most of them can just communicate men­tally, that’s all.”

“And even if some­one doesn’t mind con­trol you, they could just kid­nap your girl­friend and threaten to hurt her if you don’t com­ply.”

“We’re not—” Keolah cleared her throat and glanced side­long at Haw­thorne. How could she deny that with­out offending her? Sure, they’d flirted a bit and Haw­thorne was clearly attracted to her, but the girl was impetuous and frus­trating.

“So long as no­body knows what we really found, people can just think we’re just scholars,” Delven said. “Just some people ­in­ter­ested in ancient his­tory. Nothing that’s going to be rem­ar­kable to most people. No sense in temp­ting fate or drawing atten­tion to our­selves. Other people might have less benign uses to put it to. At the very least, they’d have a base of operation that the vast majority of people won’t even be able to get to. And that’s not even con­sidering what the rune com­plex does.”

“Are you sure we’re really all that benign?” Haw­thorne won­dered.

“Haw­thorne, your reac­tion was ‘Whee!’, not ‘Mwahaha!’,” Delven pointed out.

“I see what you mean,” Keolah said. “We’ll keep this under wraps. We can do this research with­out telling any­one precisely what we found where.”

*

Scalyr appeared slowly, buildings scattering around them as the road they were following came into the outskirts of the city. In the center of the city stood a large wall, decorated with banners and yellow ribbons. It was growing dark by the time they reached Old Town, and the gas lamps lining the brick streets winked on to light their way.

“There’s the lib­rary, right there.” Delven gestured.

The massive stone building must have once been a keep, but now in­stead of heraldry, the banners out­side the doors depicted books. Glass windows along its walls and towers lit up against the evening sky.

“That’s a lib­rary?” Haw­thorne said, staring up at it with an ex­pression of awe. “It looks more like some­place a king should be living!”

Delven laughed. “Prince, actually. Scalyr was a prin­cipality before its in­teg­ration into the republic of Hanna­derres.”

“So where was the king, then?” Haw­thorne asked.

“There wasn’t a king,” Delven said.

“But there was a prince,” Haw­thorne said.

“This distinc­tion might make more sense in the common tongue,” Keolah said. “While you’re dis­cussing lan­guage oddities, I’m going to go check out the lib­rary.”

“I’ll book us a room at the nearest inn,” Delven said.

Keolah was tired and hungry after the jour­ney, but her curiosity got the better of her, and she headed inside. Dinner could wait. Sure, they could stay in Scalyr as long as they liked and look through this lib­rary as many times as they wanted, but she wanted to see what they were dealing with first off.

A young woman with a pink aura sat at a desk in the entry room. She pulled off her spectacles and looked up at Keolah as she entered. “Good day. Can I help you find some­thing?” Then repeated it in elvish, “So you are here. Can I help you find some­thing?”

“Not right now,” Keolah said, in elvish since the woman could app­ar­ently speak it. “But you can be sure I’ll be back in the morning. I want to know, how is your lib­rary organ­ized, and what are the rules for its use?”

“General nonfiction is on the first floor,” the lib­rarian rep­lied. “Fiction, folk­lore, and myth­ology is on the second floor, except for romance, that’s all on the third floor. The en­tire third floor. Rare books are in the towers. Those aren’t for general checkout and must stay in the lib­rary.”

“How does checkout work?” Keolah asked.

After going over the details of the lib­rary rules, Keolah headed for dinner and sleep and got to work the next morning. She wanted to just settle in and start reading right away, but reason­ably, she figured Delven or Haw­thorne would just come in and drag her out, inter­rupting what­ever she was working on.

Infor­mation on the Witch­­wood was stunningly lacking. It was already ‘cursed’ at the time of the Albrynnian invasion, and the stories of his­torical native societies corroborated that. It provided some­thing of a natural barrier that kept Doralis in­depen­dent, since any­one in­vading the country had to come up the coast and couldn’t app­roach from inland. The tribes of central Doralis remained semi-auto­nomous even to this day.

No one had ever pen­etrated as far in as the skull cave. Not that any of the books she read recorded, at any rate. Had an in­born Seeker really never app­roached the place and taken a look? Or even just a suff­ic­iently trained Seeker? Keolah could only assume that most people could not sense raw mana or read it in as much detail as she could.

