Three more weeks dragged by the researchers in the dusty Noressi Archives. During the second, two different lords had visited to speak with Therelin and Kren. It seemed that Matriarch Valakono had spoken of their labours to at least some of her court, but fortunately even their visitors had not pried or disrupted their time too heavily. During the third week—wondering if they would learn anything more of Tarro here in Noress-That-Was—Therelin began to think about the small fleet they had seen depart during the last Moon. He imagined soldiers fighting and dying as he sat by a lantern reading from a book.
Kren’s comment about the sort of support he was providing—with a wine glass in hand—seemed less tasteful when Therelin thought about the dangers others were facing.
Of the names they sought, they seemed to learn only the most basic of information. Therelin studied a great magician named Master Calath—an apprentice of the alleged un-aging sorcerer Bal’nored. Of Master Calath, Therelin only found reports of the years he lived—namely, that Calath was born long before Tarro. Unless Master Calath had also been given Bal’nored’s gift, he would have died before Tarro was taken to be apprenticed by Bal’nored, as confirmed by the date of the Bellasa riddle story they had previously found.
Lord Dakhu discovered more about Tarro by studying “the young apprentice” of Bal’nored the Mighty. He found accounts of Bal’nored and his apprentice curing an ailing Baron on the Great Isle. When Dakhu came across a story claiming that “Then the mighty mage took his apprentice to swear the secret oaths,” he raised his eyebrow and commented that many contemporary magicians would destroy the entire book itself for including such a mention.
Therelin found it intriguing that someone had found a way around the Tether—the artifact that had so thoroughly thwarted his own attempts of learning the secrets of magicians.
Kren, meanwhile, was studying further accounts of the “magician near New Mallam.” He managed to find two relevant accounts: the first, from 1447, reported that Tarro had intervened when a rival Baron’s dry season war had nearly seized New Mallam itself; and the second account noted that a magician was training an order of dangerous warriors near New Mallam, within the last 30 or 40 years.
Even in his research, Kren did not come across Tarro’s name a second time. Despite this, it quickly became apparent that Tarro must have some sort of haven or stronghold near New Mallam, since accounts of his actions continued to crop up near that geography.
At last—well past the middle of the month—Therelin came across something that intrigued him. He had been studying a tome entitled “The Great Bal’nored and his Apprentice”, which largely focused on the days when Bal’nored trained Master Calath. He had been skimming it, for the codex itself had been written well before Tarro’s assumed birthdate, but then he found a note toward the end of one chapter: “The splitting of Bal’nored and Calath does not seem to be one of graduation, but I theorize it was one indicative of a falling out, of a divide between the previous comrades. In 1251, Calath left the House of Kiaraka to head to the shrouded city of Yarik, where he lived out the rest of his days.”
Therelin nearly kept reading—his eyes sometimes glazed over when he read the dry chronicles of a long-ago mage who seemed to have very little connection to Tarro. He turned the page back and reread the passage—and then he read it aloud.
Kren squinted up from the tome he had been studying. “When was that one written?”
“Uh….” Therelin hurried back to the foreword, then reported, “1367.”
Dakhu frowned. “Well, that certainly sounds like Calath died long before Tarro entered the picture.”
“What about the House of Kiaraka?” Therelin questioned. “And the city of Yarik?”
“Ah Yarik—a place of darkness. There are those that believe the leaders of Yarik are connected to the Circle, the order of magicians seeking self-enlightenment above all,” Dakhu offered hopefully, but then his expression soured. “Most would consider what happens in Yarik to be the definition of evil. Are you aware that the dead may be animated, through the use of certain magics?”
Spirits, Therelin thought. “That’s real? I—I’ve heard stories, but I didn’t believe them to be true.” With the Ketho beliefs so engrained in him, Therelin imagined a body lifted from the dead, but devoid of the spirit that had once inhabited it. The thought revolted him.
