The research fruitlessly continued. Of Tarro and the House of Kiaraka, Therelin and his comrades found nary a whisper. Kren and Dakhu periodically commented on Gravagan and his secretive Conclave—particularly revealing that much of the Conclave was of a far more patient disposition than their now-missing comrade. In fact, according to Lord Dakhu, Gravagan was often viewed as rash and overly eager to see the age of peace and unity—the ultimate goal of the Conclave—realized during his own life span.
Therelin formed a theory that Gravagan might be even more renegade than his peers had realized—what if his sudden absence represented a new-found allegiance with Tarro, himself? It seemed a little far-fetched, after the attack on the Isle which had targeted other members of the Conclave, too.
One day, as Therelin strained his eyes over the tiny script of some long-dead scholar, a newcomer stepped into the Archives. Kren was the first to look up when the doors opened. Therelin and Dakhu followed his gaze. The servants had shown in a thin Raderan man with short brown hair and dark grey clothes.
“Lord Lefayo,” said the moustached man.
“Erril,” responded Lord Dakhu. Therelin glanced at his friend, but found Dakhu’s expression unreadable.
“The Matriarch told me about the ongoing work, but I thought I should come and see firsthand if my network can provide any aid.” The man called Erril paced casually toward their research table, down the aisle of overburdened bookshelves.
“Perhaps,” Dakhu said with a shrug, “though much of what we seek is fairly dated.”
The gaunt man nodded. “Yes, this Tarro—a name, at last!—he is an older magician, it seems?”
“Quite old.”
“Ancient even,” Kren added, beneath his breath.
Erril approached a pile of the tomes they had set out—those codices that had surrendered secrets of actual use. Therelin felt a tension in his shoulders when the newcomer asked, “What else have you learned?”
“I hope it’s not rude,” Therelin interrupted, at last, “but we haven’t been introduced, Lord…?”
“Ah,” Erril said. His wispy moustache raised in a smile. “Not formally a lord—as I’m certain Dakhu here would point out to you the first moment after I depart. I’m something of a guest here myself. It seems Matriarch Valakono attracts those who can aid her.”
Dakhu tipped his head to Therelin. “Erril is a master of spies, you see—and not the formally appointed one, though he has more than earned the trust and favour of her Highness.” Dakhu leaned back in his chair, the book in front of him ignored.
This earned a smug smile from Erril. “I’ll not claim I haven’t proven myself useful.” He paused, then went on, “And yourself—Therelin of Keth, I believe? And Kren of Numa’nakres?”
Therelin nodded when his name was said.
Erril began to idly flip through one of the books in their stack. “So, his name is Tarro. What does he want? Why is he doing this? Have you learned anything else?”
“We haven’t so much been researching his current plans—nothing like that lies within books,” Therelin explained. “Rather it is his history and his identity—his motivations, that concerns us.”
The spy master gave Therelin a bow of the head, and continued to skim pages from their research. “Well, my spies have proven incapable of reliably getting me information from the warfront, but we did not have much to go on to begin with. Tell me of Tarro’s history then.”
“It seems he was the apprentice of a great magician named Bal’nored—are you familiar with the name?” Dakhu asked.
Erril pursed his lips. “I’ve heard it in passing. A folktale, I thought,”
Kren chuckled. “As did I, though this is what the books have revealed for us.”
“That’s…rather troubling,” Erril commented. He turned to another bookmarked page, skimming it. Then he froze. “Hold it—the House of Kiaraka? Why is this marked?”
A confused silence reigned in the Archives for a moment. They had still not heard back from Artus, the Grey Brother they had reached out to for answers about Kiaraka. After a few stammered replies, Dakhu and Kren settled on Therelin to answer Erril’s question.
“Well, we have reason to believe Tarro was there, training warriors for a time…within the last 40 years or so,” the Ketho magician explained.
Erril nodded eagerly. The thin man’s hands were poised over the book. “Yes—I’ve heard of the warriors trained at the House of Kiaraka. I have it on good authority that Kiaraka lies near New Mallam, on the Great Isle.”
“As we suspected!” Kren breathed. This seemed to confirm their theories of a Tarro safe-house near that Great Isle city.
“I knew of no names there, not Tarro…gods.” Erril fell silent, his thoughts racing across his face.
Therelin was as eager as he was confused by this new development. “What other information do you have about the House?”
Erril wasn’t with them, though. His eyes looked through the book, through the table, through the floor. “It’s madness. I told someone else about the House of Kiaraka two years ago, during one of my first visits here in Noress-That-Was. Does that mean…?”
“Gods, spit it out!” snapped Lord Dakhu. “We’ve been trying to build this puzzle for months.”
Erril’s next nod was an assertion to give them answers. First, he turned to Therelin: “To answer your question, I know very little. I learned from one of the Archpriests about the House of Kiaraka—it was on their lists…places of evil and whatnot. All I knew was that the House was training assassins of all manner of skills. I managed to conclude an assassination in Saanazar was done by one of their assassins, a man who could paralyze his victim with but a touch. Later, I was asked about this very assassin by a man of Lord Thrane’s House—Lord Thrane of Soros. I told him of the House of Kiaraka—must have been this time, two years past.”
