Deviant Sorcery, for Taryn; others request to enter

[Ričle]

Aurelius Pendragon, Conclave-certified Master of Earth Magic, who some long time ago graduated twenty-third in a class of twenty-five students from the Beara College of Magic in the Kingdom of the Winds, now wanderer of lands and occasional mage for hire (when it suited him), sat atop a hill overlooking the eastern road that headed into the village of Illan. A southwest wind blowing from the distant coast swept his uncut, unkempt greying hair back behind his shoulders, and dried his bright blue eyes as he stared down upon the old dirt road.

A hundred meters below him, amidst the swirls of dry summer dust, walked a young, brown-haired, red-cloaked mage on his way eastward towards the village. The youth carried himself with the naďve confidence of one who believes himself ready for the challenge of the world before him, and walked with almost an eager rhythm to his step despite the long distance he had traveled on foot from the city. The sage wizard allowed a half-smirk to creep across his face as he recalled with a mischievous nostalgia his own first months away from the College.

The boy was in for more trouble than he knew. Especially if he had anything to do with it.

Not wanting to miss the rendezvous with his new potential acquaintance, the wizard shifted his reins and squeezed his legs against the sides of the old grey draft horse who, until now, had been dozing placidly beneath him. The horse, who was perfectly content to take a mid-afternoon nap with a breeze blowing across his face, pinned his ears and remained still.

Aurelius growled under his breath. "Now listen, ya ruddy Dragon! We've had this discussion before. I am the rider, and you, oh high-and-mighty four-legged beast of burden, will do as I say! Now get a move on! I have no intention of taking longer to arrive in Illan than a pompous, pipsqueak pyromaniac apprentice who is walking on foot! Now, YAA, beastie! YAA!"

The horse, who ignored and actually slept through the majority of his rider's ranting and staff-waving, awakened and grudgingly budged his feet when the bipedal nuisance upon his back began kicking his sides incessantly. They lumbered their way slowly downhill and along the backtrails, the wizard humming or whistling to himself all the way to Illan.

-----------

A strategically fortuitous feature of the little village of Illan was that it only had one inn, and one tavern beneath it. Aurelius, it so happened, had stayed at the Dusty Traveler on occasion during his travels eastward, and had a room reserved there for the night. He settled himself into an uncomfortable wooden chair at a table in the tavern's common room, enjoyed a mug of ale that some extra coin had assured was slightly better than the standard swill, and allowed his mind to drift into a daze as the alcohol diffused pleasantly into his bloodstream.

He was in such a state when the young fire mage entered the tavern, and he paid the youth absolutely no notice. Though Aurelius was a mage himself his traveling robes were rather old and not cut in the current style, and certainly not flamboyant enough to attract any particular attention. His staff, also, was as plain as an everyday walking-stick, and most ordinary folk would consider him simply a middle-aged man of their same ilk. So, he did not expect the lad to recognize him as a fellow mage, and rather thought that he would be ignored in favor of the hot food and lovely young barmaids that were serving the hot food.

Which, in fact, were also distracting Aurelius's eyes. A particularly bare-chested young barmaid leaned very far over his table to place a platter of food before him. Aurelius smiled charmingly, and reached up as if to brush a stray lock of hair from the side of his face, instead pulling a flower seemingly from behind her ear. It appeared the same as the sleight-of-hand trick where one bends the hand in such a way to pull a flower from one's sleeve. Except, of course, that there had been no flower in Aurelius's sleeves.

"Thank you, miss Mary," he said. "Such lovely service, as always." The girl blushed, and held out her hand to accept the rose, along with the payment for his meal which he placed into her hand. She smiled sweetly, and Aurelius had no idea whether she was being sincere, or baiting him in order to make some extra coin from his obvious eagerness. He didn't particularly care, one way or the other. "Is there anything else I can get for you, sir?" she asked.

"Ah, the pleasure of your fine company is enough for me," he said, his eyes twinkling. But as she pulled away, smelling the aroma of the fresh-cut rose he'd given her, a near-empty ale mug slammed down upon the table next to Aurelius. He watched the expression on the barmaid's face change from pleased to worried, and the woman suddenly froze, worried and uncertain what to do. Aurelius looked up at the man casually and addressed him politely, though he had a distant glaze over his eyes, "Something I can help you with, sir?"

The stranger sniffed, and drunkenly scratched the stubble on his wiry chin. Someone from a table behind them shouted "Leave it alone, Bill!" but there were agitated murmurs of disagreement that followed. The man leaned close to Aurelius, he smelled of tobacco, sweat, and stale brew. "Well, I dunno about that," he said. "It seems to me you were making a move on my girl."

"Now, I wouldn't be too worried about that," said Aurelius, nonchalantly. "I merely gave the pretty lady a flower. No harm done."

"I don't quite see it that way," said the man, who was now leaning closer. Aurelius was becoming keenly aware of the other man's bulk and close proximity. He leaned backwards in an attempt to put some distance between them, but this small action broke a fragile tension that the stranger had built between them. He reached out and grabbed Aurelius by the cloak, and with his immense strength lifted the older man and threw him upon the floor. In an instant every man in the bar was on his feet; several coming to Aurelius's rescue, but more of them standing behind their drunken and angered comrade. The girl had fled to the kitchens.

Aurelius looked at the large mob of angry men behind the stranger who seemed to have taken a strong dislike to him, and the much smaller mob that was facing them. It took less than seconds for the shouting to proceed to open fighting, and Aurelius reflected that he would be lucky if the drunken stranger's friends didn't tear him limb from limb once they got through with the others.

Oh, dear.

[Taryn]

The journey to Illan had been long and at times, arduous for Taryn. Whilst he had not run into any specific trouble per se, he had discovered just how alarmingly quickly coin seemed to run through his fingers now that he was long out of Beara. Everything cost so much money – and he felt a pang of extreme guilt at the fact that he’d barely had to pay for a meal for years. The College at Beara was extraordinarily generous to its students in terms of food and lodging, something he only now came to appreciate. More than one evening had been spent camped out in an abandoned shepherd’s hut, or when the weather permitted, under the stars. Taryn was never cold. His inner fires saw to that. In so many respects, the young elemental mage was extraordinarily set apart from his fellow men.

But like any normal man, he occasionally grew weary of the vagabond lifestyle that seemed to have become his. He had made a promise that the next village he came upon he would avail himself of the hostelry. He would sleep in a bed, he would eat off a plate – perhaps even using cutlery...Taryn laughed at himself without much humour as he realised just how used he’d gotten to the outdoors life in such a small space of time that the idea of eating with cutlery seemed delightful.

He remained curious as to just why it was that trouble had not found him as of yet. Everyone at the College had been absolutely sure to emphasise just how dangerous the world outside the city of Beara actually was, but he’d not experienced anything other than one rogue would-be thief who had tried to steal Taryn’s belongings one night when he had been forced to camp in the open. That poor fellow had been left in quite literal searing agony as he howled at the moon like some enraged beast shortly after his right hand had caught fire.

Yes. Youthful and innocent Taryanderon Weaver Pallerion, son of Anderon Weaver, son of Tarydon Weaver, Grateful Apprentice to the Fourth Elemental House, Disciple of the Spirit of Flame, Student to Fire Master Pallerion ap Scerra, Glorious Leader of the School of Fire of the Beara College of Magic could most certainly pack a punch when the occasion arose. He had calmly collected up his belongings, shoved the screaming man into a convenient bush and continued on his way without even so much as a backward glance. The felon would suffer little more than a dent to his pride: the flames even now consuming his flesh were illusory enough that he wouldn’t suffer much in the way of burn damage.

Some, yes. But not much.

For the gregarious, friendly Taryn, the hardest thing to adapt to was the loneliness of his travels. A popular young man both at the College and in the frowned-upon areas of Low Town back in Beara, he was used to having someone to talk to at all times and over the past days had slipped without any sort of real awareness into the habit of talking to himself.

When he finally got in distance of Illan, when he had passed the signpost declaring the village to be a bare two miles from his current position, the slouch left his shoulders, his spine straightened, a lightness came into his heart and he re-assumed the arrogant bearing so appropriate to a young Master of the Flame.

