Chapter Eight - Lineage

Extract From - Biography of The Protector

"We are now left in no doubt that MonPellia was a learned scholar and forward thinker, the like of which Vedian had never seen before. I would take us forward to what is clearly his finest hour in previous reference material, the Moot of the Factions. Testament has been given by earlier scholars, of the way in which he brought together all the leaders of Vedian on the Island of Bridges. Calling them in a parlay of truce to end the wars that had brought our country to its knees. The land was famished, its peoples decimated by battle and lawlessness was rife. It has been said that MonPellia used his superior negotiation and debating skills to agree a way forward for Vedian. The birth of the scholatic and the council itself to work in accordance with the Earl's to ensure a passage of stability in the land. In itself this would seem plausible, the king and his line had been lost to old age and war, the Dukes fought for the right to rule over the peoples of all Tarans. To create an overseeing body to judge until a rightful heir could be found, was clearly the best way ahead. And yet if we look at the Dukes of the time, self centred war mongers who cared little for their people, it begins to leave doubt that any man, no matter how skilled and persuasive could have steered them from their destructive course. So instead let us consider another more grave and dark scenario. MonPellia was a single minded individual and he believed he knew what was right, he saw a path for the future to change and make better the lives of the common man. He had no love for the Earl's, yet even if he had I would suggest that his course of action would not have been different. He saw his charge over the people as a calling, a protector of man as a race itself. So I would put it here that MonPellia took the only action he believed would resolve the issue at hand and deliver the people from bondage. He drew the Earl's in under parlay and delivered them to their deaths. It was no moot on the Island of Bridges but a carefully organised assassination for the greater good."

Lasan Raltalan - Ved 850

"A letter arrived two days hence, carried by a guardsman of the barracks. He had been instructed to deliver it into my keeping with great urgency and return forthwith with confirmation. I had the old boy stay the night, though it took some persuading, we fed and watered his mount and sent him on his way this morning. I gave the content of the letter what I attention I could, for many other matters of importance require my time at this moment."

Speck interjected, "Tell us more of the letter itself, what did Ian say?"

"I was just getting to that young Master, it would seem the impudence that comes with youth carries itself beyond the borders of Asten!" Durgal scowled at Speck but always with a slight smile, "I have known Ian for many years, we have a sound business arrangement and I often put certain customers his way that require an individual touch. He is a solid and likeable individual and I have never known him to ask favours. So when the letter requested I gave aid to a travelling group, who may be arriving at Asten under," Durgal paused slightly, considering his words, "difficult conditions, I trusted your need was great. Now though let us come once again to your compatriots, my lad tells me you told him you are unaware of their whereabouts. Is this true? For I would fulfil my obligation to Ian if at all possible, although I would question him on his timing when next I meet with him."

Speck looked to Joseph, checking for acknowledgement of trust in the smithy's words. Joseph pushed himself back into the cold steel chair and breathed in slowly, much in the man's words gave confirmation to his story and certainly he felt that he was the sought he wanted to trust. He tried to think as Arn would, "What it be too much to ask to see the letter Durgal, I thank you for all your help and would not wish to put you to further trouble but our friends are dear to us and I would seek a final confirmation." Joseph bowed his head slightly to offer respect to the man.

"Manners and wisdom is an odd couple to court at any one time, yet you carry them well in your arms Joseph. I will bring you your letter and then I hope, find your friends and deliver them to you safely. In happier times I would spend time with you, for you seem like good, honest types but your arrival is not timely and I must return soon to other matters. I offer for that my apologies but while you stay here, you are my guests and will be treated accordingly by all at the House Of Histevillirm. I consider myself a sound judge of character my young friends, I have little more than that and a strong arm but I would say that you are more than you look to be or indeed think you are." Durgal laughed loudly and departed the room.

Speck raised himself from his chair, "What did he mean by that?"
"I do not know but I feel safer here under his roof than I have since we walked with Rundell." Joseph looked about the long room, "It is a wondrous place, I have never seen so many things cast from metals, even the walls themselves seem to be lined with some form of tin."

