Wednesday, June 28, 2023

Eye of Darkness (Part Seven)

 

The wizard, the scholar, and the soldier were given a small but ceremonious farewell at the gates of the city. Expeditions setting forth from the School like this were not unusual in themselves, but the highly uncommon make-up of this group drew a larger crowd than normally gathered. City representatives joined the officiating Masters to show respect for Thron as the King’s Envoy. Many in the muttering crowd of gawkers watched Dunwolf curiously, as if they half-expected the scrawny old man to explode in a puff of smoke and flame.

But it was Belmok, by far, who attracted the most attention. To see the towering, reclusive scholar dressed in armor, heavy pack on his unbowed back and iron-shod battle staff in hand, waiting with calm hauteur for the ceremony to be over, made many think what a warrior had been lost to the academic life. Buzzing talk was bandied around the crowd, about his noble background, his lost brother, his exploits when a mere student, his enormous learning, his proud attitude. If his sharp ears heard it, he paid it no mind.

At last the farewells ended and the three went forth. A few idlers followed them a little way out of the city gates, but as there seemed no more show forthcoming, they soon straggled back. Dunwolf, Thron, and Belmok marched along silently for a while. Thron was the first to speak.

“Well, Mister ‘Dunwolf’,” he said, voice harsh with sarcasm, “Just whereabouts is this shortcut of yours? It seems to me you are leading us south, away from the Norkult Mountains. Don’t tell me you’re lost already?”

The wizard looked over at him, but did not pause in his walking.

“You still don’t trust me, do you, Lieutenant?”

Thron snorted.

“I see no reason to,” he retorted. “You turn up, using a century-gone name, employ a few tricks any street conjurer could produce, dupe a few innocent old scholars, then take us in exactly the wrong direction of the place you say we’re going. No, I still don’t trust you, mister.”

Dunwolf smiled.

“Well, that’s good. That’s the kind of hard-headed commonsense attitude that will carry you far in your career. I can see why King Vez trusts you for this kind of thing.”

“Then will you kindly answer the Lieutenant’s question?” Belmok asked, looking over, not breaking his stride. “I’ve been wondering myself about our rather round-about itinerary. I do have an interest in this journey, beyond Lieutenant Thron’s suspicions.”

Dunwolf’s smile deepened.

“A couple of skeptics, I see. I could explain it to you, or try to, but I think you’ll have to see it before you believe it or start to understand. We’re headed just a little bit farther down this road. We passed it on our way to Tronduhon, Thron, though I don’t think you paid it any attention.”

“That’s as may be,” said Thron grimly. “But if I’m not satisfied with the way things are going, you and I will be heading back to Morg City, and you’ll be in chains that even an escape artist would find hard to lose.”

Notes
The picture illustrating Morg City is a very old one from the early 1980's, and does not very well reflect my present and developing conception of the place.


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