Conclave member or not.

-------

The Dusty Traveler was not only very welcomed, it seemed almost prophetic to the road-weary Taryn as he slid into an empty seat with something akin to delight. His eyes passed once or twice around the common room, briefly settling on a middle-aged fellow with greying hair who was flirting outrageously with a barmaid probably young enough to be his daughter. Taryn allowed a brief smile to flicker across his lips. He’d often said that he had no plans to ever give up the glorious sport that was flirting. That would be him in a few year’s time, assuming he wasn’t dead by then.

The barmaid who approached him was red-haired, with a sweet, heart-shaped face that was more cute than attractive. Her artfully laced bodice did little to disguise the swell of her breasts and as she moved closer he caught the unmistakable scent of cinnamon from her. It called instantly to mind warm, winter fires and gingerbread and he felt a moment of homesickness.

“What can I get you, sir?” Her voice was soft, even a little shy and Taryn instinctively suspected that she was new to this job. Closer examination revealed her to be barely out of childhood and he felt the usual sense of protectiveness that came over him whenever he found himself around young women of that age. Whilst he was a younger brother, Master Pallerion had often joked that Taryn was gifted with ‘big brother’ instincts: a natural need to protect those younger and more vulnerable than he was. It was no bad thing, but it did curb his initial urge to flirt with the young woman.

“Tankard of your finest ale,” he said with a warm rather than flirtatious smile, “and maybe a plate of something to eat. And a room for the night if one is available.”

“Aye, sir,” she nodded, smiled and then looked awkward. “And if there’s anything else you need...um...ask for me, my name is Lucy.”

Taryn felt a brief surge of annoyance that a woman so young and sweet as Lucy was effectively trying to sell herself to him. Attuned to his moods as always, several nearby candles flared briefly and the fire in the central fireplace sputtered sparks. “Thank you, Lucy,” he said, softly. “I’ll bear that in mind.” Seemingly from nowhere, he pressed a coin into her hand. She looked down at it and gazed back up at him, confused.

“What’s this for?”

“Don’t you want it?”

“Yes, but...”

“Then don’t ask about it.” Taryn winked at her and the tension seemed to flow out of her. She gave him a sweet smile and disappeared to fulfil his order whilst he sat back, unfastened his red cloak and began his customary observation of the goings-on around him.

When, unexpectedly, the fighting broke out, Taryn was on his feet in an instant. He’d been around bar brawls before – indeed, the hot-tempered young man had been guilty of starting more than one – and snatched up his cloak. His eyes darted over the situation, assessing what had happened, applying logic and reason as he had been taught, and then his gaze fell once more on the steely-haired man he had witnessed earlier.

Everything fell neatly into place. How many times had he, Taryn, been in that particular situation?

The bartender, a rotund little man who barely came up to Taryn’s chest was standing next to him, wringing his hands anxiously. He glanced up at Taryn and gave a nervous, hopeful smile.

“You look like a strong lad – is there anything you can do to stop them?”

Taryn considered. He looked over at the burly crowd and gave a rueful grin.

“I suspect they’ve gone beyond stopping, my friend – I’d suggest you move in for damage limitation at this point. Don’t worry though. I’ll do what I can.” Without setting your inn on fire, that is, he added, mentally.

Whilst his primary training had been in the School of Fire, Taryn was well-gifted in all the elemental schools, just one of the things that had constantly set him apart from his peers, and it was with no effort whatsoever that he reached into his magical depths, and spoke soft, arcane words that sent one man flying backwards. He hit the wall, stunned but largely unhurt. It had the effect of temporarily breaking up the fight as the mob all turned around to figure out where the attack had come from.

“It were him! He’s a mage, look at him!”

Ah. Perhaps not quite the best of responses. Taryn swallowed briefly, calmly put his cloak back on and stood his ground. Several of the mob, grateful for the distraction, fled the tavern, reducing the brawl considerably, but now far too many eyes were on Taryn for his comfort.

Stay calm.

“Evening, lads,” he said, his tone neutral. “Bit early for killing one another, don’t you think?”

How not to make friends, by Taryanderon Pallerion Weaver.

[Ričle]

Oh, yeah. Fresh into the world, this one. And about as dense as they get.

Aurelius's eyes narrowed slightly as he concentrated on a spell, and all of the furniture in the room suddenly levitated at least a meter into the air. It hovered still for a moment, mostly for effect, and the mob of men descending upon Taryn hesitated for a moment as they eyed the looming furniture with trepidation. Then, before they could react, the furniture began swinging and dancing through the air, and collided with the now scrambling and fleeing members of the mob with what could only be described as practiced accuracy. With no place remaining to take shelter within the tavern, the men headed with remarkable speed and clamor for the door, and were gone with satisfying haste.

The furniture set itself down exactly where it belonged, and the room grew oddly quiet. Aurelius got to his feet, brushing the dust from the floor off of his robes, and walked over to the young red-cloaked mage. He reflected that perhaps the youth was expecting a 'thank you' for his help, or praise on his adept use of magic in causing the bullies to flee. Aurelius, however, had other thoughts in mind.

"Idiot!" he scolded, reprimanding young Taryn harshly. "What did you think you were doing? Walking in here with that absurdly obvious cloak, and that stud in your ear? Are you mad? These are farmers, lad! Have you spent so long in that damned city that you forgot what life is like for an everyday person? Throwing people against walls and making furniture dance about, I ask you! How many of these lot do you think have seen something like that before? They'll have the law in here in minutes - less! A rogue mage trying to kill us all, they'll say! Do you have any idea how long that'll take to straighten out? There's no guild representative here in Illan, you'll spend half the week in that lawman's jail until they can verify your standing. And even then a report will have to be submitted - is that what you want your Master reading about your accomplishments in the world? Think a little before you rush into things, boy!"

As he spoke, the older man grabbed the collar of Taryn's cloak and dragged him out the back, taking care not to let him get a word in edgewise. Oddly, the food on both his and Taryn's plates had vanished sometime during their conversation. "Come with me, we'd best get you out of here. I was going to enjoy a nice hot meal and a warm bed, maybe even a sharing of the warm bed... but noooo, I end up rescuing your scrawny magical butt from a lynching. Wonderful way to spend an evening, just wonderful."

Aurelius continued his ranting as they headed into the tiny stable, where the man's old gray horse was saddled and tied next to a fine young bay gelding, who was also saddled and waiting. The old horse looked displeased to see his owner, as no doubt this meant he had to carry him even farther down the road today, and seemed as though he might bite Taryn if the youth strayed too close. Aurelius untied his mount and placed his left foot in the stirrup, and took three heaving bounds to actually lift himself upon the animal's back. He settled himself in the saddle and then looked expectantly down at Taryn, who was left standing next to the other horse. "Well? Are you coming or not?"

-----------------------

The older man and the reluctant gray horse led the way down the dusty road as the sun sank behind them in the west. Aurelius seemed to be enjoying his new companion greatly; at least, he was incessantly prattling on about the virtue of subtlety and how Taryn seemed to have no grasp of the concept whatsoever. "And for goodness sake, take that ridiculous cloak off and that stud out of your ear. Someone could spot you from miles away! Honestly, you'd think you were trying to gain a reputation as a red-cloaked calamity."

After an hour or two of riding Aurelius declared that they were suitably far from the village of Illan, and led them off onto a side road that skirted between several old ranches and farms. They found what appeared to be someone's old gardening shack, but despite the rickety state of the structure the ground was soft and the walls kept the wind out, and it was thus declared good enough to spend the night in. Aurelius allowed Taryn to light them a cooking fire, and at some point when Taryn was distracted seeing to his own needs their meals from the tavern somehow reappeared on pans above the fire. They soon began to steam beautifully under Aurelius's tender care.

"Ahh, now we're getting somewhere! If only that nice barmaid would appear atop my bedroll after supper, this night wouldn't be so bad after all!" Aurelius handed Taryn his re-heated dinner, and began digging in to his own. "So lad," he said, his mouth half-full of stew, "Tell me about yourself. I've been known to talk a bit much when I have company - which isn't terribly often - and dinner's usually a good opportunity to get a word in. What's your name?"

