As the first official summit at Tempest Tower grew nearer, Therelin began to grow excited by those who arrived. A few familiar faces from the Isle of Dusk had come for the new summit: Mistress Tarka, with whom Therelin had discussed the impact of secrecy; Mistress Kloro, who had shared her garden with the Ketho apothecary; and, eventually, Master Byranim himself! The warrior mage had once nearly sent Therelin on a mission to the Crimson Highway. Now, however, Byranim was missing an arm.
Therelin had eagerly discussed the attack on the Isle with Byranim. He had reported that several buildings had been destroyed and many had lost their lives, but Tarro had been defeated once Numa’nakres’ Grand Mage Rattar had arrived. He had described how Rattar had boiled Tarro within his armour—something he had never seen nor heard of before. When Tarro’s fleets had later arrived, Rattar and his allies had repelled them again, though not without interruption to the Spell Chimes. Of Tarro’s survival, Byranim had no news. However, he had shared that the allied fleets of Grey Brethren, Noress-That-Was, High Raena, and Eastpoint were attempting to retake Kedar Port, though it was older news.
Then, a few days later, Grand Mage Rattar himself had appeared! Therelin was eager to hear from Rattar, one of the preeminent wizards of the age, but he assumed it would be proper to wait for the summit itself.
Around the same time, news of an attack on Saanazar began to trickle through the web of magicians at the Tower. It made sense to Therelin, whose Journey from the city had been delayed somehow, but it was truly distressing news, nonetheless. Maia had nearly returned at once, upon hearing the news, but realized she would likely only endanger herself.
Therelin spent the days doing what he could for the magicians that came to the Tower for aid and shelter. Usually, that consisted of healing magic or the practice of apothecary craft. Other times, it just meant sharing reassurances. Of course, there were many more magicians—more qualified ones, too—to help those in dire need. Therelin was building a network though, slowly and surely—until the 8th of day of 1482, when Conclave mage Devender Akursh materialized…
Maia brought the news, bursting into the tent where Therelin and Kren slept and exclaiming, “I just overheard someone greeting a new arrival—Devender Akursh of Bellasa!”
Kren sat up straight, while Therelin, who had been standing already, scoffed in disbelief. “Here?” he asked. He did not trust Devender one bit—a mage who had pretended to be an ally to the good rulers of Soros, and perhaps had had a hand in Lord Farek’s tragic fate.
To Master Byranim, they went straightaway. “Ah, Therelin! How are you this morning?” the one-armed warrior mage asked.
“I wish that I could say I am doing great, but I must be honest,” Therelin explained. “I’m rather uncomfortable right now.”
“Oh no. Sit down. Please.” Byranim waved for Therelin to take one of the seats across the table from him. They sat in a study within the lower levels of the keep. “What is it, my friend?”
Therelin slowly exhaled. “I have heard that Devender Akursh is here—but I have learned troubling things about him. While I was studying what I could about Tarro, I learned that House Gallendris of Soros may have been involved in the onset of this war, and that Devender was heavily involved with their family following that. I could be overreacting, but I am concerned. I don’t trust him, and I don’t trust him being here.”
Byranim raised his eyebrows. “That’s an ominous implication, to be certain. Do you believe he could be in league with Tarro? Or is it simply your distrust of the Conclave fueling this?”
It was a fair question—Therelin had spoken out against secrecy whenever given the opportunity. “Admittedly, it may be a bit of both. I have no idea if I have reasonable grounds for this, but his relationship to the fate of Lord Gallendris just feels incredibly suspicious. What should I do?”
The seasoned warrior mage rubbed his jaw with his hand. “I worry that bringing this to the Council could be the foundation for witch-hunting. There is ample distrust between magicians of the various factions and ideologies, and I’m certain it is not your intent to add to the fire…” he pondered. “Allegiance with the Conclave cannot be grounds for expulsion, or we might lose half of our allies. If we had something real—tangible proof—of something more…we could act on that.”
Therelin took a breath, calming himself. “This is exactly why I wanted to speak with you first. It’s all unfamiliar ground for me.”
Byranim nodded with gracious understanding.
“I guess there’s nothing more to do, but perhaps I will keep an eye on him,” Therelin decided.
“Indeed,” replied Byranim. “I doubt he will do anything more dangerous than listen and speak, if you are worried about the safety of your friends.”
“Very true,” Therelin said. This was a stronghold of combat mages. “Thank you for being my voice of reason.”
Byranim chuckled. “At your pleasure,” he said, and followed it up with a mock bow, spreading his arms—arm. Noticing he could not spread them as he used to, he laughed dryly and settled back in his chair.
As they meandered back toward their tent, Kren and Maia discussed if they ought to speak to Devender directly. Kren opposed the idea, of course, pointing out that they did not want to be on the wrong side of the Conclave. Maia, however, reasoned that, “For all we know, he’s just another Conclave idealist! He could hold all the answers you’d ever want about Lord Gallendris.”
