“Your bowl is almost empty. Did you want some more?” he asked immediately.
“I’m afraid I might not have enough room for dessert if I eat any more,” I responded, keeping my face neutral. Marissa’s eyes were on me now.
“No need for modesty, Mort! I can tell you want more, here…,” he leaned over and spooned the last portion into my bowl.
I briefly considered doing something seriously unpleasant to my childhood friend, but before I could decide on the specifics, Marissa spoke, “I am amazed at your appetite. Even my family limit themselves to one portion normally. Not many can handle such strong flavors.”
It was a good bet that I could not handle such strong flavors either, but I wasn’t about to hurt her feelings. “I may regret it later, but right now I can hardly restrain myself,” I told her. “We have nothing like this in Washbrook.”
“I could give you the recipe if you like, Countess. Perhaps if you passed it along to your cook he…” Marissa began, addressing Penelope.
Penny interrupted her, “Penny. Call me Penny and don’t be silly, if you’re willing, you can teach me the recipe directly. I’d love to make it for Mort myself.”
“Would you like to help me with the dessert? I can show you the spices I use while we are in the kitchen,” said Marissa.
Marc and I were left sitting alone, and I gave him a hard stare. Rising quickly, I took my remaining soup to the front door and used my magic to clean the bowl out, sending the spicy stew down the nearest gutter. He said nothing as I returned to my seat, but his smile spoke volumes.
“No wonder you haven’t gained any weight,” I commented.
“I love her cooking, but that stuff will scour the very flesh from your bones, my friend. It’s a mercy she only makes it for special occasions,” he said with a laugh.
“You could have warned me!”
“That would have ruined the fun. Plus, I had hoped we would be able to draw Dorian into the trap as well. I would have dearly loved to see him attempting what you just ate. I’m impressed at how far you made it.”
I shook my head in wonder, “You really do have a cruel streak. When are you going to have some children to teach your bad habits?”
A shadow passed across Marc’s face. “I’m pretty sure I can’t have children, Mort.”
“Why?” I said, without thinking. Then I wondered if perhaps his time as Millicenth’s avatar had sterilized him.
“I have no idea, but it isn’t because of the goddess, if that’s what you’re thinking. I was taking chances long before that happened, but nothing ever came of it,” he replied.
Before he had been chosen by the goddess, my friend had been an absolute plague upon the young noblewomen of Albamarl. If he hadn’t taken any precautions then… “Are you certain?” I asked.
“As certain as I can be. Marissa and I have tried, and I wanted to give her a child, but it seems that the fates have decided otherwise. It’s probably for the best anyway,” he said, with a dark note to his voice.
I didn’t like the sound of that. “What do you mean?”
He looked toward the kitchen. “They’re returning. I’ll explain later.”
Marissa led the way carrying two elegant glasses filled with a thick yellow cream. Penny was close behind her with two more glasses. “You’re going to love this,” said Penny. Her eyes were wide in an expression that told me she had just discovered something incredible.
I accepted the glass that Marissa handed me and was rewarded with a delicate lemon scent rising from it. “What is this called?”
“Lemon syllabub,” Marissa replied with a mysterious smile. “You haven’t had it before?”
I shook my head to indicate that I hadn’t.
“Then you are in for a treat,” she said and Penny nodded her head in enthusiastic agreement.
Marc had already started on his, so I saw no reason not to follow suit. Taking spoon in hand, I took a mouthful of the thick, creamy substance and hoped for the best. I was not disappointed. “Sweet mother!” I exclaimed, forgetting my manners for a second. The taste was light and airy, a combination of sweetness with a hint of lemon and the smooth texture of whipped cream. The aftertaste left a sweet tang in my mouth that reminded me of a fine wine. “That is simply incredible! What is it made with?”
Marissa smiled. “I will keep the preparation a secret for your wife’s sake, but I am sure your taste buds can identify most of the ingredients.”
“Welcome to the conspiracy, Penny,” said Marcus. She grinned and winked at him.
“I take it you’ve had this before?” I queried him.
He nodded. “Yes… and ever since that day, my sweet lady has held it over my head. I fear I have become her slave now for fear of having the dessert plate withheld.”
I plied Marissa with compliments for several minutes, but she steadfastly refused to divulge her secrets. Eventually I gave up and the conversation finally turned to more serious matters. “So, what did you have to tell me about? Your note hinted that you had found something important,” I asked.
Marc’s face grew serious. Rising from the table he gestured toward the parlor. “Let’s go sit down where we’ll be more comfortable. I’ll go get what I wanted to show you. Marissa, would you mind pouring some after dinner drinks for everyone?”
He headed upstairs to the Illeniel… to my… library. Part of the reason I had let him set up house here with Marissa, was because I wanted someone to keep my city home in more livable condition, but the more important reason was because he and Marissa were actively researching the history of both wizards and the gods.