The table at which they sat looked to be entirely moulded from iron and while not ornate was as sturdy as any house Joseph had witnessed. The walls shone with the strange metal that coated them and all around great armours and arms were mounted upon them. Joseph stretched his arms out wide and yawned, "I would give anything for a nights sleep but I would first hear that Arn and Febra are safe."
"Do you think we should try to find them?"
"In honesty Speck I think Durgal's people would do a sounder job then we could but knowing Arn, he will give them less trust than I. So a token of some sort is required I think, to convince him all is well. Do you still have the pipe Febra gave you?"
"Yes. I was rather hoping to partake of it again, it has been far too long already."
"Well that will have to wait, give it to Durgal on his return and bade him present it to Arn as a token of our well being. As to what we do after that, I am unsure. I know we should deliver the book as planned and that seems to have much sense to it but I would know a little more of it and its keeper before we hand it over."
Speck leaned forward, "Perhaps I should look at it further, try to glean more of its knowledge."
Joseph placed his hands out flat on the table, "I think we should be cautious, its effect on you previously was quite strange. If what you told me on the journey here was correct, it would seem to have awoken dreams within you. I do not attempt to understand it but I am wary of it."

Durgal returned with the letter and presented it for Joseph, he gave various instructions to men that came and went from the room, asking that beds be readied and food prepared. Joseph skimmed quickly over the content of the note, he had already decided that the smithy was a man he could trust and described to him where they had arranged to meet with their compatriots earlier that day.
"Asten, like all of Vedian is not the place it once was but they should be safe if they have stayed where you agreed, none will pass the border of the university and it is a fine area even in darkness. I will send my men out immediately to recover them, please rest and take what meal you require, I must now move on to other pressing business." Durgal gave a comical bow to the pair and smiled. Speck took the pipe from a pocket in his robe, "Please ask your people to present this to Arn, when you locate him, he will know us from this token. " Speck paused for a moment then continued addressing Durgal, "I also wonder if there is anything we could assist you with sir, since you have been so kind to help us. On many occasion in a short time you have spoken of pressing business, perhaps there is a service we could offer?" The large man eyed Speck for a moment, weighing up his words as he took the pipe from the lad's hand, "It would perhaps be short sighted of any man in these times to refuse aide from any source that he deems to be trustworthy. If this task were of any other nature I would tell you more of its detail, as you have placed an equal trust in me. This unfortunately is not 'any' task and therefore for now at least I would decline your offer but let it be a postponement for now. Perhaps Master Speck I will call on it in the future, if I may."

By the time night and drawn its veil over Asten, Arn had become increasingly frantic, he had time and again discussed with Febra the option of backtracking in an attempt to find their friends. On each occasion she had calmed him down and reiterated that they should remain in place at least until dawn. The night was warm and comfortable and they had witnessed few people crossing their path as the day drew to a close.
"I will wait no longer Febra, I must seek them out."
As the girl was about to stand to once again converse with the hunter, two figures approached from the northern path. The men were dressed in leather garb with chain tunics on their torso. They changed direction from the path and approached the pair.
"Do not be alarmed," the first man said, "you are Arn and Febra. We have been sent by your friends to bring you to our house in safety."
Before Febra could speak Arn moved forward to the man, grabbing his tunic, "Where are they, what have you done with them! I will gut you like a cur if any harm as befallen either of them." The second man moved forward, placing his hand softly on Arn's, "We are not your enemy Arn and your friends are in no danger. I have here a token of there well being they have sent to guarantee our words." He presented the wooden pipe to the hunter, who released his grip and carefully examined it for a moment before passing to Febra for confirmation. "Granted, this adds some weight but it does not confirm their health, you could have stolen this item." "That is possible Arn but it is an odd token to choose, if we looked to lead you into a trap. This has been a long night and Barin and I both would wish to return to our beds and a warm fire, please come with us. We will deliver you to your comrades."
Febra put her hand on the hunters shoulder and looked into his eyes, "Let us follow, you wish to seek them out, trap or not at least we will know what fate they encountered."
They journeyed on to the House of Histervillirm, Febra talked with Barin and Calan all the time they walked, leaving Arn to trail at the rear. All the time she was careful to confirm extra information and snippets that confirmed their story. By the time they arrived at the house it was well past midnight and they were quickly led into a small practical room. A fire burned in the hearth and four seats were hugged around its warmth. At one end a corner table was stacked with meats and bread and a set of hands could be seen from the rear dipping in and out of the tasty meal.
"Joseph! You have led us a merry dance, what happened, why did you not meet with us? Are you safe? Where is Speck?" Arn grabbed the mariner out of his seat and hugged him tightly.
"I thought the worst, when you did not arrive. I am sorry Joseph, I should never have split the group up, I will not make the same mistake again." He stared directly into the lad's eyes, "I will not leave your side again."
Joseph smiled at his friends and sat them down, offering food and mead. He took time to thank Barin and Calan and asked them to pass on his heartfelt regards to their master. Recounting the events of the day, the trio sat and bathed in the sanctuary of the house.