A book titled Heart of the Witch­­wood sounded ­in­ter­esting at first, but turned out to be misshelved fiction, and she hadn’t realized it until mid­way through. The first clue was the protagonist finding her way through the forest, drawn by the power of love. Another book, titled Mysteries of the Witch­­wood, was full of such wild speculation that Keolah wasn’t sure whether to believe any of it, seeing as the author clearly didn’t know any­thing. Strangers from the Sky: Witch­­wood dis­cussed a theory in which the Witch­­wood was the secret head­quarters of a group of beings from outer space. According to the Strangers from the Sky series, every mys­tery, his­torical event, and innovation on the world of Lezaria was really the responsibility of space people. Rolling her eyes, Keolah put them away.

Unable to find out any­thing about the Witch­­wood, Keolah turned her atten­tion to the writing. Interlocking trian­gular runes made up the wheel and lined the obelisks of the pocket-world. It wasn’t the common alpha­bet used by all modern human lan­guages in Kalor. The Sun­rise Islands, on the other hand, used a system of logo­graphs, descended from picto­graphs. Keolah spent several hours reading up on the writing of the Sun­rise Islands, only to conclude that this definitely wasn’t it and had only been a distrac­tion.

While Scalyr’s lib­rary contained some basic books and dictionaries of the two main elvish lan­guages, Zarhian and Tevric, as well as the gnomish and dwarven lan­guages, they didn’t have much in-depth infor­mation, nor did they men­tion any­thing what­so­ever about the trollish lan­guage. While she doubted that trolls would have ­con­structed a large arcane ­con­struct inside a pocket-world, she wasn’t about to dis­count the possibility of any relation yet, es­pec­ially con­sidering the lack of other leads. Still, given its location in Kalor, she doubted any­one in Zar­hanna had built it, con­sidering the elves of Zar­hanna had only dis­covered Kalor a few hun­dred years ago.

Sighing, she delved further into the lan­guage section to see if she could dis­cover any­thing more about the native lan­guages of Kalor and whether they had any writing systems before the Albrynnian occupation displaced them. Apart from the island of Unar, how­ever, it seemed to be generally agreed upon that Kalor did not have a previous writing system at all. Unar had originally used a system based around diff­erent numbers of parallel lines converging with a ver­tical line. After reading through part of a book about it, Keolah was not at all sur­prised that Unar had no com­plaint about adopting the Albrynnian alpha­bet.

The common areas exhausted, Keolah went up into the towers to look at the rare books. These areas had a rudimentary warding system to dis­rupt teleportation, and each book radiated a faint mana marker, prob­ably to protect it and deter theft or to outright prevent them from leaving the room.

The selection of rare books was eclectic and esoteric, all of which predated printing spells and machines. While ancient hand­written philo­sophical texts might hold ­in­ter­est to some people, they weren’t what she was looking for.

One book caught her atten­tion, about an organ­ization called the League of Wizards, which the book claims to have once united “all the mages in the world”. Since it was written in elvish, she assumed that by “the world”, it meant Zar­hanna and Domgad-Festig, or maybe even just Zar­hanna. It men­tioned how the Wizards kept sets of magic books and had trans­lated them into each of their own lan­guages, and that the original set was written in Tinean, the arcane “tongue of the trees”. Keolah had never heard of Tinean and could find no further infor­mation about it.

*

Keolah spent the next day searching the lib­rary, and the next, and the next. She pored over the sections on lan­guages and magical ­con­structs. Nothing in all her research turned up any­thing even remotely resembling the symbols she’d found in the pocket-world. In frus­tration, she went out to meet up with Haw­thorne again.

“Found any­thing ­in­ter­esting in the lib­rary?” Haw­thorne asked.

“Plenty of things that are ­in­ter­esting,” Keolah said. “Nothing that’s par­tic­ularly helpful to our current project.” She’d been try­ing to be vague in public about what exactly their project was.

“I’ve met some­one I think might be able to help,” Haw­thorne said. “Also! He’s a Light­ning Mage. Next time we get stuck in a thun­derstorm, he’ll be able to keep it from killing us horribly.” She paused. “Aside from the forest fire part. I don’t think he could do any­thing about forest fires.”

“Who is this per­son?” Keolah said.