[Taryn]

Things happened almost ridiculously fast for Taryn. One minute he was standing there facing the potential wrath of a group of villagers, the next the man with the greying hair had all but hauled him bodily out of the tavern, something which on a deep-down, very basic level he objected to on principle. First of all, he was perfectly capable of walking by himself, secondly, he hadn't even finished his first beer and thirdly...

Thirdly disappeared into the chaos as the man burst into a lecture on the 'do's and don'ts' of travelling, something which Taryn had heard time and again from his former Master.

However, he further discovered, as the man continued to haul him away from the terrified villagers, that getting a word in edgeways was proving to be insanely difficult.

Once he had finally been released from the older man's grip, Taryn straightened himself up, brushed down his cloak and stood proudly, his arms folded across his chest. He had no intention of pretending to be something he was not. He was proud of what he was.

When the other man had mounted his horse and had looked expectantly at him, Taryn had hesitated. There was one thing revealing your heritage to a group of village idiots, there was another to trust a complete stranger enough to ride off into the night with them. However, Taryn had long been a creature of instinct and something felt fundamentally right about this man, bad-tempered and crotchety though he may have seen.

In his youth, before moving permanently to Beara, Taryn had been a good rider and although he was largely out of practise, he mounted the gelding with easy and followed his new companion out of the stable, reluctantly glancing back as he tried to put thoughts of a feather mattress and soft, female curves next to him out of his mind.

-------

The man continued to scold as they rode from Illan, insulting Taryn's choice of appearance, generally lecturing the hell out of him and yet he still didn't make any effort to interject. He found, oddly, that there was something strangely comforting in the one-sided conversation after the days of lonely travel. He let the other man get the moment out of his system and then, a couple of hours after they had left Illan, they dismounted and set up a cooking fire for the night.

The old shack was not dissimilar to many of the other passing structures that Taryn had bedded down in recently and he couldn't help but wrinkle his nose slightly in reluctance as they settled down to eat and rest. He obligingly lit a fire with no effort other than quite literally a snap of his fingers, then disappeared briefly out into the night to answer a call of nature. When he returned, their meals from the tavern in Illan had miraculously appeared out of nowhere and for the first time since meeting his talkative companion, a huge grin appeared on Taryn's face.

He settled down to eat his own stew, nodding approvingly as he chewed on it.

Finally the man addressed him directly, talking to him rather than at him. He swallowed the mouthful of stew and responded in an amiable tone. He grinned at the man's comment regarding the barmaid and pushed aside his own wistful thoughts on the matter.

"Taryn Pallerion Weaver," he said. "Elemental School of the Flame, if you hadn't guessed that much already." It was most definitely the condensed version of his full title: the stranger obviously had no idea that Taryn was a Master of the College himself, presumably considering that the young man was still embedded firmly in his schooling. He saw no reason to expand on that issue at this time. "I'm guessing you're of no small talent yourself? I'm also guessing that you also have a name, if you're prepared to share it with me."

[Ričle]

Aurelius could tell that the boy wasn't paying attention to a word he was saying. He smiled inwardly, understanding that Taryn was of the sort who needed to actually get into trouble in order to learn the lesson; he couldn't glean it from listening to someone's advice. That was all right, though it was still fun to bore the lad to death. Aurelius had been the same when he was Taryn's age, and he knew that wisdom came with time... and many, many bruises. All of that trouble-making would come eventually. With any luck, some of it would happen while Aurelius was around to watch.

The older mage nodded at the lad's name, his expression showing no hint of interest or recognition. Internally, however, he was calling up the vague image of Master Pallerion, whom he remembered as a former colleague at the school. It was strange, and a little unsettling, to be reconnected with that place, even indirectly, for Aurelius had been going out of his way for years to avoid it altogether. He had never been fond of the college, with their political scheming and their self-important attitudes. Still, necessity was necessity, and Taryn... well... Aurelius needed him. That is, assuming he wasn't quite as dumb as he looked.

"Who, me?" he replied between bites of his dinner. "Talent? I know a few tricks, I suppose. Honestly, I'd rather have my nose stuck in a book than bother to make a teacup hover in midair. My name is Aurelius, though everyone calls me Arthur... I suppose because it's shorter, or because the other just never seemed to fit very well."

Aurelius - or Arthur, as he likes to be called - smiled to himself a little at his own reticence. He wondered why the boy wasn't showing more curiosity about his background... or, anger about blaming Taryn for the hovering furniture. Was the boy really going to let him get away with that much? Granted, Arthur's story was a long and tiresome one, and he wasn't about to reveal the more interesting bits to a mage he'd only just met that afternoon. Suppose Taryn gleaned what Arthur was up to, and then went back to the college and prattled everything to his colleagues? That simply wouldn't do; they would ruin everything. It was best if the boy remained ignorant of Arthur's plan, at least until he proved himself... and certainly until he had a better understanding of what was going on.

To say that Arthur had his own doubts was a vast understatement. Not about the boy, for he considered his meeting with Taryn a fortuitous encounter, and was relieved that perhaps something about his task was at last going right. And, after all, if Taryn didn't prove to be what Arthur was looking for, he could find another mage affiliated with the college who might be willing to do what he asked. But fixing the problem that Arthur had been sent to tackle was going to take a great deal of planning, guts, and luck of the gods. The mage was spending much of his nights lying awake, contemplating his strategy, and how he might have to deal with the possible outcomes. What he knew so far was that, no matter what alternative came to pass, the journey ahead was going to be exceedingly difficult.

"Elemental School of the Flame, is it? Yes, yes, that does make sense." Arthur nodded to himself, his thoughts whizzing at a rapid speed, wondering how he might delve into this young lad's character, and gain a hint of the mettle that lay underneath? Eventually, and following several more bites of his dinner, he posed his next question. "So tell me then, young Taryn, what ambitions have you in the wide world, outside this school of yours? This foray to the east seems a bit... extracurricular, for the Masters to have suggested it themselves... if you don't mind my saying so."

[Taryn]

Taryn found himself unexpectedly warming to his companion as they exchanged carefully worded responses to one another. He could sense that Arthur, as his new comrade had now introduced himself could tell that he, Taryn, was also not being perhaps as forthcoming with his responses as he could otherwise be.

He smiled briefly at Arthur's question regarding his ambitions, but there was no humour in it.

"I do not know if you recall Master Belamin at all - he is now head of the Conclave in Beara, and I am afraid the animosity he bore to my Master remains intact. Unfortunately, as Pallerion's former...uh...as Pallerion's apprentice, I bear the brunt of that same distrust." Taryn stared into the fire briefly and idly caused the flames to twirl together in a spiral dance. "Those of the House of Earth have little love for the School of Flame I fear. And our numbers grow ever smaller. There has been no student accepted into the School of Flame now for some months."

He released his magical will and the fire died back down again. He was unable to keep the bitterness and underlying anger from his voice as he continued. He was not guarded with his words at all, making the spontaneous decision that he had potentially found an ally and it would probably do far more good than harm to be up-front and honest.

"In truth, friend Arthur, Belamin seeks to excommunicate the School of Flame. He seeds the rumour that we practise black magic, that our numbers are dwindling because our powers are too great. All so much political nonsense of course, but Belamin is head of the Conclave and unfortunately, many of those mages who sit in session take his word as law. Pallerion is old and failing. I am the next in line to take his place as head of the School of Flame, but I am not sure I wish to." He looked up at Arthur and his expression was fierce. "It would put me in a position where Belamin could control me. I seek to remove myself from the educational element of the school and take a place on the Conclave instead."

The one-and-twenty mages who sat on the Conclave were the political and diplomatic arm of the school of mages in Beara and held in extremely high regard. Although they had an elected head, they were - supposedly, at least - all held at equal levels of respect and all decision making was based on unanimous vote. For any individual to seek a place on the Conclave, he (or indeed, she - although female Conclave members were rare) had to be either a mage of some talent - or at least have considerable financial backing. Despite his fine red cloak, Taryn's clothes did not look particularly fine, although they were clean and clearly well cared for.

"Belamin does not want me on the Conclave," he continued. "We...debated the issue for some time and he said that only my successful ability to go on a quest of some sort would convince him of both my integrity and true desire to sit on the Conclave."

