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Vrann Krodus at The Circle

Continued from Here: Vrann Krodus at Omyd's Maw

By the time he reached the outskirts of the city, Second Sun had risen, and Third Sun was trailing behind it. People were beginning to emerge from their homes to start their day and, Vrann noticed, many were stopping in their tracks to take in the sight of the tall stranger who walked past their homes. Vrann had travelled before, and he was used to this kind of scrutiny. He kept his eyes fixed ahead of him when he wasn’t scanning the taller buildings to find his way towards the city’s heart. He was far more likely to find this place’s Ritual Circle there than he was to find it lost in the streets elsewhere in the city. As he wandered, he passed a group of three green-skinned Orgorans who nodded politely in his direction. The Orgoran race was one of the Earth-Born races of Rengarth, and believed to be among the oldest races of the world – much older than humans. While their kind could be found in many places on Rengarth, they were far more common in Shiria, particularly in the easternmost coastal towns, and the capital city of Barakeesh, since these were all located within half a day’s travel from the Worldspine. Where the Worldspine extended into Shiria, it was known to harbor many entrances into Darkholm, the underground realm of the Earth-Born, who were all welcomed and respected in the Shirian nation.

The three Orgorans had acknowledged him, so Vrann turned and approached the group. All three were dressed similarly, in brown pants and dark blue tunics, which was in and of itself something strange to see. Being underground-dwellers, the Orgorans were used to a cooler, sunless climate. Any time spent on the surface of Rengarth was a warm experience for them, so one of the first things that people noticed about Orgorans was that, when they walked above ground, the males at least, were usually bare-chested.

“Good morning,” he said, in his Shirian accent.

The deep, rumble of a voice that answered him would have been difficult for a stranger to interpret, but Vrann had often spoken to Orgorans in the past, and recognized the tone as welcoming.

“Alvanae,” the voice said, speaking in the Orgoran language. The word had several meanings, depending on its spoken tone, but in this case Vrann was sure it meant ‘greetings’. “You look far from home, traveler.”

“I am,” Vrann replied and introduced himself. The three Orgorans reciprocated, the first calling himself Terak, the second, Arko and the third, Karver. As they spoke together Vrann looked around the street. The people around seemed to be paying him less attention after seeing him speak to the Orgorans, and continued with their day. “Home is where I am headed,” Vrann explained to the trio, “but I confess to be somewhat lost. I do not even know where I am.”

“Elystrl,” Arko replied. “Three days from Jansca, if you take the road. Two if you take the forest.”

“And ten minutes if you take the Circle,” the one called Karver laughed as he gave Arko a friendly back-handed slap to the chest. The others grinned and nodded. Vrann smiled along with the humor.

“The Circle was my intention,” he admitted. “The sooner I return, the sooner my belly will stop grumbling.”

“Stay a while,” Terak offered. “Me ‘n’ my brothers run a food-house where we make ‘n’ sell grub for people too busy to feed themselves. You’re welcome to join us for a bite to eat. The breakfast run starts soon, and some news of home would be welcome.”

“I have no coin to…” Vrann began, but Terak waved his hands dismissively.

“Your news is payment enough for me,” he replied.

“There he goes,” Arko grumbled to Karver, “spending our profits…”

“Shut it,” Karver laughed, “What’s a little pork ‘n’ bread in exchange for word of Shiria?”

Arko continued to grumble, but under his breath and more to himself than the others. Terak beckoned for Vrann to follow them as they walked down the street towards the city’s centre.

Vrann had intended to stay with the Orgoran brothers only long enough to eat the food they had offered, and to share a few stories of home. He was given a seat at the end of a counter from which he could watch customers of the establishment roll in from the street outside. The brothers’ shop was busy for much of the early morning as they served freshly-cooked bacon, sausages or eggs, or a combination, held fast between the two halves of a buttered bread roll. Customers came into their small shop, ordered their food, and left as quickly as they had arrived. The simple fare seemed popular among the people of Elystrl, and the customers paid little attention to the Shirian at the end of the counter. A plate landed in front of Vrann with two bread buns fully-loaded with a little of everything and Vrann had to admit that the novel food was delicious. As the brothers worked, they would occasionally join Vrann at the end of the counter and press him for more stories of Shiria. Vrann told them what he knew, and what he could remember from the days before his journey started, and even recounted the tale of his encounter at The Hollow, and his journey to Omyd’s Maw. He never considered himself a story-teller, and yet his words kept the brothers enthralled for most of the morning. He barely noticed the flow of customers dwindle, then rise again later as the suns rose higher in the sky. Karver poured Vrann a tall mug of fruit juice and encouraged him to tell them more as they shifted into lunch-time.

