Order Of The Nine-the Stone Bearers

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Order of the Nine: The Stonebearers

Prologue A fine mist fell as a result of the torrent of water spewing forth from the newly ruptured ground. Before her, the dead lay strewn over the broken earth as far as the eye could see. Tulbonae, the Seer of Ubera turned and looked up at the cliff face, some hundred men high, where only yesterday lay the gently rolling fields of ebro trees, their fruit nearly ripe for harvest. The sheer cliff face stretched off in either direction across the valley from the foothills of the Uberan Highlands to the coastal mountains of the Kulkyri Forest. One land now sundered in two. The realm would now grow separate and distinctively different in the seasons to come. Tulbonae hung her head, heart heavy with sadness and guilt. pg. 2

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She had foreseen this destruction, and her hand had guided the events to their deadly conclusion, for it was the will of Taloria, the Blessed Mother, and creator of them all. She turned back to the dead at her feet. The rising water lapped at the rotting flesh of Aerbogal, the once iridescent skin of the mighty Ulsgareth, now dulled by death. His long, serpentine body stretched over the low rise, tail floating listlessly in the muddy water. The head, blown from its long neck had been carried away by the churning waters. Beneath his vast, transluscent wings, the husk of Lord Carimar lay, his body burned from the inside out by the immense conflagration of energy released by the Spiritstone that rested with his broken ribcage. He had done what was expected of him, fulfilling his role in the Order, and would be forever immortalized in the lore of the realms. Tulbonae bent her tall, wispy body and lifted the wing, only to have it tear and fall apart in her small, thin hands. She reached into the body and lifted out the Spiritstone by its chain of golden links, Carimar‘s bones breaking apart with the slightest effort. The crystal, roughly the size of her fist, was now lifeless, its energy drained in Carimar‘s final sacrifice to destroy the Chobelkan Warlord and decimate the army of Hordelings that had come to feast upon Taloria‘s children. Woe to the parent who lays waste to her own. Tulbonae‘s knuckles grew white as she gripped the stone. ―I shall not conspire to assuage your fears again, Mother,‖ she said, glancing westward in the direction of Mt. Ubera where Taloria resided. ―My will is no longer yours.‖ This Change was done. The war was over, and it would be many, many seasons before the realms would recover and rebuild themselves into something capable of breaking free of Taloria‘s misguided hand. It could be done. She had foreseen that possibility as well, and that unique power would be the one thing to keep her alive long enough to see that the next Change would be different. Taloria‘s children would learn to grow beyond her will and make a new world for themselves, with or without her presence. For she pg. 3

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knew what no other did. Taloria could be destroyed. One day, perhaps hundreds or a thousand seasons from now, one of Taloria‘s children would be born with the gift to alter the Spiritstones, and Taloria‘s fearful mind would be unmade. She would feel its coming, for the child would be one of the Order, and Tulbonae knew she would be made to see to their destruction. She would have to use Taloria‘s own fears against her, and hide her deceptions well. Even though she was the Seer, and Taloria‘s most treasured creation, Mother would suffer no such betrayal. Her life such that it was, devoid of the aging flesh and tumultuous heart that favored Taloria‘s mortal children, would be over. With a final, longing look upon Carimar‘s remains, Tulbonae turned and began walking south and east, skirting the rising floodwaters. The Spiritstone, to become known now as the Stone of Carimar, had to be returned to its sacred place, where it might regain its strength and be ready for the next child of Taloria, who would unwittingly come to serve Taloria‘s will.

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Carimar I

Talmar shook his head and sighed, ignoring the soft rustle in the trees overhead. He willed Milarra to go away and went back to preparing for his evening meditation. With a calm and practiced precision, he retrieved the meditation candles from a chest outside the door of the Keeper‘s Hall, and set them on plain, stoneware plates at the four direction points around the edge of the Lifespring. From a brightly painted jar, he placed a spoonful of ground incense next to each candle. pg. 5

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Carimar is a large, Jshaped valley, land-locked by its geographical features. It‘s main cities are Achenar, Volonar, and Westkeep. The people are a peaceful folk, mostly farmers and craftsmen, bound by the traditions dedicated to worshipping Taloria. The focal point for most is around the many Lifesprings scattered throughout, having a higher concentration of the magical springs than any other region on the continent. They currently wage a losing battle against the influx of Takidor‘s merchants, who bring their strange mercantile ways to the unsuspecting and gullible Carimarans, many of whom are being caught up in the tide of wealth and greed that they bring. In the southern reaches, nestled against the towering Ulsgareth Peaks, is Springwood, a small forest and home to the village of the same name. It is where one of our heroes, Talmar Woodborn begins his journey.

The arrangement was simple, but in the shadows of the waning sunlight, the four candles would create a warm, peaceful glow, the sweet, earthy haze of incense would surround them, and Talmar would dip his Spiritstone into the dimly glowing water, and feel Taloria‘s essence soak into it and thus to him. That small pool, lined with its luminescent crystals was the center of Talmar‘s rather small world in the Southern reaches of Carimar. The Springcircle was beautiful in its simplicity. Moss covered rock encircled the spring where clear water flowed silently out over the lip and slipped away to the south. Log buildings with high-peaked roofs surrounded it on three sides. A low, ivy-blanketed, stone wall connected the buildings and met at an arching gateway where the stream exited and the villagers entered up a flagstone walk. Above, the five great Lifetrees, stretched their emerald leafed branches out beyond the roofs of the buildings covering it all in soft, cool shade. The Lifetrees fed directly from the blood of Taloria, planted and nourished by the village from time out of memory. During these growing months, when the leaves overlapped to the point that no sunlight came through, Talmar was the most content. The constant twilight was tranquil, and would keep the growing season‘s heat at bay.Talmar knelt on the pg. 6

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soft moss and peered into the clear depths of the spring. It had transfixed him since he first looked into it as a boy, forever being admonished for sneaking into the Springcircle at night, to stare into the ethereal glow of the Spiritstones growing on the walls. Talmar had felt the call of Taloria from the very first moment. He could not explain it, even to Mendalar who understood such things. There was a ―oneness‖ with the presence that defied words. His mentor and Springkeeper of the village, had let him make his secret, nightly vigils to the spring, until the day he invited Talmar to be apprentice Springkeeper, and placed him upon the path he was destined to follow. The sound of a snapping twig refocused his attention. Milara. She was spying on him again, hiding somewhere in the dense canopy above. How or why she had become infatuated with him, Talmar still did not understand. He was not handsome. He was your typical brown haired, brown-eyed Carimaran male. He had that rare touch of green in the eyes, but still, it was nothing to gossip with the other girls about. He was an apprentice Keeper, which was a very mundane and boring vocation to others beside himself. He did not have the exceptional woodworking skills of his father. There was just nothing about him that he would have considered worth being infatuated about, and yet there she was. Milara was fifteen seasons old, and a very healthy fifteen at that. Talmar was not beyond noticing, but much to her frustration, he had little interest. The woman he was meant for lived in his dreams. A woman with hair the color of honey, who always floated up to him from the chill waters of the Lifespring, her eyes blazing with blue fire. She never spoke to him, but the message was clear. She needed him, and always beckoned for him to follow her back into the glowing depths, but Talmar refused, afraid to enter, afraid of what he might find down there, and that whatever need the beautiful woman had, he would fail her. The dreams were almost always the same, and Talmar would wake from them terribly afraid, sweating, his wool blanket clenched up tightly under his chin. They were compelling to, and pg. 7

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the woman fascinated him. Taloria was telling him something, if only he could fathom its meaning, and he knew without doubt that his future was linked with the mysterious woman. He had told no one of his dream, even his mentor, who might have clearer understanding of such things. Talmar wished to decipher it for himself. It was Taloria‘s challenge to him as a Keeper. Milara seemed to be obsessed with him of late, taken to spying on him at all hours of the day, always being there when he left the Keeper‘s Hall in the evening, and always out on an errand at sunrise to catch him by chance on his way in for his morning meditation. It was flattering but mostly annoying, and Talmar did not care for her breaking the village rules on his account. Nobody was allowed to climb in the sacred Lifetrees surrounding the spring. ―Milara,‖ he said, loud enough for her to certainly hear. There was no response, but a faint rustling in the branches above. ―Milara, please. I know you are up there, and it is against the rules to be climbing the Lifetrees.‖ There was another snap of wood and a muffled cry. ―No need to hurry, Mila. It is nearly dark. You will fall to your death if you keep that—‖ He was cut off by a sudden, short scream and several bits of twig tumbled down in front of him into the waters of the spring. He would have to clean them out of the water before he could do his meditation now. ―Milara, please be careful. This has got to stop.‖ ―Tal,‖ she cried out. ―Help—‖ He started to get up, but then a longer scream pierced the shadows above, and then the harsh, sickening crack of bone striking wood. He could see her coming down through the branches in a shower of twigs and leaves, her limp body buffeted back and forth. She flopped like a rag doll, tumbling headfirst and Talmar cringed when her head narrowly missed the larger of the lowest branches stretching over the spring. For a moment, Talmar thought she might be dropping right on top of him, or worse, landing on the stone ring around the spring. He was frozen, unable to move from where he stood and could only turn and close his pg. 8

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eyes as her shadowy figure plummeted down. By some fortunate quirk of fate, the body plunged down with a loud, thumping whoosh into the middle of the spring, dousing Talmar in a shower of cold water. When he turned to look, he could only see the dim outline of her figure, sinking into the faint glow of the pool, a smoky swirl of blood trailing up above her. Talmar hesitated for only a moment. It was strictly forbidden for anyone to enter the spring other than the Springkeeper. You could not taint the blood of Taloria with mortal flesh. However, someone was about to die, and that tipped the scales easily enough for Talmar. Leaping forward, he arched in the air, landed with an awkward splash, and swam madly down toward Milara‘s dim outline. If I had just kept my mouth shut, he thought. Talmar bumped into her slack body making its slow tumble down the narrowing walls of the spring. Wrapping an arm around her torso, he turned and began to kick his way toward the surface. It could not have been more than three or four body lengths. In the twilight shade of the circle, the opening above was a black, glass ceiling. He scraped his way up the crystal-lined wall, grimacing as the sharp edges of the stones created dozens of tiny cuts along his back. The flair of pain sharpened his focus and Talmar noticed a subtle change. The water was brighter, and along with it came a presence, stronger than he had ever felt, swimming in the waters with him. The water took on an icy-blue tone, cold and intense, though Talmar did not actually feel cold himself. The presence of Taloria permeated through his skin, sank into his bones until she filled every part of him, the intensity of her giving Talmar a burst of energy that propelled him toward the surface. ―Save her, Talmar,‖ the soft feminine voice echoed in his head, resounding off the walls, and nearly caused him to open his mouth and draw in a lungful of water. ―Show them your gift, but then you must come. She is dying.‖ Dying? The nameless, unknown woman of his dreams. The pg. 9