A half-smile came onto the young man's face and he absently reached up to fiddle with the red stud in his ear. He had forgotten, what with one thing and another, that he had replaced the gold stud of the apprentice with the red stud of a master until that moment, and he realised even as he played with the earring that his attempt to pretend he was still an apprentice had all been for nought. Arthur would have to have noticed it. His smile grew wider, but again there was no humour there, only self deprecation at his own oversight.

"So, to quote Master Belamin himself, I will be 'returning triumphant and bringing him proof of the Elder Mages'." Taryn sighed and his hand dropped back into his lap. "Of course, I have no idea exactly how I'm going to do that, but the opportunity to travel was too much to resist. Master Pallerion is convinced I will die in the attempt, I am convinced I will not and Belamin seems afraid of me." He shrugged his shoulders easily and let out a breath.

"And that," he said, leaning back on his hands, "is my story. Now perhaps you would tell me something about you and your penchant for causing furniture to idly float around."

[Ričle]

Arthur nodded at Taryn's explanation, listening patiently to the younger mage's story. He seemed unsurprised by most of the tale, though a strange expression crossed his face when Taryn mentioned the Conclave. The gleam in Arthur's eyes was gone in seconds, with no sign that it had been there, and the man returned to staring softly and pensively into his mug of tea. Arthur continued listening until Taryn had finished, and seemed to ignore the lad's question about his background. Instead he rubbed the stubble on his chin and stared intently into the fire, his thoughts leagues away and busy adding pieces to the giant puzzle that was building itself inside his mind.

At length Arthur's attention returned to his companion, and he smiled. He stood and walked the few paces over to Dragon's saddlebags, and spent several moments digging through a hodgepodge of packed goods until he located a dusty, moth-eaten old pouch. He opened it, and withdrew a small jewel, which he tossed nonchalantly to Taryn. It was a stud much like Taryn's ruby, only amber. "That was long, long ago. They didn't like me much back then, and I imagine they still wouldn't... assuming they knew I still existed. My master barely conceded to give it to me, I think the decision was more to get me out of his hair than for any particular accomplishment. At the time I was mostly just a disappointing waste of space. Or, at least they saw it that way. I've hardly worn the thing since I got it. Better not to, out here."

Arthur waited for Taryn to hand the jewel back, and returned it gently to its pouch. "So, the Elder Mages, is it? I wonder what Belamin's interest in them is." Arthur appeared to be thinking out loud, and sat himself back down next to the fire across from Taryn. "I suppose he might see them as a threat; they never have got along well with the college... or the Conclave, for that matter. Different school of thought, you see. That's a dangerous mission you've taken on, lad. Approaching the Elder Mages and bringing back information to Belamin isn't likely to make you very popular in certain circles, and the company is far from friendly out here."

"Still," he continued, after taking a sip of his tea, "I suppose there are other ways to go about it. Belamin's probably betting that you'll get yourself killed or burnt out approaching the Elder Mages. But there's really no reason for you to take Belamin's side... especially as it seems he's out to ensure you won't be a threat to him. There are other ways to go about influencing the world besides playing into Belamin's hands or offending the Elder Mages. They might be willing to consider you an ally, though they have their own purpose in the scheme of things. A difficult choice, I'd say, but up to you in the end."

Arthur wondered to himself whether placing these thoughts in young Taryn's head was a bit much, but he consciously kept his opinions to himself and truly wasn't trying to bias his new friend. He needed to see what opinions Taryn formed for himself, once he knew more about the situation, and it wouldn't do to make the lad suspicious from the start. Not everyone in the kingdom held with the ideals of the college and the Conclave, and it seemed that Taryn was determinedly on his way to learning what the varying parties were. And, why they were ready to be done with ignoring each other.

The gray-haired man shook his head a little, and seemed to come out of his deep train of thoughts. "Good grief, listen to me, rambling on into obscurity. Here I am going on about eventual outcomes and you know nothing about the details. At least, assuming they teach the same about these things as when I was in college... which is to say, absolutely nothing? Right, well, we'll get to that eventually. Some things it's easier to show than to explain. In any case, what say we strike a bargain? You help me out with my little task, and I'll help you with yours. I need a strapping young lad with a stud in his ear and registered guild papers - you do have papers? - and you obviously need someone with knowledge of the Elder Mages. It seems our quests are compatible ones, at least for the moment."

[Taryn]

Taryn demonstrated a surprising aptitude for paying attention; partially a product of the long years of study where young mages learned very swiftly the penalties for interrupting the more impatient teachers. Taryn had received any number of cuffs around the back of the head for his tendency to question everything. As Arthur spoke, he found himself drawn into the older man's tale with great interest.

When the amber ear stud was produced, however, he felt a sinking moment of uncertainty and briefly interrupted the flow of conversation.

"Earth mage?" the young man said, obvious reticence creeping into his tone. "You are an Earth mage and you have let me sit here and insult your Head of Order, the man who is seemingly striving to do all in his power to remove the Order of the Flame from the Citadel?"

Arthur's continued tale, however, settled his initial concerns and he returned to listening intently - perhaps even more so now given that it seemed his new companion was something of an outcast. What Arthur knew - or at least professed to know about the Elder Mages - was invaluable to him, to the success or failure of his appointed mission and it unsettled him to think that Belamin genuinely saw sending Taryn away on such an 'errand' would be the most subtle way of signing the boy's execution papers.

"In honesty, my friend - I trust you do not mind me calling you this? - I confide in you now that I have no interest in taking Belamin's side. I never have been. I was 'prenticed early on to Master Pallerion and learned much of Belamin's character and in particular some of his less than heroic actions during the course of the Wars so many years ago." He frowned, checking himself. "Forgive my insulting one of your order, Arthur, but he led several of the Citadel of Flame, and many of those of the Tower of Air to their deaths due to poor judgement in the Battle of Oramoor. He himself acknowledges that he could have planned it better."

Running a hand through his hair, he calmed the rising anger he felt. Curse Belamin for implanting him with this natural dislike of the leader of the Conclave. Without the ability to trust Belamin's guidance and leadership, Taryn would never trust Belamin himself - and Belamin had made it very clear, through action rather than words, that he cared not one iota for the welfare and continue existence of Taryn Weaver.

"Oh, I have papers all right," said Taryn with what was clearly a genuine smile. He reached into one of his pouches and handed it over. "I hope what you read there does not disappoint you over much."

The papers were sealed with the official seal of the College and stated, quite clearly, that Taryn was no apprentice, but a fully fledged master mage in his own right. It was unusual for such a young man to be so titled, but not unheard of.

"Let us say that I am interested in discussing our possible partnership further," he said. "You have made it very evident that I have some use for you and you have information and knowledge that could be the making of me. What exactly is it that you feel I can provide a man such as yourself with?"

[Ričle]

Arthur waved aside Taryn's apology and drained the last of his tea. "Insult away, lad. I've no particular attachment or loyalty to my order, and I must say I've formulated the steadfast opinion that Belamin is an idiot." Arthur's blue eyes twinkled in the firelight in response to his own frankness. It seemed as though he wanted to say more, but he held back his words. "But that, I think, is a topic for another day." He reached out and took the papers Taryn offered, and spared them a brief glance before passing them back. While in truth they were quite impressive, Arthur had no intention of allowing that fact to go to the lad's head any more than it obviously had already. "Yes, yes, that's perfectly adequate," he replied, taking care to appear indifferent.

"What can you provide? Well that's very simple, really." Arthur pulled out his bedroll and began to prepare for bed, stuffing his spare clothes underneath for a pillow and wrapping his cloak around himself as an extra blanket. "A registered mage can pass into a great many places that an outcast like me couldn't possibly enter. Your rank means that certain guilds and members of kingdom nobility who are affiliated with the Conclave will trust you. As for the reasons behind it - which I'm sure you're naturally eager to question - well, it's as I said. Some things are better shown than explained. You'll find yourself in the center of everything, that I promise, and I'd say there's no better way to learn the true nature of what you want to know. And, in the end, what you choose to do with that knowledge is up to you."