During his story-telling he mentioned the Arodarn man he had met in Jansca, and this encounter piqued the interest of the brothers greatly. It was Terak who really wanted to know more, and was amused that his questions caused Vrann’s cheeks to flush a little. When the flow of customers dwindled again, Vrann decided to speak candidly about Finn Kestral. He knew his words wouldn’t shock the Orgorans – it was well-known that the green-skinned folk were indiscriminate about who they chose to sleep with.

“Sounds to me like you had yourselves a whole lot of fun at Jansca Falls,” Arko commented as he cleaned down the serving counter for perhaps the eight time so far that day.

“Sounds to me like it was more than just fun,” Terak noted from a little further away. “Have you seen him again, since?”

“No,” Vrann shook his head. “We crossed the border together, but then we parted company.”

“Amicably?” Karver asked.

“Oh, most definitely,” Vrann assured him.

“Why don’t you seek him out?” Arko asked. You’re here in Arodar now…”

“Arodar is a big place,” Vrann sighed.

“And Seers are two-a-coin,” Arko returned.

“Leave the man alone, Arko,” Terak berated his brother. “He already told you, he has no coin.”

“Well,” Karver mused as he stepped up beside Arko, “he could always ask the Cloud-Skier at the Circle… they work for favours as well as coin.”

Vrann looked up at Karver when he said that. “Are they Far-Seers?” he asked.

Karver shrugged. “Who knows what they’re capable of,” he replied. “But if you don’t ask, you don’t get, do ya?”

Vrann lingered a while longer and was grateful when Karver brought over a second meal. Vrann had no real notion of how much time he had spent in the brothers’ shop until he noticed that they were cleaning their cooking tools and packing everything away. He glanced through the open doorway and noticed First Sun sinking below the horizon.

“Have I really spent all day here?” he asked.

“Time well spent,” Terak laughed, “at least for us. The borders may be open between Shiria and Arodar, but we don’t get many travelers from home here. It’s a welcome gift to us that you stayed so long.”

“Aye,” Karver agreed with a smile. Arko, for his part, reached into the box where they kept their money from the day’s work and pulled out a few coins. He held them out to Vrann.

“I can’t take your money,” Vrann protested, “You have fed me all day!”

“And you’ve kept us enthralled all day,” Arko argued. “We couldn’t have asked more from a Devotee of Faldir, so take it… if for nothing else, to pay the Cloud-Skier.”

“You best take it,” Karver chuckled, “He’ll only make you swallow it if not, and passing coin isn’t pleasant for humans.”

“Nor us,” Terak added with a laugh.

Reluctantly, Vrann accepted the offered coins. He thanked the three brothers again for their hospitality and their generosity, and after Karver gave him directions through the streets of Elystrl to the Ritual Circle, Vrann took his leave and departed the shop.

Twilight was wrapping its gentle arms around Elystrl by the time he reached the circle. Lamps in some of the surrounding buildings were already being lit and were shedding their light into the streets by the time he turned a corner and saw the Ritual Circle ahead of him. No two Circles in Rengarth were alike. Some were formed from their natural surroundings, carved from rocks that were set in a ring, while others were more elaborate. This one was of the latter kind. A raised stone platform had an intricate circle carved into its surface, which was inlaid with golden metal. Four tall, purple, crystalline rocks stood equidistant around the Circle, and gave off a glow that illuminated the space it occupied. A figure stood by one of the tall rocks and paced around it, looking a little bored. As Vrann watched him, he occasionally ran a hand against the crystals, examining the shifting light within before moving to another to do the same. He wore a pale-coloured tunic with a blue and gold filigree tabard that was tied at the waist with a leather belt from which hung a large book, attached to the belt by chains. His hair, moustache and goatee beard were a distinct shade of blue which identified him undoubtedly as a Cloud-Skier. To Vrann’s eyes he looked quite young.

