Lysanne nodded.
"But it is a ball!" protested the Ryodoan.
Again Lysanne nodded, adding a smile.
Rissa stepped onto the catwalk and to the sphere. She clambered up the framework and across the globe, using the lattice as it was intended. She studied the painted surface and moved about, and finally called to Arin, "Here, Dara, here is the place where Morkfjord lies, and over here are the Grey Mountains and Black Mountain within."
Arin joined her as did the others, and they pondered long on what route Arin would take. Traveling north through the Grey Mountains and then west to Fjordland was the shortest, but nearly all of it would be through the Untended Lands, where few if any lived. Too, for the next month or so the winter on the polar side of the mountains was entirely too brutal to bear. Following an old trade route west along the southern flank of the Grimwall seemed a better choice-at least there were villages along this way-though there were no passes through that grim range until Kaagor north of the Silverwood, leading from Aven in the south to the Steppes of Jord in the north. In the end, this was the way they decided to go and Rissa called for pen and parchment to sketch a map.
As Rissa charted their route, the others clambered about upon the framework, looking at the map of the entire world. It was Aiko who asked, "These glints within-what are they?"
"They mark where Mages dwell," replied Lysanne.
"And the dark sparkles? -My tiger murmurs of danger."
"Yes," replied Lysanne. "They, too, are of Magekind, though I would they were not. And your tiger is right: vile they are, renegades, and they walk in darkness. A few were among the Mages who wanted to use the stone to control the Dragons and did not swear the oath. Others are just plain evil. Black Mages we name them-Durlok, Modru, Vegar, Belchar, others." Lysanne fell silent and would say no more.
As they walked back to their quarters, Arin turned to Lysanne and said, "I have a question to ask concerning seers' visions, Wizard Lysanne."
"I will tell you what I can, though one trained in that art could tell you more. In fact, rather than muddle the waters, why don't I ask, um, Seer Zelanj to join us for tea? He can certainly answer your questions better than I."
They sat at afternoon tea, eating sweet breads daubed with honey and sipping the dark brew. Zelanj looked to be ancient, supported by his staff as he hobbled into the chamber. White-haired and wrinkled, he was, and his eyes a faded blue, his skin nearly transparent with age where it was not liver spotted. "Heh," he grumbled as he sat down. "It was a long walk and took much from me. I may have to ‹rest› right here in Black Mountain, drat!… at least long enough to gain some strength for the voyage to Rwn."
He accepted a cup of tea and called for a honeycake, and when it was delivered to his palsied hand, he fixed Arin with a gimlet eye and said, "Now what's all this about visions and such?"
"Just this, Wizard Zelanj: I want to know whether visions foretell things which must be, or instead speak of those things which merely might be. Are we locked into a future which we cannot change… or do we have some choice in the matter?"
"Heh, you've asked one of the oldest questions of alclass="underline" is destiny immutable, where nothing can be changed, or do we have the freedom to choose? As to the truth of the matter, the debate still goes on. Certainly I don't know what it might be."
"Oh." The small disappointment escaped Arin's lips.
"There, there, my dear, it's not all that bad."
"But I was hoping-"
"Hoping that I could answer the unanswerable?"
Arin nodded. "Some such."
The aged Wizard shrugged and took a bite of his honeycake and chewed slowly and thoughtfully.
Arin set her cup aside, then turned to the seer. "Tell me of visions, Mage Zelanj. Can they be altered? Changed? Their dooms averted? Can the events of my vision of the Dragonstone be changed?"
The ancient seer took a sip of his tea. "Perhaps, child. Perhaps."
Rissa looked at the old Mage. "Hast thou ever known of a vision whose outcome was altered?"
"Certainly," said the oldster. "In my manipulation of the aethyr I have seen many things which could be or were changed."
"A moment, Wizard," protested Perin. "If things can be altered, then hast thou not answered the oldest question of all?"
"Hai, brother," exclaimed Biren, clapping his twin on the shoulder, "I think thou hast hit upon it." Biren turned to Zelanj. "If things can in truth be changed, doesn't that say there is indeed free choice?"
"Aye," appended Perin. "Doesn't that say we are not marching along in lockstep at the behest of fixed Destiny into an unchangeable future?"
"Aye. Doesn't it?" echoed Biren.
"Oh, no, not at all," replied Zelanj, waving his half-eaten honeycake at them. "You see, let us say instead some visions are true and some are false, and that the false ones can be changed, proving they were false in the first place. Even so, we may have no choice in the matter and be predestined to prove them false, and therefore we take steps to change them, and in fact do. On the other hand, if we are truly free to choose, and if our choice is to try to alter the vision, if we succeed in changing the outcome then once again we will have proved the vision false. Conversely, if we took no steps, or took steps but failed, then would it not be the case that this vision was true? One destined to be fulfilled? In either instance, true vision or false, changed or not, neither outcome answers the question as to whether we have free choice in the paths ahead or are stuck to following a predestined course." He looked at the twins. "Do you follow what I am saying?"
The twins looked at one another, and then both shook their heads, No, and Perin said, "Uh, thou didst take one turn too many for me to step through thy logical maze." To which Biren added, "Aye, I deem I stepped to the left when thou turned right somewhere along the way."
"Huah!" grunted Ruar. "I followed thee, Wizard, and if such is the case, then I would ask thee this: what good are visions at all if they may or may not be true?"
"Why, boy, they are to get us to do something, or so I suspect. If we have free choice, then they ennoble us to action; if we have no free choice, then they make us think we are ennobled to action. In either case we feel a sense of purpose, a reason for being."
"But, Wizard Zelanj," said Arin, "is it not also possible that a vision shows us what merely might be, and if we strive to change the outcome we can at times alter the course?"
"Certainly, my dear, that is one view: the notion that free choice can overcome predestination. On the other hand, the reverse could be argued as well… that no matter what we believe, the outcome is already fixed."
Arin sighed. "And in the case of my vision, hast thou any advice?"
"Why, go out there, girl, and do something," replied the ancient Mage. "Perhaps you'll prove it false, changeable; then again, perhaps not. Heh, the test is in the striving… or not."
On the ninth day after arriving at Black Mountain, the Elven band prepared to depart, Aiko now in their ranks. The Mages had reprovisioned them and had provided Arin with a horse to replace the one storm-slain. The sturdy mountain ponies were laden with the supplies for the long journey ahead. Silverleaf and Rissa and the others planned to ride with Arin and Aiko along the old trade route as far as the Silverwood and Kaagor Pass but no farther, for to continue with them might jeopardize the mission. And so, when Arin and Aiko would turn north to fare through the Grimwall and head for Fjordland beyond, the remainder would set out southerly, to report on the mission unto Corons Remar and Aldor, and to perhaps bear the word onward to High King Bleys and others.