Arthur yawned loudly, and leaned back to settle in for the night. "Now then, Master Fire Mage sir, I assume that an individual of such vast talent as yourself can manage to keep that fire going through the night? Very good, very good... have a good rest then..." and within moments the mage had rolled over and was breathing softly; fast asleep.

The next morning, Arthur continued to lead them eastward across the countryside. As the sun grew high and neared its zenith they came upon a well-used dirt road and turned to follow it. They passed many travelers as they walked, and soon they came upon a small town bustling with farmers and merchants.

"Well then, young Taryn, I suggest we take care of our first order of business. Now, I understand the need for urgency from yesterday, but that horse you stole from the Inn is likely to attract unwanted attention if you continue to ride it." Arthur nodded at Taryn's mount. While it had been conveniently saddled and tied beside Dragon the previous day - and its owner had been conveniently absent likely due to the flying furniture - it was in fact neither Arthur's horse nor Taryn's. Arthur had allowed Taryn to assume that it had been Arthur's, but seeing as it made absolutely no sense for an outcast mage to have a spare mount it had really been Taryn's error not to question the ownership of the beast in the first place.

Arthur chuckled to himself. Taryn would learn. Following Arthur, that learning was likely to occur sooner rather than later. And with a bit more excitement attached to it.

"I think I'm going to head to the tavern for a midday ale. What say I meet you on the far side of town in..." Arthur thought to himself for a moment, "...an hour or so?" That should give him enough time to get a barmaid upon his lap for a good fondling or two. "Purchase this one properly now, we don't want anyone after us for horse thieving in addition to everything else we're going to do. Take that stud out of your ear and stash that cloak somewhere, unless you want to pay triple price for the beastie. Check it's teeth to be sure it's not too old, and its feet to be sure it's sound. And for pity's sake don't sell the one you have now, or you'll be breaking more laws than you'll care to know about. Give it away or turn it loose, whichever pleases you better."

He then turned Dragon and kicked him grandly in the sides, sending him into a semi-uncontrolled gallop down the road and straight into the middle of the town. "Tally ho!" he shouted eagerly. A woman carrying a box of turnips had to dodge out of the way to avoid being run over by the ale-bound mage. Within moments, Arthur was gone around a corner, leaving Taryn sitting on the stolen horse in a cloud of dust kicked up by Dragon's hooves.

[Taryn]

Taryn did, in fact, keep the fire burning throughout the night, but this was largely in part because he failed entirely to sleep. He dozed once or twice, but found that he was unsettled by the turn of events. Not by Arthur, not at all – he rather liked the older man. Arthur seemed like the kind of man who would speak his mind, the kind of man to whom pussy footing around an issue was not an option – and to Taryn’s way of thinking, there was far too much of that going on in the College. The mages and their various orders were under very real threats, from both without and within – but many of them would not - or could not see it.

Thus, with morning came a decidedly less jovial and bouncy Taryn than had been introduced to Arthur the previous night. Devoid of sleep, the handsome young mage had shadows beneath his eyes and a pale cast to his skin that betrayed his claim that he had slept well. He was anxious and obviously jumpy, far less loquacious than he had been.

He was glad to get back on the horse for, despite not being the greatest of horsemen and despite the terrible ache he had gotten in his thighs from their ride yesterday, it was entirely preferable to walking. He kept pace with Arthur relatively well, only falling back on a couple of occasions and once needing Arthur’s help to reverse the animal out of a patch of nettles where it had gone to contentedly chew on the grass there. Probably aware that it was being ridden by an inexperienced rider, Taryn couldn’t help but think that the horse was mocking him just ever so slightly.

They arrived, in due course, at a town where Arthur made the startling revelation that the smart-alec horse upon which he rode was, in fact, stolen property. This news made Taryn even more anxious than he had been at the beginning of the day. Left stranded in a cloud of dust as Arthur galloped off, Taryn decided to heed his new companion’s advice – again – and with great reluctance reached up to remove the ruby stud that graced his ear. He folded the cloak, which had been designed to tuck up into a little pouch sown into its lining and shoved it into his pack. Unloading his possessions from the horse, he patted it on the neck in an awkward sort of way.

“Looks like you are your own man now,” he said. “Horse, anyway. Go. Be free. Find yourself a wild herd and run free.”

He patted it again as it considered him with thoughtful, solemn eyes.

“Go,” repeated Taryn, feeling a mite foolish for standing here talking to a horse. It nickered slightly and began to chew a lock of the mage’s hair.

Twenty minutes later, he had still failed to get it leave him alone. He had tried walking into town a little further and the horse had gladly followed him. It had become, Taryn realised, a game to the animal. He would walk a few steps, stop, look around and the horse would still be there, innocently chomping grass.

If it had had the capacity to whistle a tune, it would have. Taryn was sure of it.

Eventually, realising that the horse was not going to leave him alone, he shook his head. He could hardly turn up at an ostler and negotiate for a horse with one so young and healthy at his back. He glowered at the bay gelding. It positively smirked back at him.

“You know,” said Taryn conversationally to the animal, “you’re really not doing yourself any favours by making me irritated. And you won’t like what I can do to you if you irritate me.”

The horse sauntered – inasmuchas a horse can saunter – just out of the mage’s reach and blew a noise out of his nose that Taryn read as ‘just try it’.

“Right. It’s like that, is it?” Taryn pushed up the sleeves of his white shirt and folded his arms across his chest. He considered the bay for a moment or two, then began to gather in his will. What he had planned was a little risky, certainly, and would involve the effort of re-casting the Veil spell on the horse several times a day – but it was, for the moment at least, the best he could do. Perhaps the horse would eventually give up and drift away.

Gather in your thoughts. Pull in your will and concentrate on the focal point, the object of the spell. You can choose to obfuscate the target so that it cannot be seen, or you can simply drape a superficial disguise over it.

Bare moments later, the proud young bay gelding appeared, to all intents and purposes, to be a slightly pot-bellied, ancient-looking grey mare. The horse evidently felt the tingle of magic working on it, for it turned its head to examine itself and let out a whinny of disapproval at what it saw.

“Suits you,” said Taryn, with a smirk. “And serves you right. Now, follow me if you must, but at least nobody’s going to recognise you...old girl. ”

Another snort. Taryn suspected that his equine companion was far cleverer than it appeared.

* * *

The ‘grey mare’ was put into the stables of the inn alongside Arthur’s mount and a new companion as well. Taryn had negotiated (quite badly) and ended up with a young-ish roan with slightly manic eyes and a nervous disposition. It was fit and healthy, however and despite his comparative inexperience with horses, looked like a fine (but expensive) purchase. They could set the ‘mare’ free once they were clear of the town. It would more likely roam free once in a less built-up area, after all.

His tiredness had exploded into near exhaustion by now, and ignoring the look of undeniable malice the ‘mare’ shot him, made his way inside the inn to find Arthur and hopefully some liquid soother.

[Ričle]

Arthur was one of the tavern's few customers at this hour of the day, and was sitting at a large table enjoying what was certainly not his first mug of ale. The two barmaids were casting sideways glances at him and giggling amongst themselves, and he winked back at them mischievously. Things were going extremely well, indeed so much that he was contemplating being half an hour or so late for his meeting with Taryn. But when Taryn walked into the room, the gazes of the young ladies turned to admire his handsome physique, and Arthur's rosy smile turned into an irritated glare. "Damn you, boy!" he said, slamming his mug upon the table for emphasis as Taryn sat down. What are you doing showing up here in all your youthful splendor; charm practically dripping out of your ears? Why do you think I told you to meet me on the far side of town? You'll steal all my women!"

The barmaids seemed to find this interaction all the more amusing, and responded instantly to Arthur's subtle nod that Taryn be brought an ale. As the buxom young woman leaned over to set the mug upon the table, Arthur stared openly down her blouse. "Drink up quickly, young Taryn, we'd best be heading on our way soon," he said, his eyes still distracted by the figure of the serving-woman. "Fairview is at least a 6-hour ride to the southeast, and I don't intend to be sleeping under a tree a few miles out of town because we didn't make the gates before dark." Arthur clapped Taryn on the back mid-swallow. "Chug, fair Taryn, chug!"