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floating, pale body, with the undulating hair, and the glowing, eyes that burned with a fire colder than ice. Talmar knew it was not Milara that she referred too. Now it seemed, he knew the reason Taloria had sent him the dream. He had to save her. ―Save her, Talmar,‖ she cooed again, with subtle, commanding force. ―You are the only one who can.‖ He could say nothing in response, his lungs burning for lack of air, and even if able, he was not sure what the reply would be. All that mattered was the wavering image of dark leaves through the window of the surface above him. Finally, Talmar burst through, sucking in a huge draught of air. He flailed his right arm up over the rocky rim of the spring, clasping Milara against him with the other. For a moment he could only lay there, her head against his chest, the wet curls pressed against his cheek. Even in the dim twilight, he could see her lips were dark, turning blue from the lack of air. She was not breathing. Talmar could feel her spirit slipping away with the murky cloud of blood that seeped into the water. ―Blessed Taloria, Milara,‖ he gasped, catching his breath. Blood trickled from a vicious gash on her forehead, around those usually soft, lively brown eyes, and into the wet curls of hair. ―You cannot die. You will not die!‖ he commanded, as much to himself as to her, gingerly touching the wicked gash on her head. There was heat, flashing right down into the marrow of his bones, intense as smoldering coals pressed to his flesh, but nothing burned. Still, he let out a startled yelp of surprise. The source was his Spiritstone, pinned between Milara‘s head and his chest. It glowed with a bright, green intensity he had never seen before, as did Milara‘s. The water sang with the energy of their Spiritstones and was joined by the voice of Taloria, a soft, resonating sound, like the longest string on a harp. Talmar‘s head thrummed with it. Fear, awe, and cold had his body shivering. He was doing this, whatever it was, and Taloria was somehow there with him, feeding him more energy than he could ever draw on his own. Focus the energy upon the person, let their body heal itself. It was a simple tenet of Springkeeper work, and Talmar was so overwhelmed that pg. 10

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he could only think in simple terms. So, he focused and opened himself to Milara‘s need, willing her spirit to take what was needed to heal itself. The moment the suffused green light vanished into the point within the center of the stone about her neck, a sudden bright flash consumed Talmar‘s vision and then was gone just as abruptly. Taloria was gone. Somehow, she had known and come to aid him. Before he could dwell more than a moment on that thought, Milara‘s body came to life with a spastic lurch as she gasped, spluttered, and finally vomited up a torrent of water. ―Mendalar!‖ Talmar yelled, and to his surprise found his mentor suddenly kneeling beside him, hooking his hands beneath Milara‘s arms. ―Great Mother of us all,‖ he exclaimed, but said nothing else as he dragged Milara out of the spring, laying her on the mossy ground to examine her wounds. Talmar pulled himself out and knelt on the other side, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The bloody gash on Milara‘s forehead was no longer bleeding, a mere jagged pink welt of flesh. The assortment of cuts decorating her body from her tumble and subsequent brush along the crystalline walls of the spring were now faded scratches. Mendalar clutched his spiritstone while his free hand roamed over the wounds of her body. Finally he glanced over at Talmar, a curious, stunned look on his face. ―Did you heal her, Tal?‖ he asked. Talmar was too overwhelmed to even think about what had happened. It was too impossible to believe. ―I…I am not sure what happened. She fell from the tree, cracked her head upon a branch, but somehow managed to fall into the spring without hitting the rocks. I dove in to pull her out. She was dying, Keeper! I could feel her spirit drifting away, but then…‖ He stopped, struggling to put the images into words. ―Taloria came and told me to save her.‖ Milara hacked up more water, moaning tearfully as Mendalar eased her on to her side to help drain water from her lungs. He continued to tend to her body, checking all of the wounds, the pg. 11

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long, graying tail of his hair draped over a shoulder and nearly brushing the ground. His stone glowed faintly as he worked, and he genuinely looked surprised, an expression Talmar seldom, if ever saw on the generous, kind lines of his face. ―She spoke to you?‖ ―Yes, Keeper.‖ It had been no figment of his imagination. He knew. With the surety that the sun had set itself down in the east, he knew. ―She told me to save her,‖ he said. The next part, Talmar struggled to speak about, but he knew this had to be the time. Mendalar had to know. ―She told me that this woman I have seen in my dreams is dying, that I must come and save her.‖ Mendalar‘s hands stopped, resting now on Milara‘s legs, and he chuckled softly. ―I suppose I should have guessed all along. You have always had something special, Tal.‖ He sighed, sitting back on his heals. ―Ah, Blessed Taloria,‖ he said softly. ―He is not ready.‖ Ready for what? His words made little sense. People were gathering outside the stone wall, and Talmar felt the unnerving stares of the villagers upon him. Then the hysterical cries of Terona, Milara‘s mother could be heard as she came running through the gate. The ensuing chaos drowned out any effort to get answers, and for the moment, Talmar could only sit in stunned silence as Mendalar dealt with a mother frightened for the life of her child.

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II Corvu Castle: Built at the head of a narrow pass in the Kulkyri Forest, Corvu has long been the entry to Carimar from the sea. But when Lord Corvu was assassinated and young Tarla Corvu stolen away by the Merchant Companies, it became an impenetrable gate, guarded with singular vengeance by Talshae Corvu. It is said that Talshae and Corvu are a singular entity, but whatever the case, the Merchants have been unable to breech its easily defended walls. Several attempts to gain entry and kill Talshae have failed. No amount of stealth has met success. Most will say it is because of the Kulkyri, who side with her in the defense of the pass. Attempts at diplomacy have been fruitless, even from Carimar, where some desire the trade with Takidor. Some claim she is mad, perhaps with grief over her loss, but those who stay, are loyal to death, and see her as something beyond mortal.

Arrows rained down from the sky and, except for one or two, bounced harmlessly off of shields held overhead or the thick, gray stone of Castle Corvu‘s walls. The cry of the wounded man could be heard over the shouted orders of Captain of the Guard Pregar, and Lady Talshae Corvu walked across the rampart to her wounded guard, dressed in little more than a plainly adorned leather jerkin, cloth breeches, and soft leather boots. She shook her head at him with a mother‘s, ―I told you so‖ look on her tired and haggard face. ―Nolgar!‖ she shouted. A humorless grin etched her face, highlighting the lines that made her look seasons older than the twenty-seven she was. Her smile betrayed the mad gleam in her dark blue eyes. Most thought her mad, but that was part of what inspired the fiercely loyal men and women who still served her these past three seasons. Some even said she was more possessed of hatred for Takidor than the former Lord Corvu. After all, they had killed him and taken their only child. It made sense, though most would agree that she had pg. 13

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lost her mind back on that fateful day. ―You are in the front position up here, you dolt! The arrows do not fall straight from the sky. Hold you shield, thus.‖ She picked up the fallen shield and held it out before her, demonstrating what she meant. Proving her point, another arrow came whispering in, thunking into the tall, wooden shield. ―There, you see?‖ Nolgar nodded painfully. ―Yes, my Lady. There seem to be more of them lately. It is a day and night volley of arrows.‖ When Talshae only stared at him, he quickly added, ―I shall be more diligent.‖ ―I should like to think so. Now then, what do you think of your Lady‘s tits?‖ ―Lady?‖ He stammered, a flush rushing up cheeks that was readily visible even by the flickering flames of the braziers along the rampart. ―Why would I even—‖ He broke off with a loud cry of pain when Talshae snapped the haft of the arrow and yanked it out the backside of his thigh. ―Blessed mother!‖ Talshae laughed. ―That worked on you last time, Nolgar. Now take yourself down to Toldan and let him bind you up. No doubt I will have more foolish boys to see to up here.‖ Nolgar cinched the strip of cloth around his thigh that she gave him, and pushed painfully to his feet with the help of her steadying hand. An arrow whizzed by to clatter against the wall of the guard tower, which Talshae did not even notice. They said the sheer force of her will deflected away arrows that would have struck anyone else. Others said Taloria herself watched over her. Nolgar would serve to the death regardless of the reason, and grinned at his commander and liege. ―At once, Lady.‖ He gave her a painful bow and headed through the guard tower door. Talshae shook her head, and looked out over the ramparts and down onto the dark field of trees that stretched two day‘s ride to the sea. She could still feel his hand in hers, a ghostly remembrance of when they used to watch sunsets from this very spot. Those kind memories were scarcely there anymore, and his image seemed to fade with each passing day, a depressing and pg. 14

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infuriating occurrence, fueled by the scattered campfires, stretched out below in the clearing made by the Merchant Companies men. Another arrow clattered off the stone beside her, and she knelt to pick it up. Carimaran craftsmanship, bought with plenty of Takidoran coin no doubt. Talshae frowned, pulled the bow off of her back and notched the arrow in it. Slowly, she scanned the top of the ridgeline on the south side of the clearing, where the Merchant‘s archers casually threw arrows up over her walls just to keep everyone on edge. Her uncanny sight found a shadowy target, a lone archer, perched next to a dark stump of a tree, and drew back the string. For a long moment she stood there, wiry body poised, drawn taut, loosely holding her bow, and looking down the haft of the arrow with a squinted, half-mad gaze. She closed her eyes, relaxed, and felt the cool, swimming presence of them flow up through her. Them. Her. It. She did not know. Did not care, to be honest. The presence gave her strength to keep going and mete out vengeance upon those who had destroyed the essence of her life. Corvu was the last bastion against the swarming tide of the Merchants, their corruption, greed, and lust for power, and damn it all to the Wastes if she would not hold them off until every last one of them was dead. She raised the line of the arrow until it felt right, until it told her to let it fly. It was only the time it took draw in a breath, from when she pulled her bow and that arrow sailed off into the night. Talshae turned and headed for the tower door, without even looking to see if her arrow found its mark. She did not have to look. It knew. It told her she had killed him, and the corner of Talshae‘s gaunt mouth turned up in a smile.