In the bedroom, situated at the front first storey of the house, Speck sat impatiently. His lithe fingers drummed the canvas of his satchel, his mind considering the rights and wrongs of his action. He had left Joseph after his earlier meal and retired to sleep but it had not come, the book played on his mind, he was sure more was to be learned from its contents and he was certain it would benefit them all to know more. He knew that it would not sit well with his friend but the possibility of knowledge pushed him on to remove the book from its resting place. Carefully unstrapping the satchel and removing the binding that protected the weighty tome, he glided his hand over the clasps a final moment before making his decision. As soon as he opened the page and concentrated on the symbols the familiar feeling rushed through his mind.

Dior sat quietly in his tent, sipping at a mug of ale, outside the voices of his men could be heard singing and laughing. They were god men, he thought to himself, the best in all of Vedian and yet they will hold the field until Shartos and his cavalry are cut down by the enemy. There was no honour in this, no victory, they may yet take Bannermane back but at what cost. He felt the air brush across his face as the flap of the tent was lifted. Lord Protector Estalyn stood at the entrance, without his regimental garb of office he was still a formidable figure. Dior rose quickly to attention, addressing his liege formally.
"Lord, what orders would you have me carry out?"
"Stay your hand Dior, I have no orders for you this night, rather I would just sit with you and share a drink if you seek companionship."
Dior was slightly surprised but did not show it,
"Of course, it would be an honour."
He drew up another chair and poured another mug of ale, handing it to Estalyn. It was unlike the Lord Protector to mix with the troops, even someone of Dior's position, he was a cautious man who normally kept his distance to reinforce his rank. It was not a personnel issue, merely the duty of a man who may send the men under him into difficult if not fatal battles.
"I am sorry Dior. I have tried everything I could to persuade him otherwise. It is not my way to discuss matters of duty but in this task I find need for a friend. In all my years and campaigns I believed honour and duty would be enough to see me through, enough to hold my sacred oath. Yet in this matter I am most vexed, it is madness for Shartos to take to the field, the cost will be too high, we are stretched thinly Dior, more so than you may be able to see. We can not afford a massacre to any unit, but cavalry we can least afford, they will soon be needed on the front and I wonder what steeds we will have left to send? I would not pass this burden on to you, except that I know you already feel its weight," Dior did not reply, rather bowing his head slightly in acknowledgement.
"Shartos is a boy revelling in the spoils of war! He will drive us to extinction and our land into bondage, why must wars be fought by politicians. I am a warrior Dior like you, when the time came I did not have the words to persuade the King to change his stance, I was the wrong man and my ignorance will cost men dearly. I have failed and the thought is hard to bear. Is duty everything Dior? Is it enough? Will history judge us by duty or by honour?"
Dior waited for a moment before he spoke.
"I do not know the answer to these questions my liege but of one thing I am sure, the men will follow your orders, the Sabre unit will take the field as and when you require and I will lead them. For when duty and honour are no more, left bloody on the field of battle by meddling dignitaries, there is always the oath of bondage. Our oath is to each other, from man to man, from soldier to officer and war and time will never diminish its power."

