When the time arrived for my meeting with the loremaster, I walked across the Round, went north on Chagrin Boulevard, and left onto Patrician’s Way. It was only a five-minute walk from the mage guilds. The building was quite lovely and made of stone and brick. The patron sage was doing well for himself. His private space occupied the entire second floor of an office building that housed four professional offices below. The other offices included a young physician named Lance Kutitt, a flamboyant cloth merchant who kept late hours named Antoin Downwin, a luxury candle maker that I knew as a relative of Master Sundance’s next-door beekeeper neighbor, and an accountant/auditor who appeared to be the owner of the building based on the front door signage.
Because of his location across the building’s entire second floor, Davon had a private staircase with a relatively small and nondescript brass plaque stating:
Sage Gavin
Loremaster
Davon greeted me at the door to his offices just as the bells of St. Michael’s Cathedral began ringing the hour at six o’clock. The day orbs dimmed while the night orbs simultaneously sprang to life as he stepped aside to welcome me. I had always thought it was a beautiful time of the day, and while I am a morning person, this moment of transition was my favorite.
Given his nobility, patron status, and grandmaster sage ranking, I expected a lot more pomp and ceremony than a small brass plaque. His stationery was far more grandiose. It said a lot about the man to have such a simple plaque when he was one of the most accomplished of his guild across the realm. Of course, it could just be that because the accountant owned the building, he charged by the letter for signage.
His casual, flippant, and carefree language in his letter to me, combined with his understated plaque, made me like him before we even met.
“Come in, Gwydion. You're right on time, I see.” He said this as the bells tolled, and I was ushered into his office.
He might not be an egomaniac like many mages, but he did like comfort. Given the size of the building below, his second-floor offices were physically spacious. However, his rooms were even more extensive, thanks to the use of some expensive magic. They were enlarged to be triple the physical space found below them. The room we entered was a library that would be the envy of almost any mage in the land, and my father would have drooled openly upon entering the room. Davon’s personal library alone was easily the size of the building's natural physical upper floor, and it was lined with shelves, tables, maps, charts, and a variety of experiments based on the flashes of colors and sounds emanating from some of them.
“Modest as a sage,” I said after a moment.
He roared with laughter. “My father insisted that I have something befitting my station, and my mother got a little out of hand with the decorations.” He said with a grin.
I gave him a look.
“Well, maybe I contributed a bit. But just the books, shelves, tables, some of the rugs, okay, all of the rugs, lab tables, lights…” He trailed off. “But my mother insisted on the curtains.”
It was my time to laugh. “Do we walk, or is there a horse and carriage to get us from one end to the other?”
“Oh, it's not that bad.” He said a little defensively. “You’ll get your own place sometime soon, and an enchanter’s rooms are second only to summoners in over-the-top splendor.”
He was not wrong about that. Summoners and enchanters were well known for their wealth and choice of living/working space. Their spell knowledge came at a price and was sold at even higher prices. Although my master lived more humbly than most, he was a very wealthy man.
We strolled around the room, and Davon gave me a tour of some of his favorite trinkets and areas of research. During some of the tour, I sensed a repetitive nature to his dialogue, as if he had given just such a tour many times before. But at other times, I was sure he was sharing confidential thoughts with me that he would not likely share with some client or casual visitor.
For instance, he shared the contents of several sections in the upper reaches of his bookshelves, access to which was guarded by spells and required a large, sliding brass ladder. Examples included maps of second-age elemental temples, a complete collection of Grindstone’s Dwarven poetry, dozens of exotic bestiaries, volumes on the enchantment of gemstones, which caught my eye, and many, many others.
Davon had a corner desk behind which was a wall shelf filled with very old books that were in bad repair. They were fragile and dusty, and I commented on their condition.
“Yes, some of these I intend to repair manually, others I can use a repair spell, and still others I intend to duplicate into a freshly bound text. Sages have several spells that can do all of this and more.” He admitted, “But sometimes I like to do it by hand.”
“I have considered discussing such things with my father. I know that he has used sages and scholars' services to mend some of his deteriorating collector items or to replicate them to protect them for future use.” I said.