As Taryn was finishing his ale Arthur's eyes at last wandered to the lad's face, and he noted the dark circles around Taryn's eyes and his half-closed lids. "What's the matter there lad, are you feeling tired already? The day is young! Well, no matter, perhaps you can get some sleep on the road. Assuming that new mount of yours is a nice calm trail horse, but I've little doubt of that." Arthur patted Taryn confidently on the shoulder. "Well, shall we?"

Arthur led the way into the little stable, and came to a dead stop as they walked through the door and he found himself staring at the 'grey mare' Taryn had left there. His jaw dropped a little, and his eyebrow raised, and after the initial shock had worn off he turned to stare at Taryn with a 'what-the-hell-were-you-thinking' expression on his face. But his thoughts seemed to consider the matter, and after several moments of consideration he relaxed, and shrugged. The boy would learn; it was best not to say anything.

He continued down the row of stalls until he came to Taryn's new mount. The horse started as Arthur appeared at the stall door, and appeared ready to bolt out of the barn as soon as the opportunity presented itself. Surprise was starting to affect Arthur less and less as he spent more time with his new companion, and after a few brief seconds of observation he shrugged again. "Well, that's interesting," he said, continuing to the adjacent stall to fetch Dragon. "Just try not to break anything, lad. And a piece of advice: try not to get thrown forward when he spooks. It smarts in the groin area."

They led their horses to the other side of town, and mounted to head down the eastern road. Arthur watched the 'grey mare' follow them contentedly. Taryn's new mount seemed to like the illusioned horse, and spared most of his attention on the first part of the ride for her. But soon they passed a large hay field, and the 'old mare' whickered and trotted off to enjoy the free meal. Taryn's new roan threw a bit of a tantrum that he couldn't go as well, but Dragon bared his teeth impatiently at the younger steed and soon had him sorted out. Arthur watched Taryn as his equine friend left for greener pastures, and smiled, wondering if the young mage realized he was displaying a small Talent with something other that fire.

After another mile or so the road curved to the south, and Arthur scanned the trees and brush that lined the side of the road with much concentration; as if looking for something. He soon spotted a little-used game trail that headed off to the left, and he directed Dragon along it. Once he and Taryn were a few hundred feet away from the road, Arthur pulled Dragon to a stop and turned back the way they'd come.

He opened himself to the Earth, and felt at once the rich soil beneath them; the creek flowing nearby and its waters seeping underground; and the roots of the trees and plants that reached downward to form an entangled labyrinth through which they drew nutrients and life from the Earth. He sent his magic through that channel, stimulating the roots of the plants along the path they'd passed, and as he sent that energy into their veins they began to grow, slowly and steadily, until they completely covered the path and the horses' tracks upon it. Arthur smiled.

"Right-o then, Taryn my friend! Northeast it is, and across the countryside for us rogues!" He spotted the exhausted expression on Taryn's face, and realized that the young mage was likely wishing for an early stop and a warm bed. "No worries lad, I know a right comfortable place where we can stop. It's no wench-filled tavern, but it's a darned sight better than a rock to sleep on, that's for sure. Let's go then! Get that ornery steed of yours pointed in the right direction and his head outta the bushes - there you go - and we're off!"

Arthur began humming a merry tune to himself as he led the way, trotting bouncily and carelessly through the brush.

[Taryn]

Taryn had not been surprised to see Arthur engaged with a couple of pretty bar wenches, who both turned to look at him as he came through the door. He gave each one in turn a slightly distracted smile, which was indication enough that he wasn’t quite himself.

“Thank you,” he said, softly to the one who brought him his drink and smiled gently at Arthur who was getting a full eyeful down the girl’s blouse. The girl fussed over them a little longer, hoping obviously for some sort of advance from Taryn, but it was not forthcoming. His mind was distracted and he was ridiculously tired.

The young fire mage had always considered himself more of an ale connoisseur than a ‘chugger’ and downing the ale as fast as he did left him feeling faintly light-headed and perhaps even sleepier than before. He reached up and rubbed his fists in his eyes, trying to get rid of some of the grit that was making it increasingly difficult to keep them open. He’d gone without sleep before, why was he so tired this time? Perhaps he was coming down with something.

Great. That was all he needed.

When the last of the ale was drunk and the bar wenches had managed to extract kisses from both their customers (and a generous tip from Taryn who felt faintly guilty that he had spoiled Arthur’s ‘fun’), they had headed out to the stables. When Arthur set eyes on the ‘mare’, he had given Taryn a look of utter incredulity to which the young fire mage responded with a bare shrug of his shoulders and a look of helplessness that was quite comical.

“He liked me, Arthur. What else could I do? The bugger wouldn’t leave me alone.”

Thus it was, when the ‘mare’ finally did drift off to the hay field, Taryn felt a tiny pang of regret at leaving the charismatic creature behind. He got the feeling, from the way the roan pulled at him, that his relationship with this horse was not going to be quite so light hearted. He watched as his former mount, now with the veil lifted, rolled gleefully in the hay and stood chomping contentedly.

Taryn sighed, reached down and patted the roan’s neck uncertainly. He was rewarded with a twist of the neck and a glare of malevolence that made him feel decidedly uncomfortable.

“You needs a name,” Taryn said to the horse as they rode on. “It’s a strange thing, I know, but if me and you are going to build any sort of relationship, I can’t just call you ‘Horse’ forever more. Well, I could, but everything deserves the honour of a name.” He patted the animal again and this time it didn’t turn slightly wild eyes on him, merely snorted slightly. “I’ll sleep on it,” he promised. “By morning, I’ll have the perfect name for you.”

Despite having spent his formative years living on a farm, Taryn had rarely ridden the farm horses. They were working animals and not designed to be saddled. This notwithstanding, he was already demonstrating a natural talent both for riding and for a less practical, but potentially useful ability to communicate with the horse. He had an easy manner with the creature, talking to it constantly as though it were as human as he were, and over time, its eyes went from wild disdain to vague curiosity.

Tiredness, though, was his constant companion now, and it was starting to take every ounce of effort not to fall from the saddle. He splashed water on his face, which helped a little, but within several short minutes, weariness assailed him again.

“I’m sorry,” he said, to Arthur’s reassurance that they would reach their destination sooner rather than later. “I don’t know why I didn’t sleep last night. Sometimes I have bad dreams, but that hasn’t happened to me for months.” Bad dreams and nightmares were a staple in the College, particularly to sensitive young people who were exposed on a daily basis to what could sometimes be the gruesome horrors of more advanced magicks. Fire mages weren’t generally noted for their sensitivity, but Taryn had already demonstrated that he was anything but predictable.

He felt the rush of Earth magic brush around him as Arthur cast his spell to hide their tracks and it was like a breath of fresh air willing new energy into him. Unconsciously, without even realising he was doing it, he opened his will to that of the magic around him and, like the earth, felt himself blossom and renew.

“A few more of those spells and I could take on the world,” he declared, with a wicked, infectious grin. He had just demonstrated yet another Talent: the ability to draw energy from other mages around him. Such an ability was rare – and in some cases, dangerous. If a mage couldn’t control the magic he absorbed from others, it could result in an overload to his system.

But Taryn seemed perfectly fine and had shut the conduit to Arthur’s power off after mere seconds.

“Where is it exactly that we’re headed?” he asked.

[Ričle]

Arthur sighed mentally as his magical energy was absorbed by the over-eager young mage. While Taryn's talent was - as with most of the rest of his abilities - impressive, absorbing the energy of another mage was not only inherently dangerous, but was considered extremely rude by most magic-users. Taryn's special talent not only put him at risk for overloading himself, but for causing a spell to go wrong, harming another mage, angering another mage... and generally getting himself into a world of unanticipated trouble. But, as there was little Arthur could do besides lecture him, he chose to let the matter be. Taryn would stumble upon wisdom and learn to think before he acted in his own time; reprimanding him now would do nothing to speed the process.

