“Stay in the waiting room and don’t leave until summoned,” Captain Darion said and closed the single door behind him.
My-re scanned the very small room within the Academy of the Eye, better known to Lord Protectors as the Stronghold Academy. It was a school of sorcery, the best and most prestigious school of its kind in all Alastari. She heard the wizards studied and trained to defend Alastari against any great invasion, so there was a heavy emphasis on battle spells and even rumors of how to open and close—mostly close—Chaos Gates.
The room had four chairs facing forward with an extension to write on. Opposite the chairs and only a few feet away, at most, was an old desk. There were no pictures on the wall and lanterns provided light. My-re winced at the confines. Two people would have to turn sideways if their paths crossed. It wasn’t designed for comfort and, if anything else, was the exact opposite. The space in a common broom closet would be considered a luxury. Even the air had a heavy presence of its own and seemed to push down on her.
There were a total of four other people in the room making it already crowded. Phetmolge, the captain of the ship the Nightie, the tuxedo colored were-cat Ssskah of the Castaway’s stable, and her stablemate Anusha of the Skull Squadron stable. The two women were writing on a sheet of paper with a large, white feathered quill. They looked up as she entered, then went back to writing. Phetmolge’s quill lay next to his sheet of paper turned over, as he sat staring straight ahead at the fourth person in the room.
Sitting behind the desk was a venerable and meek old man with thick spectacles supported by a crooked nose. His head sported a fluffy snow white afro and matching beard. His lips sunk into his mouth and his skin was paper thin. My-re wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d already seen his 100th birthday five years ago. The old man didn’t look up from his desk as he pushed a piece of paper across his desk with a matching white feathered quill.
“Please fill out the form and return it to me when completed.”
My-re squeezed between two of the chairs and retrieved the pen and paper. She sat and glanced at the dozens of questions one right after the other. She never had to fill anything like this before, so she started to follow her collogues example and began to answer the questions.
Name: My-re.
Job: Yes.
Style: Trendy.
What is your current problem?: I need more gold.
What have you done to resolve your problem?: I asked General Pol for a raise.
Did this resolve the problem?: No.
Why are you seeking an audience with Lady Greywand?: I’m not.
My-re continued to answer similar questions where she put either ‘Yes’ or ‘No’, but she didn’t understand why there was so much extra space for each. Every once and awhile, Anusha snickered under her breath as she wrote, while Ssskah scribble at length on the paper. Phetmolge’s just stared forward.
Despite being last in the room, My-re finished her sheet before Ssskah and Anusha and she looked over. Anusha noticed her and covered her paper. Ssskah had lengthy answers to each question, opposed to her few word responses. My-re looked to her own paper and understood she could have elaborated more and began to re-think her answers.
The door swung open and Captain Darien stood in the entryway. “Lady Greywand is waiting.”
As they all began to rise, the quite old man’s head snapped up and said, “Their paperwork needs to be turned in before anyone sees my Lady. There are procedures to these types of things you know.”
“I don’t have time for this Jenkins,” Darion huffed.
Jenkins knocked his glasses to the edge of his nose, so he could stare at the captain and replied, “My Lady has time for this, therefore you have time for this. After all this is for prosterity sake.”
The captain removed himself from blocking the entryway and stood outside waiting.
My-re watched old man Jenkins who had his hand extended and waited for the paperwork. They all rose and turned it in. Ssskah’s was nicely filled out in exquisite handwriting and Jenkins nodded his head in appreciation. Phetmolge was next, but next to each question was the letter ‘X’. Jenkins turned it back and forth, but all the responses were the same. He sighed and put it on top of the other. Anusha handed her sheet in and snickered.
Jenkins stared at it, brought it closer to his eyes, then away. Turned it over then back and asked, “Is this written in Rathiri?”
“Of course it’s written in the Khan’s tongue. I’m a Rirorni,” Anusha proudly stated.
Shaking his head, Jenkins put it down and smiled warmly at My-re, like an elderly professor seeing his favorite student.
My-re stepped up more than a little embarrassed at her meek, few word answers.
Jenkins took it and viewed it over for a moment, his brow crinkled, and let out a sigh. He seemed to struggle on how to respond and merely said, “May the gods bless your heart.”
RAP! RAP!
Captain Darion had hit his knuckle hard on the wooden door and left. His indication clear. Follow.
The four followed Captain Darion down a few corridors, some long and others short. It wasn’t long before she was completely lost. Lit sconces lined the walls and My-re quickly glanced at the hanging artwork. Many were masterpieces of various objects, fruit, people, landscapes, but one caused her to stop. The centerpiece depicted a high circular doorway on a hill with a raised stone framework. It appeared to be an artifact of unfathomable age, built by beings as far beyond her as she might be above a rodent. Etched and carved around the entire frame were oversized and intricate runes. It was something she had seen before and never wanted to again; a Chaos Gate. Surrounding the structure were battle harden warriors wearing the white mantle of the Lord Protectors supporting wounded companions and retreating towards the gate’s opening. A few valiantly protected their flank and held off a hoard of abominations many with flailing tentacles and oversized mouths with serrated teeth. They were creatures not of this world. The title etched on a brass display located on the frame read: Gateway.