The ferocity of Speck's awakening seemed slightly less this time, he was still shivering and found it difficult to catch his breath but his mind was clearer. He steadied himself on the bed, dangling his legs over the edge and took in a handful of deep breaths. His mind was considering the events that the book had revealed to him, he felt sure know there was something more to these visions or dreams. He snapped his fingers together, irritated by the feeling that he was omitting an obvious detail or message. Clearly these people he saw were historical, his knowledge of the old days was far from good, he had read snippets of references to Vedian and its invasion and certain things seemed to have an edge of truth to them. Perhaps the tome was a record of events and caretaker to ensure certain things were never forgotten, he was unsure, there was something more that was all he was certain of. He thought to rush downstairs and relay the description of the vision to the group but he staid himself a moment, Joseph would be annoyed that he had ignored the warning he gave. Speck stood up, his body temperature was beginning to warm, pacing up the long room between the bedsteads he considered his options carefully. Stopping by the window he peered out to the dark streets outside, all was quiet and few lights could be seen shining from other buildings across the street. Pushing open the window he breathed deeply in the cool air and finalising a decision he brushed his hair back in his hands and began to walk towards the hallway.

Arn's voice could be heard as Speck approached the lounge area at the west of the ground floor, he was deep into recounting one of his infamous hunting tales, no doubt it would culminate in the capture of the beast single handed and a night spent in the arms of a local girl. For all the huntsman's tall tales, Speck admired and trusted him. It was different with Joseph, they were friends, they had a bond of time that had created a trust. With Arn it was more something that was demanded but not in a way that Speck did not wish to give.

As he pushed open the door, the heat of the fire swept over him, closeted within the confines of the small room. The three turned round and smiled as he sat himself in one of the chairs next to Joseph.
"I thought you had retired, you do not seem surprised to see us my young friend, had you forgotten us already in the time we were parted?" Arn grinned.
"Barin came up to the room and let me know you had been safely found and returned. I would be hard pressed to forget you hunter if I lived to see a thousand seasons! But I interrupt a tale, do not stop on my account, I know how hard it is for you not to spend time talking about yourself." Speck pushed himself back in the chair as the others laughed loudly. "I think this is yours," Febra stood up and handed Speck the wooden handled pipe he had given Durgal earlier, "I have filled it for you and it is ready to light if you would like." "I would indeed. If in the past I have said anything that was hurtful or wrong then please let me atone for it now. We have come along way the four of us and my ignorance has diminished the further we have travelled. He smiled warmly at the girl and Joseph nodded in agreement. The tale went on for some time and another followed, it seemed that Speck's jest was not far from the truth, Arn did not tire from talking of his own adventures and true or not all three listened with interest. By the time Arn finally completed his third story Speck had decided he must recount his earlier experience. "Joseph I have an admission," he begun," I was intrigued you see and I thought it wouldn't hurt so I, well I used the book again." Speck rushed through the final few words, hoping it would sound better at pace. All three lent forward in unison, "I thought you might," Joseph said calmly, "though I doubt its wisdom, you know more of these things than I. Well let the rights and wrongs wait for another time, what did you see?" Speck was surprised by his friends words, he had expected to be scolded at least. "I saw a similar scene, at least two of the people I witnessed the first time. It seems they were waiting for a battle to commence, they discussed an enemy and problems with internal politics. They were both sad, I could go further into description but that is the feeling I had, a great sadness within both men but also determination. " "What does it mean, if anything. Perhaps it is a historical reference, something created in the old days when perhaps such things were possible." Febra said. "I don't know anything about books but I do know they don't talk. What good is it to us? Although I would still feel hard giving it up now, copper or not, it was too much of a sacrifice to get it." Speck stood up and addressed the three, "Yes. Your right it was exactly that, Rundell sacrificed his life and I think something in these visions is trying to warn us. I am finding difficult to interpret them but I am sure they have meaning." Joseph placed his hand on Speck, "Sit down Speck and recount the tale again in detail, let us see if we can decipher a message, if such a thing exists." Speck recounted as much of the vision as he could recall, detailing the surrounding area, colours sights and words spoken, he tried to leave nothing out. "Well," Joseph said leaning his chin on his clasped hands, "It seems we have a battle to come, two men concerned over the future and a belief that an oath is stronger than royalty. Do you think they took to field Arn? Would men such as Speck describes disobey a King's orders, even if they knew it would lead men to death." Arn replied quickly, "No. Dior and Estalyn are men of considerable rank, their lives would have been one of service and loyalty. I think Dior was just trying to give courage to Estalyn to assure him that they were bonded, he was not actually suggesting they took to the field before the cavalry. Men such as they do not make light of orders, they would know more than most, that a military force stands or falls by the ability to command without question. It does not stop at one rank or another but is the same from top to bottom, as it has to be. I believe they would wait and they would have seen the cavalry charge and fall beneath the enemy and only then would they have taken the field, marching through the bodies of their brethren. Men that had been betrayed by the pride of a father and the arrogance of a son." "That's it!" Speck shouted out," You have it Arn, it is a vision of betrayal and loyalty, it is warning us of just that, two paths that we must choose. If we return the book to its owner we will be loyal to our charge but whom will we betray if we do? Or perhaps it us that will be betrayed if we deliver it to the university. I am certain it is a warning, we must not deliver the artefact!" "I do not understand it but I live by my instinct, we hold the book." Febra looked quite serious as she spoke, her eyes fixed on Joseph. "I am not comfortable with either scenario and so I will follow the majority. What do you say Arn, should we deliver and put an end to this journey? Or if we hold, then what next?" Joseph turned with Febra and Speck to face Arn, the hunter did not flinch from the responsibility. "I did not walk through leagues of rain and burning sun to turn back now and most of all I am certain this book is tied to the fate of Rundell, while we have its possession there is no doubt we are all in danger. Yet it is also the mechanism which I believe will deliver the old warrior's assassin to our hands, next time we must be ready. For I will not turn tail and run like a frightened child for a second time. We hold the book."

