“My sire,” murmured Morfew, his hands clenched on the scrubbed boards of the table.
“I condole with you,” I said formally, “as I must also condole for the two male whelps who were killed in the fire along with Baron Talfew.”
Morfew’s voice trailed off to a mere whisper. “My only littermates—I had wondered over the years how they had fared.”
“You will be gratified to hear that the surviving members of your pack attacked Pagurian’s camp. Unfortunately for your Line, they were all killed in the fighting. The Lord Baron of that day decreed that too many of both Lines had died—indeed, no males were thought to be left to Ternak’s Line—so he declared the blood feud nullified. He appropriated half of the Ternak lands, and bestowed the other half upon Pagurian’s survivors—whose case,” I hastened to add, “was persuasive. Most of the ruling baron’s hound pack had been poisoned, along with his mate, and the linkage to Ternak’s official poisoner was clear.”
“I remember those of my pack from my early days only,” mused Morfew. “Sixty years is a long time to be away. My life is now totally rooted here. The folk of Lormt have become closer to me than those of my own pack ever were.”
I was taken aback. “Then you will not present your valid claim for Ternak’s lands?” I asked.
Morfew shook his head. “No, young man. I think too much blood has already been shed over that land. I have no interest in it, or in whoever may now hold it. Let it lie where it was bestowed those long years ago. But we have dallied discussing these private pack matters—give me your arm, if you will, and let us hasten to Ouen’s study to confer with the others. I must tell you that I have already separated out some of the scrolls I once studied concerning the First Turning. Can you read the ancient scripts of Estcarp?”
“If they differ from what I have mastered,” I replied, “I shall apply myself to learn them. Gurborian will not wait for us. He will be progressing with his schemes, and we must stop him.”
11
Mereth—events at Lormt
(7th, 8th, & 10th Days, Month of the Ice Dragon)
During the few remaining hours of that night, I doubt that any of us found ease in sleep. I lay down, but my troubled thoughts denied me rest. Although I was far removed in time and distance from the torments of the Dales’ war, I found it still painful to contemplate the necessity of assisting, even working in the same room with an Alizonder baron. Yet if the warning that Kasarian had voiced was true, Estcarp lay in deadly peril. Should Estcarp fall, we of the Dales could not expect the mere expanse of sea alone to shield us, as we had learned to our earlier sorrow.
Kasarian’s and the Lormt folk’s talk of Dark mages unsettled me. I could contribute no useful lore from the Dales, except to express my intense terror at the notion of such beings. I supposed that I might be of some use in sorting documents, provided that I could read them. My prior acquaintance with old Estcarpian scripts was limited to the small collection of kinship records preserved by Dame Gwersa, together with some few other scrolls I had encountered in my own researches.
My thoughts persisted in returning to my betrothal jewel. That it should even now adorn the chest of a primary baron of Alizon made me clutch my quilts tightly about me to subdue a trembling not wholly provoked by the winter chill. As soon as an opportunity arose, I resolved to query Kasarian about this Baron Gurborian and why he had been awarded my jewel.
At first light, I hastened to the food hall, hoping to encounter Morfew, but he was not there. I ate what was placed before me—it might as well have been boiled wool for all I tasted it—and hurried to Ouen’s study.
Ouen opened the door when I tapped with my staff. Nolar, Duratan, and Jonja were already seated at the table. Ouen told me that Morfew had offered to eat with Kasarian before escorting him to join our conference. Morfew had thought it possible that Kasarian might confide in him as a fellow Alizonder, although the old scholar was too honest to hold out much hope on such a brief acquaintance with so wary an adversary.
When Morfew and Kasarian entered the study, we all stood while Ouen pronounced an invocation for guidance from the Light in all of our deliberations. Kasarian appeared bemused, but held his tongue until invited to speak. He immediately requested our decision. Would Lormt allow him to search its archives for, as he phrased it, “weapons of knowledge to be used to deflect Escore’s sorcerous dagger raised against us all?”
Ouen gazed at each of us in turn. “I ask you to declare,” he invited, “whether you believe that Lormt should open its store of documents to this petitioner. Duratan?”
“I do so believe,” Duratan said firmly, “with the stricture that one of us be always present to observe what is being read.”
Nolar nodded. “I agree,” she said, “with the proposal and the stricture.”
“As do I.” Jonja glared at the Alizonder. “As to the stricture, I am prepared to serve at any time as one of Lormt’s observers.”
I proffered my slate for Jonja to read aloud. “If permitted, I, Mereth, will also serve.”
To my surprise, Morfew suddenly chuckled. “What a grim lot of scholars we appear,” he said. “It is true that the cause for our searching is of the utmost seriousness, and we must press forward without delay, but consider the opportunities for discovery! All those previously unknown documents revealed by the Turning—I have been longing to sort them properly. Now I shall have willing and able assistants to speed the task. I urge all of you to join me in the study area near my quarters. I shall instruct the more agile of our helpers to fetch there the materials that we should survey.”
And so began our great search of Lormt’s archives. To permit uninterrupted work, Ouen arranged that food and drink were also brought to us along with the seemingly unending stream of documents.
During one such brief respite while we were eating, I queried Kasarian on my slate concerning Baron Gurborian and the jewel, but he feigned to know little about the matter of the awarding of the pendant. He claimed that it had been bestowed during the Dales’ war, when he was, as he termed it, “a pup.” I did not entirely believe him, but saw no way to press him at that juncture.
As I had suspected, my skills in interpreting the Estcarpian scripts, especially the ancient ones, were not sufficient to deal with the older documents. Morfew kindly showed me how to distinguish the writing styles of various periods, with their forms for certain key words, such as “mages” and “Escore,” so I could at least assist in the initial winnowing process. Nolar, Duratan, and Jonja were all able scholars, and together with Morfew and Ouen, they sorted through heaps of scrolls, bound leaves of parchment, and fragments. By intense effort, Kasarian appeared to decipher the ancient scripts he had not encountered before, and soon he was proceeding almost as quickly as the Estcarpians. I noticed that Morfew or Ouen were carefully retrieving and examining each document that Kasarian laid aside. At first, Kasarian affected not to see; then he showed his fangs in an Alizonder smile, and simply handed each leaf directly to one of the Lormt folk for their perusal. This continued for a while until Morfew threw up his hands and exclaimed, “We are foolishly wasting valuable time in reading after Kasarian. Either we accept his discernment, or we do not. How say you?”
Duratan frowned, then nodded ruefully. “Our mutual need must outweigh our traditional suspicion. Let him proceed without further oversight. This task before us is too daunting for us to diminish our supply of able readers.”
Kasarian wordlessly saluted him, and redoubled his efforts.
We were wearily persisting in our labors two days later when one of Morfew’s helpers lurched in bearing a heavy wooden chest blackened by age and dust-snarled cobwebs. He said it had only just been discovered in a remote cellar breached by the Turning. Kasarian peered at the rust-bound hasp, then pried it open handily with a table knife someone had misplaced from our last meal. I happened to be nearby, so I looked inside the chest when he raised its lid.