As we moved into the parlor, I motioned for Marissa to sit down. I knew very well where the liquor was stored already. “Let me do that Marissa. Take a seat and relax, the meal you made was wonderful. Let me serve you for a change.” She and Penny found seats, and I poured a sweet sherry into four glasses, one for each of us. Marc returned just as I was sitting down myself. I handed him the last glass, and he held out a large wooden case toward me.
“That’s what I wanted to show you.”
I took a slow sip before setting my glass aside and putting the box in my lap. “Where did you find this?” I asked absently.
Marissa spoke first, “It was in the archives.”
“The Karenthian Archives?” Technically the archives belonged to all four churches of the shining gods, but the priests of Karenth the Just were primarily responsible for maintaining them, hence the name. After the battle with Celior, I had acted as a secret stand-in for King Edward for several months, and during that time I had banned the churches from the capital. The archives had been confiscated and the priests forced to relocate. In actuality that meant the archives had stayed where they were… I had just forced the priests to move.
Once James had taken over, he had kept the ban in place, though he had acted to repair some diplomatic ties with the three remaining functional churches. It was one of many things we had disagreed upon, but since he was king and I was not, I learned to live with the difference in opinion.
Marissa had been a church scholar, and a priestess of Celior, which was how Marc had originally met her. Since that time, he had somehow convinced her to change her views regarding the deities that had previously ruled her life. Well, I assumed he had anyway… since she was now married to the most well-known heretic in the kingdom.
“Yes. I stumbled across it locked in a chest in one of the oldest parts of the archives. I don’t think it has seen the light of day since the Sundering,” she answered.
“That’s rather odd,” I pronounced, “since it bears the Illeniel family crest on the case.” Looking closer, I could see that it had also at one time been warded, though the runes had long ago lost their power.
“From what I could gather, it was stolen from your family. Probably during the chaos immediately after Balinthor’s defeat,” she added.
“Thank you for returning it then,” I told her, perhaps unnecessarily.
Mar
c broke in, “Don’t thank us until you’ve had a look. I think it may prove to be useless to you.”
Penny interrupted, “Do you know what’s inside?” She was leaning over from my left side to get a closer look at the box herself.
Marissa shook her head negatively as Marc answered, “We examined it, but it’s written in a language neither of us has ever seen.” That was actually quite an admission coming from him. My friend hid it well, but his education had been very good. I hadn’t thought there were any languages he wouldn’t at least recognize, aside from perhaps Lycian. His wife was even better educated in that regard. Much of her adult life had been spent deciphering and translating older tomes into more modern language.
“That’s discouraging,” I said, and then I pulled the lid away to reveal the interior. Inside was a large square rectangle of some hard black material.
It appeared to be about eight inches wide and perhaps twelve in length, but it was less than half an inch in thickness. The edges were decorated with intricate carvings of leafy vines, or perhaps trees. The rest was covered in delicate patterns that reminded me of letters, but it was difficult to be sure, for they were all connected. I stared at it in shock, and for a moment it felt as though the universe itself stood still beside me, looking over my shoulder.
In my mind’s eye, I could see an older man holding it in his hands as he spoke to me. “This is the accord, my son, the binding trust between our race and the She’Har. You must keep it safe.” The man was my father, that I was sure of… though he did not resemble the paintings I had seen of Tyndal, nor did he look like Royce. As I watched, the man began to change, gradually transforming into a colossal tree, the size of which I had never seen before.
“What do you think it is made of?” came Penny’s voice at my side, and for a second I felt as though I had splintered into two separate people. A whirl of images and knowledge passed through my mind, as though a door had opened letting another life spill into my head. I was caught up in a sensation of drowning, as the visions threatened to overwhelm me, and then with strength I had not known I possessed, I somehow closed the door within.
“It is made of a rare type of wood, known as Eilen’tyral, which means ‘heart wood’ in their language,” I said quietly.
Marc looked at me with interest, “You’re familiar with it then?”
“Whose language?” added Penny.
“The She’Har.”
That got everyone’s attention. “How do you know that?” said Penny.
“I’m not sure,” I said hesitantly. “It feels like a memory. I can remember someone giving me this tablet.” I closed the box, protecting it again from the outside world.
“Wait, don’t you want to read it?” said Marc.
I shook my head, “I already know what it says.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” my dear wife added. I had to agree with her.
“I don’t understand it either. I just know. I have these… I guess they’re memories… of receiving the tablet, of reading it, and I think there’s more,” I stated uncertainly. Seeing it had awakened something within me, as though I had once been another person, a person with an entirely different set of memories.
Penny’s face was set in an expression of deep concern, but she held her questions for a moment. It was Marc who finally asked the practical question, “So what does it say?”
I had already closed the door within, the one that led to those other memories, but I still retained the knowledge of the tablet. “It is a physical record of the first accord between the She’Har and mankind.”
“A treaty?” he pressed, wanting more detail.
“Of sorts. They were a civilized race long before we were. This is their original acknowledgement that we were sentient beings. This was their promise that we would be treated as equals. Before this, we had no more legal status among them than a horse or cow does today in our courts,” I explained. There was more… hiding in the back of my mind, but I dared not look at it. There was something dark there, something terrible in those memories, and I did not want to see it.