They slept late that morning, the sun had already risen to its height over Asten and busy hands worked tirelessly over hot coals, shaping the heavy lumps of metal into a myriad of trade items. Arn was first to wake, stirred by the heavy snoring of Speck in the bed next to him. He glanced across at the sleeping figure, a quick grin of familiarity crossed his face, it felt good to have friends around. Last night had been good for them all, they had trekked hard and travelled far, for the first time they had as a four, talked and laughed and exchanged tales. More importantly they had come to an agreement, a bond, the book held them together now, they were bound by its nature and its cost. Arn pulled himself up from his warm haven, pulling on his britches and finding a fresh cotton shirt laid out on the table opposite the window, there was one each for Speck and Joseph as well.

For Febra was laid a blouse of silk, a fair garment in any house, certainly an unlikely one to be found at a smithies. Yet it would seem that they were not the guest of just any metal grinder, Joseph had spoke well of Durgal and the hunter already was keen to meet the fellow. Arn laughed inwardly, Febra would be most displeased to be treated any differently to the rest, she would rather four shirts of rough bark then anything that set her out from the party. The cotton was fresh against his skin and fitted well, the sleeves slightly long as he liked them to be. He was careful not to stir anyone and slowly parted the door and slipped into the hallway, the faint sound could be heard of hammering and voices but it seemed far off. He journeyed down stairs, reversing back under the stairs at the base for a door at the rear of the house, he passed no one as he strolled along which was not entirely surprising. It would seem the front of the house was not part of the workshop, the east and west rooms were lounge or dining areas and clearly the house was not unfamiliar with visitors. As he laid a hand on the iron cast handle of the rear door, a booming voice came from behind him, so loud he jumped slightly in surprise.

"Good morn' to you Arn! What a fine day we are blessed with." Arn turned to see Durgal who he recognised instantly from Speck's description. He was easily identifiable from his strange mixed dress of smith and dignitary, the leather half protection tied around his considerable waist and a full length coat of fine material draped around his body. He was an odd sight but a friendly one, the smiling face and pumped up cheeks harbouring a rosy glow of days over fires and nights consuming ale. He seemed to Arn as a man should be, the product of hard work and good living.

"And a good morning and many thanks for your assistance sir. I am in your debt for the help you have given to us all, your house is a credit to you and the hospitality fine. My thanks for the fresh shirt, Asten is indeed all we were promised it would be, a city of honest folk." The smithy, clasped Arn's shoulder, "Aye that it is, in the most part. Let us not talk of debt anymore, you are my guests and as such you should receive the personal tour of my house. Come I see you have an eye for craftsmanship, let me show you around the workshop."

Durgal pushed open the door and wandered through a large room, many names were spoken and introductions made, Arn struggled to keep up with them all. He acknowledged the faces he had met the night before and smiled thanking them once again. Across the benches finished tools and armours sat, shining in the late morning sun. Barrels of ore clustered around the outer door and the sound of delivery carts could be heard unloading from outside, constantly loading the completed articles and carrying them to market. Clearly this was a well run trade with capable men employed, Arn often stopped to ask questions and Durgal seemed to enjoy this, he found great enjoyment in talking of his people and the trade that was undertaken. He was proud of his workmanship and hastened to point out his merchandise travelled the whole of Vedian to be sold in all the major towns.