“Come on, I’ll intro­duce you,” Haw­thorne said. “I’ve been talking to him—”

“What did you tell him?” Keolah asked.

“Oh yeah, I told him all about our little project,” Haw­thorne said.

“But I thought we agreed not to go into the details to any­one,” Keolah said.

Haw­thorne waved her hand. “Bah, he seemed like an hon­est, trust­worthy guy.”

Keolah groaned. “Alright, fine, let’s meet this guy.”

Haw­thorne led her over to a tavern named the House of Gnomish Ale, whose placard depicted a mug containing a frothy pink beverage. It sat incon­gruously across the street from a human temple to the Three as well as a small shrine to the elven gods. Inside at the bar sat a blue-skinned elf with shoulder-length silver hair and a dark blue aura, ab­sently nursing his own drink. Keolah raised an eye­brow. How odd. She’d never seen a blue elf before.

“Silver!” Haw­thorne said. “Here’s the girl I was telling you about. Meet Keolah. Keolah, meet Silver.”

“Ah, your girl­friend,” Silver said.

“We’re—” Keolah swallowed her words. Damn it, why did people keep assuming that? And why was Haw­thorne intro­ducing them as such? She was going to need to have a talk with her.

“So you are here, Keolah.” Silver in­clined his head toward her. He spoke with accented Zarhian, al­though he was still readily understood well enough.

“So you are here, Silver,” Keolah rep­lied. “What did Haw­thorne tell you?”

“You found an ­in­ter­esting ancient magical struc­ture,” Silver said. “But you have no idea what it is or who built it.”

Keolah cast a side­long look to Haw­thorne, then glanced around the room. The place was mostly empty at this time of day. Behind the bar stood a man with an orange aura, firmly ig­noring their conversation and looking com­pletely dis­in­ter­ested. Over in one corner sat a half-elf with an al­most-black aura, not drinking and just watching them. Her eyes met his for one moment, and he looked a little sur­prised before looking away.

She turned back to Silver, not having intended to make the tavern patrons uncom­fortable. “Right. Haw­thorne says you might be able to help?”

Silver nodded. “My people, the Wind­riders, may have infor­mation that could relate to this. I am un­cer­tain that they can truly assist, but I am quite curious about this dis­covery myself, and we may have resources that are un­avail­able here. We have a good deal of lost know­ledge from before the fall of the League of Wizards.”

“I’d like to double-check the lib­rary here a bit more, but that sounds like an ­in­ter­esting pros­pect,” Keolah said. “I don’t suppose we could re­con­vene this dis­cussion there and I can bring out my notes? I hardly think a tavern is an appro­priate venue for dis­cussions on ancient ruins.”

Silver chuckled. “Very well. As you wish. I would like to see these notes, myself.” He picked up and drained his mug, hopped down from his stool, and gestured them toward the door.

*

Once Silver and the pair of song elf girls left the House of Gnomish Ale, Sedder hurried to his hide­out to pry out the thought crys­tal, al­most breaking the loose floor­board in his haste. Heart racing, he opened the connection and felt the hooded face appear in his mind, red eyes peering into his very soul.

<Lord Sardill,> Sedder tepped. <There has been a very ­in­ter­esting develop­ment.>

<Report, Sedder.>

<Silver has met up with two song elves by the names of Keolah and Haw­thorne,> Sedder rep­lied. <These girls seem to have found some­thing very ­in­ter­esting, some sort of old ruin in the Witch­­wood. They spoke in song elvish, prob­ably assuming no one in ear­shot could under­stand them.>

<Did they elaborate any­thing about this ruin?> Sardill asked.

<Yes,> Sedder said. <It con­sists of a rune com­plex resembling an eight-spoked wheel, about a mile in diameter, with an arcane device in the center in the form of eight obelisks in a circle. It exists in a pocket-world with amp­lified magic located in a cave in the heart of the Witch­­wood.>

The voice at the other side of the connection was silent for a long moment, and Sedder was un­cer­tain that Sardill had even heard him.

<My lord?> Sedder prompted.

<Yes,> Sardill tepped back. <I’m giving you a new assign­ment. Highest priority. Even if Silver becomes separated from them, you are to follow these girls. This is more im­por­tant.>

<You want me to shadow them in­stead?> Sedder asked.