"Usually," he said, in response to Taryn's comments about sleeping, "I find that when I can't sleep, it's because my brain is busy doing something else. Realizing what that is helps sometimes, but usually you have to work through it before you can relax and sleep again. Now, in your case I'm guessing that your poor brain is feeling a might bit insecure. Here you are out on your own in a world you hardly understand, and you're starting to learn that someone very powerful, both magically and politically, is doing everything he can to end not only your magical career but possibly your life as well. How are you going to fight against him? Let alone make a difference in the magical world, with such a road block standing before you. Belamin, while he has enemies, doesn't have anyone to challenge or question his position - there's no 'side' other than his that you can stand with. He is the emperor, and you, my friend, are his pawn. Or at least he thinks of you that way."

As they walked the trees gave way to rolling grasslands and sparse oak woodlands; interspersed by valleys of oak and sycamore that stretched on for miles following winding streams and rivers. Dragon kept the brisk pace set by his rider, but took his pleasure as they walked by snatching mouthfuls of the tall, rich grass that swayed just beneath his overlarge nose. Arthur gave him the reins and ignored this behavior, leaning back comfortably in his saddle and allowing his attention to wander. He realized that his mouth was running away with him, and that his 'advice' to his young companion might in fact be causing him to worry even more. "Then again," he added comfortingly, "If you worry long enough you'll be so tired that you won't be able to do anything but sleep. That works as well." He turned to smile encouragingly at young Taryn, seemingly pleased with himself for the sageness of his advice.

"Where are we going? Well now, that's the question isn't it. I've a number of destinations in mind, but the first is a small city a few days' ride to the northeast of here. Don't be letting this information on to anyone now, I've gone to great lengths of trouble to ensure we won't be followed."

They continued their journey for many hours, Arthur alternating between singing contentedly, thinking and mumbling to himself with such concentration that it seemed he might fall out of the saddle, and spinning tales or lengthy speeches of advice about the ways of the world for young Taryn's benefit. Overall he seemed to be enjoying himself quite thoroughly.

As the afternoon grew late they came to the base of a hillside, where large rocks formed outcroppings that sheltered the openings to several small caves. "Well," he said, looking dismally at the dark little shelter, "I seem to remember saying this morning that we'd find someplace more comfortable than a rock to sleep on. I suppose a rock to sleep under will have to do." He raised his hand, and sent a pulse of thought into the darkness beyond the opening. A few moments later, three poisonous snakes made their way out of the crevice, and quickly sought out other shelters to spend the night. Arthur dismounted and led the way through the entrance. "How about a nice warm fire to heat my aching back, ay Taryn?"

[Taryn]

"A nice warm fire, friend Arthur," said Taryn with what was probably his first real smile of the day, "is no problem at all." He had been faintly alarmed by the disgruntled appearance of the snakes, not having much love for reptiles, but trusted his companion enough to keep the area clear.

Once they were inside the cave, which was surprisingly dry, Taryn gathered a few handfuls of dry kindling and set them into a stone circle that had obviously been used for the purpose before. It was a simple matter to nudge the inherent kinetic energy within the stacked items into a tiny little burst of flame and, once there was a feeble fire, he wrapped his will around it and nurtured it into a full, fierce blaze that was completely under his control.

Arthur's words had not alarmed him particularly, but until the Earth mage had reiterated what Master Pallerion had said, he'd never really believed that Belamin might be out to end not only his career, but his life as well. It baffled and bemused him. He was no different to any other mage in the College. A little more forward in his attitude, perhaps, but in terms of talent, Taryn had never seen himself as anything greater than his peers.

And therein lay the danger.

Taryn's tutors were very aware that the boy, then latterly the man possessed a phenomenal talent that could potentially be channelled for either good or evil. It was the very fact that Taryn was so blissfully, almost innocently unaware of his potential that actually made him so very dangerous. Belamin's hope was that by sending Taryn on what he considered an 'impossible' quest, he would be putting that danger far away from himself. Were Taryn successful in his search to find the Elder Mages, they would see in him the dangers of a potential source of raw magic - what they termed a 'Potentate' - and they would deal with him swiftly. Past Potentates had suffered the same fate, and not one of them had been allowed to live. Nobody really understood why that was, or ever questioned it.

It just was.

However, Taryn was unaware of the fact.

Once he had the fire burning brightly and had mentally nudged heat and light into the darkest corners of the cave, he began to relax. He settled down properly and opened his back pack, taking out a journal in which he began to write. He also took out a number of trail rations and ate hungrily.

"I thought I would document my journey," he said, by way of explanation as he he offered the rations to Arthur. "Who knows, maybe some day it will be useful to me - or even someone else."

In the flickering light of the fire, the young man's face was very youthful, very honest and almost entirely without guile. And yet there remained that faint air of arrogance that came to all the College mages in time.

There was a long, companionable silence, during which Taryn wrote and ate almost contentedly. Occasionally he would glance at the fire and nudge it back into life if it looked like it was failing. And then, joy of joys, he discovered that he actually felt weary enough to lay down and close his eyes. He didn't worry about the fire: it had taken hold enough to keep itself burning all night if necessary.

He closed his eyes, warm and feeling free of worry for the first time in a couple of days and within minutes had dozed off into a light sleep.

His sleep was not undisturbed, however, and from an external viewpoint, was most certainly not restful. He muttered under his breath: strange, arcane words of the mage, and more than once, the fire flared as if in response to him. The flames, which had been twisting toward the roof of the cave seemed to bend towards him, like willows in a high wind. Whatever inner struggle was going on manifested itself clearly in repose.

The young mage fell eventually into a deeper sleep that was evidently much more relaxed and dream-free. Sleep brought an even younger look to his countenance, if such a thing was possible.

[Ričle]

Taryn responded masterfully to Arthur's request for a fire, and the older mage collapsed in a pile of mage, cloak, bedroll and saddle bags against the wall of the little shelter. He made himself a comfortable seat amongst his belongings and began to cook himself a simple meal over Taryn's fire.

The problem of Taryn's uncommonly talented magical abilities had entered Arthur's thoughts, particularly after that morning's display of energy asorption. However, the pressing problems at hand were keeping the matter far from foremost amongst Arthur's worries. Should Taryn indeed prove to be what the Conclave termed a 'potentate', and then decide to return to the Conclave, the issue would be more pressing. However, for the moment Taryn was content, naďve, and using his powers for little more than getting himself into trouble. Arthur thus decided to deal with the matter at a later time, as there was little point in bringing it to the lad's attention now.

Rather, Arthur's thoughts were drifting stressfully upon the possibilities that faced them. The Conclave was stretching its political arm far outside its usual circle that encompassed the College, its graduates, and the magical community in city of Beara. Those mages throughout the kingdom who were affiliated with the Conclave were moving to achieve some unknown purpose, and there were some in the realm - including Arthur - who were suspicious of the Conclave's objectives. While Belamin and his colleagues were technically subject to the laws and boundaries that governed all citizens of the Kingdom of the Winds, the situation in Beara had always, traditionally, been different. The mages were effectively autonomous, with the king and his court exerting little sway over their order. Amongst many governmental freedoms, mages were never drafted to serve in the king's army (though they could enlist if they chose), and did not have any official representation in the king's court. This was the result of a decision made centuries ago, when numerous historical blunders had resulted in the conclusion that magical affairs and kingdom affairs were best kept separate.

Practicing mages who traveled outside Beara held no special rank or title and were subject to all laws that governed the kingdom's citizens. As with all other trades and professions there was a mage's guild, and a practicing mage gained some protection and level of rank (and usually higher pay) if he or she was registered with the guild. This was, effectively, the same as with the merchant's guild, the blacksmith's guild, or any other kingdom guild - all were established with the same purpose and parameters, and were subject to kingdom laws and taxes. This mattered little in practice to the mages, as the guild was also governed and controlled by the Conclave and anyone affiliated with the College or the Conclave and practicing outside of Beara was naturally a guild member.

Non-guild mages such as Arthur were almost unheard of in the major cities of the kingdom. They were much more common in the smaller towns and communities that were farther away from the influence of the guild. The Conclave paid them little, if any, attention, thinking of them as simple village healers or manipulators of the weather; individuals with small and insignificant Talents that placed them below the Conclave's interest. Thus, while the Conclave was extremely self-important in their affairs, they in fact represented a small and concentrated community whose influence and interests extended only to the metropolitan aspect of the kingdom.

