“Ah, you came back…” Nolicrin muttered, staring from the door of his Hall at the group that loitered at the edge of the open shrine area.
Standing among them, Therelin felt the master magician’s eyes prying at his. He took a deep breath and then stepped out from Maia and Kren. Maia had been kind enough to offer them a cot on the floor of her grandfather’s house—where she stayed—but it had left Therelin stiff. And all his conversations with her at the bar the night before had only reminded him how important it was to piece together the puzzle he had begun to comprehend. The unimpressed master mage standing at the door might very well be holding the missing piece.
“I did,” Therelin said. “Many things have occurred lately that I wish to speak with you about.”
Nolicrin advanced toward them. He was a short man, but his knotted silvery hair and distinctly silver-hemmed robe marked his distinction and his attention to detail. “I’m sure you would,” he said dryly. “Well…are you capable of speaking this time?”
“I am,” Therelin answered, suppressing the urge to take offense at Nolicrin’s sarcasm.
“In private, then,” Nolicrin said. He waved in the general direction of his private study, out of sight around the frame of the wide, open entryway to the central shrine floor. Therelin and Kren followed Maia through the archway, while Nolicrin hurried to take the lead. He raised an eyebrow when he realized that Maia intended to accompany them.
“So, you’ve been to the Isle?” he asked Therelin. He barely gave Kren a second glance as he crossed to his desk.
“Yes,” Therelin drawled, “I was there when Tarro arrived.”
At that, Nolicrin arched an eyebrow. “Quite poor timing. I sent one of my apprentices in my stead for the summit, but haven’t heard from the fellow. I pray it is simply a matter of his Journeying not depositing him there before it became dangerous. Perhaps he will yet appear.”
Therelin grimaced. That would have been awful, but he realized it was likely that many magicians had been caught in a similar mishap.
“Did you really send Therelin away?” Maia blurted. “Why?”
Nolicrin shrugged. “He was a danger to himself and others. None of us have need of the Conclave poking around here, and Therelin would not stop his asking questions about it. I am sorry, Therelin, but I did not do it out of spite. If I had simply turned you away, without answers, would you have left it alone?”
Therelin ran a tongue along his molars, then shook his head. “No, I wouldn’t have,” he admitted.
Nolicrin gestured as though to say, “See? Told you so.”
“You could have at least pointed him in the right direction,” Maia suggested, disappointed in her Master.
Therelin pursed his lips. He hadn’t really considered what direction Nolicrin had pointed him, all those months ago. “Why did you send me to Var Nordos?” he asked.
“I was reacting quickly. It seemed a far enough spot that your questions would not lead back to me,” Nolicrin explained, as dismissively as he had the rest. “Teleporting others is also a tricky business—you cannot impress upon someone else the mindset that would guide someone in a timely and focused fashion to their destination. Listen, it was a year ago and you don’t seem worse for wear. What brings you back to my doorstep? We hardly left things well.”
Therelin nearly scoffed. “Can you at least humour me a few moments, and listen to what I’ve learned this past year?”
“Very well,” Nolicrin said, lifting one shoulder casually. He rose from his desk, crossed to an alcohol cabinet and poured himself a glass of wine. He did not offer any to his guests.
What an attitude… Therelin thought, but launched into his story as earnestly as he could manage. He had told Maia much of the same, but he outlined his last year for Master Nolicrin. He recounted Tarro’s attack on the Isle, Therelin’s own mission to help those who had survived, and how—after finding he had not the resources to aid them in a convention sense—he had begun to seek out the information that so many did not have. Of his research into Tarro’s past, he told Nolicrin about the House of Kiaraka, the presumed age of the powerful sorcerer, and the likely connection Tarro shared with the mythical Bal’nored. Then Therelin turned his tale to the more recent developments—those of Lord Gallendris of Soros, who visited the House of Kiaraka prior to the war. He made a point of mentioning that a Conclave mage had been close with Gallendris at some point, and that recent tidings told of the lord’s untimely death.
“After all of this, I recalled your reputation for neutrality—and the conversation I overheard—and decided it might be time to try fitting together what you know with what I have uncovered,” Therelin concluded.
“Uncovered indeed,” Nolicrin said. His suppressed smile broke free. “You have impressed me after all, Therelin of Keth. A moment please.”
