"Many thanks, Friar Allard, and I hope I will be back in time to help set all in order."
Barrett's parting smile to the friar was colored with both gratitude and amusement at his double meaning. The young man's good humor was returning in spite of his uncertainties.
Once he had taken leave and had a short drink of water, Barrett headed out of the dormitory complex. The lanky youth set off at a jog, careful of other pedestrians and of rocks and other obstacles in the road. He tried to keep an eye out for anything or anyone suspicious, but his main focus was to make haste to his destination.
Seeking Tutors - Barrett
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The day was still very young, so the streets weren't very crowded yet. The map friar Allard had drawn was perfectly clear. He simply followed the main road through the village, passing the central fountain, the library and several temples. After a while, buildings became more scarce, and it wasn't long before the road was no longer cobbled. Before him was nothing but a field clad in the gold of the sunlight that promised a wonderful day. Far away, Barrett could already see what had to be the house of Master Öçal, though at this distance, one couldn't say why it was so in contrast to the usual style of the Isle.
Barrett followed the instructions of his housemaster, following a little stream for a while, passing a stone bridge, and then after a portion of well-developed shrubs that didn't deserve the name "forest" Allard had given it, he bumped into a big black iron gate. It was open, though.
Behind it was a goniometrically perfectly composed front yard. A central path of polished dark granite and obsidian divided the grass perfectly in two. The house and the garden were entirely included by the gate. Tangled around it's bars were the elements that brought color: a rampant growth of exotic orchids had turned the gate into a wall of plants. The grass was neatly trimmed.
At the end of the path, that was about twenty paces in length, was a manor of at least four stories. Indeed it was quite different in architecture than most of the other buildings Barrett had seen on the Isle so far, save some temples. It had several big, magnificent windows, the façade featured wonderful bas-reliefs, and there were balustrades, basically, everywhere. Somehow it didn't look too much.
It was but four little stairs up to the exquisite two-part door in fine cedar wood. There was a big gargoyle on each side of the little staircase, and there were several more on the roof.
Barrett followed the instructions of his housemaster, following a little stream for a while, passing a stone bridge, and then after a portion of well-developed shrubs that didn't deserve the name "forest" Allard had given it, he bumped into a big black iron gate. It was open, though.
Behind it was a goniometrically perfectly composed front yard. A central path of polished dark granite and obsidian divided the grass perfectly in two. The house and the garden were entirely included by the gate. Tangled around it's bars were the elements that brought color: a rampant growth of exotic orchids had turned the gate into a wall of plants. The grass was neatly trimmed.
At the end of the path, that was about twenty paces in length, was a manor of at least four stories. Indeed it was quite different in architecture than most of the other buildings Barrett had seen on the Isle so far, save some temples. It had several big, magnificent windows, the façade featured wonderful bas-reliefs, and there were balustrades, basically, everywhere. Somehow it didn't look too much.
It was but four little stairs up to the exquisite two-part door in fine cedar wood. There was a big gargoyle on each side of the little staircase, and there were several more on the roof.
Verum et factum convertuntur.
Avatar by the Artist Currently Known as Eira.
Avatar by the Artist Currently Known as Eira.
Despite Barrett's perceived need for haste, his pace slowed to a normal walk as he approached, or rather bumped into, the iron gate. The rising sun and natural beauty of the field and stream had lifted his spirits somewhat The exotic colors and scents of the orchids attracted his attention and the contrast between the wall of wild flowers and the neatly trimmed lawn seemed quite extreme.
The manor itself seemed as grand as some temples and Barrett stopped still to observe it from a distance. The carefully manicured grounds and the dark stones of the path instilled in him a desire to approach the place with dignity. As he neared the structure his eyes picked out the many details of the design and façade. He was not educated in such things but wanted to be certain that he caught as many clues as to the nature of the designer and/or resident's personality as were available. The gargoyles were of some interest as it seemed odd to have so many of them protecting a residence.
Barrett paused and combed a hand through his hair, attempting to compose himself beneath the gargoyles' stare. He drew himself up and spent a moment conjuring a confident self-image - drawing energy from the sun's warmth, the verdant lawn and orchids and the anchoring feel of the silver band on his arm. It was part centering and part mental preparation for whatever might be waiting for him.
Finally, he gave a polite but firm knock on the fine cedar door.
The manor itself seemed as grand as some temples and Barrett stopped still to observe it from a distance. The carefully manicured grounds and the dark stones of the path instilled in him a desire to approach the place with dignity. As he neared the structure his eyes picked out the many details of the design and façade. He was not educated in such things but wanted to be certain that he caught as many clues as to the nature of the designer and/or resident's personality as were available. The gargoyles were of some interest as it seemed odd to have so many of them protecting a residence.
Barrett paused and combed a hand through his hair, attempting to compose himself beneath the gargoyles' stare. He drew himself up and spent a moment conjuring a confident self-image - drawing energy from the sun's warmth, the verdant lawn and orchids and the anchoring feel of the silver band on his arm. It was part centering and part mental preparation for whatever might be waiting for him.
Finally, he gave a polite but firm knock on the fine cedar door.