“Ahem.”
My-re looked up and saw Captain Darien and the rest of the group several paces away waiting. She gave the painting a last glance then followed.
They traveled down another long corridor, but this one was well lit by etched sconces and the stone material seemed of higher quality. My-re could tell they were getting to someplace important, as they started to walk on a red floor runner, which seemed surprisingly clean. They heard voices, which proceeded two figures hurriedly approaching in the distance.
My-re recognized the first as Spymaster Timshard by his fair complexion with a splattering of freckles across his youthful face. His bright blue eyes narrowed as he saw them. He was half walking and half jogging behind a woman and trying to keep up with the taller figure.
The woman had straight, raven black hair and brown eyes. Her olive skin covered wide cheekbones, a strong jaw, and a long nose, a feature that made her more striking than beautiful. Across her chest she wore a dark-brown, harden leather breastplate, which was probably boiled a dozen or more times. It has a sheen to it and likely even the sharpest of spears would have difficulty penetrating it. Strategically placed leather sections also protected her shoulders and forearms. Her black boots were of the same material with an additional protective portion extending past her knees to the middle of her thighs, but the back of her legs remained exposed to allow free movement. Underneath the armor was a garment of the finest black silk that wouldn’t tear easily. A simple wand was housed in a case off her belt, which she periodically touched, as if to ensure it was still there.
“Captain Darien, your arrival was expected some time ago. Necessary delays?” the woman asked.
“Lady Shelia Greywand,” Darien said bowing and then grumbled, “The scribe indicated the paperwork required completion.”
“I presumed as much,” Shelia said putting on matching decorative and fingerless gloves. “Paperwork is Jenkin’s concern. It is not mine. Is it understood when a summons is made it is of the upmost importance and not to be delayed, except under the most imperative of circumstances?”
“Yes, Lady Greywand,” Darien said bowing his head.
“Now that matter is settled, let me properly greet my guests.”
Timshard stepped forward and began, “This is Ssskah of the Castaway stable. She—“
Shelia interrupted him, “Timmy, they are my guests, I am aware of who I invited.”
Timshard’s face went red with embarrassment, likely as it was widely known he has a distain for the nickname.
Ssskah curtseyed elegantly. “Shelia, it’s been way too long.”
Timshard snapped, “It’s Lady Greywand—“
Shelia interrupted, ignored the comment, and said to Ssskah, “Yes, indeed it has. As situations necessitate, much effort goes into daily activities.” Shelia then touch Darien’s arm and mused, “I even require an extra pair of eyes just to ensure the boys don’t cause untold havoc on the Isle.”
“Another vacation soon?” Ssskah asked.
Shelia smiled and said, “A holiday would be ideal. However, as you recall it took two weeks to clean things up the last time I left the boys in charge.”
Captain Darien snorted in hesitant acknowledgement.
Shelia then moved to Anusha. The Rirorni stood straight and stiff. After a heartbeat or two, Anusha slightly nodded her head in respect.
“A strong woman. Something I admire. I dare say if the Rirorni men were as half as strong as their women, we’d be speaking the Khan’s tongue of Rathiri now.”
Anusha smiled at the compliment and nodded her head a little deeper in admiration.
Shelia then move to My-re. She attempted to mimic Ssskah sophistication greeting, but it turned into a mess of a curtsey and after failing that, a half bow. Not a good first impression My-re scolded herself.
“My-re, the Blood Games champion of Valamantis. Anyone who can humble men the way you have in the past is someone I would like to call a friend,” Shelia said.
Shelia moved to Phetmolge and said, “Thank you captain for coming. I would have understood otherwise. The forced retirement of the Nightie was of necessity. However, I will be the first to admit that better choices by myself could have been made. As the situation now dictates, the Isle of the Eye has need to call upon the Nightie to set sail one more time.”
“Lady Greywand, I still must protest your actions as foolhardy,” Timshard said.
“Careful Spymaster,” Captain Darien announced and took a step forward.
My-re watched the stand-off between the two men. They each seemed very protective of Shelia Greywand. She admitted to herself, Shelia had a certain intelligence and confidence about her, which made her charismatic. She also valued her respect for women and knocking the ‘boys’ down a peg or two didn’t hurt her opinion. She wanted Shelia to like her and knowing she appreciated strong women prompted her with enough courage to speak, “Lady Greywand, may I ask why we were summoned?”
“Did Captain Darien not say?” Shelia looked to the captain and closed her eyes in amused understanding. “The good captain does love his theatrics. The reason for the summons is simple. I’m to accompany you on the hunt for the Lake of Mists monster.”