Vrann took a few more steps towards the circle and, on hearing his approach, the Cloud-Skier looked up. Vrann paused for a moment when he met the young man’s gaze. He had met Cloud-Skiers before, but it always unnerved him a little whenever he met their stare. There was no definition on their eyes – no iris nor pupil – the whole surface was silver, and even reflected the surrounding skin. Vrann pressed ahead, even though he had no doubt that his hesitation had been noticed. The Cloud-Skier likewise approached him and they met a few yards from the Circle.

“Good evening,” Vrann started.

“Good evening, good sir. My name is Kallengarth. How may I serve your needs?” The Cloud-Skier replied. His tone seemed a little flat, and Vrann wondered if the young – was ‘man’ the right word to use? – was indeed as bored as he looked.

“Circle travel, of course,” Vrann answered. Kallengarth began to approach the Circle, but Vrann coughed and the Cloud-Skier stopped and looked back. “But first… are you… I mean… can you…”

“Can I what?”

“Can you… take me to someone?”

Kallengarth raised a questioning eyebrow. “That depends on where said ‘someone’ is.”

“I… do not know,” Vrann replied, “I was hoping you might be able to find out for me.”

“Our magic doesn’t work that way,” Kallengarth shook his head. “It would take an assembly of at least four of the Shikanti, and a rite, to locate someone. The cost would be a fee or a favour to each involved, and might take a few hours to organize… I could have it ready by morning if…”

“I cannot wait until morning,” Vrann sighed, “I have just about enough coin to pay you for passage. I thought it might be a simple casting.”

“Not for our kind, I fear,” Kallengarth shook his head again. Vrann sighed, looked towards the circle, and resigned himself to a swift journey home. Kallengarth regarded the tall stranger for a moment, and then he reached a hand into a pouch on the other side of his belt. “You could try this, though,” he added. He held out a small crystal towards Vrann.

“What is it?” Vrann asked as he accepted the stone and examined it. It was very similar to the stones that stood around the Ritual Circle, except that it was much smaller. Tiny flickers of light gleamed inside it.

“We call it a Ley Stone,” Kallengarth explained. “It’s a simple magical device used to relay messages. To use it, you hold it in your palm, name the recipient, and speak your message. Then you break the stone. Your message travels through the Circle network to the recipient. The whole process can take anywhere from a few moments to a few hours, depending on how far the recipient is from the closest Ritual Circle.”

“How much does it cost?” Vrann asked.

“We sell five for a spectral,” Kallengarth said. “They’re one use only, and carry a message of up to fifteen minutes in length, so they’re not expensive. If you want a multi-use Ley Stone, they cost much more. We only make those to order.”

Vrann nodded as he examined the stone again, and gave a nod of approval. “Sure, in that case I will take five.” Kallengarth fished four more of the stones from his pouch and handed them to Vrann, who handed back a silver coin.

“Oh, I should warn you,” Kallengarth added as he pocketed the coin, “the Ley Stones relay your appearance and immediate surroundings as well as your voice, so you may want to be cautious about where you use them.”

“I will keep that in mind,” Vrann grinned. “How much for passage to Barrakeesh?”

“A spectral,” the Cloud-Skier replied. “The fee is the same, whether you travel to the next town, or from one end of the Twelve Nations to the other. We charge for the work, not the distance, and the work is the same, regardless. Or… you could pay by favour.”

“What exactly is ‘favour’?” Vrann asked. “I have often wondered.”

Kallengarth’s demeanor seemed to change as he engaged more in conversation with Vrann, as though this was the first chance he had had to talk to someone all day. “Well, if you choose to pay by favour, we write your name and the details of your travel in this ledger,” he patted the book that hung from his belt. “You know… the circle you came from, and the one you’re going to. All the Shikanti carry the ledger. Should one of us ever be in need of your service, we would come to you with the ledger and call in the favour.”

“But… what kind of favour?” Vrann frowned. “If cost of passage is only a spectral, then surely…”

“We don’t ask for much,” Kallengarth laughed. “A bed for the night… a meal… perhaps the repair of a shoe, or a torn hem… it depends on the individual’s skillset. Sometimes the value of the favour may exceed a spectral, but never by much.”

“Sounds reasonable,” Vrann nodded, “although I would prefer to pay you.”