Most of the sculpturing was too high to be very clear from the spot Barrett was standing. The bits that could be seen well without a telescope, showed mostly flower motives as well as a group of dancing maidens here and there. The subjects weren't really original, but even to the eye of somebody who didn't know much about the art of sculpting, the great quality of the work was striking.
Half a burn after Barrett had knocked on the door, master Öçal opened it. He was truly old, with a wrinkly face, silver white hair and bright blue eyes deep in his head. There were thin, long fingers with long nails on his hands. The hands themselves were covered with thick veins and pigment spots. He wore cotton slippers, similar to those on Asran's feet, but these were black in color, as were his pants. He wore a bright red shirt with a high collar on it, and on his nose was a tiny pair of glasses with hexagonally shaped lenses. Overall, his dressing was that of your typical old mad alchemist.
"How may I help you," spoke the man with a deep bass voice, which didn't match with his frail built. He peered over his glasses to Barrett, with a calm, penetrating gaze.
Half a burn after Barrett had knocked on the door, master Öçal opened it. He was truly old, with a wrinkly face, silver white hair and bright blue eyes deep in his head. There were thin, long fingers with long nails on his hands. The hands themselves were covered with thick veins and pigment spots. He wore cotton slippers, similar to those on Asran's feet, but these were black in color, as were his pants. He wore a bright red shirt with a high collar on it, and on his nose was a tiny pair of glasses with hexagonally shaped lenses. Overall, his dressing was that of your typical old mad alchemist.
"How may I help you," spoke the man with a deep bass voice, which didn't match with his frail built. He peered over his glasses to Barrett, with a calm, penetrating gaze.
Verum et factum convertuntur.
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Avatar by the Artist Currently Known as Eira.
The man who appeared before him was quite an awesome sight. Unfortunately there seemed to be as much a sense of oddity or madness about him as Barrett had observed in Asran- perhaps even more. Maybe that was a facade common to this order. Or a side effect of expending so much energy in thought.
Barrett stood frozen for a moment, taking in the various details of this old man's appearance. His voice was anything but frail. In fact, the strength and either talent or training there (Barrett suspected both) was quite impressive.
Now, how to proceed?
Barrett could not simply blurt out his story. For one thing there might be prying eyes. More importantly there was Asran's magic hanging over him. True, this was not necessarily "revealing information to an enemy" - Uncle Jacob's reference was enough for Barrett- but there was no way to tell if the spell could distinguish such a thing. It occurred to Barrett that with Asran missing, his sorcery might not still hold. But he was not quite willing to risk death on a hunch.
"Master Öçal? I have some questions that I may not ask regarding a problem of which I may not speak. My Uncle Jacob said if the need was dire I should seek you out."
Barrett spoke clearly and simply, only a slight tremor to the first few syllables betrayed his nervousness.
As he spoke, he looked Master Öçal straight in the eyes.
Barrett stood frozen for a moment, taking in the various details of this old man's appearance. His voice was anything but frail. In fact, the strength and either talent or training there (Barrett suspected both) was quite impressive.
Now, how to proceed?
Barrett could not simply blurt out his story. For one thing there might be prying eyes. More importantly there was Asran's magic hanging over him. True, this was not necessarily "revealing information to an enemy" - Uncle Jacob's reference was enough for Barrett- but there was no way to tell if the spell could distinguish such a thing. It occurred to Barrett that with Asran missing, his sorcery might not still hold. But he was not quite willing to risk death on a hunch.
"Master Öçal? I have some questions that I may not ask regarding a problem of which I may not speak. My Uncle Jacob said if the need was dire I should seek you out."
Barrett spoke clearly and simply, only a slight tremor to the first few syllables betrayed his nervousness.
As he spoke, he looked Master Öçal straight in the eyes.
His thick, brushy eyebrows travelled some distance on his forehead. "Uncle Jacob you say? Oh right, the storyteller of the Thinker... Then you must be... let's think..." He scratched his head. "Barrett. I guess you better come in then."
He let Barrett inside, and closed the door. Hattark had to be rich, for not only the outside, also the inside of his residence was a pleasure to the eye. The finest wooden floor Barrett had ever seen, wonderful mirrors of unbelievable size, great standing clocks, marble staircases, this house had it all.
"Follow me, please." said the old man. He opened one of the several doors in the hall. They arrived in a cozy living room, with many book cases, several carpets, paintings on the wall, and so on. Hattark sat down in a typical big red-leather chair with little nobs, and invited Barrett to do the same. "Now, tell me what you'd like to drink, and then tell me what this dire need is."
He let Barrett inside, and closed the door. Hattark had to be rich, for not only the outside, also the inside of his residence was a pleasure to the eye. The finest wooden floor Barrett had ever seen, wonderful mirrors of unbelievable size, great standing clocks, marble staircases, this house had it all.
"Follow me, please." said the old man. He opened one of the several doors in the hall. They arrived in a cozy living room, with many book cases, several carpets, paintings on the wall, and so on. Hattark sat down in a typical big red-leather chair with little nobs, and invited Barrett to do the same. "Now, tell me what you'd like to drink, and then tell me what this dire need is."
Verum et factum convertuntur.
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Avatar by the Artist Currently Known as Eira.