“Sages sometimes teach introductory classes on text restoration at the university. You may want to keep an eye out for them and sign up if you have the time. The spells are not complicated and are taught to our guild's adepts and first-year apprentices. Few mages in other guilds bother to learn them, but it could come in handy if you have a particularly old or damaged text. Some of the higher volume sage spells can restore damaged or nearly illegible texts.” He explained.
I thought about making a backup copy of my own unique ancient text, at his words. It might reveal some of the ink-worn insights that had faded to near illegibility. But given my promises, I’d have to be secretive about it.
We passed by some glass cases with locked shelves. Inside, there was a wide variety of materials of odd shapes and origins, many of which utilized runestones and rune sticks. There were even some blank stones and sticks in boxes at the corners of the cases.
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He had both depth and breadth of interests as befitted a grandmaster of lore. Despite my teasing, I felt immediately at home in his offices because they had more of a feeling of the great libraries of the realm I had visited or university halls than any professional office space.
The tour took half an hour, and eventually, we stood before a large stone table containing a silver plate covered by an enormous glass jar. Inside the jar, hovering and flashing in what seemed to me to be irritation, was a mote of golden color.
“This is a wisp.” He began. “Lux Molestus as it is known to xenologists and morphologists. It is fairly safe by itself, but it can be annoying.” He smiled when he said that. “And this is partly why I wanted you to visit me.”
He motioned for me to look closer. “It is safe to approach. They are fascinating creatures, and I believe there is more to them than meets the eye.” He made room for me to get close to the jar before continuing. “But it is their origins that interest me the most. I have a theory that they escaped from another realm and are not native to our own.”
I agreed that it was very interesting, and I had seen them on rare occasions when spending time outdoors. It sparked a memory. “They occasionally gather in groups,” I said. “I saw such a grouping as a child on a trip with my father to the City of Spendor on a work-related trip for the university. Dad said that such a gathering was rare and wondered himself what may have inspired it.”
Davon nodded. “Yes, I did speak of this with your father, and he shared that sentiment, although he had not mentioned that you were with him.” He paused. “I think I know what triggered the gathering.”
He shared that in the old days, when these orbs were more plentiful, adventurers would “farm” them for riches and power. A recent influx of them across two local trade routes has created havoc with caravans and livestock, which is how it came to Davon’s attention. He speculated that they behaved much like hives, so his scientific objective was to attack the queen and see what would happen.
He saw my interest. “But first, we wet that appetite by slaking our own.” He walked us over to a dinner table, which was already set with a light meal of meats, cheeses, bread, and fresh vegetables.
“Oh, you can’t just leave it there,” I complained as we took our seats across from each other.
“I’m glad you find them fascinating, too.” He said to increase the anticipation.
I lifted a glass to toast his generosity as host. While we took time to choose from the tasty offerings, I looked around this part of the room. It was a bit more personal than the other spaces we had passed. He had several shelves between windows with various carved objects, some quite beautiful and others grotesque.
“What is this collection I am seeing?” I asked, pointing to the nearby shelves.
“Ah. Well, I dabble in carving and creating such objects. Two of my four concentrations involve Thaumaturgy and Conjuring.”
“That is a tricky combination,” I stated.
“True, it has its challenges. But it has also given me a great deal of insight into certain aspects of legend and lore that had perplexed sages and scholars for some time. My carving and engraving skills are not overly advanced, but I have been able to create some unique combinations.
There was too much to explore in one visit. He had amazing knowledge and skills that would take me a decade or more to master. Some of his work involved crystal. If I combined some of my gemology craftsmanship with Thaumaturgy and Enchantment, I could create objects that could move and act independently or through magical commands.
“I see perhaps where some of your thoughts take you.” He noted, interrupting my speculations. “And perhaps we could discuss some shared work interests and projects on another day. But for now, I would like to ask you for your help.”
“You want me to help you?” I asked, surprised.