“As you wish,” Kallengarth nodded and directed Vrann to the circle. “Step across the gold line when you’re ready. You don’t need to go all the way to the centre, just inside the perimeter will suffice.” Vrann complied with the Cloud-Skier’s directions, stepped over the gold line and turned to face him. “This will only take a moment,” Kallengarth said.

The blue-haired man lowered himself down onto one knee and touched the gold edge of the circle. “Eonar valkea,” he spoke in a strange language. “Lokt’waar mar akan, veonar. Silea bin farasash, Barakeesh.” Then he rose to both feet and took a step back, clapped his hands once, and shouted “Dis’KE’day!”

Inside the circle, it seemed as though everything beyond the line flared with a bright white light. It lasted only a moment, and Vrann rubbed his eyes. When he lowered his hands, his surroundings had completely changed. The circle he stood in now was smaller – barely five meters across, and instead of the four crystalline rocks, eight carved pillars of black stone surrounded its perimeter. An older, blue-haired man was sitting on a high-backed chair just outside of the edge of the circle, also rubbing his eyes and muttering to himself.

“That theatrical puppy!” he grumbled. “You’ve come from Elystrl, no doubt!” Vrann had no chance to answer as the old Cloud-Skier rambled on. “Kallengarth has always had a flare for the dramatic! I shall be having words with the Prime, you see if I don’t!”

Vrann grinned as the older man ushered him out of the circle, mumbling to himself. He already knew where he was and broke into a run through the familiar streets of Barakeesh. Within minutes he was stepping into his own home – a small but comfortable place that was his own. He shed the cloak he still carried from his shoulders, kicked off his boots, removed his sword belt and sheaths and practically fell onto a low cushioned couch beside a small table. He noticed suddenly that the table had been laid out with a glass decanter of wine, two glasses, and a bowl of fruit. A single purple flower sat next to the decanter, and Vrann picked it up with a look of recognition.

“Delavina,” he smiled as he turned the flower between his fingers. “You have been looking in your fire of magic again. Still… I am not ungrateful for the welcome home. ”

Continued Here: General Dax Adron

Description
Vrann Krodus at The Circle

Continued from Here: Vrann Krodus at Omyd's Maw

By the time he reached the outskirts of the city, Second Sun had risen, and Third Sun was trailing behind it. People were beginning to emerge from their homes to start their day and, Vrann noticed, many were stopping in their tracks to take in the sight of the tall stranger who walked past their homes. Vrann had travelled before, and he was used to this kind of scrutiny. He kept his eyes fixed ahead of him when he wasn’t scanning the taller buildings to find his way towards the city’s heart. He was far more likely to find this place’s Ritual Circle there than he was to find it lost in the streets elsewhere in the city. As he wandered, he passed a group of three green-skinned Orgorans who nodded politely in his direction. The Orgoran race was one of the Earth-Born races of Rengarth, and believed to be among the oldest races of the world – much older than humans. While their kind could be found in many places on Rengarth, they were far more common in Shiria, particularly in the easternmost coastal towns, and the capital city of Barakeesh, since these were all located within half a day’s travel from the Worldspine. Where the Worldspine extended into Shiria, it was known to harbor many entrances into Darkholm, the underground realm of the Earth-Born, who were all welcomed and respected in the Shirian nation.

The three Orgorans had acknowledged him, so Vrann turned and approached the group. All three were dressed similarly, in brown pants and dark blue tunics, which was in and of itself something strange to see. Being underground-dwellers, the Orgorans were used to a cooler, sunless climate. Any time spent on the surface of Rengarth was a warm experience for them, so one of the first things that people noticed about Orgorans was that, when they walked above ground, the males at least, were usually bare-chested.

“Good morning,” he said, in his Shirian accent.

The deep, rumble of a voice that answered him would have been difficult for a stranger to interpret, but Vrann had often spoken to Orgorans in the past, and recognized the tone as welcoming.

“Alvanae,” the voice said, speaking in the Orgoran language. The word had several meanings, depending on its spoken tone, but in this case Vrann was sure it meant ‘greetings’. “You look far from home, traveler.”

“I am,” Vrann replied and introduced himself. The three Orgorans reciprocated, the first calling himself Terak, the second, Arko and the third, Karver. As they spoke together Vrann looked around the street. The people around seemed to be paying him less attention after seeing him speak to the Orgorans, and continued with their day. “Home is where I am headed,” Vrann explained to the trio, “but I confess to be somewhat lost. I do not even know where I am.”