That Master Öçal had recalled Barrett's name was quite impressive. In fact, it put him in mind of how many similar minute facts such a man might be carrying around in his head. Not to mention actual knowledge used in a routine manner. And to recall such an obscure fact so quickly!
The inside of the place was even more grand than the outside view had led Barrett to believe. All the nice furniture, the expanse of mirrors, sweeping staircases, the clocks and other rare adornments- it all made Barrett feel like a child in a museum. A very large, expensive, extraordinarily well-kept museum. Surely there must be a cadre of servants to care for all of this. Why then had Master Öçal answered the door himself?
Meekly, the lad from Dort followed the Master into a sitting room. He admired the book cases- too have so many in what was a personal residence was a great show of wealth. And such fine paintings and furniture! But Barrett was not here to admire furniture.
"Some tea, if you please, master."
He seated himself and waited a moment before he began- or tried to begin. he suddenly realized he did not know how to say - or rather not say - what needed to be said. And in the comfort of this fine place he felt slightly silly. It made his whole circumstance seem silly, as if it were all a great jest someone were playing on him. but dying was not silly and if there were demon-threat it was no joking matter.
"Master Öçal. I thank you for the hospitality. I have been on the isle for three days, most of which has been filled with work. Some has been in preparation for some great meeting at the dormitory. I have met a few people. Friar Allard, of course, and the gracious Lady at the Pool among them. Also one of the Thinker's order called Asran?"
Barrett shifted a bit in his chair emphasizing the scroll that hung from his belt by a small loop. His left hand wandered to the small silver trinket he wore.
"Perhaps you would know with better certainty than I whether or not it is possible through use of mind craft or some such means to set bindings in the mind that might strengthen a novice's mental barriers? Or indeed play a man like a puppet? Even so far as to set deadly traps to guard information that might be otherwise vulnerable? And such a thing might be deadly to the novice?"
The inside of the place was even more grand than the outside view had led Barrett to believe. All the nice furniture, the expanse of mirrors, sweeping staircases, the clocks and other rare adornments- it all made Barrett feel like a child in a museum. A very large, expensive, extraordinarily well-kept museum. Surely there must be a cadre of servants to care for all of this. Why then had Master Öçal answered the door himself?
Meekly, the lad from Dort followed the Master into a sitting room. He admired the book cases- too have so many in what was a personal residence was a great show of wealth. And such fine paintings and furniture! But Barrett was not here to admire furniture.
"Some tea, if you please, master."
He seated himself and waited a moment before he began- or tried to begin. he suddenly realized he did not know how to say - or rather not say - what needed to be said. And in the comfort of this fine place he felt slightly silly. It made his whole circumstance seem silly, as if it were all a great jest someone were playing on him. but dying was not silly and if there were demon-threat it was no joking matter.
"Master Öçal. I thank you for the hospitality. I have been on the isle for three days, most of which has been filled with work. Some has been in preparation for some great meeting at the dormitory. I have met a few people. Friar Allard, of course, and the gracious Lady at the Pool among them. Also one of the Thinker's order called Asran?"
Barrett shifted a bit in his chair emphasizing the scroll that hung from his belt by a small loop. His left hand wandered to the small silver trinket he wore.
"Perhaps you would know with better certainty than I whether or not it is possible through use of mind craft or some such means to set bindings in the mind that might strengthen a novice's mental barriers? Or indeed play a man like a puppet? Even so far as to set deadly traps to guard information that might be otherwise vulnerable? And such a thing might be deadly to the novice?"
Last edited by Barrett on Wed Jun 23, 2004 3:04 pm, edited 1 time in total.
"Just give me a burn." The old man stood up again, left the room, and returned with a pot of steaming water and a variety of teas and herbs. "Please help yourself" he said, as he put it all on a little salon table next to Barrett's chair.
The man's face didn't show any sign of emotion, appreciation or thought while Barrett commenced his story. "What is the goal of these questions, young man? They seem pretty vague and pointless the way you formulate them. In theory, all those things are possible, though they would require great skill, knowledge, and lack of moral principles." He didn't seem to take initiative to keep the conversation going.
The man's face didn't show any sign of emotion, appreciation or thought while Barrett commenced his story. "What is the goal of these questions, young man? They seem pretty vague and pointless the way you formulate them. In theory, all those things are possible, though they would require great skill, knowledge, and lack of moral principles." He didn't seem to take initiative to keep the conversation going.
Verum et factum convertuntur.
Avatar by the Artist Currently Known as Eira.
Avatar by the Artist Currently Known as Eira.
Possibly my last post?
Barrett sipped his tea for a bit.
What is the point of all this except to make me look like a fool? Or possibly a corpse.
Frustration set wheels turning within Barrett's head. Small associations of seemingly meaningless information began flickering through his thoughts. Images, faces, sounds, smells.
"I fear such craft has been worked upon me. If not, then such clever illusion of such as for me to be unable to distinguish from reality. So clever in fact, that perhaps everything I have seen and heard and tasted and smelled since I woke up on the isle might be such an illusion."
Barrett removed the bracelet and set it, his writing kit and the scroll on a nearby table. They might offer the master some clues if what he was about to attempt did not work out as planned. He tried to enjoy his tea for a bit more as it might be the last thing he did.