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Talmar: autobiography I am a simple man, and not even quite that yet. I have only ever wanted one thing in my life, and that is to become a Springkeeper. For as long as I can remember, I have felt the call of the Lifespring in the center of my village. My mother says I am blessed. Father wishes I had the desire to follow his path, but I just do not have the skills to shape wood as he does.I am glad at least that he understands. My sister believes me just strange. It is strange at times, and I do not understand it most of the time. I only follow this path because I know I must. When I am at the Lifespring, I can feel Taloria‘s presence, at once peaceful and overpowering. She speaks to me, though understanding eludes me. I want to understand, for if I am to become a Springkeeper, when Mendalar deems me ready, I want to be able to use Taloria‘s Will to provide for my people. It is a simple want, as I am a simple man.

III

The incident had ruined Talmar‘s plans. Mendalar had been going north to the capital of Achenar to attend the yearly council of the Springkeepers during the Spring Festival, and Talmar was going to get his first chance at being the village‘s Keeper. He had been waiting an entire season for the opportunity and now it was gone. Mendalar refused to clearly state his thoughts on the whole matter. He had merely announced to Talmar that he had to come with him to Achenar. The disappointment was overwhelming. Two days later, Talmar had loaded his pack with spare clothing and said his goodbyes to his mother, father, and sister. They were far more excited by the prospect than he was. If there was any benefit to leaving, it was to put distance between him and Milara, whose interest had blossomed into professions of love. The village was still buzzing with what had happened when Mendalar led their wagon out of Springwood and on the path toward Achenar. Tulchar‘s Way, a half day‘s ride pg. 16

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north, had the benefit of two things, its location and its beer. It was the central point for the farmers and tradesman of southern Carimar. On any given day there were a number of travelers, bringing in goods to trade at the village‘s central square, equipment to be repaired, or just stopping along the way to Volonar. One would have been hard pressed to actually call it a village. In reality most folk stopped in Tulchar‘s to gossip, hook up with old friends that one had not seen in many a moon, or any other variety of contrived reasons to sit in the rambling, old inn that served the best beer south of The Wall. The smattering of population that had taken up residence over the seasons supported the traders that came through, offering supplies, wagon repairs, and the like. The inn was a sprawling, stone building, with a central two story structure that constantly poured forth smoke from three different chimneys. Two wings curved out from either side, forming a rough half circle where the inn rooms were. The other half of the circle comprised a supply store and a wainwright, as well as a stable and smithy. It was loud, boisterous, and full of activity as Talmar and Mendalar crossed the circle, with vendors hawking their wares, the smithy and wainwright doing a brisk business, and a lot of folk milling about as the day wound quickly toward the evening meal. Talmar found all the activity a bit disconcerting as they made their way into the Ulsgareth‘s Eye and found themselves a table far from the door. They had hardly sat down when a pitcher of ale and a basket of warm bread dropped on their table, courtesy of a passing serving girl. Talmar filled their mugs and sampled the brew. Normally avoiding it because of the effect it had on his mind for meditation, he felt inclined to finish off an entire mug, perhaps even two. ―Well, at least the ale is good,‖ he said, licking his lips. ―Actually, it is very good.‖ ―Indeed it is,‖ Mendalar agreed. ―Annia is one of the best brewers in Carimar. I shall have to see if she has a small cask we pg. 17

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can take with us to Achenar.‖ A group of musicians that had been preparing their instruments began to play the drum heavy music popular in southern Carimar. The ever growing crowd in the tavern raised their voices accordingly. ―Perhaps I will get a small cask on our return trip for father,‖ Talmar replied, his voice buried under the rising din. ―What?‖ ―I said—‖ Talmar repeated, but then just waved his hand, ―Never mind! I cannot even think in a place like this.‖ ―You are not suppose to, Tal,‖ Mendalar laughed. ―Just relax and enjoy the food and music. If we are lucky, Annia will sing us a song or two.‖ Talmar sighed and drank his ale, gazing around the chaotic dining area, and tried to enjoy the cacophony of color and sound. Carimarans were a humble people, but they were always proud of their work, and one had only to look at them to see it in intricate, carved jewelry they wore, the fine tools hanging from their belts, or the polished, pure sounding instruments that filled the air the merry contentment typical of Carimaran life. After finishing off heaping bowls of fresh, fish stew, Talmar did not even get a chance to say thank you before the serving girl had grabbed their bowls and vanished into the crowd. Mendalar pulled out his pipe and tobacco, looking thoughtful as he packed the bowl. Talmar knew that look. He was pondering something important or insightful to say to him. Talmar sat back and sipped at his ale, the first two having given him a warm, fuzzy glow. He eyed Mendalar expectantly. ―Tal,‖ he said, after lighting up the pipe and blowing out a fragrant plume of smoke. ―You are troubled by our journey.‖ ―I…‖ He stopped, taking a breath to avoid snapping out in annoyance. Troubled was not the word, but Talmar hated to admit that something so ambiguous scared him so much. ―I do not like this feeling of knowing nothing.‖ ―Yes.‖ He nodded, ―I understand. I had thought it best to wait until we reached Achenar, but I see you will be troubled one pg. 18

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way or the other, so…‖ he smiled wryly and sent a thick, smokey ring up into the rafters. ―Let me at least let you feel troubled about something rather than nothing.‖ Talmar‘s expression softened into a bemused smile, and he leaned forward. Mendalar‘s words were always truthful and wise. ―Thank you, Keeper.‖ Mendalar cleared his throat and settled back in his seat. ―I told you before that Taloria speaks to very few, that it is a unique privilege.‖ ―Yes,‖ he replied. ―I do not find that troubling. I am honored by that, in awe even. I do not understand why. It is what she said that troubles me most. That, and…‖ He paused, downing half his mug of ale to work up the nerve to even halfway criticize his mentor. ―and the fact that you have not been willing to tell me anything. Either you do not trust me for some reason or you are protecting me from something.‖ ―And which do you believe, Tal?‖ he asked. ―You are protecting me from something,‖ he replied quickly. ―After I told you what happened, you looked…worried, and you only look worried when something is very serious and generally very bad.‖ ―I have been,‖ he admitted. ―I am not completely certain, but I believe the concern is justified.‖ ―Why?‖ ―Do you recall the legend of how Carimar and Takidor came to be?‖ ―Of the Great Wall and how Tulumbria was divided into Carimar and Takidor?‖ Talmar asked. ―Yes. You have heard the popular folktale about Lord Carimar and how he used the Spiritstone of Carimar to defeat the Chobelkan Emperor, giving his life in heroic sacrifice. At least I hope you have, or I shall have to beat your father over the head with his carving tools.‖ Talmar laughed, but eyed him thoughtfully. ―I heard it many times as a child. Why are you telling me this, Keeper? Is the pg. 19

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legend wrong?‖ ―No,‖ he paused, drawing deeply from his pipe. ―I believe for the most part that it is true. Only the Tel and their vast library of knowledge likely know the truth of it. What the legend leaves out is that Lord Carimar was but one of a group of Talorians, each with a Stone signifying their lands. This group was guided by the Seer of Ubera. During the Change, the Seer draws this group together to fight back the Shadow of Taloria and keep it from plunging the lands into a time of darkness and desolation. This group is called the Order of Nine.‖ Talmar‘s mouth creased into a thin line as the words tumbled about in his head. He had heard something of this before, but why was he telling him now? The implication of his words suddenly hit him. ―Keeper! Surely you cannot think me one of these Nine?‖ Mendalar raised his hand to quiet him, ―I believe that Taloria‘s call to you is implying that you are to be Carimar‘s Stonebearer. There is no other reason for you to be called to Ubera.‖ ―That is the most absurd…‖ Talmar paused, his finger pointing at Mendalar, and then dropped his arm to the table. There were no logical, reasonable explanations. An icy shiver ran down his spine. ―That is not possible.‖ Mendalar‘s brows arched as he shrugged, ―What I believe does not matter, Tal. What I know is that Taloria spoke to you and told you to come.‖ ―Yes, but-‖ It was not about the Stone. She said to save her. The woman from his dreams, but how did he tell Mendalar such a thing? ―Regardless,‖ he waved him off, ―you were contacted, Tal. Therefore you must go. I do not wish you to go without any knowledge about what may be coming.‖ ―To Ubera?‖ he replied, his voice shaky. ―I have never even been beyond Volonar.‖ Mendalar offered a comforting smile and lay his hand over Talmar‘s. ―You have it in here, you know,‖ he said, tapping his chest with the pipe. pg. 20

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―Have what?‖ Talmar sighed. ―The courage to do this, the will and determination. I see it in you all the time.‖ Talmar rolled his eyes. He did not feel courageous at all, or willful and determined for that matter. He felt frightened, pure and simple. ―You cannot just pick up and go visit the Seer of Ubera. Can you?‖ ―No, not usually.‖ Mendalar chuckled and sat back in his chair. ―You have been called though, Tal. The way will be clear.‖ ―Is it true that nobody has been to Ubera in over one hundred seasons?‖ ―Not from Carimar at least.‖ Talmar groaned and buried his face in his hands. ―I do not know what to make of all this.‖ ―Nor do I, Tal,‖ Mendalar comforted. ―We must find out though.‖ Dropping his hands, Talmar looked out over the crowd, which had suddenly erupted in applause. An attractive, middle-aged woman had stepped up with the musicians, her hair pulled up in a mousy tangle that fell attractively around her face. ―Oh, good!‖ Mendalar exclaimed. ―Annia is going to sing for us.‖ He reached over and gave Talmar‘s shoulder a fatherly pat. ―There will be plenty of time to worry about this, Tal. For now let us enjoy one of the loveliest voices this side of the Ulsgareth.‖ Talmar sat back in his chair and let the smoky-sweet voice of Annia wash over him, but it did little to cleanse him of the nagging fear that he was doomed.

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On working with the Merchants: I go by Nalchek these days, travelling merchant and general trader of wares. It is the easiest disguise in the backwater of Carimar. And I say to you, beyond a doubt, that I cannot wait to be away from this insipid, depressing kingdom. It is the lowest possible mission for a Merchant Company assassin. Price one pays for sleeping with the niece of the Denabbo family patriarch. Honestly, I had no idea at the time. Fatal error in judgement one might say. I cannot blame Denabbo for it. If my niece was bedded by an assassin, I would be a bit beside myself as well. Some days I wish he would have just killed me instead. I may never get back in their good graces, and attempting to get in with the Castinar‘s would be far too dangerous. I miss the life. Denabbo is a gloriously depraved city. There is enough intrigue and conspiracy in that city to serve a 1000 assassins. I shall return one day. I will find a way.