<You need not remain in hiding. Approach them, offer your assistance, and ingratiate your­self with them. If that fails, then yes, shadow them and keep track of what they are doing by any means necessary.>

Sedder tepped, <Silver offered his assistance in learning about this ancient struc­ture.>

<Do what­ever is necessary to learn what­ever they learn,> Sardill rep­lied. <You have your orders.>

<Yes, my lord.>

*

Keolah returned to the lib­rary with Haw­thorne and Silver in tow, and set up in a private reading room. She would be lying if she said she wasn’t apprehensive about this, and un­cer­tain if she could trust Haw­thorne’s in­stincts, but they’d gone this far. In for a penny, in for a pound, as Delven said. She spread out her notes and diagrams onto the table in the center of the room.

“This is the com­plex you dis­covered?” Silver asked, pointing to the piece of paper where Delven had sketched up the layout of the whole thing.

Keolah nodded. “That’s it.”

“Strange,” Silver said. “I’ve never seen any­thing like this before. So per­fect and symmetrical. And you say it was in some sort of pocket-world?”

“I could fly in there,” Haw­thorne said. “I can’t fly out here. My magic isn’t normally strong enough to actually lift me off the ground.”

“I could grow plants as fast as I could use mana,” Keolah said.

A half-elf with a dark gray aura entered the room, in fact the very aura she’d seen in the tavern earlier. She still felt it peculiar to see dark brown human hair on top of a dark pur­ple elven face, and odd, small pointed ears.

“Oh, pardon me,” the half-elf said in the common tongue. “I didn’t realize this room was in use.”

Keolah narrowed her eyes at him. Very con­venient that he’d followed them here from the tavern.

“Hello,” Haw­thorne clumsily rep­lied in the same lan­guage. “I’m Haw­thorne. Who are you?”

“Sedder,” the half-elf rep­lied. “Sorry, let me just grab a couple books and I’ll be on my way.”

He snared a glance at their table as he came in and went over to a book­shelf. Keolah eyed him sus­piciously as he went over and pulled out a few books.

“Sedder,” Keolah inter­jected. “Why are you really here?”

“What?” Sedder stood up straight and looked over to her in sur­prise.

“You were in the tavern, too,” Keolah asked.

“Oh,” Sedder said, looking around shiftily. “Right. Yeah.”

“What are you up to?” Keolah narrowed her eyes.

“Yes, he follows me around a lot,” Silver said. “He’s harm­less.”

“You’ve noticed!?” Sedder prac­tically squeaked.

Yes, I’ve noticed,” Silver said, chuckling. “Always peering at me and hiding in illusions like you think I don’t know you’re watching.” He whis­pered loudly to Keolah, “I think he has a crush on me.”

Sedder flushed mauve. “I thought I was more discreet than that.”

“I was won­dering when you’d have the balls to app­roach me your­self,” Silver said. “So you’re gone from watching me not as discreetly as you thought to awk­wardly stumbling into wher­ever I am. This is an improvement! There might be hope for you yet.”

Sedder put his forehead against the his­tory book he had grabbed. “I’m just… going to go now.”

Shadowy mana flowed and Sedder’s image split. A ­con­struct of mana formed to look like Sedder ran out the door, while a black aura outlining an invis­ible body hid in the corner of the room.

“Right, where were we,” Silver said, turning back to the diagrams on the table.

Keolah folded her arms across her chest and looked straight at the spot where Sedder’s actual aura was standing.

Silver raised an eye­brow and smirked. “He’s invis­ible again, isn’t he.”

“Damn it,” Sedder muttered, becoming vis­ible again.

“Nice trick,” Keolah said with a smirk.

“Not nice enough, app­ar­ently,” Sedder said. “What are you, a Seeker?”

Keolah nodded. “You’re going to need to do better illusions than that if you don’t want me to see right through them.”

“Sorry,” Sedder said sheepishly.

“Sedder,” Silver said, chuckling. “Come over here and sit down. I’m not going to bite.”

Sedder stared over at him anxiously for a long moment before finally hesitantly coming over and sitting as far from Silver as he could and still be con­sidered ‘at’ the table. Keolah dis­missed any concerns she’d had about him. He was clearly just a ner­vous young man in­fatuated with an­other man. Nothing worrying or peculiar about that.