"My path crossed with, or I was intentionally followed by, one Asran at the library. His proximity and actions were suspicious, or at least intriguing. I deduced, whether or not he meant me to is still a matter of question, that he was pulling seemingly random works based on an anagram and the general subject of doors or gates. When I tracked down another such text, he caught me at it. Then he grasped my shoulder, at which point I experienced the feeling of being a passenger in my own body. I gave up the book I had found and was taken to a place where he spoke with me of a plot, a conspiracy to unleash dark forces upon the isle. He threatened that he had set a guard in my mind to kill me if I spoke of it to anyone else. Then he ordered me to learn a scroll to assist him in ruining whatever dark magic was supposed to be worked in three days time. There was no evidence that anything he said was true and no way to determine his trustworthiness. He was far better at deception than I could manage to deconstruct and his powers of mind craft seemed quite convincing. As he had caused me no harm, and it seemed a lot of effort to go through to confuse one novice, I decided to err on the side of caution where the security of the isle was concerned. However, since then I have made little progress on what appears to be a nonsense scroll and he has not shown himself at the appointed times for me to consult him. Either it is all a hoax, in which case I must apologize for taking up your time with this, or something has happened to him. The fact that I am still alive after speaking these words is inconclusive. It may be a joke played on a too-naive novice. It may be that the whole thing is true but that no such protections were wrought on my mind. It may be that whatever has happened to Asran has caused his mind craft to fail. It may even be possible that the whole of it was staged with the intent to force me to seek you out- either to target you in some way or to damage whatever good will you may have had towards me."
Privately, Barrett was leaning towards the entirety of the past three days having been an illusion - including his current meeting. While he battled to control his emotions, there were traces of both a thinly hidden sob and the beginnings of laughter in his voice.
What is the point of all this except to make me look like a fool? Or possibly a corpse.
Frustration set wheels turning within Barrett's head. Small associations of seemingly meaningless information began flickering through his thoughts. Images, faces, sounds, smells.
"I fear such craft has been worked upon me. If not, then such clever illusion of such as for me to be unable to distinguish from reality. So clever in fact, that perhaps everything I have seen and heard and tasted and smelled since I woke up on the isle might be such an illusion."
Barrett removed the bracelet and set it, his writing kit and the scroll on a nearby table. They might offer the master some clues if what he was about to attempt did not work out as planned. He tried to enjoy his tea for a bit more as it might be the last thing he did.
"My path crossed with, or I was intentionally followed by, one Asran at the library. His proximity and actions were suspicious, or at least intriguing. I deduced, whether or not he meant me to is still a matter of question, that he was pulling seemingly random works based on an anagram and the general subject of doors or gates. When I tracked down another such text, he caught me at it. Then he grasped my shoulder, at which point I experienced the feeling of being a passenger in my own body. I gave up the book I had found and was taken to a place where he spoke with me of a plot, a conspiracy to unleash dark forces upon the isle. He threatened that he had set a guard in my mind to kill me if I spoke of it to anyone else. Then he ordered me to learn a scroll to assist him in ruining whatever dark magic was supposed to be worked in three days time. There was no evidence that anything he said was true and no way to determine his trustworthiness. He was far better at deception than I could manage to deconstruct and his powers of mind craft seemed quite convincing. As he had caused me no harm, and it seemed a lot of effort to go through to confuse one novice, I decided to err on the side of caution where the security of the isle was concerned. However, since then I have made little progress on what appears to be a nonsense scroll and he has not shown himself at the appointed times for me to consult him. Either it is all a hoax, in which case I must apologize for taking up your time with this, or something has happened to him. The fact that I am still alive after speaking these words is inconclusive. It may be a joke played on a too-naive novice. It may be that the whole thing is true but that no such protections were wrought on my mind. It may be that whatever has happened to Asran has caused his mind craft to fail. It may even be possible that the whole of it was staged with the intent to force me to seek you out- either to target you in some way or to damage whatever good will you may have had towards me."
Privately, Barrett was leaning towards the entirety of the past three days having been an illusion - including his current meeting. While he battled to control his emotions, there were traces of both a thinly hidden sob and the beginnings of laughter in his voice.
"Calm down, boy. You do take a big risk by telling me all this. For all you know, what he said could have been true. However, I think you did the right thing, and I'm starting to see the pattern. Could I perhaps see this scroll you speak of?"
Verum et factum convertuntur.
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Avatar by the Artist Currently Known as Eira.
Barrett managed to rein in his emotions somewhat. He was not certain what had caused such an internal tumult. Perhaps it was the stress of overcoming his fear of death. In any case, he felt his normal sense of calm and control returning.
He rose and presented the scroll to the master. As an afterthought, he held up the bracelet.
"This was given me by Asran as a focus for centering. Also, the author anagram at the library spelled - among other things - 'Peter Stevens'."
While he waited, Barrett tried to consider the past few days' events from the point of view of someone else. Perhaps he could find a pattern if he did not look at everything so closely and personally.
He rose and presented the scroll to the master. As an afterthought, he held up the bracelet.