"Have you heard before of the House of Histervillirm laddie?" "I am ashamed to say not Durgal, the Luff does purchase tools but I do not know were they come from. How would I know who makes any particular piece of merchandise?"

"Ah a good question," Durgal stooped down and picked up a protective armlet, plain and smooth to fit the forearm, Arn surmised it could be a piece of a larger set, "every item that is produced from our house is carved with our mark, it confirms quality and anyone that knows to look for such a mark is one who cares for such detail."

"Are you referring to arms and armour, soldiers that would need such quality?" Arn took the armlet and turned it over, in the far upper right corner that would fit nearest the wrist a tiny scratched mark could barely be seen. "In part but all men need quality that respect their work, weather it be a farmer or fighter. Our work is built to last, we mine the best ore and work from the hottest fires, our men are experienced and knowledgeable in their craft. We hand down from father to son, in the old ways."

Durgal moved to the bench at the wall and in the metal dust that had collected he made two downward strokes and one crossing them horizontally from top to bottom.

"That is the mark of my house, look for that that and you will receive the quality you seek."

 As the afternoon came they finally arrived back into the long room Durgal had sat in previously with Speck and Joseph, a meal had been set for five and the smithy motioned for the hunter to sit and take a drink.

"You have had a hard journey by all accounts Arn. What do you desire to do now? You have the hospitality of this house for as long as you wish it to be. I would have done so, for Ian asked it of me but I do so now because you are of a good stock and your small friend intrigues me, he is not the type I have met before. Clearly you are a man of craft and experience, you I would drink and talk with of history, Joseph too is an honest fellow, trustworthy and friendly. Your Master Speck though I find it harder to pin down, he is of strange stock, I have lived a full life, it is not often I find things that are new and different.

"He is that and much more Durgal. No craftsman or warrior is our Master Lucent but he would be both if it meant standing by his friends. As of our plans we have decided to keep our prize, at least for now. Joseph already informed me he has told you of our tale and I seek not to hide any of its content from you. We must go to the university and meet with our employer and see what unfolds."

"That is an unfriendly place for those not of its ilk. Who do you meet with?"

The door swung open and the three others paced through the door led by Febra, wearing the beautiful silk shirt she appeared to Arn almost womanly.

"I can answer that smithy. My suspicions are from your round belly and strange look that you are Durgal. So if we had any secrets, they have fallen by the wayside from Specks estranged tongue. We are to meet with Prominence Lamentor, who lives at the university and we are going to give him nothing that he wants."

"Well young lady, you are not from Asten that is clear. Yet if plain speak is what we have then surely we are already good friends! Come dine at my table and tell me of your home, for all my travels I have never had the honour of visiting Kearn Luff."

They ate ravenously, still hungry from the long journey, Durgal and Arn held the conversation mainly, with the others chipping in between mouthfuls. Durgal's mind often wandered to his task at hand, he wanted to share his concerns with his new found guests but felt the burden of duty was his to carry. As Madistrin had asked he sent his people out to the town to discover more of the shipments they had discussed. Folk had been tight lipped and there had clearly been a feeling of fear that gripped their tongues. He had discovered that almost every other smithy in Asten had been working arms to dispatch South but the destination was still unclear. Last night he had sent two of his men to track the caravans South, he did not do so lightly and bade them take care in their task. He had also arranged a moot with a few learned craftsman for this evening whom he knew and trusted. He had been cautious to not raise any suspicion and offered the meeting in the guise of a presentation of new finishing techniques. Durgal was well known for his art and it was not unusual for him to share his findings with other houses for the greater good of the craft. Finally the meal was completed and Durgal pushed back his seat and raised his formidable form from his chair, "Well my friends if you are to carry out your decision then I suggest you go while the day is still fair. Few things in this life feel as comfortable in the night air, I will have Barin escort you to the university and wait for you to return. Perhaps we could dine together for supper as I have business of my own to attend to this night. They thanked their host in turn, with even Febra offering a warm smile and consideration for the food and clothes. The southern street leading towards the central market was now brimming with life, every which way Joseph looked, people roamed from house to house, some stopping to converse with friends, others trading at the side of the road. It was hive of commerce, copper changing hand, tradesmen careful counting the dull tokens in and out of belt pouches. Barin chatted to Speck and Arn predominantly as they walked at a steady pace, he spoke of his master and the pleasure of working in such a fine and respected house. It seemed to Arn that Barin was still in the early days of his apprenticeship, mainly running in errands in the day and learning from skilled elders of an evening.