And those interests were expanding. Arthur wasn't sure what was going on, but he intended to find out what Belamin was up to. Arthur remembered Belamin from his time at the College, he knew the man to be both very ambitious and very dangerous. And an arrogant Earth-mage who was trying to completely extinguish the flame elemental from the College of elemental magic hardly inspired trust when it came to political maneuvers.

Arthur remained awake for hours, staring at the flickering shadows on the walls and ceiling of the tiny cave and listening to the soft breathing of his companion. His thoughts danced back and forth amongst the strings of possibility, considering what Belamin might be planning and how he might handle possible obstacles that his adversary might have in store. Taryn's presence was oddly comforting; his youthful innocence seemed to remind Arthur that there was a good reason someone should be watching Belamin - the man's dislike and possible attempted elimination of the young man spoke loudly enough against his character.

The following morning Arthur awoke late and with a feeling of exhaustion weighing down both his eyelids and his thoughts, having spent more than half the night awake and deep in thought. He maintained his lighthearted and cheerful mood, however, hardly giving any sign of the stress and worry that lay upon his chest. He noted that Taryn seemed much more rested than the day before, and found himself growing oddly accustomed to the younger lad's company. It was proving unexpectedly easy to open himself to the presence of his companion, and - though he was hardly aware of it - Arthur was growing fond of the feeling of being needed by a friend.

As the two mages mounted their horses Arthur began humming again, and he led the way at a brisk walk across the countryside again to the northeast. They were miles from any farm or habitation, and it seemed they had the world to themselves with nothing but the grass and birds to keep them company. At length Arthur's humming diminished, and he seemed to slip again into his ceaseless and distant thoughts.

"Do you know how free trade works, in the Kingdom?" Arthur asked aloud, with nothing to prompt his question save the conclusion of a long and complex train of thought to which only he was privy. It was evident that Arthur planned to continue talking regardless of Taryn's response - either because he believed Taryn did not know the answer to his question, or because he thought that Taryn would gain some essential piece of wisdom from the speech and hence needed to hear it anyway.

"The merchant's guild provides the foundation for all of the trade and business that occurs in the kingdom. Most goods are produced by lands of the kingdom's nobles, or by individual artisans. If those goods are sold across the borders of the lord's holdings or within a kingdom city, that sale is almost assuredly going to be regulated by the merchant's guild.

Merchants who register with the guild pay annual dues, and in exchange the guild provides them with security, protection, and an assurance that its members are legitimate and reliable. In an essence the guild ensures the rights and privileges of the kingdom's merchants while protecting consumers from cheating or poor quality work. Merchants who cheat their customers or knowingly sell fraudulent or illegal goods are suspended or banned from the guild, while those who sell quality goods and retain high profits are elevated in rank.

Many merchants in the kingdom aren't guild-registered, but then you have no assurance that their goods are legal or of good quality. These are also the sort that are more likely to cheat you on a price, and they tend to fare poorly as businessmen. Some of the larger cities - including Beara, as I'm sure you know - prohibit unregistered merchants from conducting business within city limits. Then again, in the smaller farming communities or within the holdings of a particular lord, the guild is practically unheard of. Ideally, however, most of the merchants in the kingdom want to be a guild member, and most of the trade in the kingdom is conducted under the eyes and ears of the merchant's guild.

This of course has larger political repercussions. While most of the merchants in the kingdom are your average market salesmen or wagoner, the leading members of the merchants guild, all of whom are extremely wealthy and have either inherited or purchased titles of nobility, are some of the most politically influential individuals in the kingdom. They conduct regular business with the kingdom, overseeing transactions of large quantities of goods for the military and for the lands and holdings of the kingdom's nobles. Many work for the king himself or for members of the king's court. Because they control a great deal of power, influence, and money, the guild is the most strictly governed of any in the kingdom. Impartial officials work with the guild to ensure that the merchant's monopoly on the sale of goods doesn't result in unfair prices or that members of the guild don't take advantage of the system.

It's very different compared to the mage's guild. The merchants are intertwined with laws, government, nobility, and politics. They are involved in the everyday running of the kingdom - out of necessity you understand, an important strength of a king is his ability to conduct business, and allies in the merchant's guild help him to do this. Mages, on the other hand, are kept very separate from the kingdom's government. You'll have learned this in your history lessons, we've had our own independence for some time now. Mages may leave the sphere of influence of the Conclave and serve the kingdom, or whomever they may choose, but they have not been part of the king's court for hundreds of years. Magic gives us an unfair advantage over ordinary humans, as you know, and we have a very different perspective than most people. The danger lies in mages becoming elitist over non-magic users, and in the powerful ruling where the wise should reign. This kingdom has been blessed for several generations with apt and worthy rulers, and even the least of them are equipped to understand the needs of an entire realm much better than us mages. Most of us are scholars, or students of science, and we've hardly any aptitude or care for troubles such as city sanitation or trade disputes."

Arthur cleared his throat. "Ah, but I digress. I haven't droned on so long that you're asleep now, have I? Good, good. Well, there is a point to my rambling, after all. We're heading for the city of Twin Rivers, where I have a task for you. The city guild official is a man by the name of Lord Galen Elerain. His job is to oversee the branch of the merchant's guild in Twin Rivers, which is a major hub for trade in this part of the kingdom. You wouldn't know it to look around us, but by the end of the day you and I will be on a major trade road, with merchants and travelers passing by every few minutes. I know that the Conclave is somehow secretly connected with Lord Elerain, but I don't know how or why. My intention is to find out the purpose of that connection. I'll be frank with you Taryn, I can't tell you yet everything I know, or any more about what led me here. So, how far you're willing to go based on my word alone is up to you. But this is possibly a very dangerous thing that I'm asking you to do.

As an unregistered mage I can't get in to the merchant's guild hall. I need you to gain entrance, somehow gain access to Lord Elerain's office, and steal something inside."

Arthur halted Dragon and turned to the side to face Taryn. He made a gesture with his right hand and spoke several words, and the illusion of a small carved wooden box appeared in the air before him. "This box contains two things: a ring, and a document. They are given to all officials in the merchant's guild to certify their office. I need you to get the items from the box without Elerain suspecting that they've been taken." Arthur gestured with his hand again, and the box faded. In its place a map appeared, showing the city of Twin Rivers. The view of the map shifted, following a road that led south for several miles to a town marked Edendale. "There's a grove of aspen trees just east of the town. I'll be waiting there for you."

Arthur allowed the image to fade, and urged Dragon forward again. "How you convince the merchants of your purpose at their guild hall is up to you - there are any number of business matters a mage may have with a merchant guild. But I would be very, very, wary of using magic within its walls. These merchants have some connection with the Conclave, and I don't know the depth or extent of that connection. It's very possible that there may be one or more mages living and working with them. It's also very possible that Elerain and the items you're trying to steal may be under some sort of magical protection. But if you perform magic and they detect you, remember that you'll be alone and that you have no idea of the extent of their abilities. Also, if they detect you stealing the items - even should you escape - all of this will be for nought. Take your time getting them, several days if you need it, just ensure that we will have enough time to make use of them before anyone notices that they're missing. Leave as quickly as you can once you have them - time will be of the essence."

Arthur glanced sideways at Taryn, his expression conveying deep concern and a vague hint of guilt. He hated the thought of sending Taryn into the city alone, and even more he worried for the lad's safety. Arthur had no true idea whether Taryn was capable of this task, and he hated the thought of sending the lad in to a possible hornet's nest of enemies with no one to help him should he get into trouble. Further, while Arthur knew that he couldn't tell Taryn any more about the situation then he already had, it felt almost dishonest to conceal facts from Taryn when he was being asked to risk his life. Though Arthur had been honest when he said that answers would come as their journey progressed, he knew that he was asking for a great deal of trust from the young man, and had yet given him little in return.

(OOC: I'm not sure if you want to jump straight into Taryn's mission or have another post interacting with Arthur - either is fine with me - but once Taryn starts his task can you take at least 2 posts to get through it? Arthur has something to do while Taryn's busy furthering his criminal record Thanks, and sorry for the wait!)