With a grave nod, Dakhu confirmed, “It’s true, unfortunately. It’s more a literal forcing muscles and movement to work, than any true form of resurrection. But alas, I digress. In Yarik there are far more undead than there are living. A handful of powerful sorcerers rule a city of the dead.”
The thought of soulless husks in such numbers added to the horror that Therelin felt. “That’s…terrible.” He forced his thoughts back into a more academic sense. Ketho superstition wouldn’t get them anywhere. What reason would Master Calath have for seeking Yarik? Then a theory began to form. “What if…what if Calath sought a solution to his own aging, there? Maybe the falling out with Bal’nored in this author’s account is because Bal’nored wouldn’t share his own unaging.”
“That could very well be…” Lord Dakhu murmured. He leaned back in his chair, farther from the lanterns they shared on the cluttered tabletop. “If the stories about the Eternal Emperor in Numa’nakres are true…he would have encountered Bal’nored within twenty years of Calath’s departure. So, Calath would have seen whatever gift was given—and not received it?”
It was a believable assumption to make. Therelin reread the passage, wrapped in thought.
“What about that House of Kiaraka?” Kren asked. He had pushed aside his current tome to listen attentively to their insights. “Is that where Tarro is operating and training this group of dangerous warriors—the ones from my findings?”
Lord Dakhu rubbed his beard thoughtfully. “It’s pulling at my brain strings…I’m certain I’ve heard of it before, but it must have been in passing? Wait—the knowledge game!”
Kren blinked at Therelin, then both looked quizzically at the Raderan lord. “The what?”
Dakhu chuckled. He looked a little sheepishly at them and explained, “The knowledge game—it was a quiz of sorts among my peers at the Academy of Ular Graan in Saanazar.”
“Ular Graan? I didn’t hear about any knowledge game,” Therelin said. Under his breath, he muttered, “Though, that might have been helpful….”
“Well, it was more just something we invented to pass the time and learn a thing or two,” the Noress-loyal lord said. He suddenly seemed more lighthearted than he had been in the recent weeks. Smiling, he told them about the rules: “We essentially took turns naming things with the hopes of naming something that only we knew about. So I would say something that I knew and if someone had heard of it, they would take a turn saying something that they knew.”
Kren laughed, humoured by Dakhu’s antics. “I suppose that’s one way to pass the time…”
Dakhu had settled deeply into his memories. “A priest was there—Artus—and he won a round by naming the House of Kiaraka. None of us had heard of it before.” Then, with a grimace, Dakhu looked back at his comrades. “Nor would he share what it was.”
Therelin and Kren shared another glance—this time, one that said, “Well, that’s inconvenient.”
Dakhu noticed the exchange and regarded them apologetically. “If I had been a more focused student in those days, I might have researched it then! Perhaps we can even find it here, in these archives?”
“Perhaps,” Therelin said, with a nod. “But could we contact this Artus? Saanazar is quite a voyage these days, if we find nothing in the archives here.”
“I don’t see why not.” Dakhu crossed his arms. “He was one of the Atmos Septi, so someone there should surely be able to find him, even after these years have passed.”
“And in the meantime?” Kren asked.
“We continue. We keep finding puzzle pieces—eventually they will fit together,” Therelin explained. He looked for the strange word on the page once more, lantern light flickering over it. “Perhaps I should focus on this Kia-ra-ka?”
Dakhu gave him an approving nod. “We can all keep an eye out for relevant mentions of Master Calath, but it sounds as though he will have less bearing on our search for Tarro. I will keep looking for accounts of Bal’nored’s younger apprentice—Kren, you can keep looking for the ‘magician near New Mallam’.”
“A good plan, then,” Kren decided, picking up the book he had slid aside earlier.
That evening—when they suspended their studies to relieve their hunger with a meal provided in the Castle’s kitchens—Therelin and Dakhu worded a letter to his old colleague Artus. They wrote two copies, planning to send one by courier and the other by magic. Therelin did the honours of teleporting the second copy while Dakhu sought out the courier’s department of the Matriarch’s staff.