He laughed. “Yes, indeed. It is more a matter of trust and mutual benefit than any specific skill or knowledge you possess. Although I would like to explore some of that before you depart on your journey, as I have a grocery list for you and your travels.” He smiled again.
“But for now, here is what I propose.” He began to lay out some of his research into the wisps and a theory about their origins in a sub-realm of lightning. He was unsure if they had found their way to our realm by chance through a great storm, had been released, or had broken their magical bonds centuries ago and fled some mage’s laboratory. Regardless, they had not appeared in bestiaries prior to three centuries ago, and so his conjectures about their origins.
He asked me to travel just a little north of the city this evening to prove some of his theories.
“Just what did you have in mind, specifically?” I asked.
He withdrew four small wooden rods from a shirt pocket. “These are rune sticks I made for this little experiment.” He began.
“Runes?” I said in surprise. “So you have Thaumaturgy, Conjuration, Runes, and what is your fourth concentration?”
He smirked. “Sorcery.”
“Wow,” I said. “That’s a…” I was at a loss for words.
“Pretty weird combination of specialties?” He offered as a suggestion.
“And then some. I have been planning to add rune work as my next area of exploration to enhance my enchantments.” I admitted. “Since I read Runic but never extended the language to magical runes.”
He nodded. “That would be an excellent next choice. I could lend you some basic magical rune texts if you would like.”
“Yes, that would be most appreciated,” I replied, excited to learn another way to improve my magical constructs.
“It would be my pleasure. I am sure you could find similar magical texts in your guild library or standard rune texts with your father’s assistance at the library. But I can at least get you started.”
“I had planned to discuss this with my master, but talking with my father could also be a good idea,” I admitted.
“It would be,” he said. “I have borrowed books from both your guild hall and your father’s rare collections library to enhance my knowledge of rune lore. It is an obscure choice, and I am surprised you took the time to learn the language.”
“Well, I read ancient Dwarvish, and the parallels seemed to make a lot of sense to me.”
He raised his eyebrows. “And you read Ancient Dwarvish too?”
“And Ancient Elvish, Fae, and modern Dwarvish and Elvish.”
He chuckled. “We do share some similar interests.”
We sat silently for a few minutes while he allowed me to absorb some of the potential benefits of our newly formed friendship while we ate. Davon was a nice guy, but he was also pretty savvy. I guessed his “ask” of me would entail some danger; otherwise, he would have sought someone else. I was unclear about the mutual benefits and why trust was necessary here.
I said as much, although a bit more diplomatically. “Certainly, I am interested, Davon. But why me and why the rush?”
He took a moment to wipe his mouth with a cloth napkin while he thought about his reply. “The rush I will explain as a part of the entire experiment. As for you, it is quite simple. You have amazing potential and have set yourself apart from your peers. I know from firsthand experience how isolating and dangerous this can be. You will have created rivals already that you are not even aware of. There will be those out there who plan to leverage you, take advantage of you, or do you harm. I know and trust your father, and I know and trust your master. I have been in your shoes, and for those reasons, I want to help you. While we are not close and have just met, I fear for your safety in ways you can not fully understand.”
He reached into his other shirt pocket and removed two rings, which he placed on the table before me. One was my father’s signet ring as a royal librarian, given to him in the capital upon his appointment. He would not part with that under any circumstances. The other ring was my master’s signet ring, given to him upon attaining the rank of master enchanter. I had never seen it off his finger.
I stared at both rings, the implication hitting me like a load of bricks. I looked up into Davon’s eyes, finding genuine concern and uncertainty.
Given those rings, I had no choice. “How can I serve you, grandmaster?” And I fixed him with a look of resolve and obedience.
He gently picked up the rings and placed them back in his pocket. “First, in private, it’s just Davon. And second, finish your meal because you will need the strength for your adventure tonight.”
I nodded, realizing he had changed his description of my work from an experiment to an adventure. It was indeed going to involve a measure of danger, but I was resolved to see it through, whatever the risk. The trust shown by both my father and master told me all I needed to know.
At least, that is all I thought that I needed to know. The next couple of hours would prove that very wrong.