The silver-haired mage crossed to the door of his private study, flung it open, and then glided out into the shrine. Kren chuckled when he heard Nolicrin calling out to his students and peers that he needed the shrine for the day, and that they should return later. “Will you stay, Maia? These are dangerous subjects we discuss.”
“I’m already too far in to get out,” Maia said, with a slight nod.
Nolicrin shrugged. “Well, we have some privacy then. Wine?”
Therelin exhaled mirthfully. “Certainly,” he told Nolicrin. Therelin had finally found himself on the Master’s good side.
Kren raised a finger for a glass, and Maia gave her Master a nod.
“Lord Gallendris, you say,” Nolicrin muttered, as he poured their glasses. “First name?”
“Farek,” Kren said as he accepted his drink.
Nolicrin leaned back against his desk, examining his glass in the light while pondering the things Therelin had shared. “Well,” he said, “good Lord Farek set fire to the House of Kiaraka, friends. You have brought me this one piece of the puzzle I did not have.” He took a sip of his wine and glanced at Therelin distantly. “He set fire to Kiaraka and woke that warlord from his slumber.”
“Warlord?” Maia asked. “You mean Tarro?”
Nolicrin nodded, and took another sip. He shook his head, continuing to realize the implications he could see—though it was not clear to the others yet.
Therelin was caught off-guard. He had not expected to learn that Farek had had such an inciting role in what had transpired at Kiaraka. He knew it was only Nolicrin’s conclusion, but he trusted Nolicrin to have the evidence to make such a leap. The phrasing of the Master’s last remark still hung in the air. “So, Tarro was a warlord once before, then?” Therelin asked. They had not found anything mentioning a previous war.
Nolicrin shook his head. “My apologies, no. I simply meant…Tarro was content to remain isolated, pursuing his own goals—until that was no longer possible.”
“Ah, I see,” Therelin said. A warlord waiting for a war…
“That conversation you once overheard,” Nolicrin began, looking at Therelin with sparkling eyes, “that was about this very thing. My friends among the Atmos Septi and I wondered what had caused Tarro to rear his ferocious head, but we could not link it with the Conclave. There has been contradictory evidence as to their stance—very concerning stuff to be sure. But you say Lord Gallendris was acting on behalf of the Conclave?”
Therelin frowned. “I hadn’t drawn that conclusion myself. I thought they were friends and there was a falling out—I suspected this falling out was simply because of Devender’s membership in the Conclave.”
“Ah, Devender,” Nolicrin said, with a dry laugh. “Another of Gravagan’s lackeys. Of all the Conclave seniority, Gravagan seems the most coiled up in this.”
His words only added to Therelin’s confusion. He was still uncertain if Gravagan was an enemy or an ally of Tarro’s. What he did know was that he had no taste for Gravagan’s scheming. Remembering Tarro’s words that day on the Isle of Dusk gave Therelin the impression that Tarro had no taste for it either.
Nolicrin continued: “Gravagan went to the Great Isle around the same time the war broke out, as far as I can tell, and I haven’t heard of him going anywhere else since. Though it was only recently that the Conclave started investigating his whereabouts—whatever that means…”
“Do you think he went missing on the Great Isle?” Kren asked. “Or are the latest attempts to find him just the work of another Conclave leader? I’ve heard they don’t always see eye-to-eye.”
“I keep my ears open for all goings-on, but the inner workings of the Conclave are not shared with the likes of me,” Nolicrin confessed. “To make matters worse, I’ve heard several members of the Conclave pushing for the alliances that oppose Tarro. Either the Conclave is more divided than any of us realize, or the burning of Kiaraka was not their work.”
Therelin strode toward one of Nolicrin’s chairs, but didn’t take it. He was trying to run through the big picture in his mind’s eye. The war had begun because the House of Kiaraka had been burned by a foreign lord. That fit with the outrage Tarro had expressed on the Isle, but…could the criminal act of such arson be grounds for an entire war? Tarro had seemed extreme, to say the least, when he attacked the Isle. Or was his anger the result of the Conclave’s ceaseless meddling, with the fire simply seeming the final straw?