“Sounds as if they were rather full of themselves,” Marc commented.
I shrugged. “You have to understand; they were building cities when we were living in small groups in the wild, hunting small game and foraging for food. They weren’t even aware that we had language then, we appeared little better than apes to them.”
Marissa spoke up, “You sound as though you were there.”
“I think maybe I was, somehow, some part of me at least.”
Without bothering to wonder at the ‘how’, she leapt on me with a scholar’s question. “You said they built cities, yet no historian today can point to any remains of their civilization. Where were the cities? What happened to them?” she asked intently.
“They were wood. Everything they built was made of wood, or rather it was grown. Their cities were…,” as the words left my mouth a vision of fire and darkness rose in my mind. I clenched my eyes shut, hoping to shut out the sight. “Can we talk about this some other time? There’s just too much for me to manage at one time,” I said softly.
A look of disappointment crossed Marcus’ face. “Just promise me you’ll write whatever you know down… eventually.”
“I’ll tell you when the time comes. You can add it to your book,” I said simply. I had already turned my thoughts away from the dark memories. I could sense them there, staring at me from the back of my head, but as long as I didn’t look at them, I could pretend they weren’t there.
“Perhaps,” he said. “Things don’t always work out the way we want them to. Just promise you’ll write them down when you can. You never know what will happen.”
“Fine,” I answered, “Have it your way.”
Penny was not so easily satisfied. “I for one don’t like the thought that my husband has some other man’s memories jumbled about in his head.”
“I have other news, if you think that might help to distract…,” began Marc with a mysterious smile.
“I’d love to hear it,” I said, grateful for anything to change the focus of our conversation.
“Thought so,” he replied. “I’ve kept skimming through the books in your library and found a mention of the Gaelyn family.”
“I’m sure there are more than a few ‘mentions’ of them. You must have found more than that if you are bringing it up,” I replied acerbically.
Marc graced me with a sour expression, “Well, aren’t you a wise-ass tonight? As a matter of fact, what I found is a specific reference to the movements of the remainder of their family after the sundering.”
“How specific?”
“They moved to Agraden,” he said immediately.
“When?”
“Less than ten years after the Sundering,” he replied. “They established a large family stronghold there, not far from the oasis city itself.”
I looked at Marissa, “Have you ever heard of this?”
She shook her head negatively. “No, but then I have not lived there since I was a teenager.”
“Do you think there could be some of them still alive there?” said Penny.
“Unlikely,” Marcus said quickly. “The book I found this in was a history of the wizard lineages. The last entry on the Gaelyn family was made by Jorlyn Illeniel over a hundred and twenty years ago. According to that entry, the last remaining scion of the Gaelyn family line died in a fire that consumed their family dwelling.”
“I would like to study that book later,” I remarked.
Marc smiled, “I left it on your desk in the study. I knew you’d want to examine it carefully.”
The study was a private office-like area that was connected to the master bedroom, my parent’s bedroom originally. Though I had let Marc and his wife set up housekeeping here, they had decided to leave that room for Penny and myself, since the house actually belonged to me. “Thank you,” I told him.
Marissa gave Marc a pointed look and gestured
toward us. Clearly there was something else she was waiting for him to tell us. He leaned over and whispered in her ear for a second before straightening and addressing us directly, “Part of my reason for bringing up the matter of the Gaelyn family, is that it coincides with a few other things.”
Penny looked at me, and I stared at my friend for a moment before it dawned on me what he must be working toward. I glanced at Marissa. “Do you still have family in Agraden?”
She nodded affirmatively.
“That is a rather long trip and I have no circles there,” I commented.
“It’s actually a shorter distance than that between here and Lancaster,” my friend noted.
“Which is a trip involving good roads with many villages along the way. Agraden isn’t even properly part of Lothion, I believe they have their own ruler or some such,” I told him. I didn’t like the sound of this trip.
“He is called a ‘shah’, but it is simply another word for king,” Marc informed me.
“More than half the journey is through dessert, with no chance of finding a friendly inn along the way,” I reiterated.
“It isn’t nearly as difficult a journey as you make it sound,” he replied.
“You also have to consider the return.”
“We plan to live there. Marissa still has a prosperous uncle there who is willing to help us until we get acclimated.”
“You’re moving there?” I said, a bit more loudly than I had intended. Without realizing it, I had risen to my feet.
Penny’s hand was on my shoulder. “It hardly matters Mort. Once you’ve been there and created a circle it will be just as close as Albamarl.”
“I don’t have time to travel into the desert right now. I have to oversee the construction of the World Road, and when I’m not doing that, I have to figure out how to root out the last of the shiggreth. All this goes without even mentioning the fact that I have to keep up with your father,” I said darting my eyes in Marc’s direction.
Marc gave Penny an apologetic look. “Would you mind if I spoke to Mort alone for a few minutes?”