“So… um…” Sedder stammered. “Sorry to inter­rupt what­ever you were doing here, really. What are you doing?”

Haw­thorne grumbled in elvish, “Are we going to be switching this dis­cussion to human tongue just for the ben­efit of this half-elf?”

Sedder grunted and rep­lied in kind, “I do speak song elvish.”

“Oh, good, now I might actually have a chance of following the conversation,” Haw­thorne said. “What did I miss?”

“Sedder likes Silver,” Keolah rep­lied.

“Oh, okay,” Haw­thorne said.

“How did you meet Silver, any­way?” Keolah won­dered.

“He had a bird,” Haw­thorne said.

“What?” Keolah asked.

“A really bird big,” Haw­thorne said. “I saw it and was curious and so I went over there and told him, ‘Wow, that’s a really big bird!’”

“Very eloquent, Haw­thorne,” Keolah said. “I don’t see how hard that would have been to say in common.”

Beeg bird!” Haw­thorne attempted, spreading her arms wide as if to demonstrate just how big the bird was.

Silver chuckled. “Yes, I would ­imag­ine a floka is quite the atten­tion-getter to some­one who hasn’t seen one before. You shouldn’t have fawned over her quite so much, though. Nar­cella has been insufferably preening ever since. She’s really rather vain.”

“Sorry,” Haw­thorne said com­pletely un­apologetically.

Sedder looked like he might be wanting to try to turn invis­ible again, and Keolah won­dered how she might be able to get the boy to relax. Really, she shouldn’t be thinking of him as a ‘boy’. He was prob­ably older than her, al­though it couldn’t be by much. Not that she was en­tirely cer­tain how fast humans aged, never mind half-elves.

“I don’t suppose you’re ­in­ter­ested in archae­ology, Sedder?” Keolah asked.

“Well… yeah, I guess,” Sedder murmured.

“Do you like ad­ven­ture?” Haw­thorne asked. “You don’t seem very adventurous to me.”

“Hey, I’m adventurous!” Sedder protested.

“Oh yeah?” Haw­thorne said with a grin. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Whatever you’re doing, I’m sure an Illusionist would be use­ful to have along,” Sedder said.

“You’re not just saying that because you have a crush on blue boy here, are you?” Haw­thorne asked.

“This could be dan­gerous,” Keolah warned. “If only because Haw­thorne tends to go looking for trouble.” She smirked.

“Hey!” Haw­thorne looked around shiftily. “Only some of the time. Besides, if it weren’t for my ‘looking for trouble’, we wouldn’t even be here.”

“I didn’t say I was com­plaining,” Keolah said. “Anyway, Silver, you said you might be able to help with our project?”

Silver nodded. “It’s been a while since I’ve been back to Dalizar, but there are resources there that you prob­ably won’t be able to find here.”

“Why is that?” Keolah asked. “You men­tioned some­thing about the League of Wizards?”

“Yes, the Wind­riders settled in Kalor prior to the destruc­tion of the League of Wizards,” Silver said.

Haw­thorne frowned. “Wait a minute. The elves only dis­covered Kalor like three hun­dred years ago. Wasn’t the League of Wizards destroyed thousands of years ago? How were the Wind­riders here first?”

Silver chuckled. “That is why we escaped its des­truc­tion.”

“Oh, I see,” Haw­thorne said. “And you just stayed hidden here, like we did in Ras­calanse?”

“How many hidden elf kingdoms can there con­ceivably be?” Keolah won­dered.

“Dunno, they’re prob­ably hidden.” Haw­thorne grinned.

“I can’t guarantee that Dalizar will have what you’re looking for, either,” Silver said. “But it’s cer­tainly worth a shot.”

“Agreed,” Keolah said.

*

<My lord,> Sedder tepped into the thought crys­tal. <I have success­fully in­fil­trated the group. I don’t think they sus­pect me.>

He didn’t men­tion how he’d screwed it up and how badly it could have gone, and that it had been sheer luck and his own ac­ting ability that it had worked.

<Excellent,> Sardill rep­lied. <What are their plans?>

<They’re planning to go to Dalizar to see what know­ledge is avail­able there,> Sedder tepped.

<Ah, the mys­terious Wind­rider kingdom,> Sardill said. <Report back once you’ve found it. This is quite the oppor­tunity. I have been looking for Dalizar for some time…>