Causing a slight cringe at the back of his neck, Therelin suddenly saw a similarity between himself and the warlord. He was growing more and more embittered at the scheming of all these governments and secret orders—if he were a more unhinged and violent man, would he have been very different from Tarro? He hoped he would never have the edge that the Conclave—or the fire—had brought out in Tarro.
“What are you thinking?” Kren asked, at last.
“It seems like there is a good chance that the Conclave was involved in the burning of the House, but even if they were not, I believe that Tarro has a history with the Conclave,” Therelin assured them. “He was too ready to believe that they were behind that fire, even if they were not.”
This time, Nolicrin leaned even farther back as he let out a sigh. “We could spend months or even years investigating that—and end up getting killed by the Conclave, likely—but I’m not convinced that learning that information will help. Whether the Conclave was behind the fire or not, it cannot be undone. You say that Lord Gallendris has been killed—either Tarro got his vengeance and will now rest, or he will not. And if killing Lord Gallendris does not appease his bloodthirst, then this entire line of questioning will not help us defeat him one bit.”
The discouraging words hung in the air—crushing but true. Therelin had been fearing it as he continued the months of research he had committed to this undertaking—the perspective he had found helped, but it would not defeat the flesh-and-blood sorcerer that opposed them. “I suppose that’s true,” he muttered, “so it leaves the question: what do we do about Tarro? Have any magicians started working against the Conclave?”
“I haven’t heard of anything like that—at least not recently, no,” Nolicrin said. “To be honest, most of my contacts are holding their breath. It’s been four months since Starath fell, and there have not been any battles or signs of advancement on the mainland since. If the war continues, our alliances are ready to retaliate in force. But perhaps it is done.”
Therelin lowered his wine. “That seems unlikely to me—it wouldn’t make any sense with the triggers that set Tarro off. Holding lands has never been his goal.”
“I agree,” said Nolicrin with a nod. “I think the only thing we can do about Tarro is fight back. I have friends among the Conclave and the Circle…among the Grey Brethren and among other lands farther abroad. I’ve mastered the usefulness of information—but I cannot see a way in which information—or, or history—alone will win this war.”
This was another truth for which Therelin had been subconsciously preparing. It was painfully sad to him that it was the outcome, but he knew that it was. He knew the Ketho way couldn’t be the right way, not anymore. Even if he was on Keth, he would know that. “It grieves me that that is the outcome, but I’ve been preparing myself for it. Any idea on where to begin?”
“I think magicians need to move on from the Isle of Dusk, and start finding a new spot to meet,” Nolicrin began. “We can’t keep fighting with our eyes blinded. On that same note, little is known of what is currently going on—why has no city fallen since Starath? Has Bellasa fallen—can it possibly still stand? Where are the fleets and why is the Spell Chime on the Isle still dim?” Nolicrin chuckled sarcastically. “I suppose I just said that information cannot win this war, but there is still a need for the right information, in the right hands.”
Kren offered his own idea. “I’d like to see the leadership made more aware of the fact that Tarro isn’t just going to stop. Not while the Conclave is still operating.”
“I agree with Kren,” Therelin said, surprised his friend had suggested something so bold. “Until our leaders know what we know, every tactical decision they make will be flawed.”
“I’ve been doing my part to incentivise the Brethren in that regard, and I know that a pre-emptive fleet has been sent out toward Kedar,” Nolicrin told them. He set his wine to the side. “But there is still a divide between what we can learn, and what we can reveal to the governments. On the other hand, this provides us with a measure of safety and security. We can operate freely without the cities interfering or demanding that we follow their decisions. I would be disappointed in our community of magicians if we failed to organize our own countermeasures against Tarro sooner or later.”
It offers us security, sure…but at what cost are we protecting ourselves and our autonomy? Therelin wondered. Seeing how powerfully the Tether had subverted this entire world, he shuddered to imagine what Tarro might have planned for it. At the same time, Therelin felt they were finally on to something—the right course of action. “How would we get the magicians together? How can we contact them in order to form a plan? I’m still uncomfortable with the thought of the Conclave showing up at our new meeting ground. And where would this place even be?”
“Good questions, all,” Nolicrin said, giving Therelin a respectful nod. “But not ones that I have all the answers to. This may take more than one afternoon of consideration.”
Therelin smiled. As he had been when he first reached Lord Dakhu, he felt he had been ready for this long ago. “Where do we get started?”