IV

Nalchek watched the serving girl weave through the crowd like a ghost. She seemed to float in and out among the people, and they miraculously stopped, turned, and sidestepped around her without even seeming to take notice. She likely had a gift with the stones. Still, it was fascinating and stimulating to see someone perform exceptional work. Nalchek could appreciate moving as she did. He could do it as well. Killing for the Merchant Companies required a certain ghost-like ability.When she drifted back by his table, his arm flashed out to stop her before she could sidestep and move on. It felt as though his arm had pushed half through her body. She looked down at him in surprise and a bit of dismay. ―Oh! Begging your pardon, sir! Not watching where I was going.‖ Nalchek bunched up a bit of her skirt in his hand to hold her in place. Like smoke she was, and oddly attractive in a simple way. Nothing exotic about Carimaran women, but this one could move. He wondered for a moment how her skills might work in bed. ―Oh, you know exactly where you pg. 22

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are going.‖ Nalchek gave her an admiring smile. ―You move like a wisp of smoke. Why, I shall bet you ten taks that you could wrap that sweet, little body clean around someone if need be.‖ Her face flushed pink, and with a subtle shift, extricated her skirts from his hand. ―You Takidor men! Always chasing Carimaran women around. I should not like to take your coin like that, good sir,‖ she grinned at him. ―I chase no woman. I was merely remarking on the exceptional way in which you move through this crowd. I always admire those who are good at their craft.‖ She laughed, ―I would hardly consider serving girl to be a craft.‖ ―Ah, but you see,‖ he replied, pausing for effect, ―serving well is indeed a craft, and one few excel at, my lovely girl. I can see by how you move that you excel. One merely has to have an eye for it to see.‖ She nodded at him slyly, ―And you have an eye for watching serving girls move do you?‖ ―I have an eye for grace and subtlety, and you have both.‖ She stared at him for a moment, taking in the slender nose and a mouth, thin as a blade. Looking him in the eye, Nalchek could say for certain that she knew the dark, almost black color marked him as being born on Telnidor Isle.. It obviously appealed to her. ―Twenty taks, and I will show you later what grace is.‖ She laughed and this time shifted away from his reach and was gone into the crowd. Nalchek grinned and downed the rest of his ale in one long gulp. Oh, how Carimar was changing! A few seasons ago he would have been lucky to get served an ale, much less play seduction games with a pretty serving girl. At least he would spend this night in a bed warmed by a body that knew its moves as well off its feet as on. Why, another ten seasons in this wretched backwater country, and it might prove to have some passable entertainment. Taloria forbid that he could possibly be here that long, but then Merchant Company retribution could be pg. 23

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uncommonly harsh. They might never let him back into the family‘s good graces. How could he have possibly known that it was Denabo‘s own granddaughter or that she had been unspoiled by any man? He slammed the mug back to the table, disgusted at himself and the situation he found himself in. It had been less than a season, banished to the south of Carimar to bandy about as a simple merchant, collecting information to use for when the Merchant Companies finally achieved free trade access to Carimar. Any time now, Corvu Castle would fall into their hands and the coastal pass would be under their control. Any time now had been going on for over three seasons, and short of declaring war on Carimar, they had failed to depose that crazy bitch who hated Takidor with enough zeal for the entire realm. Who could have known that killing her husband would actually make the situation worse? Had to admire her though. She had been kicking Merchant backsides for a long while, and… ―Stonebearer!‖ The word came from the table behind him, an older man, a Keeper by the look of him and his son or apprentice perhaps. He had paid them little notice. Keepers were a dense, tradition-bound lot, easily fooled and manipulated, but Nalchek was not one to miss anything out of the ordinary. As a top Denabbo agent, albeit a disgraced one, one could ill afford to not pay attention. You never knew when some small and vital piece of information might be there for the taking. Stonebearer was not a word one expected to hear, at least not in the context it was currently being discussed. As he listened now, tuning out the surrounding crowd and honing in on their conversation, Nalchek could hardly believe what he was hearing. He nearly turned to look at them to make sure they were not making the whole thing up to entertain those around them. The tone of their voices said otherwise. It was a serious and earnest discussion. Something had happened to lead the Keeper to believe the pg. 24

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young man was the Stonebearer. Far from being a historian, Nalchek did not know the precise background of the Stonebearers, but he knew enough to know that the last one had been none other than Lord Carimar, nearly a millennia ago. The implications of such being…Nalchek did not even know what those implications were, but if it was true, it could be his way out of this nowhere-donothing country and back into the Company‘s good graces. After they had grown silent listening to the local musicians, he watched the Keeper and his boy weave through the now thinning evening crowd, and stop for a moment to speak with the Innkeeper. They then walked up the stairs toward the inn rooms. After he was sure they were not coming down, Nalchek settled back and smiled to himself. Life had a funny way of getting interesting when you least expected it too. Feeling a bit celebratory, Nalchek ordered another ale, imagining other ways that deft and subtle body of the serving girl would shift and move, and waited for closing time.

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Tulbonae

I have watched him these past few seasons, from the first moment I sensed his presence in the waters of the Lifespring, knowing that he would be the one with the power to heal. I have given him visions of the Shadow, the one whom he must save, for I have foreseen their meeting, and I must conspire to make it so. -Tulbonae, the Seer of Ubera

It is often a precarious thing to be both loved and hated for something one has no control over. Tulbonae, the Seer of Ubera ruminated often on that subject, while she wandered the emptying halls of Ubera. She found it strange that her fellow Uberans naturally gravitated to the deeper caverns of the city, carved out of the rock in Mount Ubera. The air up top was far fresher. You could smell so many things drifting and blowing upon it, from the pungent smell of pine to the sulfurous plumes of the Ulsgareth Mountains. Sadly, it was a sensation lost upon them all. None had lived long enough to develop any sense of emotion to attach to the sensation. Only Tulbonae, over three thousand seasons in age had reached the blessed state. Mother always took the rest before they had a chance. She would have been gone too, drawn back into the womb of the Goddess‘s energy to be spat back out as one of her wretched, scorched pg. 26

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Hordelings.What a horrid fate that would be. The smooth, stone halls lit with a faint, blue light as she passed, slowly fading in her wake, casting a faint, slip of a shadow from her willowy, long-limbed body. At the end of the hall, a slender, arched doorway led into a small, round room, featureless other than the polished stone. Tulbonae exercised a minute force of will and the floor dropped away, traveling down through the heart of the city, sliding along the perfect cylinder that ended in the heart of the mountain where Taloria waited impatiently. Mother was in a foul mood today. The air had that slightly acrid taint to it, more usual than not these days as the Change encroached on them all. Century‘s worth of plans were coming to a head over the next few moons, shadowy steps taken here and there while Mother lay otherwise preoccupied with her own fears over the demise of her children‘s faith. Things would be different this time, or she would cease to be Tulbonae, Seer of Ubera, and the Voice of Taloria. She would be drawn back into that murmuring, chaotic miasma of energy that pulsed and surged like the ebb and flow of the tides deep within Mt. Ubera. At the bottom of the lift, Tulbonae adjusted her sheer, violet tunic, a habit of modesty she had picked up from Talorians over the seasons, but only felt compelled to do in the presence of Taloria herself. Standing under the omnipotent force of her will made one generally feel exposed, and for most that was true, but she had developed an immunity to it over the millennia, numbed by the thousands of times she had stood on the balcony overlooking the glowing heart of the thing calling itself Taloria. In the end though, she was the Seer, called thus for her limited prescient ability, and the crutch upon which Taloria leaned her weakening sanity. It had kept Tulbonae alive for an eternity, both cursed and blessed, for she had seen some of the things twisting out in the fabric of existence, and it made her heart clench in trepidation and sadness. Things could end badly for everyone, but there was still a strand of hope that her efforts would work, that this Change would be different, and all of Taloria might survive to pg. 27

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give birth to a new era of freedom from this thing that struggled like a fearful mother wanting to keep her children close to hearth lest they lose their love for her or worse, forget her entirely. Over the seasons, Tulbonae had come to know guilt for the things she had done in Taloria‘s name, the blood of so many thousands on her hands. Soon, it would end one way or another, for better or worse, but at least she could go, knowing she had done what she felt was right in her heart. Today would be the first true test of how firm the ground was upon which she stood. Had she been as good a judge of Taloria‘s will as she thought? ―Daughter,‖ the voice said, echoing both in the cavern and inside her head. ―What news do you bring of the dark, shadow child? The Sword has finally pierced the walls of her sanctum.‖ Tulbonae shook her head. Why did Mother always insist on cloaking everything in metaphor? It was not something she would stoop to when discussing these matters. ―Kazare has gained access to Belkara‘s chambers, Mother. The Queen decided she would be well-suited to the task, given what transpired between them.‖ ―She was supposed to kill the little spy!‖ Her voice rolled like a sharp crack of thunder. ―You said the Queen would never let someone so able gain access to her daughter. I believed you.‖ And well that you did, Mother. I was counting on it. ―Her desire to see Belkara fulfill her duty as Spring Maiden overwhelmed any desire to kill Kazare. Besides, Mother. You said yourself that you did not want war between Telmizare and Takidor.‖ ―I know what I said, and there will be war.‖ There was a pause, and Tulbonae felt the pulsing waves of energy washing through her, making her sway upon her feet. ―You knew the spy would succeed. Or did you plant the notion in Kilara‘s head yourself?‖ ―No, Mother.‖ It was not a lie. The seed had not been planted there. So many others she had sewn of late, but Kazare had performed as expected. She had envisioned the results and knew that little was needed beyond giving her the impetus to reach pg. 28

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Belkara. Afterward, well, she might have to plant a few more seeds then, but she could wait and see. ―Kazare‘s success was of her own making.‖ ―Do not interfere with them anymore, do you hear me, Tulbonae?‖ ―I do what I believe is the best exercise of your will, Mother, based upon what I have seen. I cannot do otherwise.‖ The angry, frustrated rumble through the cavern had her hands trembling. Tulbonae clasped them together behind her back, even though the gesture would be fruitless. Here, in the center of her being, Taloria could see and sense all things. ―Your will does not always agree with mine, my daughter.‖ The implication in her tone said enough. Quit meddling or else. ―My agenda, Mother, comes from a place even beyond your will. It is my duty to you that guides my decisions based upon what I have seen.‖ Her voice became quiet and hard as a blade. ―See to it that your duty does not contradict my will, Tul. I have had enough of your manipulations and interference. Your ability will only protect you to a point. Endanger my plans of Change, and you shall pass it. Do you understand me?‖ Tulbonae nodded. ―Yes, Mother. Your will is my own.‖ ―Leave me. Your presence is no longer desired.‖ She bowed quickly and turned on her heel, walking back to the lift, pushing it as fast as she dared back to the safe heights of the mountain top. The test had been passed. Her ability had once again saved her, but care would have to be taken, more so than ever, as things were rapidly coming together, and she would have to be able to act quickly when needed. Her prim, thin mouth curved into a smile. Despite herself, she was excited, and the sensation sent the wonder of goosebumps rippling over her skin.

