In a very short time, he’d learned more about magick and how to handle it than he had after years at Vilwan. Granted, his training on Vilwan had made him able to see and master these new things, but Vilwan’s encouragement of inefficiency struck him as totally wrong. They did that so mages would be less powerful and easier to control, but in making them so, Vilwan made them less able to deal with a mage who might actually be more efficient.
He wondered for a moment if that was what Kirun had seen. But the simple fact was that Kerrigan now could do more than any of his contemporaries, and he had a working spell that could detect the presence of DragonCrown fragments. With that spell, he could help undo what Kirun had done so long ago.
Smiling, he shoved himself off his bed and wandered out into the main chamber. There he found a round table set with a steaming ham, fresh bread, cheeses, vegetables in sauces, and a host of other things that he did not recognize per se. It all smelled delicious and his mouth watered before he could even dream of where he would start.
All of that quickly went by the board, however, when he saw Rym Ramoch emerging from the suite’s third room. “Master, when did you get here?”
“It seems as if I’ve been here forever, Kerrigan.”
“How did you get here?”
Ramoch laughed. “Vriisureol is not the only dragon on Vael, you know.”
Kerrigan nodded, and waited for his master to take a seat at the table. Ramoch strode to the far side, drew the chair back, and sat. He seemed a bit more animated than in the past, but the excitement of being in Vael could easily explain that. The crimson-robed mage waved Kerrigan to his chair, and Bok appeared from beneath the table to slide a heavily laden plate in front of him.
The young mage looked down at it. He couldn’t tell if it had been picked over or not, but the rumble in his stomach told him that it really didn’t matter. He smiled, forked a small strip of ham into his mouth, then closed his eyes and moaned. “Very good.”
“Good, good. The thralls do as they are told, but one does not always know if they understand the orders they have been given.” Ramoch nodded slowly. “Your work on the detection spell, and your actions at Nawal, were impressive. You amaze me.”
Kerrigan smiled, and in between mouthfuls explained a lot of what he had done. In fact he became so engrossed in the discussion that he left off eating entirely, shoving the gold plate aside so he could lean his elbows on the table as he pondered the many questions Ramoch asked.
The questions were not easy, but Kerrigan tackled each one happily. He realized that he’d greatly enjoyed fashioning the spells, and that he’d been happy they had worked. But here, for the first time in forever, he had someone with whom he could discuss his work. Rym Ramoch understood what he had been trying to do. His previous mentors, save Orla, had only been interested in making sure he mastered whatever they were teaching him. While some casual conversations might nibble at the edges of the theoretical, most of his mentors failed to have a broad grasp of magick. They knew their specialized areas, but without a generalist’s grasp of things, they had no hope of understanding the connections between the underpinnings of the various disciplines.
He remembered how Orla had seemed surprised when he re-created for her the staff she’d lost. He’d used wood as a raw material and woven several different spells together to get it right. For him it had been effortless. It was a spell he’d created so he could replace things he’d broken, but to her it was a minor miracle. Ramoch, while he might be impressed with the spell, was capable of understanding how Kerrigan did what he did.
Their discussions continued through the morning and past lunch. Kerrigan picked at food as they talked and noticed things disappearing beneath the table from time to time. Bok’s rolling burps confirmed where these items had gone. Ramoch ate nothing, but Kerrigan did not find that terribly remarkable since the man still wore his mask and was thin enough that he probably didn’t eat more than once a month.
In the middle of the afternoon, a dracomorph with ivory scales and red dots over breast and back came and spoke to Ramoch in hisses and snaps—all quite respectful-sounding. The mage nodded, then shooed the creature away with a gloved hand. “We have been summoned, but we have some time before our appointment. I would show you some of Vael, if you wish.”
“I’d like that. I think Princess Alexia would, too. Shouldn’t we get her?”
Ramoch pressed his fingertips together. “She is otherwise occupied, I’m afraid. Much of your company from Meredo arrived this morning before you wakened. You’ll see them soon enough, but the princess joined them straight away.”
Kerrigan smiled. “Will and everyone else?”
“Yes, including Dranae. He is a dragon.”
“A dragon!” The young mage thought for a moment. “Was he the one who healed Will?”
“Partly, I believe. There were likely other influences.” Ramoch stood and smoothed his robe. “We shall investigate properly later. First, I want you to see some of Vael. Come, Bok.”
The urZrethi slid from beneath the table and followed the two of them out of the suite. They exited onto a path perhaps ten feet wide, with columns of stone spaced every dozen feet or so. On the right side the wall was solid, but on the left, it was open to a large gallery. Kerrigan could see other walkways as small as this one, then much larger ones below. The walkways themselves, while smooth, dipped and climbed like termite trails in wood.
Ramoch led the young mage along. “These pathways were built for the thralls and dracomorphs. They are, in essence, servants’ corridors—though they serve humans quite well. I hope you are not offended.”
“No, Master.”
Ramoch nodded. “You know, of course, that dragons and the urZrethi are enemies. The urZrethi raise great mountains, then dragons dispossess them of their hard work. Vael itself was once a much larger place. Alcida never had a coast and the urZrethi home bordered Loquellyn. In ancient times, the dragons and urZrethi fought a grand war over it. When the dragons destroyed it, all but Vael sank.”
Kerrigan glanced at Bok. “Is he safe here?”
“Bok? Yes. He is known to be my companion, so my friends are his friends. You are under similar protection.” Ramoch opened his hands. “You have seen Bokagul, so you can imagine what the grand halls of Vareshagul must have been like. Alas, no more. Since it was lost, no urZrethi construction has risen so high, nor been so ambitious.”
The young mage puffed his way up an incline. “Why did the dragons destroy Vareshagul?”
Ramoch shrugged. “Who knows the mind of dragons? It could be they thought this would be a wonderful place to live. Or some of the more sinister tales could be true.”
“Such as?”
Bok hissed.
Ramoch petted the urZrethi’s head. “Dragons have been around since the founding of the world. There are legends that suggest they fought a war with other creatures, which were even more terrible than they. The dragons won and forced those things deep into the bowels of the earth, imprisoning them and their evil. Those creatures created the urZrethi to raise mountains and dig deep enough to release them.”
“Who, then, created elves and men and the other races?”
Ramoch looked at him slowly. “These are all legends, Kerrigan. The source of the conflict between dragons and urZrethi is hidden in the mists of antiquity. It is just important to know the conflict exists. Origins that distant mean nothing today.”
“But if we knew how it started, there might be a way to establish peace.”
Ramoch laughed. “Eliminate Chytrine and you might be able to accomplish the impossible and establish peace between the urZrethi and dragons. But first things first.“
The three of them moved through Vael at a leisurely pace, but always down and deeper. Kerrigan looked for hints of what had once been urZrethi construction, but it eluded him. Everything appeared to be natural stone, despite the fact it clearly had been shaped. The columns were spaced so evenly that nature could not have played a part, which meant magick had been used to guide things. Even so, he did not get the impression it had been done hastily. Instead, he imagined spells that would allow the stone to flow naturally, building the columns. It would take lifetimes, he calculated, then amended his thought. Human lifetimes.