Jaina turned to him. “What were you last Hallow’s End?” she said. She fought back a pang as she recalled one Hallow’s End in particular. Arthas had invited her to Lordaeron for the traditional lighting of the wicker man. The effigy was supposed to metaphorically “burn away” things those watching the event wished to be free of. Jaina had lit the wicker man on fire with a spell, to the delight of the onlookers. Later that night, Jaina felt that she and Arthas had cast a spell of their own. By the light of the flames of the wicker man, Jaina herself had taken Arthas’s hand and led him to the bed where they would first become lovers.
“I… beg your pardon?” Tervosh looked at her as if she had gone quite mad. Jaina firmly steered her thoughts back to the present—and the problem they might just be on the verge of solving.
“What did you become in order to attend the celebrations?” she asked the other mage.
And Tervosh’s eyes widened as comprehension dawned. He leaned forward, and the chair came to the floor with a thump. “The silly little spell from that commonplace wand made me become a pirate,” he said.
“I am trying to magically sense one thing, and it is manifesting as something else. That ‘silly little spell’ you speak of provides just enough misdirection so that I can’t trace the Focusing Iris,” said Kalecgos. His gaze grew distant, and then he grinned. “Or at least… I couldn’t!”
“And you can now!” Kinndy crowed excitedly.
He nodded. “Yes—and no. It comes and goes.”
“Because whoever put the silly little spell on the thing knows that he or she needs to change it from time to time because it wears off,” said Jaina.
“Exactly!” Kalec, who had also risen during the conversation, now closed the distance between himself and Jaina in three long-legged strides. Jaina thought he was going to embrace her, but he merely clasped her hands, squeezing them tightly. His hands were warm and strong and comforting.
“Jaina, you’re brilliant,” he said.
She felt color rise to her face. “I just followed through on your idea,” she said.
“I had a general idea,” he said. “You figured out precisely what happened and how to see through the illusion. I have to go, now that I know where it is.” He hesitated. “I realize you’re concerned about Northwatch, but… please stay here. I can track the Focusing Iris, but I don’t have it back yet. I may still need your help.”
Jaina thought painfully of what might be transpiring—or what might have already transpired—at Northwatch Hold. She bit her lip for a moment, then nodded.
“I will stay,” she said.
“Thank you. I know how difficult this must be.”
“Good luck, Kalecgos,” said Tervosh.
“I hope you find it quickly,” said Kinndy.
“Thank you. I certainly have a better chance now. You have all been of such great help. I hope that I will have good news for you shortly.”
As he started to stride out, Jaina followed him. They said nothing as they descended the winding stairway to the ground level, and neither felt the silence uncomfortable. Kalec stepped out into the sunlight and turned once again to Jaina.
“You will find it,” Jaina said firmly.
Kalec smiled gently. “When you say it so confidently, I believe I will,” he replied.
“Be safe,” she said, then felt foolish. He was a dragon, and not just any dragon—a former Aspect. What on this continent could truly threaten him? And then she thought of the dragons that had been killed when the Focusing Iris had been abducted, and suddenly her concern didn’t feel quite so foolish after all.
“I will,” he said seriously. Then a grin got the better of him. “I’ll be back for more of those delicious biscuits you serve with your tea.”
Jaina laughed. He lingered a moment longer—why, she wasn’t certain—then bowed and moved a distance away from her.
He changed so swiftly she gasped. Where before a handsome, half-elven male had stood, suddenly there was an enormous blue dragon, no less handsome in his own way, but also powerful and not a little frightening. To call him “blue” was to insult the vast palette of that color with which he had been painted. Azure, cobalt, cerulean, even the unique light blue shade of ice—Kalecgos the dragon bore them all. He flexed mighty wings, doubtless enjoying the sensation after staying so long in his half-elven form. Beautiful, deadly, dangerous, glorious—he was all these things, and Jaina suddenly paled when she recalled how sharply she had spoken to him on occasion.
He could not read her thoughts, but perhaps he didn’t have to. Kalecgos switched a tail adorned with barbs that looked like icicles, turned his massive horned head on his long, sinuous neck, and caught Jaina’s gaze. She couldn’t look away.
He gave her a quick wink. He was Kalecgos, the mighty dragon, the former Aspect, yes. And he was Kalec, the humorous, insightful friend who had taught her the true beauty and magnificence inherent in the arcane.
The almost alarmed awe in which Jaina had held him a moment ago dissolved, like a snowflake in the sunlight, and the mage felt her whole body shed tension as if she were dropping a too-heavy cloak. She gave him a smile and a wave. He dipped his head in acknowledgment, then looked skyward. His massive feet moved beneath him as, like a giant cat, he gathered himself for the leap.
Then Kalecgos was airborne, the great wings creating a gentle wind as they beat. Upward he flew, swiftly and with purpose. Jaina shielded her eyes against the sun as he climbed higher, becoming a small dot against the sky, and then finally disappeared.
She stood there a moment longer, then turned and entered the keep, wondering why she felt oddly bereft.
Hallow’s End costumes indeed.
Kalecgos snorted as he flew, trying and failing to keep from scolding himself for missing something so simple. But the similarity that had alerted Jaina to the spell’s nature came from a celebration that was not of his culture. Hallow’s End was not a dragon festival, nor were the great creatures accustomed to donning costumes… well, other than their bipedal forms, of course, but those were simply another manifestation of themselves. It was not intended as an illusion or trick.
Or was it? After all, some dragons did use this transformation of their appearance to mingle with the younger races, unnoticed. Therefore, one could, albeit uncharitably, call it a trick. But Kalecgos had never felt that he was in disguise as Kalec. He was… himself. He just looked different.
It was all very confusing, this penchant of the younger races to use magic in so lighthearted a fashion. It had taken Jaina, who was familiar with such basic little magics, to put two and two together. It was yet another example of why, in this new world that had averted the Hour of Twilight, the dragons needed to listen to what they formerly dismissed as frivolousness.
Now that he knew what was going on, as he told Jaina, he could sense the Focusing Iris by magically “looking for” what it really was, not what its captors wanted it to be—focusing on the true arcane essence of the artifact and not the “costume” it “wore.” Even so, Kalecgos still did not sense it as strongly as he had before it had vanished. But it was there, like a faint whiff of a scent in the mind. There were moments—long ones—when it seemed to disappear again. At such times, Kalecgos called on the patience of his race and simply hovered, trusting that the Focusing Iris would reappear to his now-awakened understanding of what to seek.
One issue both puzzled and worried him, and that was the speed at which the cursed thing was traveling. It seemed to be… flying at speeds he knew none of the younger races should be able to achieve. How was that possible? Who had the ability to do this? If he could figure that out, he would solve the mystery.
A thought, seductive and heartbreaking at the same time, crept into his mind: Would he have been able to find the Focusing Iris more quickly if he still had an Aspect’s abilities?