"This was given me by Asran as a focus for centering. Also, the author anagram at the library spelled - among other things - 'Peter Stevens'."
While he waited, Barrett tried to consider the past few days' events from the point of view of someone else. Perhaps he could find a pattern if he did not look at everything so closely and personally.
Hattark Öçal unrolled the scroll with great care and started reading. "Exactly what I thought. This, Barrett, is an excerpt of the Liber Maleficarus, a very vile book indeed. It is part of the necessary formula to open demonic gates. I suppose he has told you you have to prevent some summoning or so? In fact, this Asran character intends to use you as a sacrifice.
I understand this web is confusing for you, but I can give you some logical reasons to trust me. First of all, mind craft. A branch of magic widely associated with the dark arts. Although he has apparently not placed the pit traps in your mind, he did manage to abduct you easily. Furthermore, placing such destructive mechanisms would have costed him great amounts of energy -which he needs for the summoning.- He probably thought instilling you with fear was a sufficient defence mechanism.
Then there's the scroll. Go to the library, if you want, and search for references to the Liber Maleficarus. You shall not find the integral text off course, as that would be a bit dangerous. You will certainly find proof of the fact that this text is necessary to summon daemons, though. The task he's given you is totally superfluous; it is easy to put a text like this in your head... Be it not by means of mindcraft, but rather by means of hypnosis."
He took the piece of jewelry, and waved it's hands around it, as if stroking an invisible orb. "This bracelet... it was a gift to win your confidence. There's nothing wrong with it."
The man kept silent for a while. "We are left with the question what to do next. If this man who calls himself 'Asran' now is who I think he is, we have a dangerous opponent. I think we shall have to use deception. Here's what I'll do... I can change this magically written scroll. I shall change some key words, that will totally wreck his ritual. Then, I shall put the words in your memory.
When you meet him, by all means act natural. Ask him where he's been and all that. He's bound to turn up, for he needs your young body to feed the demon. Go along with the ritual, and you will recite the words without a single mistake, believe me. It will however kill him, and prevent the summoning. What do you think?"
I understand this web is confusing for you, but I can give you some logical reasons to trust me. First of all, mind craft. A branch of magic widely associated with the dark arts. Although he has apparently not placed the pit traps in your mind, he did manage to abduct you easily. Furthermore, placing such destructive mechanisms would have costed him great amounts of energy -which he needs for the summoning.- He probably thought instilling you with fear was a sufficient defence mechanism.
Then there's the scroll. Go to the library, if you want, and search for references to the Liber Maleficarus. You shall not find the integral text off course, as that would be a bit dangerous. You will certainly find proof of the fact that this text is necessary to summon daemons, though. The task he's given you is totally superfluous; it is easy to put a text like this in your head... Be it not by means of mindcraft, but rather by means of hypnosis."
He took the piece of jewelry, and waved it's hands around it, as if stroking an invisible orb. "This bracelet... it was a gift to win your confidence. There's nothing wrong with it."
The man kept silent for a while. "We are left with the question what to do next. If this man who calls himself 'Asran' now is who I think he is, we have a dangerous opponent. I think we shall have to use deception. Here's what I'll do... I can change this magically written scroll. I shall change some key words, that will totally wreck his ritual. Then, I shall put the words in your memory.
When you meet him, by all means act natural. Ask him where he's been and all that. He's bound to turn up, for he needs your young body to feed the demon. Go along with the ritual, and you will recite the words without a single mistake, believe me. It will however kill him, and prevent the summoning. What do you think?"
Verum et factum convertuntur.
Avatar by the Artist Currently Known as Eira.
Avatar by the Artist Currently Known as Eira.
So perhaps my inability to memorize the cursed scroll was a gift from the Thinker and my instinctive disgust toward mind control magic was correct. And magical creation explained the perfect regularity of the scroll's characters. So many little clues...
"To be quite honest, I do not like any of this. I do not like the idea of being used as a conduit for death- even to one who would have used me. But it does seem to be the only course of action. If I were simply to refuse to take part in his ritual, he may force me as he controlled me before. I only hope that something in my behavior does not give me away. He seemed far more capable at games of deception than I."
"I shall seek out this reference in the library. If he discovers my interest and seems concerned I shall claim that I thought a knowledge of daemons might come in handy in preventing a summoning. Hopefully he will be relying on my innocence and so not become suspicious of me."
"One thing bothers me most, Master Öçal. The clerk at the library believed this man to be a follower of the Thinker. In fact, I fear his behavior has prejudiced the clerks toward us. Is he a thinker gone astray? And is there a way whereby I can recognize one of our order?"
That of was Barrett's most pressing concern- that he might be so easily deceived and used.
Master Öçal was not entirely exempt from his suspicions, but the recommendation of both Allard and Uncle Jacob lent him much credence.
"To be quite honest, I do not like any of this. I do not like the idea of being used as a conduit for death- even to one who would have used me. But it does seem to be the only course of action. If I were simply to refuse to take part in his ritual, he may force me as he controlled me before. I only hope that something in my behavior does not give me away. He seemed far more capable at games of deception than I."