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Takidor I

Kazare of Telmizare brushed an errant wisp of midnight black hair out of her face, and drew in a nervous breath. Her small, delicate hand, balled into a fist, poised a hair‘s breadth before the tower door. It hung there motionless, wanting to fall against the thick, banded wood, but other forces held it at bay. Laughter bubbled up in her throat, but she refrained and exhaled slowly, attempting to calm her usually steady nerves. pg. 30

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Takidor is a vast stretch of fertile, coastal plain that wraps itself around the Bay of Shadows.It‘s seat of power lies in the middle of this bay on the Isle of Shadow in House Arrador. It is ruled by a King and Queen, but controlled for the most part by the Merchant Companies, who fight amongst themselves and everyone in Taloria to gain the upperhand in the burgeoning world of trade that ischanging the cultures of every kingdom in the lands. The hills of the Uberan Highlands and Kulkyri forest are mined for shards, the crystals with the innate ability to store the energies given off by all living beings.Within House Arrador, the daughter of the Queen uses her unique gift to alter shards with the right structure into magical stones with the ability to draw magical energy instead of purely absorbing it. They are running out, and Carimar is the richest known source for the spiritstones.

These were not the nerves of impending danger. Death could be tapping her on the shoulder and not a muscle would flinch. No, these nerves were all together different and not to be expected from a Telmizaran spy. They were the nerves of youth, which she no longer was. They were the nerves of first kisses, which… well, she had done a lot more than that over the seasons. It was absurd that she, on the verge of becoming the youngest Collector her Guild had seen in living memory, about to succeed where the other Guilds had not, could feel like a young fool in love. Stranger still, she had never met the young woman living beyond the door. I have lost my mind, Kazare thought. Worse, Fate was playing one of her cruel jokes, tempting her beyond reason for her final mission, and daring her to fail. It wasn‘t love. Lust perhaps, for she could readily admit the young woman was a remarkable beauty. The spark of it had been felt the first moment she laid eyes on Belkara Arrador, seeing her on the first day of her arrival at House Arrador, home to the Queen and King of Takidor. She did not realize who she was looking down upon from the stair leading to the Queen‘s chambers., The lighting in the central courtyard was by a single brazier, and it cast flickering shadows across her half submerged body. Her head rested upon the smooth pg. 31

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stones surrounding the precious Lifespring, while her naked body lay mostly beneath the clear, softly glowing water. Belkara‘s eyes had been closed, and in her hands she held a crystal submerged beneath the surface. A straight, flowing sheen of honey brown hair spilled around her shoulders, the ends of which floated lazily like seaweed in the water. She had a wide, sensuous mouth, creased together in concentration. She could not have been twenty seasons old, but something emanated from her, an intense spiritual energy that Kazare could feel straight down to her core. She had a talent for sensing the energies of people, which lent itself well to being a spy. This woman‘s aura however, was a smoky, fiery mix of tangy and sweet. If she had not been grasping the rail at the time, she might have fallen to her knees. It was unlike anything Kazare had ever experienced, and in that moment, standing on knees gone loose and wobbly, she was certain of one thing. She was meant to be with her. Somehow, in some way, she was going to be with the mysterious beauty floating in the water. And now, seventy-three days later, after enduring the Hordeling pit known as the Queen‘s bedchamber, Kazare stood on the threshold of success and a new life, trembling like a virginal girl about to enter the bed of her promised. Kazare of the First Tower had never failed. She was not going to back out on the last and greatest moment of all because of a little giddy moment over a young, beautiful woman. She shook her head, willing away the doubt that washed over her. Doubt and Kazare did not mix. They did not share a bed or know one another at all. After everything she had endured at the hand of the Queen? A faint snort escaped her lips as she remembered the humiliating and frequently painful experience. It would be one of the most popular entries in her library no doubt, but what was done was done, and now the real mission was at hand. Kazare tightened her fist and rapped on the door three times. The pause lasted so long that Kazare raised her hand to knock again, but it opened finally with a soft swoosh of cool air, and the pg. 32

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breath she had been holding in anticipation of the moment rushed out in disappointment, as she caught the back of Belkara returning to the room. Not even a greeting. It did not bode well. There were few places in Taloria that a Tel spy had not been at some time or another. The Isle of Ancients was one such place. No Talorian, living or dead had been to the ancient home of the Kulkyri. No Tel had been to Ak‘Malfaan, lost home of the Ultan‘s that fled Chobelka during the last Change. It was buried in the Burning Gorge, the way to its door lost and forgotten many centuries past. There were perhaps a few other notable exceptions, and the living chambers of Belkara Arrador was one of them. Kazare had actually found a sketch in her Tower‘s library, giving rough detail to what it once was. It had been the home of Alikar, Keeper of Telnidor, and followed a long line of predecessors who tended to the needs of Telnidor‘s people. Alikar had died, and the Shadow Keepers stepped in. Before being turned into House Arrador, it had been a simple three story tower that made the corner of a square, stone wall surrounding the Lifespring. For Belkara, it was her entire world. Her chambers were a stark contrast to the opulent grandeur of the rest of House Arrador. There were no rich, velvety curtains adorning the windows or rugs so plush your toes disappeared into them. The walls had no decorations, as they were covered floor to ceiling with shelves of books. There were hundreds of them, stacked every which way, more than any other place in Takidor. It would have been impressive almost anywhere. For a young woman of barely eighteen seasons, Kazare found it oddly endearing under the circumstances, and yet another thing that set Belkara apart from everyone else. A doorway opposite the one she had entered led outside to the spring and the morning light coming in through it was the only illumination for the room. Belkara shuffled over to a couch that curved before a large hearth and flopped down on the cushions. It was big enough for two people to lie on end to end. She was wearing a plain, thick pg. 33

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robe tied at the waist. Not only did the wine red color make a perfect accent to the long cascade of hair spilling over her shoulders, but it also rippled open down the front, and Belkara could see the swell of one breast beneath the edge. She had to force her gaze back to Belkara‘s face. A low, rectangular table in front had a cup of something that gave off faint wisps of steam. The single log, cackling in the hearth did little to offset the morning chill spilling through the doorway. ―Close the door. You are causing a draft.‖ Kazare realized she was still standing in the doorway, watching her walk across the room, taking in the surroundings, and registering all the pertinent information into her perfect memory. ―Apologies, my Lady-‖ ―Call me Lady again, and you will leave,‖ she said, cutting her off. ―I am no member of the ‗Royal‘ family, so do not address me as such.‖ Kazare arched her brows. ―As you wish. How shall I address you, then?‖ ―By my name of course.‖ Her tone indicated Kazare had just asked the stupidest possible question. ―Very well, Belkara.‖ She stepped in and quietly shut the door. ―Talea and I had a fine arrangement together. She took care of the few things I require.‖ She paused to sip at the cup, ―And then she left me alone. You would have talked to her already, so you know this. Then mother will get frustrated and bored with her plan, whatever it may be, and you can go back to slapping each other‘s nuchaes.‖ Kazare winced. Kilara had forced Kazare more than once to pleasure her on the balcony overlooking the courtyard. In her time up there, she had come to realize the jealousy Kilara had for her daughter‘s strange power, and the fear of her dependence upon it for her own reign as Queen. Belkara was as beautiful and smart as her mother, more so if she were any judge, and there was certainly no love lost between them. I have less than a moon here, Kazare thought, pondering on pg. 34

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Belkara‘s less than cooperative attitude. She had expected it. Talea had informed her as much. ―The most sullen, bitter, and lonely girl I have ever seen,‖ she had told her. ―You would think her sixty seasons old and never been with a man, the way she acts.‖ Sullen and lonely seemed likely, but this girl was not bitter. She was sad and angry, much like her mother. Fingering her spiritstone, Kazare could see that similar dark aura, smoky black, but Belkara‘s churned with a fiery red, like burning embers flung about in a whirlwind. It made her head swim. ―Coming here was my own idea,‖ Kazare said, and Belkara finally looked at her for the first time. ―Really,‖ she said, pondering it for a moment. ―I did not realize I had such a wonderful reputation.‖ Kazare watched her mouth purse with annoyance, and her eyes narrow imperceptibly. Even in her mother, it was an attractive family trait. Belkara‘s eyes were a much paler blue, soft and frozen like ice, and despite all of the standoffishness and feigned ambivalence, there was an obvious, almost compelling attraction about her. Of course, perhaps it was just Kazare. The stomach fluttering appeal made little sense. Maybe it was more the aura or the mystery of her than a physical attraction, but the drifting pull of her gaze toward the parted robe said otherwise. ―Truth be told, my…Belkara, you do not. I was curious and desired some relief from your mother.‖ Belkara snorted, ―We all desire relief from my mother, and curious about what?‖ ―About you of course,‖ Kazare gave her a demure and disarming smile. The whirling aura suddenly picked up momentum, the fiery embers now spinning bands of reddish-orange color. Belkara leaned up and gave Kazare a wary stare. ―What do you mean by that?‖ She walked over, pulled out the high backed chair from one end of the large table that occupied the other half of the room and sat down. ―Do you know why the Tel travel the land?‖ pg. 35

