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Covering her eyes with one hand, she crawled across the cold floor. Her knee suddenly pi
In the Farlands she'd worn everything from breeches and hand-me-down shirts to elven pants and tunics. The bulky robe was one more thing to which she hadn't readjusted. She finally reached out blindly for the door, but the latch clacked and the iron hinges grated softly. Something heavy struck her shoulder—the door, of course—and she toppled sideways with a g siways wirunt.
Shuffling footsteps followed, then a pause, and then an angry exhale. Someone grabbed her robe's collar and half dragged her across the room. Before she cried out, she was dropped into a sitting position upon the bed's edge.
"You obstinate little fool," his deep voice barked. "I have told you never to do this without my supervision."
Wy
"Open your eyes."
Wy
Colored blotches swam over everything. Then she made out the front of a midnight blue robe and dusky tan hands. She opened both eyes and stared up into the hard glower of Domin Ghassan il'Sänke.
He was tall for a Suman, and, standing so close, he towered over her. His short, glossy hair, the color of pure chocolate, waved slightly upon his forehead where it peeked from beneath the lip of his cowl. The barest flecks of silver showed in those locks. A straight but beaked nose separated his thick eyebrows above bright eyes with irises darker than his skin.
He had become a master among sages long before Wy
Domin Ghassan il'Sänke was garbed in midnight blue, for he belonged to the Order of Metaology.
As the smallest of the orders, and perhaps the most enigmatic, they focused upon the Realm of Existence. They gathered and recorded information concerning metaphysics and cosmology, cultural religions and myths, and even magic.
Il'Sänke made most young sages uncomfortable, even those attending his seminars given as a visiting domin of note. But not Wy
His mouth tightened, and he didn't look pleased.
Despite her state of suffering, Wy
"It's finished… finally?" she asked without even greeting him.
She reached for the bundle, ght the bubut il'Sänke grabbed it first.
"Premin Sykion will have harsh words," he said in his smooth accent, "when she sees the final accounting of resources and funds—at least those I listed. Then, of course, there's Premin Hawes."
Wy
Resting in the opened cloth was a six-sided crystal, pure and clear as polished glass. Two fingers in thickness, it was longer than her outstretched hand.
Wy
But nothing happened.
"Contain yourself!" il'Sänke chided. "Even when it is finished, friction's heat will not be enough to awaken the 'sun crystal.»
Wy
It didn't matter if il'Sänke thought her foolish, or that most sages here viewed him as a mysterious outsider. He had listened to her wild tales of the Farlands without judgment—the same tales that Domin High-Tower and others dismissed as nonsense. Many of her peers now viewed her as an outsider as well. Ironic, considering she'd grown up in this branch of the guild.
Staring into the lightless crystal was like looking at an open blank book. And across its unmarred pages she could see words she didn't wish to write.
Not names, places, and events of her time in the Farlands, but words for the fear that made her desperate for il'Sänke to finish what she'd asked from him.
Years ago as an apprentice she'd taken leave of her home to follow her master, Domin Tilswith. They traversed their continent and crossed the eastern ocean to the Farlands, where Domin Tilswith intended to found a new guild branch in the city of Bela. The prospect had been thrilling, and she'd been pleased with this adventure—until the day her life tangled with two hardened strangers and a dog. In that city, Magiere, Leesil, and Chap had come to the old barracks, claiming to be hunting an upír.
A vampire, in their language—one of what they called the undead… the Noble Dead.
All too soon Wy
Hidden within an ancient castle, it was guarded by a female vampire so old that she'd forgotten the sound of spoken words. Li'kän had waited there for a thousand years or more, and was perhaps one of the first Noble Dead of the world.
In that place locked in ice and snow, Wy
She accepted willingly but with sadness at leaving her old master—as well as others she might never see again.
Magiere, Leesil, and Chap had sailed with her, bringing the orb. The ocean voyage was long, and traveling the middle continent even longer and more dangerous. The entire journey encompassed the better part of a year. Her friends remained by her side until the city of her childhood was within sight—then they parted ways, to Wy
She'd thought they were bringing the orb to her guild's home branch, at least to seek counsel from her superiors. But something had changed along the way, something she hadn't been told—and which had likely been all Chap's doing. He, Magiere, and Leesil were to take the orb into hiding, someplace safe from those who might still seek it out.
Wy