"I shall seek out this reference in the library. If he discovers my interest and seems concerned I shall claim that I thought a knowledge of daemons might come in handy in preventing a summoning. Hopefully he will be relying on my innocence and so not become suspicious of me."
"One thing bothers me most, Master Öçal. The clerk at the library believed this man to be a follower of the Thinker. In fact, I fear his behavior has prejudiced the clerks toward us. Is he a thinker gone astray? And is there a way whereby I can recognize one of our order?"
That of was Barrett's most pressing concern- that he might be so easily deceived and used.
Master Öçal was not entirely exempt from his suspicions, but the recommendation of both Allard and Uncle Jacob lent him much credence.
"I'm glad you understand that this is the only option."
"Those from your order always make their own paths; they are not recognizable by their appearance. Most of them have the tendency to be stubborn, solo and clever, but that's about all there can be said in general. At least for the followers of Aurelius I've met. I don't know whether this evil man has ever been a follower of the Thinker, but it is not impossible. Many are corrupted..." He sighed.
"Let's start then. Let's not forget we need to get you to the library by tradetide. It'll be easier if you use your bracelet. Center yourself, and then give my voice your full attention..."
"Those from your order always make their own paths; they are not recognizable by their appearance. Most of them have the tendency to be stubborn, solo and clever, but that's about all there can be said in general. At least for the followers of Aurelius I've met. I don't know whether this evil man has ever been a follower of the Thinker, but it is not impossible. Many are corrupted..." He sighed.
"Let's start then. Let's not forget we need to get you to the library by tradetide. It'll be easier if you use your bracelet. Center yourself, and then give my voice your full attention..."
Verum et factum convertuntur.
Avatar by the Artist Currently Known as Eira.
Avatar by the Artist Currently Known as Eira.
"I'm glad you understand that this is the only option."
Barrett was not certain that this was an absolute truth. Only that he had run out of ideas and resources and that there was no time to formulate another plan. Perhaps that was for the best, more complex plans would have more potential places to go wrong. The simplest solution then.
As if anything about this situation were simple!
It was just as well that Barrett had faced his fear earlier, for he found it easier to set his concerns aside for the centering effort. He slid the bracelet onto his arm.
At least this piece of silver is no lie.
Breathing more regularly, Barrett set his focus and slipped into a meditative state. When he was certain that it was one he could maintain, he signaled the master that he was ready. This time his full focus would be the master's voice.
Barrett was not certain that this was an absolute truth. Only that he had run out of ideas and resources and that there was no time to formulate another plan. Perhaps that was for the best, more complex plans would have more potential places to go wrong. The simplest solution then.
As if anything about this situation were simple!
It was just as well that Barrett had faced his fear earlier, for he found it easier to set his concerns aside for the centering effort. He slid the bracelet onto his arm.
At least this piece of silver is no lie.
Breathing more regularly, Barrett set his focus and slipped into a meditative state. When he was certain that it was one he could maintain, he signaled the master that he was ready. This time his full focus would be the master's voice.
Hattark started reading the words, and he apparently mastered the language. Barrett heard the finesse with which the man pronounced the ancient words. For a while, he stayed aware, hearing a bit of echo after each sound, but he lost consciousness pretty soon.
He dreamt. He dreamt of a Kemnboard on which all the pieces shifted color constantly; another in which Barrett wanted to read a book, but all the pages he looked for were torn out. He saw the face of friar Allard shifting into that of master Öçal; he saw the pretty priestess of Demeia, her guts draped on the stairs of the library that was on fire; and he saw Asran with two horns and leather wings that withered in the bright rays of the sun; he even dreamt of Jacob slapping him until blood clouded his eyesight.
When he"woke up", master Öçal was sitting in his chair reading a book. "Be gone now, hurry up!" he said, sipping from a cup of tea. "You don't wont to be late for your appointment with mister Asran, now do you? I'm sure you can find your way out, no? We all have much work to do, believe me! Oh and don't forget to act as natural as possible... And by no means mention my name, off course." His attention was back with his book already.
He dreamt. He dreamt of a Kemnboard on which all the pieces shifted color constantly; another in which Barrett wanted to read a book, but all the pages he looked for were torn out. He saw the face of friar Allard shifting into that of master Öçal; he saw the pretty priestess of Demeia, her guts draped on the stairs of the library that was on fire; and he saw Asran with two horns and leather wings that withered in the bright rays of the sun; he even dreamt of Jacob slapping him until blood clouded his eyesight.
When he"woke up", master Öçal was sitting in his chair reading a book. "Be gone now, hurry up!" he said, sipping from a cup of tea. "You don't wont to be late for your appointment with mister Asran, now do you? I'm sure you can find your way out, no? We all have much work to do, believe me! Oh and don't forget to act as natural as possible... And by no means mention my name, off course." His attention was back with his book already.
Verum et factum convertuntur.
Avatar by the Artist Currently Known as Eira.
Avatar by the Artist Currently Known as Eira.
How can the man act so casual about all of this?
"Yes, master Öçal."
Barrett simply left the man to his book. There did not seem to be anything left to say.
Once he was outside in the sunlight, Barrett allowed himself to consider his dreams and doubts and the man's strange behavior.