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―It is a right of passage to adulthood,‖ she replied immediately. ―A Tel seeks to gain new knowledge not yet known by their ancestors, and improve the standing of their Guild.‖ True enough, and oddly eager to impress me with her knowledge. Yes, we do. Knowledge is the true power. You are well read by the looks of things here.‖ She shrugged, ―What else am I going to do locked up in this cage?‖ Belkara rarely ever left the confines of her tower and courtyard. A pang of sympathy shot straight through Kazare‘s gut. Her instinct told her to go ahead and just lay it out there. There was something implicitly trustworthy about Belkara, which had to be a singular anomaly on Telnidor Isle, the center of lies, deceit, and greed, but there it was nonetheless, buried behind a swirling defensive wall of anger and fear. Her instincts rarely failed her in such instances. ―You are an unknown to the Tel. In fact, nobody seems to know anything about you, not for sure anyway. The Tel do not take rumor and speculation for fact. We can document only the truth.‖ ―Ha!‖ She laughed loudly with no humor in her voice. ―There is no truth here. There are only lies; violence, hatred, and lies.‖ The malic in Belkara‘s voice spoke volumes, of someone who knew firsthand what that was all about. She would have to tread carefully. ―Agreed. I shall never have so pleased as the moment I step foot off of this wretched island.‖ ―So,‖ Belkara started, and then paused, unsure of herself, ―you do not actually care for my mother?‖ Obviously someone had been telling her differently. ―Belkara, I loathe your mother. I am bound to her service due to a signed contract, but nothing could please me more than to bring her misery and ruin.‖ Her eyes widened with surprise. ―You are indentured to my mother? That seems a strange thing for a Tel to do.‖ Trust. She needs to trust, Kazare told herself. Make yourself pg. 36

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appear vulnerable, seem to give in to their hands that which could ruin you. ―It was the only way that I could get myself here.‖ She wondered if Belkara realized the power she was handing her, but she did not care. She wanted Belkara to know everything, and had to restrain herself from just spilling out with any and all information. The feeling was entirely unnerving. ―In House Arrador?‖ Belkara asked. ―I would think it very easy to spy-‖ ―No, Belkara. Here.‖ She motioned to the room around them. ―My mission is right here.‖ Belkara settled back on the couch, looking dumbfounded. ―Me? You put yourself under my mother‘s hand just to see me?‖ ―Unfortunately, yes.‖ ―I do not know if I should be flattered or worried or just think you are crazy,‖ Belkara said. ―Mother must have been drooling at the prospect of a Tel servant. You must be good though. Most of her servants do not last long.‖ All too true. Most of Kilara‘s servants left her service in an unpleasantly permanent manner. ―I am good and perhaps a little crazy,‖ Kazare smiled. She is curious. All other feelings aside, that would propel them forward for now. ―I am proficient at many things.‖ ―I had heard some things about you from Talea. She loves to gossip, and that is about all she knows how to do well.‖ Kazare laughed. ―One of the things I do well is being a servant. So, if you will allow me to set about my morning duties, I will be finished sooner, and perhaps we can gossip about one another‘s lives as opposed to everyone else‘s.‖ ―Are you this forward with Mother? She must really like you.‖ Kazare mouth curved into a smile. Hate would not truly begin to define Kilara‘s feelings for her. She would be lucky if the woman did not try to have her killed before she left Telnidor. This was a better start than she had hoped for. ―Only when I need to be, and I would certainly say your Mother does not really like me.‖ Belkara‘s smile matched Kazare‘s. ―I think I should like to pg. 37

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House Arrador. The world‘s most lavish prison. I have been stuck here for ten seasons now, if I have kept track correctly. It is my curse or rather my curse is what keeps me here. I do not understand why Taloria would see fit to give me this ‗gift‘ but I wish I could curse her for it. I cannot be the only one who hates her Will. If I can take anything from this retched existence it is the fact that mother and father would be takless ebro farmers without me. If only I knew how to use this power I have to my advantage and escape this place. Or at least I could use it to kill them. It is not fair that they have garnered lives of privilege at my expense. Have I seen any reward? No. Only pain and a miserable existence. Taloria taunts me with it. She comes in my dreams, but I only have faint remembrances and hope that something good will come of all this. I know not what it means, but if there is no answer soon, I shall be ready to end this.

hear that story. Mother would be furious if she knew you were here to see me.‖ Or not, Kazare thought. ―Another time. It is a sordid, depressing tale, and I have work to do here.‖

II

Belkara slept the morning away buried beneath the rakdal fur. After cleaning the ashes from the hearth and preparing it for the evening, Kazare made quick work of the tower. The second floor was her bedroom and little more than a large bed with an intricately carved, Carimaran headboard, a bureau, and a wardrobe. She could not have had more than ten outfits between them. Another rakdal fur spread across the down filled mattress proved to be the only real luxury in the bedroom. A single window overlooked the courtyard below, filled with abundant greenery, and the young blooms of early spring. In the center, the Lifespring seeped up from softly glowing depths, spilling out over the rocks and burbling across the yard until it vanished beneath the wall. The pools never ceased to intrigue and disturb Kazre. The source of so many strange mysteries, and likely pg. 38

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part of this one as well. For someone who had lived in the same space for nearly ten seasons, it was remarkably bare. There were no paintings or hangings upon the walls. There were no personal baubles or treasures sitting around, just stacks of books. Belkara could easily have moved in a moon ago for all the signs there were of the space being lived in. Perhaps she does not really live here, Kazare thought, not in any real sense of considering this her home. It made her feel suddenly sad for Belkara. She would have to inquire about what her life was like before House Arrador. With little to do once her rooms were cleaned and midday meal prepared, Kazare left it sitting next to Belkara on the table and set about going through the hundreds of books stacked every which way around the room. She had a great love for myths and legends dating back to the last Change. Kazare had read many of the volumes herself, or knew of the truths behind the myths and legends, because the Tel had recorded the actual events when they had happened. It was all stored within the vast libraries of her Guild. Surprisingly she even had a tome on Chobelkan Firekeepers. There had been lots of rumor floating about regarding Chobelka. Supposedly the Fireborn were back. To her knowledge nothing definitive had been found, but it had been several moons since she had inquired. Certainly something to look into once this mission was finished. The young woman was certainly well read, even if her reading tended toward the overly heroic and romantic. ―What are you doing?‖ The tone of Belkara‘s voice told Kazare that moving the books around had been a mistake. ―Ah. I apologize, Belkara. I did not realize you had awakened. I took it upon myself to start organizing your library.‖ She sat up, her full lips drawing tightly together. ―You can just put them back on the shelves and leave them alone. I do not care what order they are in, as I happen to know where they all are. Though now I probably do not since you have now rearranged half pg. 39

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of them by the look of it. Oh!‖ she exclaimed noticing the tray of food on the table beside her. ―Are those sugared ebros?‖ Picking up one of the firm, yellow fruits that had been sliced thin and dipped in sugar, she ate several slices all at once, groaning with delight as she did so. ―Oh Taloria, those are good! Talea never brings me good food.‖ Kazare smiled. ―The kitchen staff likes me.‖ The image of Belkara sucking the sugar from each finger burned itself into her memory. All of her actions, however slight seemed to leap to the foreground of her awareness. It was uncanny. She hardly knew this young woman, and yet everything about her drew her focus, appeared to be more important than anything else around her. Why? What about her was so compelling? Could her spiritual energy have such a draw? ―I prepared the meal however, not the kitchen. They have orders from Kilara about what you should be eating. I am under no such order.‖ Belkara looked hard at her, the pale blue glare softening a bit. ―You are not like any of the other servants.‖ ―Happily, no,‖ Kazare agreed. ―I would not wish this place as a home on anyone. It corrupts people. Taloria‘s shadow weighs heavier than the wretched fog this island is always covered in.‖ She chuckled. ―I actually use to like fog before I came here.‖ Belkara looked away. ―You are right, Taloria‘s shadow is in everything here. Everything is corrupted.‖ As though I could not see that coming. Like a snuffed out flame, the burning embers of her aura faded to the dimmest pinpoints, and the black swirling smoke thickened and churned around her like a boiling tar pit. Kazare found it impossible to tune out the woman‘s spiritual energy. Despite the usual rules of conduct regarding servants, Kazare went over to the couch, reaching over to place a comforting hand on Belkara‘s shoulder. She flinched at the touch, drawing away like she had been expecting something other than the reassurance it was meant to be. pg. 40

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―I did not mean you, Belkara. I can tell you are not like them.‖ She tensed and turned on Kazare. ―You can tell? How? From a single morning of watching me sleep? From rearranging my books? From your perceptive Tel ways? You must think me a fool that I would believe that.‖ ―Far from it.‖ She moved around to sit on the couch, feeling a sudden need for close, personal contact. Belkara was pushing her away, the defensive anger coming from something sensitive being touched upon. Kazare had seen it before, having used it to her advantage, but unlike then, it was not a desire to illicit information that drove her, but a need. It clenched her stomach in a knot to see that pained and desperate expression in Belkara‘s eyes. She locked her gaze with those cold, pale blue eyes. ―I observe. It is what I have done and trained for my whole life. I will see things that most others would not because I know what to look for, and sometimes…well, I just know.‖ ―See what? What can you possibly see here that makes me any different than anyone else in this Taloria forsaken place, and why do you care for that matter?‖ The bitterness in her voice squeezed on her heart. Kazare waved at the room around her. ―These books for example. One might think you read out of boredom because you are forced to stay here. That might be the case sometimes, but deeper down, you read them because you love history. You want to learn, and you love grand adventures. I looked through the titles you have, and some of them you must have taken some effort to procure because they are rare. They speak of other lands and people, of their heroes and heroines, and sacrifices they made during the last Change. The books are the only thing of importance in your tower here, except perhaps for this,‖ she smiled and rubbed the soft rakdal fur with her hand, avoiding direct contact with Belkara. ―I like the history and the stories,‖ she replied quietly, looking down at Kazare‘s darkly shaded hand. ―Reading them…takes me away from here.‖ ―And who could blame one for wanting that? You spurn pg. 41

