The sun was instantly replaced by a pale cloud-veiled moon. It was night. That was the first thing that Therelin noticed after his Journey spell did its work. The waterlogged streets of Cobblestone Bog were replaced by the gentle vine-crusted walls of the Temple of Stone. He had reappeared right at his destination—the space where he had often trained with Master Myandin during his seven years in Keth City.
As it was night, the Temple was empty. The only life here was the grass that crept up between mosaic tiles and the vines on the walls. Though the Temple of Stone was built over a quarry, Therelin could see the lights of the city beyond, through a tall, arched doorway. Each side of the temple had two such doors, leaving almost as much space open as blocked by the old beige masonry.
Therelin stepped out onto a platform looking southwest. There, he leaned on his driftwood staff and felt nostalgia wash over him. Keth was a city of circles. The roofs were domed, the town centers round, and the windows were like holes into lightness or into darkness, depending on the habits of the resident. Though the circular illustration of the Orrish that had frequented the banners of Saanazar had been reminiscent of Keth’s spiritual symbol, the buildings in Saanazar had all been reaching toward the sky, toward Atmos. Noress-That-Was built things square and solid, determined to endure the harsh passage of time. In Keth, the spirits and the spirits-to-be lived in harmony—it seemed only right to depict such inclusivity with a circle. Therein had missed this.
Therelin found a wooden armchair and used his pack as a cushion. He had left Noress-That-Was in the morning, so he was hardly in need of rest. Though this was closer to home than anywhere was—even his childhood village of Portram—his view of it had changed. He felt torn; his nostalgia was countered with the certainty that he could not stay. If an acquaintance had asked him to think of his greatest friend, Therelin would have thought of Master Myandin—but now he sought answers that Myandin had kept from him. He forced such thoughts down and instead thought of the spirits, the gift of magic, and his future. After hours of restlessness, he managed to doze off.
A prodding finger awoke Therelin. He subconsciously swatted it away from his shoulder as he awoke. It was dawn, and a magician named Olanin stood over him. “Therelin!” the man exclaimed. “Welcome back to Keth!”
“Olanin,” Therelin replied. “I Journeyed and arrived sometime during the night.”
Olanin nodded knowingly. As good Journeying required immense focus on the part of the caster, it was not uncommon to reappear at unusual hours. “Back to stay? Or just visiting?”
“Visiting,” Therelin said. “Actually, I came to speak with Master Myandin about something specific.”
“Oh, well Master Myandin isn’t here,” Olanin said. Before Therelin could ask when he would arrive, the middle-aged man explained, “He was asked to accompany Magister Gollock to Selram.”
“Selram?” Therelin asked. That was a town in the jungles of Keth—a central location where the governors of each settlement could easily traverse to meet in summit and discuss matters that concerned all of the Isle.
“Yes. There’s war on the seas,” Olanin said.
Therelin blinked. “Of course.” He should have known. He got up and shouldered his pack; if Myandin was in Selram, that was where he would go.
Olanin smiled. “Leaving already?”
Therelin looked at his old acquaintance apologetically. “The times call for it, unfortunately.” Olanin seemed to understand and only wished him safe travels as a reply. It would take Therelin two days to reach Selram; the time saved by Journeying again would be negligible. And besides, Therelin would enjoy wandering the lush forests of Keth once again.