A full time occupation and one the young man clearly revelled in. Joseph paused the group as they the first sight of the university peered over the rising slopes of the roadway,

"I think it would be best for you to speak Arn, we must be cautious in our tone. All of us must be on our guard, doubtlesly he will question you as our scribe," Joseph motioned towards Speck, "and possibly you as well Febra, it is after all your charge that was taken." As they reached the gardens, little more life could be seen then at the previous evening Arn and Febra and spent waiting on their companions. "There is little activity? Is that not odd?" Arn said to Barin, peering to get a good look into the upper windows. "No, it is the norm, rarely do the scholatic wander from their sacred walls. They fear sullying themselves with the common mans touch I would wager." There was more than a hint of disdain in the young smithies voice. Barin pointed them to a smaller entrance to the west-side of the building, smiled and sat himself down, propping his back against a small mound of grass. He pulled a ripe apple from his pocket and chomped down hard,

"I will wait here for you, be safe and be careful!" Joseph and Speck were still in awe of the huge structure as they approached the doorway Barin had directed them to, Arn banged heavily on the metal and stood back a couple of paces. Seconds passed until the frame swung open, a middle aged man in full robes appeared, his cowl was pulled back to reveal a lined face, with tiny eyes set below a high forehead. His hair was thin and long and streaked casually into his hood. "Yes?" he offered. Arn raised himself up to full height an attempt to give authority to his words,

"We are here to see Prominence Lefarious, he is expecting us, we have urgent business to attend." The man looked over Arn's shoulder at the strange group and pulled a strange face, "Come in be seated, I will send word. I am aware he has been expecting visitors from afar. You certainly fit the description as I would say you are not from Asten." He led them into to a narrow room, it was basic and dark, as only small slits let in any natural light from the outside. Small stools, crafted from iron were scattered against one of the walls, the floor was covered with a bare rug, thinning from wear and faded in small parts were the light from without touched upon it. The man ushered them to the chairs and without looking back moved on through a further corridor that angled off to the right. Febra crouched down over one of the metal seats, "No wonder they don't like visitors, it ain't to inviting. I have seen more pleasant places to take shelter at the bottom of the fish market." Arn smiled, "Aye, it certainly lacks a sense of character, perhaps this is just a trade entrance, I should imagine the rooms and halls further in a abundant in quality and splendour. By the way Speck, I was thinking as we walked here, can these types sense things that are magical in some way. I know nothing of such matters and little of the scholatic themselves, do your famed books tell you anything?"

Speck brushed his chin with a long forefinger, pondering a reply, "As I understand it the scholatic are not linked or indeed have never practised any kind of magic. If that is what our book is. They are thinkers by nature, I do not think they have any abilities over and above that but the scripts I have poured over in my time," Speck began to ramble in a desperate effort to impress the group at large, "give little weight to any more factual evidence."

Febra cast a beaming smile at Joseph, "I think he might be right at home here."

Footsteps could be heard gathering pace again from beyond the room, faint at first but they resonated against the walls to provide a rhythmic beat. From the angular corridor the robed man appeared, he motioned to Arn and then glanced at the others in confirmation for them to follow. He walked at a brisk pace, the place was like an old badgers warren Arn thought, turning left and right through narrow passageways that continually spiked in different directions. All the time Arn felt they were moving slightly downhill, he couldn't be certain at first as it was a very slight decline but as the seconds moved on, he was more conscious of the decent. Finally they came to set of doors, four in all, each identical to the others. Their guide turned to them and pointed towards the entrances. He nodded briefly and began to ascend back up the long corridors.