The dream images seemed fairly straightforward: an expression of Barrett's feelings and fears. Master Öçal on the other hand, seemed too much of a mystery. He had known Barrett's identity too readily. He had been too uninterested in the questioning way in which Barrett had started their conversation. That he had not mentioned Uncle Jacob at all was rather strange. And the casual and handy "solution" he proposed seemed quite conveniently ready. Master Öçal had been too much what Barrett might expect and that troubled him.
Again and again his mind kept returning to the image of Uncle Jacob slapping him. It seemed particularly disturbing as Barrett could think of no reason for such a thought to have entered his dreams. So he spent some time and energy recreating the images in his head, looking for further details that might be revealed. Was it his subconscious hinting at another solution?
Barrett did not head straight for the library. Instead he recalled a different destination: the temple of Demeia. Alamrith had been the only person on the isle that Barrett had found for himself and the only person not in a position to use him. (At least as far as he could tell!) He had still a few questions to settle in his mind and her opinion might provide a fresh perspective.
So it was to her that he went before committing himself any further to a rendezvous with Asran.
"Yes, master Öçal."
Barrett simply left the man to his book. There did not seem to be anything left to say.
Once he was outside in the sunlight, Barrett allowed himself to consider his dreams and doubts and the man's strange behavior.
The dream images seemed fairly straightforward: an expression of Barrett's feelings and fears. Master Öçal on the other hand, seemed too much of a mystery. He had known Barrett's identity too readily. He had been too uninterested in the questioning way in which Barrett had started their conversation. That he had not mentioned Uncle Jacob at all was rather strange. And the casual and handy "solution" he proposed seemed quite conveniently ready. Master Öçal had been too much what Barrett might expect and that troubled him.
Again and again his mind kept returning to the image of Uncle Jacob slapping him. It seemed particularly disturbing as Barrett could think of no reason for such a thought to have entered his dreams. So he spent some time and energy recreating the images in his head, looking for further details that might be revealed. Was it his subconscious hinting at another solution?
Barrett did not head straight for the library. Instead he recalled a different destination: the temple of Demeia. Alamrith had been the only person on the isle that Barrett had found for himself and the only person not in a position to use him. (At least as far as he could tell!) He had still a few questions to settle in his mind and her opinion might provide a fresh perspective.
So it was to her that he went before committing himself any further to a rendezvous with Asran.
Alas, dreams are volatile. They were already fading like a handful of fine sand finding a way to escape your grasp. No more information than what he'd got could be delved up from his memory.
During his way back, an eerie, quiet atmosphere hung over the fields. Barrett noticed that he could indeed recite the entire scroll now, without much effort even, as if the words were etched in his mind.
Not much later he arrived at the temple of Demeia. He'd have to hurry, because tradetide was drawing near already. So he had been quite a while at master Öçal's, apparently.
There was a priestess in the temple, but it was not Alamrith. "How may I be of assistance, young man?" said the buxom red hair. One could wonder whether all of Demeia's followers were pretty girls.
During his way back, an eerie, quiet atmosphere hung over the fields. Barrett noticed that he could indeed recite the entire scroll now, without much effort even, as if the words were etched in his mind.
Not much later he arrived at the temple of Demeia. He'd have to hurry, because tradetide was drawing near already. So he had been quite a while at master Öçal's, apparently.
There was a priestess in the temple, but it was not Alamrith. "How may I be of assistance, young man?" said the buxom red hair. One could wonder whether all of Demeia's followers were pretty girls.
Verum et factum convertuntur.
Avatar by the Artist Currently Known as Eira.
Avatar by the Artist Currently Known as Eira.
The perfection of his memory of the scroll was exactly as the master had said it would be. That troubled him slightly for it made little sense that a novice such as he would recall the strange work so easily and that might give him away. Curious, Barrett tried to compare his new memory to the work he had toiled at previously to see if he could detect what might have been changed.
The priestess who greeted him at the temple was not Alamrith. She was a beautiful young woman and Barrett felt somewhat awkward and hot behind the ears. Fortunately the serious nature of his day's errands prevented him from being entirely tongue-tied.
"Good day to you , lady. I was wondering if I might have a word with Mistress Alamrith. She had said to seek her out here."
The priestess who greeted him at the temple was not Alamrith. She was a beautiful young woman and Barrett felt somewhat awkward and hot behind the ears. Fortunately the serious nature of his day's errands prevented him from being entirely tongue-tied.
"Good day to you , lady. I was wondering if I might have a word with Mistress Alamrith. She had said to seek her out here."
Barrett noticed that some words had been changed, as Hattark had said, but since he knew not their meaning, it was hard to tell what the essential difference was.
"Ooh I'm so sorry, but Mother Alamrith is not here today. She's taking care of a wedding ceremony today. It's not that far though, perhaps a candlemark or two by foot. Is your business urgent? Can I perhaps help you?"
"Ooh I'm so sorry, but Mother Alamrith is not here today. She's taking care of a wedding ceremony today. It's not that far though, perhaps a candlemark or two by foot. Is your business urgent? Can I perhaps help you?"
Verum et factum convertuntur.
Avatar by the Artist Currently Known as Eira.
Avatar by the Artist Currently Known as Eira.