“That’s very true, Kren, however I also agree with Maia,” Therelin said.
Kren sighed. “I knew you would say that.”
Therelin smirked. “I’m sorry Kren. The Conclave’s ire is a valid concern, but I have to know more,” he explained. “What if we talk to him—without accusing him in any way. We can get some answers to our questions. He and Gallendris were friends, so we could offer condolences to start.”
The daily rain had only just let up, so the Great Hall was slowly diminishing in crowdedness. Devender, however, was seated by himself to one side of the expansive dining room. Therelin approached him directly, but didn’t presume to claim a seat.
“Master Devender,” he said, to be polite.
Devender glanced up, raising an eyebrow. Therelin had already heard that he was younger than a man of his achievements usually was, but he had also attached a lot of weight to Devender’s role and was caught off guard to be face-to-face with an Orrene man of similar age to himself. His short brown hair framed his fair features as he regarded Therelin inquisitively.
“My name is Therelin. I’ve spent some time on Var Nordos and learned some things about Lord Gallendris. I understand you were a close friend of his. I’m sorry for your loss.”
“I’m sorry?” Devender asked, tilting his face as though to hear better. “My loss? What’s happened to Lord Gallendris?”
“He was killed,” Therelin replied, without thinking. “I can only assume, given the situation, that it was Tarro.” Then, seeing Devender’s reaction, he paused. “I apologize. I thought you knew.”
Devender was blinking and lowering his face. He certainly appeared surprised, though Therelin could not read any other emotions in his blank face. “I—you’ve caught me quite off guard. You’re Therelin, you said? I’m unfamiliar with the name. How do you know Lord Farek? And how do you know he was killed?”
Therelin was familiar with questions about his name—it was not a form of pretention. In this society of magicians, people’s reputations helped form the community. “Yes, Therelin of Keth. I am quite new to the greater world of magic. Given the state of things, I’m not surprised you’ve never heard of me. I came across Lord Gallendris’ name while attempting to learn everything I could about Tarro. After fleeing the Isle myself, it seemed a reasonable priority. It seems Tarro and Gallendris crossed paths some time back.”
“Yes, at Kiaraka,” Devender said, confirming what Therelin had pieced together. Crestfallen, Devender slumped forward onto his elbows. Therelin took the opportunity to sit, while the Conclave member breathed, “What a disaster…”
“I only heard that there was an encounter there,” Therelin replied. Maia and Kren sat next to him, letting him handle the conversation. “From what I gather though, Tarro was quite upset over it. I’m sorry you had to learn of Lord Gallendris’ fate this way.”
“I waited for months, in Sheld,” Devender murmured. “His death—it happened on his journey inland? Ith? Or High Raena?”
Therelin connected the dots. Either they had been in Sheld together, or Devender had gone there with knowledge that Farek’s journey back from the inland would pass through Sheld. “It was in High Raena,” he confirmed. Devender was sharing with them, so Therelin might as well balance the scales and be forthcoming.
Devender sighed again. “Yes, we knew Tarro might come after him. I should have stayed at his side…”
“Why didn’t y—I’m sorry. That’s inappropriate.” Therelin shook his head. The more they spoke, the more Therelin backed down from his place of distrust. Devender’s reaction honestly seemed to be one shaken by awful news. Gallendris and he truly had been friends.
Instead of offence, Devender gave a shrug. “Why didn’t I?” he repeated. “Business that simply could not wait. I’m sure you have had to make similar decisions about where you were most needed—we all do, these days. So…who was Farek to you?”
“I can understand that. I may have been in a similar situation, but maybe I’m still too new to this to properly relate,” Therelin said. “I didn’t really know Farek. I heard about him while trying to learn more about Tarro. I knew him as well as the writing depicted himself—but I was also the one who informed his sister of his fate. I feel like I would have wanted to know him.”
“Farek was a great man. He challenged me in many ways—such a waste, this loss.” He scrunched up his nose, like he had sniffed something foul.
“He very much seemed like it.”
Devender finally leaned back in his chair. “I’ll need to pass this on to my colleagues. Is there anything else I can do for you and your friends?”
“I think this is all. I am sure we will have a chance to speak more in the upcoming summit. It was good to finally meet you.”
“Certainly,” Devender said, giving Therelin a nod. “Best of luck with your continuing efforts.”
Therelin stood, gave a small bow, and then led his friends away. They returned to their tent before beginning to unpack the exchange away from curious ears. Therelin was not entirely certain that Gallendris’ fate was not a result of Conclave foul play, but he no longer believed Devender had played a role in that. Perhaps the Conclave had manipulated the situation itself—or had manipulated Devender without his awareness.
In a way, it made the Conclave and its intentions seem even less clear, like a grand shadow lurking behind the things Therelin tried to improve.