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everything about this place by how you live, spare, plain, and utilitarian. House Arrador stands for all that you despise, which is embodied by your mother. Your father...‖ she shrugged, ―I admit I personally know little of Ulthas, and of your relationship to him, only rumor and speculation, but he is not a nice man, and I rather suspect he does not dote on his little girl.‖ ―No,‖ Belkara whispered, staring intently at Kazare, her voice tinged with something dark and hateful. ―He does not dote.‖ Kazare pressed on. There was an opening, a lowering of her guard. ―They treat you poorly, and being their child, you suspect and likely believe that somehow you deserve to be treated as such, and hate both them and yourself for that. They do not love their child, they only love what she can do for them. This place is not home, it never has been, and never will be. You wish desperately to be anywhere but here, but some part of you believes that perhaps you do not deserve it.‖ The words poured out. She had not put words to these impressions until now. It had only been a sense, based on what she saw now and all that she had heard from others before, but the haunted, stunned look in Belkara‘s watery eyes revealed them for the truth. It turned her stomach to know that she could not give her what she so desperately wanted. Freedom. A Tel did not interfere with the subject of the mission. It tainted the information collected, distorted the facts, changed the truth of the story. It was considered a failure of the mission, and a serious blow to ones standing in their Tower. Even now, what she had done could be ruining things for her. ―You see too well,‖ Belkara muttered, and turned away to drink some water. ―You did not come here just out of curiosity and relief from my mother, did you?‖ ―I came here…‖ Kazare began, but then stopped. She was revealing too much, and found she could hardly shut up. There was something peculiar at work she did not quite understand, could not get her mind around. She wanted to tell her everything, reveal herself, let her see everything. It was that desperate desire for the pg. 42

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other to know, a desire that usually came with feelings of…love, which was impossible, but the words kept coming out of her mouth. ―I came here because you are my mission, Belkara. I was sent from Telmizare, by my Collector to find out about you because there is something important about you they want to know.‖ ―Important? Like what?‖ Belkara asked, bewildered and obviously a bit annoyed now. ―I do not do anything here other than…‖ she glanced out the door and then back to Kazare, the soft, lush mouth that was a moment ago on the verge of trembling with tears, suddenly creased into an angry frown. ―The shards. You want to know about the shards.‖ There was venom in her voice. ―They are only a part of it,‖ Kazare admitted, trying desperately to subvert that element of the conversation. She should have lied, should have said nothing at all. Oh Kazare, you dumb, lusting fool! ―I am here to find out about you. The shards are merely a part –‖ ―No,‖ Belkara shook her head, and her lip did tremble now. ―It is always the shards. Find the good ones, Bel darling. Find us the good ones and I will be nice. Find us the good ones and I will not be so angry.‖ Her fists clenched into tight balls of rage now, her arms shaking with the effort of it. Talea had warned her about this, but was too dimwitted to know why. Now she knew. Some of the rumors must be true then. The embers were back, flying like mad demons around her. The strength of her aura was overpowering this close. Kazare swore if she reached out she would be struck by it. ―Belkara, I am not here merely to find out about the shards. I—‖ ―Out!‖ she screamed, pointing at the door. ―Get out, get out, get out!‖ Kazare knew better than to argue. She had crossed a line she did not know was there, and now was not the time to discuss it. ―My apologies, Belkara. I shall return later.‖ She bowed quickly and made her way to the door, closing it pg. 43

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I am at the end of a long road, and glory waits in the wings. I‘ve had but one goal my whole life, since I was perhaps five seasons old in the jungles of Telmizare, and that was to become the youngest Loremaster of the First Guild. My library of information shall be sought after like none before me in living memory, save perhaps Nukaze, the greatest of all masters in the First Guild. I have lived with singular purpose, sacrificed no small amount of myself to this task, and done things I will both boast about and regret as I grow old and teach the next generation of Tel spies the craft of gathering. I am good at what I do, too good some might say, but that is only envy from which they speak. I am proud to say I have only had to kill one person in the completion of my missions, in order to avoid corruption of the truth I seek, for it is only the truth of all things that matters and that may only be gathered if the source is ignorant of the gathering.

quietly behind her. The dish of sugared ebro shattered beside the door as it clicked shut.

III

She gave Belkara until the evening to calm back down. From the kitchens, she loaded up a tray for dinner, consisting mostly of sugary confections. When it was ready, the tray looked to be entirely drizzled in honey. Dolbrek, who did all of the cooking for the Arradors, winced when she was done. ―If Kilara sees that, she will have your hide, girl.‖ Kazare patted his soft, pudgy cheeks. ―You just keep making this wonderful food, Dolbrek. You let this girl worry about her hide.‖ She headed for the door with the loaded tray in her hands, ―And save me some stuffed Nubla, that sauce is worth killing for.‖ Rounding the corner of the short Lshaped hall before Belkara‗s door, Kazare was pondering what she would say by way of apology when the large, hulking form of King Ulthas came stomping in the other direction. Her own thoughts and the sounds from the servants quarters behind her had pg. 44

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distracted her attention from his otherwise obvious presence. She barely sidestepped in time, spinning away with her tray and somehow managed to keep the food from flying everywhere, but Ulthas seemed to be in a particularly foul mood, and gave her a hard shove in the back, sending her careening into the stone. The tray of treats flipped up against her. A hand flashed out and cuffed Kazare upside the head, leaving a sharp ringing in her right ear, and knocking her to the ground. ―Stupid, Telmizaran whore! Keep your mind on something besides Kilara‘s barbed titties.‖ ―Yes, your majesty,‖ Kazare bowed and nodded. ―My apologies for being so clumsy.‖ Ulthas did not bother to respond and marched out, hollering at one of the servant girls to come up to his chambers. The man was in a perpetual state of anger. Everyone in Takidor knew who had the real power, and many made it painfully clear to Ulthas that they knew he knelt before the Queen just like all others. Kazare sighed, letting the flash of anger rush out along with it. Nothing a well placed kick to the groin would not solve, she thought, while scraping up the mess from the floor. A young servant girl, Borodanian by the look of her and not more than twelve seasons old brought a bucket of water and a mop. ―I will clean this, Kazare,‖ she said. ―Lady Belkara was screaming and crying in there. King Ulthas…he is not nice to her.‖ Kazare winced at that knowing pause and squeezed her hand. ―I know, Glenny. Ulthas and Kilara do not love her, and they do not treat her well.‖ Tears welled up in Glenny‘s eyes, ―I hope to see my mum and dadda again soon. They said it would not be long, no more than a season and their debt would be paid. Then I can go home.‖ Kazare leaned over and kissed the girl on the forehead. She had seen and heard this story far too many times. The Merchant Companies were going too far. It was thinly veiled slave trading and was going to cause war soon if something did not change. ―I pg. 45

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know, darling girl. Perhaps less if you are lucky.‖ Sadly, she knew Glenny would be lucky to go home at all. ―Thank you for your help. I will bring you a treat from the kitchens. Just finish up here and I will be back.‖ Other than a frown from Dolbrek, Kazare remade her tray of food with an extra helping of a honey soaked sweet bread for Glenny, who was quite happy with the treat after Kazare returned, gobbling it down by the time she had left the room. Inside Belkara‘s tower, she found the living chamber empty save for a few books and pages strewn about on the floor. The fire was dying, so Kazare stoked it back up and added another log from the wood box next to the hearth. After a few moments, it was blazing nicely. The door to the courtyard was open, letting in the cool evening air, and when she went to close it, realized from the dancing ember glow of Belkara‘s aura that she was sitting out at the spring. Every emotion and state of being played itself out in those smoldering shadows around her. There was hurt, frustration, anger, and pain… physical pain. Kazare growled. Ulthas must have hurt her, and she was out here in the chill night air. A protective rage boiled up through her, and her hands clenched in to angry fists. The little, sniveling, swine faced… Kazare marched out to the spring. Belkara was seated on the edge of a flat stone, her feet dangling in the water. She was hunched over, face buried in her hands, the long, golden brown hair slipped over her like a veil. Beside her was a basket filled with crystalline shapes. The shards she so hated. ―Belkara,‖ she said quietly, kneeling down beside her. She made no move, did not reply. ―Belkara, what did he do?‖ When she reached out to lay her hand upon Belkara‘s arm, she jerked away. ―Go away, Kazare!‖ she rasped, her voice still half choked on tears. ―I do not need you.‖ Ah, Taloria! You poor girl. The desire to take her in her arms and hold her was nearly overwhelming. The ache to care for her pg. 46

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was almost palpable. ―Belkara, look at me, please. You are hurt. I need to see-‖ Belkara whipped around on her, streams of her hair still stuck across her face from the tears…and blood. ―I am fine. Just get out!‖ Her lip was split and swollen, and even in the darkness, the dark swelling around her left eye was apparent. More disturbing, her simple, cotton tunic was torn open down the middle to her navel. ―No,‖ Kazare replied firmly. ―You need this tended too. Let us go inside-‖ ―Leave me alone.‖ She sobbed, pulling out of her grasp. ―I do not want you here.‖ ―Yes, Belkara, you do. Now come,‖ she repeated, and physically hooked her hands beneath Belkara‘s arms and hoisted her up from the pool. She was too surprised and overwrought to resist. ―What are you doing?‖ ―Just come inside, Bel,‖ Kazare coaxed. ―Let me see what he did.‖ She began to cry again, and spoke with a trembling voice, ―No. I don‗t want--‖ ―Come inside, baby,‖ she cooed. ―You are starting to shake.‖ Kazare knew if she really did not want her there, she would have insisted, but Belkara reluctantly followed along. After laying her down on the couch and propping her up with pillows, Kazare retrieved the healing ointments and salves she kept in her sleeping quarters. Frequenting Kilara‘s bed required it. She returned to find Belkara sitting up, looking a bit bewildered and still in pain. Her gaze would not meet Kazare‘s. ―Going somewhere?‖ Kazare asked, putting forth her best motherly tone. ―I need to check the stones,‖ she whispered. ―It will take most of the night.‖ ―They can wait. I will take care of that,‖ she assured. pg. 47