A mark or two? Barrett did not have that much time.
"Ah, no, I have an appointment soon. I am sorry to have missed her. But perhaps you can help me with something else. If you have a moment to spare. I have to seek out a Master Hattark Öçal in a bit and wondered if this map was correct. Does the name or the location on this map mean anything to you?"
"Ah, no, I have an appointment soon. I am sorry to have missed her. But perhaps you can help me with something else. If you have a moment to spare. I have to seek out a Master Hattark Öçal in a bit and wondered if this map was correct. Does the name or the location on this map mean anything to you?"
"By all means, I'll be glad to help! Off course I know that name, as do most priests on the Isle. You might want to talk about elder priests about that, because I don't have much information about him, except for gossip stories and townsfolk chatter.
I know he used to teach some of our novices, but I don't think he belongs to an order. He's quite the eccentric man, if you ask me, and I don't really trust him. Then again, I don't know him at all. The location on that map is certainly correct however, everybody has seen that outrageous house of his. Is this any help to you at all?"
She gave him another friendly smile, perhaps aware of the effect she had on most young men.
I know he used to teach some of our novices, but I don't think he belongs to an order. He's quite the eccentric man, if you ask me, and I don't really trust him. Then again, I don't know him at all. The location on that map is certainly correct however, everybody has seen that outrageous house of his. Is this any help to you at all?"
She gave him another friendly smile, perhaps aware of the effect she had on most young men.
Verum et factum convertuntur.
Avatar by the Artist Currently Known as Eira.
Avatar by the Artist Currently Known as Eira.
Barrett had regained some of his composure, enough to return the young woman's smile.
"Yes, it is a great help to know that my information is correct. Thank you!"
There were other questions he had, of course, but none of them were likely to be answered here. Barrett gave the priestess his most courtly bow and took his leave of the her and the temple.
"My name is Barrett, by the way. Please convey my regards to Mother Alamrith."
The lad hurried off, this time at a run, urgent to get to the library to check a few facts- if there were time to do so. There was his uncle's note to consult: Barrett wanted to re-check the handwriting to verify authorship. After all, he was banking his trust in the old eccentric on the fact that Uncle Jacob had suggested going to him. Then there was the matter of the dark text to be looked up. He might be able to verify the script of the scroll as having some common linguistic traits with those attributed to the Liber Maleficarus. There were other things Barrett would like to have checked, but the whole process was beginning to make him feel rather exhausted.
He felt like a piece on a giant kemnboard, with no clue as to who the players were.
And of course any piece is expendable given the right circumstance. If only there were some way to remove myself from the board. Or become the player instead of the pawn. That is how I should be thinking.
"Yes, it is a great help to know that my information is correct. Thank you!"
There were other questions he had, of course, but none of them were likely to be answered here. Barrett gave the priestess his most courtly bow and took his leave of the her and the temple.
"My name is Barrett, by the way. Please convey my regards to Mother Alamrith."
The lad hurried off, this time at a run, urgent to get to the library to check a few facts- if there were time to do so. There was his uncle's note to consult: Barrett wanted to re-check the handwriting to verify authorship. After all, he was banking his trust in the old eccentric on the fact that Uncle Jacob had suggested going to him. Then there was the matter of the dark text to be looked up. He might be able to verify the script of the scroll as having some common linguistic traits with those attributed to the Liber Maleficarus. There were other things Barrett would like to have checked, but the whole process was beginning to make him feel rather exhausted.
He felt like a piece on a giant kemnboard, with no clue as to who the players were.
And of course any piece is expendable given the right circumstance. If only there were some way to remove myself from the board. Or become the player instead of the pawn. That is how I should be thinking.
The young priestess giggled slightly. "I will certainly do that."
He quickly found the scroll he was looking for. It looked indeed like uncle Jacob had written it. Off course, one is never sure of such things, and certainly not as soon as doubt has sown it's seed in your mind.
He found a reference he could link to the text pretty quickly. The book he was looking for was in the occult section.
He quickly found the scroll he was looking for. It looked indeed like uncle Jacob had written it. Off course, one is never sure of such things, and certainly not as soon as doubt has sown it's seed in your mind.
He found a reference he could link to the text pretty quickly. The book he was looking for was in the occult section.
Verum et factum convertuntur.
Avatar by the Artist Currently Known as Eira.
Avatar by the Artist Currently Known as Eira.
The occult section. Of course.
Barrett scratched his head, less than enthusiastic at the thought of entering that area.
Well...
Barrett hesitated at the occult section, seeking the attention of the guardian there.
He explained to the monk that his research required access to a reference work there. If the monk could assist him, it would be appreciated. Otherwise Barrett asked what he should keep in mind if venturing into the area on his own. If that was permitted of course.
OOC: Harumph. I'm kind of at a loss here.
Barrett scratched his head, less than enthusiastic at the thought of entering that area.
Well...
Barrett hesitated at the occult section, seeking the attention of the guardian there.
He explained to the monk that his research required access to a reference work there. If the monk could assist him, it would be appreciated. Otherwise Barrett asked what he should keep in mind if venturing into the area on his own. If that was permitted of course.
OOC: Harumph. I'm kind of at a loss here.