“What?” Dakhu’s word hung in the air. The story had stunned all three of the magicians.
Therelin was at a loss. He knew from Dakhu’s war timeline that New Mallam had fallen to the bandits first—nearly a year and a half ago. Erril was speaking about the catalyst—the event that had started all the violence. He knew Soros was a nearby city, ruled by Noress.
Quieter than before, Erril went on. “I later learned that the man I had given this information to was not Lord Thrane’s man—but Lord Gallendris himself, in disguise.”
“The same Lord Gallendris that is now seeking allies for the war effort?” Dakhu questioned.
Erril nodded. “The one and the same. And what we had planned for him…now we need to know what he knows. I must speak with the Matriarch at once!” He slammed the book shut.
“I’m coming along,” Therelin said, rising.
Erril paused, half-turned to leave. “I do not mean to belittle your work, but this concerns secrets crucial to the future of our Empire,” he explained. “They will only be spoken of behind closed doors—and before Matriarch Valakono.”
Therelin lowered himself back into his chair, not trying to hide his disappointment. “Then aside from the secrets, please let us know whatever you can about Lord Gallendris.”
“Oh certainly—you lot have done excellent work!” With that, Erril departed as suddenly as he had arrived.
Silence returned to the Archives, without even the sound of leafing parchment to disrupt it.
“By the Great Smith,” Kren breathed. “What now?”
Therelin glanced at Lord Dakhu. “Well—should we start investigating this Lord Gallendris ourselves? Or wait for news from the Matriarch?”
Dakhu continued to lean further back into his chair. His face was grim—troubled even. “I doubt we will gain much from Erril now—that one keeps his cards sewn to his tunic, and the Matriarch likes him for it. I think the next step would be to look into Lord Gallendris and the events of two years past…but I fear I will be of little help. My aid is confined to these Archives and I fear that we will learn little but family history on the Gallendris bloodline here,” Dakhu assured them. “I certainly will continue looking into Tarro here, but I will leave the decision to you: to await Erril and the Matriarch forming a plan or to seek out answers from the recent past—elsewhere.”
Kren, wide-eyed, looked to Therelin for his decision. Therelin had less experience across Gethra than his friend, but it seemed Kren was content to follow his wisdom.
Therelin grimaced. “I think it would be risky to move on too quickly. Let’s keep going on our research of Tarro and we can decide what to do with what Erril tells us, when he returns.” He hoped the spy master did return.
To his credit, Erril appeared again during their dinner. His earlier energy had faded, leaving the thin man looking weary. He had spent the afternoon deep in discussion. He asked them for a bite of the food the servants had brought for the lord and his guests—he had not eaten since that morning. Then, after finishing a small morsel, Erril told them the news: “It’s proven to be a useless lead. There’s no evidence of Lord Gallendris visiting the House of Kiaraka. Maybe he told someone about it, but apparently it is just a coincidence. This House of Kiaraka must be important, but, for the life of me, I can’t put it together. I will have my spies look into it, and I urge you three to continue your research. Surely, something will shed light on this maniac warlord’s motives.”
Therelin inhaled tightly. He knew he could not say a thing, but his mind raced. For some reason, Erril was burying the lead. Was it simply to protect his favour with the Matriarch—to complete the puzzle himself for the benefit of only his own reputation? Or was Lord Gallendris so important to their schemes?
“I see,” Lord Dakhu said, crestfallen. “Well, we will let you know if we find anything more. We have some other leads that we are still pursuing.”
“Thank you for reporting back to us,” Therelin offered.
Erril bowed curtly. “Of course. If there is anything I can do—Dakhu knows how to get a hold of me.”
As soon as the door shut behind the lanky spymaster, Therelin turned to Lord Dakhu and let out his breath. He trusted Lord Dakhu to tell him straight: “What do you think? Are they holding information back?”
“Oh, most certainly,” replied his older comrade, matching Therelin’s sigh. “Is it information we need—that’s the question we need to be asking.”
“I knew this would end all wrapped up in politics and secrets,” Kren sneered. “The moment we were living in a castle, I knew it.”
Despite his own irritation, Therelin had to chuckle.
“If I had not made oaths to the Matriarchs, perhaps I would help you on this path,” Dakhu murmured. He shook his head slowly. “But my hands are tied. I will continue researching Tarro, but that seems to be the only option available for me.”
Therelin bowed his head, deep in thought. He needed to know more about this Lord Gallendris—that much was clear. But he worried that rash action could be worse than a waste of his time. After the attack on the Isle of Dusk, Therelin was certain danger lurked around most every corner. “I think we’ll need to look into all our options,” Therelin assured his friends. But how… he thought, as the lanterns continued to flicker. The Archives did not dim for many hours that night.