respect you. I do, very much. But to me, every woman is still just a girl."
"There you go, harping about your immense age. One would think it was your only talent, this great age you have achieved."
"No respect for their elders. What's the world coming to these days? What do they teach you at those schools?"
"You need a nap, Gerrand. The port is still a couple hours."
"Now you treat me like your grandfather."
"I never dream about my grandfather."
"You dream about me?"
"Enough, Gerrand. Rest yourself. We shall speak no more of dreams today."
"You dream about me." Gerrand murmured to himself. He grinned as he closed his eyes. Faeya Ryr shook her head.
Gerrand awoke a half hour later. Faeya Ryr stared out the window. He sensed tenseness about her, but decided not to ask her about it. He thought about what he knew of her, and found his knowledge slight. He kept to his estate so much he did not hear much about the outside world. He preferred it that way. However, now the outer world required him to join it again and he felt lost and old coping with the changes of recent times.
She saw him watching her and smiled.
"This is not a normal summons," said Faeya Ryr. "There is much more to this, and I believe you know the entire tale."
"Yes, I do. At least, I know the cause of the summons, but I cannot guess the mind of Tyman Stile. And so, the response of the Council is unknown to my mind."
"Do you not trust Tyman?"
"His mind is foreign to me. His quest is of power and influence. I do not have time for such a trivial pursuit. Despite my years, there are more things that I do not know than I do know. Tyman Stile will never come to that realization and the Council suffers for it."
"Why don't you ask to lead the Council?"
"I led it for many years, but the last three hundred or so I've been told I was too old for such a stressful position. I last led the Council fifty years before Petyr Wolk was born and he is the next eldest in the Council."
"You are a sorcerer. That's the only answer. Yanor, Petyr Wolk, Doad Bess and you are the only sorcerers and are always passed over for leadership. They had to appoint you librarian only because you know the last 800 years from personal memory."
"And Tyman Stile even questions that."
"How am I to act among them?" asked Faeya Ryr. "I have only been to one other Council meeting and I am unsure of the alliances."
"As I am. Do not trust Tyman Stile, Cehana, Yanor or Hile Berbac. That much is for certain. Place no absolute trust in anyone, other than myself of course, but there are two individuals who may surprise me: Zae Pol and Artus Endria. While their strength is limited, their minds are open to new ways."
"What about Petyr Wolk?"
He looked out the window and sighed.
"I cannot answer that anymore. Once, I would have counseled to trust him with your life, but he has changed much over the last years and I wonder if he spends too much time in the mountains of Curesia."
"Why? What's there?"
"It is rumored, and I cannot verify it, that Macelan's body lies hidden in a cave in those mountains."
"Macelan? It would be ashes by now."
"Not Macelan. He vowed never to die and whether he is truly dead I cannot say with any certainty. Macelan knew more about this world and the forces around it than anyone who ever lived. I learned some of his lore, more certainly than the council suspects." He winked at Faeya Ryr. "I doubt if he taught me a fifth of what he knew. I would catch him working on something that he would hide away as soon as I appeared. There were many such occasions. I saw him appear out of a mist when I knew him to be a hundred miles away."
"He could travel great distances at will? Across the continent?"
"Yes. Most things that you can think of to be impossible he could do. When he vanished Macelan left a statement behind that would herald his coming. I imagine some cataclysmic disaster is what he had in mind."
"Why does it concern the Council so, that Macelan should return?
"There you go, harping about your immense age. One would think it was your only talent, this great age you have achieved."
"No respect for their elders. What's the world coming to these days? What do they teach you at those schools?"
"You need a nap, Gerrand. The port is still a couple hours."
"Now you treat me like your grandfather."
"I never dream about my grandfather."
"You dream about me?"
"Enough, Gerrand. Rest yourself. We shall speak no more of dreams today."
"You dream about me." Gerrand murmured to himself. He grinned as he closed his eyes. Faeya Ryr shook her head.
Gerrand awoke a half hour later. Faeya Ryr stared out the window. He sensed tenseness about her, but decided not to ask her about it. He thought about what he knew of her, and found his knowledge slight. He kept to his estate so much he did not hear much about the outside world. He preferred it that way. However, now the outer world required him to join it again and he felt lost and old coping with the changes of recent times.
She saw him watching her and smiled.
"This is not a normal summons," said Faeya Ryr. "There is much more to this, and I believe you know the entire tale."
"Yes, I do. At least, I know the cause of the summons, but I cannot guess the mind of Tyman Stile. And so, the response of the Council is unknown to my mind."
"Do you not trust Tyman?"
"His mind is foreign to me. His quest is of power and influence. I do not have time for such a trivial pursuit. Despite my years, there are more things that I do not know than I do know. Tyman Stile will never come to that realization and the Council suffers for it."
"Why don't you ask to lead the Council?"
"I led it for many years, but the last three hundred or so I've been told I was too old for such a stressful position. I last led the Council fifty years before Petyr Wolk was born and he is the next eldest in the Council."
"You are a sorcerer. That's the only answer. Yanor, Petyr Wolk, Doad Bess and you are the only sorcerers and are always passed over for leadership. They had to appoint you librarian only because you know the last 800 years from personal memory."
"And Tyman Stile even questions that."
"How am I to act among them?" asked Faeya Ryr. "I have only been to one other Council meeting and I am unsure of the alliances."
"As I am. Do not trust Tyman Stile, Cehana, Yanor or Hile Berbac. That much is for certain. Place no absolute trust in anyone, other than myself of course, but there are two individuals who may surprise me: Zae Pol and Artus Endria. While their strength is limited, their minds are open to new ways."
"What about Petyr Wolk?"
He looked out the window and sighed.
"I cannot answer that anymore. Once, I would have counseled to trust him with your life, but he has changed much over the last years and I wonder if he spends too much time in the mountains of Curesia."
"Why? What's there?"
"It is rumored, and I cannot verify it, that Macelan's body lies hidden in a cave in those mountains."
"Macelan? It would be ashes by now."
"Not Macelan. He vowed never to die and whether he is truly dead I cannot say with any certainty. Macelan knew more about this world and the forces around it than anyone who ever lived. I learned some of his lore, more certainly than the council suspects." He winked at Faeya Ryr. "I doubt if he taught me a fifth of what he knew. I would catch him working on something that he would hide away as soon as I appeared. There were many such occasions. I saw him appear out of a mist when I knew him to be a hundred miles away."
"He could travel great distances at will? Across the continent?"
"Yes. Most things that you can think of to be impossible he could do. When he vanished Macelan left a statement behind that would herald his coming. I imagine some cataclysmic disaster is what he had in mind."
"Why does it concern the Council so, that Macelan should return?
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