Therelin was not certain if he would continue paying for his Ular Graan research pass after his already paid second month was expired. After all, he had several months worth of reading in the Hall of Three Winds and was a lot more eager to absorb knowledge under Master Nolicrin’s purview. So, for now, Therelin spent most of his evenings studying in archives belonging to the Academy instead of studying at his newfound shrine.
He had learned a lot at Ular Graan. His knowledge of anatomical traits and chemical agents had deepened, his ability to create candlelight had grown more deft, and his understanding of the Grey Sea had deepened.
He also learned that many of the students at Ular Graan studied for years before attempting to gain apprenticeship with one of the prestigious masters. It seemed the trials were literal tests of knowledge, prepared by the masters. He didn’t plan to stay in Saanazar that long, so he would study as much as he could and then give the test a try anyway.
In his time here, Therelin had read about the Orrene and the Old Empire of Noress, each spanning continents. He had studied the disaster of the Orrish, fourteen hundred years ago, when a great rock had fallen from the sky to obliterate the capitals of both empires. Ular Graan, he learned, had been a mighty magician from those days; Graan had brokered the treaties after the fall of the Orrish to prevent further bloodshed. Several books Therelin found discussed the likelihood of Ular Graan and his colleagues calling the meteor down themselves.
According to the Grey Brethren, this was heretical thinking. Atmos, the great God of the sky, had sent the Orrish to punish mankind for the atrocities committed in those imperial wars. It was a fundamental pillar of their faith. The Sky God punished the wicked.
Therelin had gone to see the Blasted Wall himself. Supports from Burnt Keep held up the ancient brickwork. The black smears and ashen patterns on the archaic masonry would have been caused by any fire. Therelin looked out from the central hill of Saanazar; he looked south from Burnt Keep to the slate-like ocean and tried to imagine explosive flames reaching so far.
Scholars agreed that no city closer to the Orrish predated it. Only Saanazar.
After days of indecision, Therelin finally tried to investigate the conversation he had overheard. Of course, he didn’t go to Master Nolicrin with this information—not when he understood so little of what it might mean. On his fourth visit since his formal welcome to the Hall of Three Winds, Therelin stumbled and nearly dropped the book he was carrying. Instead, he slid it onto the central reading table—where Maia was studying—and steadied himself against it. He might as well embrace clumsiness as a valuable disguise, for the time being. Maia stifled a laugh.
Master Nolicrin’s third most accomplished apprentice, Maia, was there most often than any of the others. Therelin wondered if she had heard any of Master Nolicrin’s strange conversations as he had. “I wanted to ask you something,” he said, keeping his smile friendly.
“Anything,” Maia said, and invited him to sit. Two other apprentices were present, but they sat at the other end of the Hall.
“When I was studying at Ular Graan, I overheard a conversation about something called the Conclave. It sounded like a magicians’ group? Do you know anything about that?”
“Maybe that’s one of the guilds in High Raena?” Maia asked. “I’ve not heard of it before, but we should have a reference guide of sorts around here somewhere.” She turned toward the nearest bookshelf.
Therelin shrugged and helped her look. He had as many reasons to trust her as he did to distrust her. Once they found the reference guide, it became a matter of checking indices and various pages. Maia tossed her brown hair over one shoulder and got to work; she was far quicker at this than Therelin.
After a moment, she pointed to a record in the middle of the book. “It seems there’s a place in Port Deylus: the Maker’s Conclave.”
Therelin grimaced. “I’m not sure if they were talking about this Conclave because they also mentioned the Grey Brethren. It sounded more secretive.”
Maia let out a breath. “Have you attended any gatherings of the Atmos Septi since your arrival in Saanazar? There are many sects and internal alliances—not all well-known. Perhaps the Conclave you heard mention of is one of them?”
“Would there be a book that lists the known sects of the Brethren?” he asked.
She nodded. “Probably several, but none here.”
“Do you know where?” Therelin asked. “Do I need to go to one of the temples? I wouldn’t know where to begin.”
“We could likely learn something through Ular Graan. I could help you look, if you’d like. I have a fair bit of experience with their archives.” Maia looked at him inquisitively.
“That would be excellent,” Therelin replied. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Let’s do it.”
“What about tomorrow?”
Therelin grimaced in reply. “I have to work,” he said with a dry chuckle. “I will let you know as soon as I can plan some time for this.”
Maia nodded. “Good,” she said, and smiled at him.
Of course, that meant getting another day off. Ethraw was a miser of time, it seemed. At least he was paying Therelin enough to demand such constant responsibility. He had already worked today, but he walked to Ethraw’s house for the second time. Tuckler let him in at the front gate and Therelin was met by Master Ethraw in the anteroom.
“Saw you through the cellar window,” Ethraw explained as he tapped a large calabash container. “What seems to be the problem?”
“No problem,” Therelin replied. “I was just wondering if I could get another day off soon.”
“Another day off?” Ethraw asked. He nodded. “I suppose so.”
Therelin waited expectantly, but Ethraw looked at him blankly. At last, Therelin asked, “When?”
Ethraw scoffed. “We went over this, my friend. The last day of the Moon, of course.”
Therelin groaned. That’s over two weeks away! He bowed at the waist stiffly and murmured, “Thank you, sir.”
“Anytime,” Ethraw said enthusiastically. He patted the gourd jar and said, “Will you share a glass with me?”
“I will, thank you,” Therelin replied. He leaned his driftwood staff in the corner of the anteroom and followed the merchant inside. He hadn’t been inside Ethraw’s house yet, but it was as lavish as he had expected. He felt self-conscious walking on the polished wood panels with his damp sandals.
As Therelin situated himself at a teak table, Ethraw got out two ornate glass vessels the likes of which Therelin had never seen in the market. “Is there a reason we drink tonight?” Therelin asked as Ethraw poured a fine palm wine into each.
“Of course,” Ethraw said. “Today is the Eternal Emperor’s 277th birthday.”
Therelin blinked. He had heard of the Emperor, but to hear it from a man like Ethraw, a thousand miles away or more? He was astounded. “You celebrate it here?”
“In Numa’nakres, the Emperor’s years mark their calendar, not the fall of the Orrish,” Ethraw explained. “But I celebrate it because it is Emperor Tag’na’s rule that permits me sell such exquisite wares here, a multi-month voyage away.”
Therelin nodded. “That makes sense,” he said. He raised his drinking vessel. “To the Eternal Emperor!”
Master Ethraw grinned. “To his Ascendance,” he agreed. They both smiled and took a drink.