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―No.‖ Belkara shook her head, and then winced when she went to brush the hair from her face. ―Father will be even angrier if I do not.‖ Kazare sighed, squatting down in front of her so she could catch her gaze. ―I will take care of your father,‖ she answered. ―Trust me. Belkara, look at me.‖ She reached up and gently placed her fingertips on either side of her chin, easing her back to face her again. ―Your father will not do this again.‖ ―No,‖ she said, sad resignation in her voice. ―There is nothing to stop him.‖ The tears began to stream again, ―People know. Mother knows, and they do not care. Nobody cares about the girl locked in the tower who makes their precious little stones.‖ ―I will speak with Kilara. He will not be back for a while, believe me.‖ Reaching up, Kazare brushed away the hair from her face, tucking the strands back behind her ear. ―Now then, sit back and let me fix up this mess.‖ Belkara choked back a sob and fell back against the pillows. Whether or not she believed Kazare, or did not have the strength to fight back, she did not care. With a calm, soft touch, Kazare applied the balm around the blackening eye. It was half swollen shut now, and an imprint, likely from some ring Ulthas wore had tore at the flesh high on the cheekbone. Kazare cleaned the abraded skin, and Belkara hissed between her teeth when she applied the ointment to prevent any infection, but said nothing. ―I will get your sleeping robe, Belkara,‖ she said. ―Do not move.‖ When she returned, Belkara lay there with her eyes closed, half of her face swollen, discolored, and shining with the glaze of the ointment. She looked so vulnerable like that, and Kazare again felt the yearning pangs to have someone to care for. Yet another reason she had ensured this to be her last mission. Thirty seasons was a long time to be unmated. It had been a reason for her success and a constant thorn of loneliness and despair, needling her at odd moments, but this pang wrenched straight through her gut to something deeper. Why now, of all times? Kazare wondered. It pg. 48

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made little sense, but when did such matters ever make sense? Ripping the remaining part of the tunic jolted Belkara back to reality, and the startled, frightened look in her wide-eyed stare quickly vanished when she realized who it was. ―I am sorry,‖ Kazare smiled feebly. ―I was trying to be gentle about it, but the fabric at the hem did not give easily.‖ ―Burn it,‖ Belkara said with quiet anger. Kazare understood. ―Very well. Let us get you into this robe first…‖ She paused at the ugly bruises forming upon one of her breasts. ―Ah, Taloria, Bel. If I were not a servant here and under contract, I would make Ulthas eat his balls for this.‖ That brought a soft chuckle from Belkara. ―You would not.‖ Kazare looked her square in the eye, her mouth creased into a frown of outrage. ―I could, and would, Bel. I swear to you now, as long as I am here, he will not touch you again.‖ Belkara smiled and closed her eyes again. ―Thank you, Kazare. It…‖ she smiled, ―it almost makes you sound jealous.‖ To her amazement, Kazare realized she was right. ―No, I was not being jealous. I was just…‖ ―Do not say it,‖ she cut her off. ―You will ruin my moment. I rather like the notion. No one has ever has been jealous of me.‖ Her hand went to her temples, rubbing them gingerly. ―Do any of your balms work on headaches?‖ Kazare removed the torn tunic and was pulling her breeches off when she saw something that caught the breath in her throat. ―No, but…are these scars your father‘s handiwork as well?‖ There was a crisscrossing pattern of thin, white scars on both inner thighs. New cuts layered over old ones with the topmost scars still pink. None longer than her finger, the scars were very precisely layed down, too much so to be random. Without thinking, she reached out to touch them, sympathy blinding her judgment, and Belkara flinched, tightening her legs together. ―No, uhm…‖ she was suddenly flustered, embarrassed. ―Just an accident from when I was younger.‖ She was lying, but now was not the time to press the matter. pg. 49

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The scars were purposeful, likely from a blade, and if she had to guess, inflicted by Belkara herself. Self-loathing turned inward. She had seen it before, but not in such a soft and sensitive place. Sympathetic pangs quivered through her groin at the thought, and it suddenly came to her, a great sense of unease and trepidation. Belkara would die here in this tower. The fear and hate for everything around her, and above all for herself would lead to one end. Some day soon, not tomorrow or next moon, but in a season or two, the blade which marred that soft, luxuriant skin would find its way too deep, and the life would drain out of her. Worst of all, there was no one here that would mourn her passing. Kazare sighed, tying the soft, silk cord about the robe. She covered, Belkara in the rakdal fur and sat at her feet, placing them in her lap. ―What are you doing?‖ Belkara murmured. She smiled, rubbing a warming balm into her hands. ―A well known cure for headaches, at least in Telmizare. Just rest, Bel. You need to rest.‖ A smile quirked her sensuous mouth. ―You keep calling me Bel.‖ ―I know,‖ Kazare shook her head. ―I am being too—‖ ―No, no,‖ she sighed at the fingers kneading into her feet. ―I like it. Makes us seem more like…friends. Ah, Taloria!‖ She moaned at the touch of Kazare‘s fingers on her feet. ―You are good at that.‖ Kazare leaned back against the cushions, letting her hands instinctively do what they had been doing for eighteen seasons. More than just seems, Bel, she thought sadly, the growing sense of unfortunate fate creeping upon her. She realized then that she was going to break every rule a Tel lived by. She was going to interfere with the mission goal. The truth was going to be altered because it had to be. Something important was happening, but Kazare could not quite tell what it was. In time it would come to her. She knew it would, but regardless, the mission had changed. Somehow she was going to get Belkara out, and Taloria help her pg. 50

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for the consequences. Spiritstones: The crystal rock is common throughout the lands of Taloria. They grow within the many natural springs and underground caverns found in the kingdoms. Their benefit comes from the ability to absorb the ambient energy given off by all living things. It is common throughout most cultures to wear these stones in some fashion, usually as a necklace, where it will gather this lifeforce over time. For those adept at harnessing this energy, it allows for beneficial uses like healing, which is its most common purpose. Like all power, it can be used for bad as well as good. Trueshards are a unique item, formed by altering the internal crystalline structure of the spiritstone so that its innate effect is amplified to the point that it doesn‘t just absorb ambient life force, but actually draws upon it. It takes an unflawed spiritstone to do this, which is a very rare find. Belkara Arrador is the only one who can do this.

IV

Belkara sent her will into the shard, holding it between both her hands. The energy within the water helped her to focus it and the intricate structure of the stone‘s crystals came to light. Gathering up more strength she sent out the dark, probing fingers of her power, feeling her way through that structure, pushing, bending, until she realized that yet again, the stone was normal. Straightening up, Belkara reached over and set the stone in the basket sitting at the edge of the spring. It had been three moons since she had found one. They were coming along fewer and far between it seemed, and nobody was happy about it. Of course, for some reason she was at fault. She was doing it on purpose. She touched her swollen lip and winced. Damn you, father! Damn you to the fires of Chobelka! Tears of rage welled up in her again, but Belkara swallowed hard and fought them back down. Kazare was watching her, sitting idly on a bench by the tower door, offering a faint smile whenever pg. 51

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she glanced in her direction. She did not dare look that way now or she was sure she would burst into tears. Instead, Belkara shoved herself off the submerged stone seat and sank into the cool, dim glow of the spring. Remembering the feel of Kazare‘s small, firm hands as she applied her healing ointments to her wounds, Belkara gingerly touched her face again They had been the softest, gentlest hands. She had been genuinely concerned about her. It would have been so easy to just brush it off as selfish interest. Kazare was a Tel, sent here to gather information, but there was more. Even now she could feel something, sense Kazare up there watching, sense something from the power within the spring, not quite speaking to her, but whispering somewhere in the lonely depths of her spirit that Kazare was a friend. Even if she had selfish interests in being here, Belkara knew how precious that notion was, and how truly desperate she was to have a real friend. Such a short time, and Belkara knew without a doubt that Kazare was the best thing that had happened to her in the entire ten seasons she had been living within the wretched square of stone. Yet someday, tomorrow or a moon from now, Kazare would leave. The thought struck a chord of fear in Belkara that threatened to undo her. Could she make her stay? As much as she wanted too, she knew she could not. Her mother would. Her father would. She could not do that, be like them. It was the only thing she could do, since there was nothing else, nothing at all. Letting the tears wash away in the spring, Belkara pulled herself up out and headed for the tower door. ―What?‖ She paused, looking at Kazare. She was watching her, head tilted slightly to one side, an oddly pleasant expression on her face. After a moment, Kazare straightened up and snapped back from whatever far away place she had been. ―What?‖ She was too tired to bother, ―Nothing. Whatever you were thinking must have been pleasant.‖ She forced a smile, because she wanted to be able to smile at Kazare, and was rewarded with an embarrassing flush in her cheeks. Nice thoughts indeed. I wonder pg. 52

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if she has some lover back in Telmizare waiting for her? Kazare had hot tea waiting for her on the table, and Belkara tied off her robe, flopping down on the couch to pour herself some. Her head ached as it always did after attempting to find a trueshard, but even more so at the moment, in large part due to the fist her father. Closing her eyes, she sipped at the soothing tea, and let the blaze from the hearth warm her. Kazare joined her, laying the cherished rakdal fur across her legs. Kazare‘s presence warmed the soles of her feet, and the blissful memory of what she could do with her fingers down there had her sighing at the thought. ―Did you find any of the shards you were hoping for?‖ Kazare asked quietly. ―I do not hope for anything,‖ she said bitterly, the reply snapping forth before she could even think to contain it. ―I am sorry. I do not like to talk about the shards. Father and mother are the ones who hope. But no, they were all normal shards again.‖ She pulled the rakdal fur up to her chest and grabbed an ebro fruit from the table. ―Could you do that thing again to make this headache go away?‖ Kazare smiled, ―It is called centering, and yes, I can.‖ Belkara moaned softly at the fingers kneading into her feet, and drifted into a hazy, half dreamy slumber. The headache quickly began to melt away into a faint, dull throb. The whispers of Taloria chanted in beat with her headache, soft and insistent, and just beyond the limit of understanding. She grasped at them, wanting to know what she said, feeling it was important, but no amount of effort would bring them into focus, so finally she succumbed to the melodious drone, and the expert fingers that slowly began inching their way up her legs. The fingers burned with sweet, firm pressure on her tired muscles, climbing with slow, effortless skill up to her thighs. Belkara moaned again at the delicious feeling creeping through her, as those fingers climbed ever closer to the delicate heat between. With a start, Belkara snapped her eyes open and found Kazare pg. 53

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lying there, head on her thigh and her hands draped casually around her feet. Her breathing was deep with sleep. She wanted to laugh. Oh, Taloria! What was I thinking? She tried desperately to cling to the dreamy sensations, but they faded quickly. Was it her or Taloria‘s Shadow that was compelling that thought? She stared down at Kazare‘s sleeping face, the softly smiling, pouty lips and felt mildly embarrassed. What would Kazare say to that? She heard them through the balcony high above that looked down upon her little courtyard. Did Kazare like mother‘s bed games? The thought spoiled the sleepy, pleasant mood, so Belkara picked up the book of Esperian poetry she had been reading through the past several days, and enjoyed the feeling of Kazare lying against her, deftly ignoring the fact she knew the moment was fleeting and would never last. Nothing good could last in House Arrador.

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