"Wait! Which door will we find him in", Joseph exclaimed. The robed man continued to walk on, apparently disregarding the Joseph's question. "It matters not," his voice echoed around the corner, "they all end in the same place." Arn shrugged his shoulders expressively and reached to the ornate handle of the second door from the left. It opened with out so much as a sound, gliding aside to reveal a hard stone floor covered by a bare woven rug. The room itself was busy, shelves laden with books and scrolls, parchments littered on desks and chairs. Arn had never seen so many books. The light in the room came from globes fastened to the wall, small candles burning brightly within, the circular holders reflecting their light into the deep corners of the room. The tall hunter peered round the entrance, searching for signs of life. "Enter at your leisure. For surely that has how your journey has been taken to date!"

The irritated voice was grainy and accusational. From behind a high shelve of tomes, that almost touched the rough ceiling a figure arrived, robed as their earlier guide had been, save for a slightly more ornamental belt. The man was old, at least that is how it seemed to them all, in truth he was far from his twilight years but a hard lined face and lazy stooped pose gave weight to the thought. His hair was a murky brown, cut short at the sides and back, in one hand, held tightly in a fist was a set of parchments, in the other a clay cup, hazy smoke rising erratically from its surface. His hard soled shoes scraped on the floor as he dragged himself closer.

"I have waited weeks for your arrival. What incompetence is this that greets me now? I was promised a swift delivery." Arn was about to speak when the man interjected, "Do not suppose to sully my mind with your foolish banter and excuses, bring forth my goods and be gone from my sight. I have tarried too long with you already." His face was turning red in the cheeks and his throat tightening, his obvious displeasure plain for all to see. Speck motioned a hand forwards, "Prominence Lamentor, for that is I assume whom you are. My followers and I," Arn's eyebrows pricked up in surprise, "have most distressing news. Please let us sit, for our journey has not been delayed through bad judgement or leisure but through ill deeds of others."

Lamentor, eyed the smaller boy, he spoke with some authority, more than he would have anticipated, "Sit then," he pointed to a group of chairs huddled around a hardwood table near the far wall, "but do not try my patience, for I have little enough to spare on commoners." The group sat and Speck began to recount a version of their journey, careful to miss out any reference to Rundell or Durgal, "So we collected the book as planned from Ian of Bannermane and slept for one night at the Inn. Upon the night it was set upon by bandits and vagrants, they plundered the quarters, we were lucky to escape with our lives. The book was lost to us, I fear we have failed in our quest, I humbly apologise for us all and ask for your forgiveness. Perhaps there is another task we can do for you in the meantime to atone for your loss?"

Lamentor's eyes never left Speck through the whole speech, he was hunting the boy out, checking for inaccuracies or pauses misplaced in his story. It seemed to add up, this group looked an unlikely band to manage any betrayal and not clever enough to warrant the value of the item in question. His mind was awash, on news of their arrival he had been ecstatic, the book was in his hands, he would use it as planned to heighten his reputation with Shel-Toro. Perhaps even a place in Pluris itself would be forthcoming, now matters had turned for the worse. His caution pushed him to not take anything for granted yet and he decided to verify the travellers story first hand.

"I am of course sorry to hear of your misfortune you will understand of course that your story must be confirmed with my contacts at Bannermane. You will be my..guests, in the meantime, while you can not as commoners stay within the University walls, I will ensure you have adequate facilities at the nearby Inn, until we can discuss matters again." Joseph piped up, "We already

 have quarters at.." Arn interjected swiftly but in a calm tone, "At The Journeyman's. A fine abode for any traveller, Asten should be proud of such hospitality." "Yes, yes," Lamentor waved his hand dismissively, "I will send word to the Inn when I have confirmation, perhaps there is a another small task you can complete on my behalf if all goes well." The group stood to depart, casting to careful glances at one another. At the door stood their guide, ushering them away, Febra looked surprised, she had not heard him called for and no sound of his arrival.

"Oh, one more thing," Lamentor smiled, his mouth crooked and head shifting to one side, "do not consider leaving Asten before we speak again, it would not be professional, you understand I am sure. It would not sit well with your council and rest assured I would be most displeased." The ascent seemed quicker and they all felt more comfortable when the light from the main door could be seen glistening through the gaps. As they exited the University, the guide turned back and whispered conspiratorially, "His Prominence is not a man to displease."