Now, he realized that he was heading out into a world about which he knew very little, and he understood the value of Dyona’s gift. The journal opened with the words:
I live in a world of fire and sand. The crimson sun scorches the life from anything that crawls or flies, and storms of sand scour the foliage from the barren ground. Lightning strikes from the cloudless sky, and peals of thunder roll unexplained across the vast tablelands. Even the wind, dry and searing as a kiln, can kill a man with thirst.
This is a land of blood and dust, where tribes of feral elves sweep out of the salt plains to plunder lonely caravans, mysterious singing winds call men to slow suffocation in a Sea of Silt, and legions of slaves clash over a few bushels of moldering grain. The dragon despoils entire cities, while selfish kings squander their armies raising gaudy palaces and garish tombs..
This is my home, Athas. It is an arid and bleak place, a wasteland with a handful of austere cities clinging precariously to a few scattered oases. It is a brutal and savage land, beset by political strife and monstrous abominations, where life is grim and short.
This was writing of a different sort from the scholarly works he had been exposed to at the convent. Most of the scrolls and dusty tomes in the meticulously cataloged convent library were surviving writings from ancient elvish and druidic lore, and were set down in a dense and florid style that he found laborious and tiresome. The other writings in the library were those compiled by the sisterhood, relating primarily to psionics and Athasian flora and fauna, and many of these were little more than encyclopedic lists, which made for reading that was informative, but not very entertaining.
The Wanderer’s Journal was different. It owed little, if anything, to the flowery and high-flown traditions of the ancient bards. Except for the rather colorful opening passages, the book was written in a simple, unpretentious style. Reading it was almost like having a casual conversation with the Wanderer himself. The journal contained much information with which Sorak was already familiar from his studies at the convent. It also contained the Wanderer’s personal observations of Athasian geography, the diverse races of Athas and their social structures, detailed reports on life in various Athasian villages and cities, and commentary on Athasian politics. The latter, although somewhat dated, nevertheless provided Sorak with a glimpse of Athasian life, about which he knew practically nothing.
Clearly, the Wanderer had traveled far and wide across the world, and had seen and experienced many things, all of which he commented on with firm and well-considered opinions. For the first time, Sorak realized that reading could be more than a plodding study of archaic texts and dusty scrolls. The Wanderer seemed endlessly fascinated by the world he lived in, and he brought his enthusiasm for the subject to his writings.
Each night when he stopped to rest, Sorak opened the journal and read by his campfire for a while before he went to sleep. Reading the words of the Wanderer was almost like having a friendly and loquacious guide for his journey. Tonight, he planned to camp inside some castle ruins on a ridge. The crumbling walls would provide some measure of protection from the strong desert winds that struck the foothills. In the morning, he would proceed to Tyr. If he got an early start, he thought he would be able to reach the city by late afternoon or early evening. Just what he would do when he got there, however, was something he had not yet decided.
Somehow, he had to make contact with the Veiled Alliance. But how? Lyra had given him no clues. She had no clues to give him. The pyreens generally avoided the cities. They found them decadent and oppressive, and as preservers, they would be far from welcome. Every city held strongholds of subversive defilers, which forced the Veiled Alliance to function underground. Aside from that, any magic-user, whether preserver or defiler, was at risk in an Athasian city.
This was a fact Sorak had learned back at the convent, and the point of the lesson had been strongly driven home by an incident described in The Wanderer’s Journal. The Wanderer had witnessed a “witch” being beaten to death by an angry crowd in a marketplace, and no one had raised a hand to help her. The incident had taken place in Tyr, and in describing it, the Wanderer wrote, “Magic has left the world of Athas a deadly desert. Its people blame all magicians for its ruin, defilers and preservers alike—and not only blame, but despise them. For protection from nearly universal hatred, the good wizards of Athas and their allies have formed secret societies, collectively known as the Veiled Alliance.”
According to the Wanderer, the Veiled Alliance had no central leadership. Each city had its own chapter, and on occasion, similar groups formed in some of the larger villages, as well. These chapters all functioned independently, though there was occasional contact between groups in nearby cities. Each chapter of the Veiled Alliance was divided into cells, with the number of people in each cell usually quite small, anywhere from three to six members. The first rank cells had secret lines of communication to the chapter leadership, to other first rank cells, and to the next lower ranking cells. The second rank cells each maintained communication only with the first rank cell directly above them, and with the third rank cells directly below them, but not with any of the other first, second, or third rank cells. This organizational pattern provided that, if the security of any one cell was breached, the security of other cells would not be compromised. The structure also allowed one or more cells to be “cut off’ at any given time.
In the cities, the Wanderer explained, the powerful defilers who constituted the ruling elite—the sorcerer-kings and the nobles under their protection—had templars and soldiers to maintain their security and enforce their oppressive rule. Any magic-user, whether defiler or preserver, who was not under such protection would be wise to maintain anonymity, exposure could, and usually did, mean death.
Sorak had no idea how he would proceed once he reached Tyr. How did one make contact with a secret organization? From what Lyra had told him, it seemed that he would have to do something to draw their attention to him so that they would be encouraged to make contact He had a feeling that contact was liable to be rather dangerous. He also realized that trying to make contact with the Veiled Alliance would probably take time, certainly more than merely a day or two, and that posed a problem in itself. He had no money.
The villichi never carried any money. At the convent, there was no need for it. They grew their own food and made everything they needed from scratch. On their pilgrimages, the sisters lived off the land for the most part, except when they ventured into villages and cities. In the villages, they were usually fed by the people, who rarely objected because the sisters always ate very sparingly and consumed no meat. And if there was no villichi child present in the village, they moved on after only a brief stay.