“Elystrl,” Arko replied. “Three days from Jansca, if you take the road. Two if you take the forest.”

“And ten minutes if you take the Circle,” the one called Karver laughed as he gave Arko a friendly back-handed slap to the chest. The others grinned and nodded. Vrann smiled along with the humor.

“The Circle was my intention,” he admitted. “The sooner I return, the sooner my belly will stop grumbling.”

“Stay a while,” Terak offered. “Me ‘n’ my brothers run a food-house where we make ‘n’ sell grub for people too busy to feed themselves. You’re welcome to join us for a bite to eat. The breakfast run starts soon, and some news of home would be welcome.”

“I have no coin to…” Vrann began, but Terak waved his hands dismissively.

“Your news is payment enough for me,” he replied.

“There he goes,” Arko grumbled to Karver, “spending our profits…”

“Shut it,” Karver laughed, “What’s a little pork ‘n’ bread in exchange for word of Shiria?”

Arko continued to grumble, but under his breath and more to himself than the others. Terak beckoned for Vrann to follow them as they walked down the street towards the city’s centre.

Vrann had intended to stay with the Orgoran brothers only long enough to eat the food they had offered, and to share a few stories of home. He was given a seat at the end of a counter from which he could watch customers of the establishment roll in from the street outside. The brothers’ shop was busy for much of the early morning as they served freshly-cooked bacon, sausages or eggs, or a combination, held fast between the two halves of a buttered bread roll. Customers came into their small shop, ordered their food, and left as quickly as they had arrived. The simple fare seemed popular among the people of Elystrl, and the customers paid little attention to the Shirian at the end of the counter. A plate landed in front of Vrann with two bread buns fully-loaded with a little of everything and Vrann had to admit that the novel food was delicious. As the brothers worked, they would occasionally join Vrann at the end of the counter and press him for more stories of Shiria. Vrann told them what he knew, and what he could remember from the days before his journey started, and even recounted the tale of his encounter at The Hollow, and his journey to Omyd’s Maw. He never considered himself a story-teller, and yet his words kept the brothers enthralled for most of the morning. He barely noticed the flow of customers dwindle, then rise again later as the suns rose higher in the sky. Karver poured Vrann a tall mug of fruit juice and encouraged him to tell them more as they shifted into lunch-time.

During his story-telling he mentioned the Arodarn man he had met in Jansca, and this encounter piqued the interest of the brothers greatly. It was Terak who really wanted to know more, and was amused that his questions caused Vrann’s cheeks to flush a little. When the flow of customers dwindled again, Vrann decided to speak candidly about Finn Kestral. He knew his words wouldn’t shock the Orgorans – it was well-known that the green-skinned folk were indiscriminate about who they chose to sleep with.

“Sounds to me like you had yourselves a whole lot of fun at Jansca Falls,” Arko commented as he cleaned down the serving counter for perhaps the eight time so far that day.

“Sounds to me like it was more than just fun,” Terak noted from a little further away. “Have you seen him again, since?”

“No,” Vrann shook his head. “We crossed the border together, but then we parted company.”

“Amicably?” Karver asked.

“Oh, most definitely,” Vrann assured him.

“Why don’t you seek him out?” Arko asked. You’re here in Arodar now…”

“Arodar is a big place,” Vrann sighed.

“And Seers are two-a-coin,” Arko returned.

“Leave the man alone, Arko,” Terak berated his brother. “He already told you, he has no coin.”

“Well,” Karver mused as he stepped up beside Arko, “he could always ask the Cloud-Skier at the Circle… they work for favours as well as coin.”

Vrann looked up at Karver when he said that. “Are they Far-Seers?” he asked.

Karver shrugged. “Who knows what they’re capable of,” he replied. “But if you don’t ask, you don’t get, do ya?”

Vrann lingered a while longer and was grateful when Karver brought over a second meal. Vrann had no real notion of how much time he had spent in the brothers’ shop until he noticed that they were cleaning their cooking tools and packing everything away. He glanced through the open doorway and noticed First Sun sinking below the horizon.

“Have I really spent all day here?” he asked.

“Time well spent,” Terak laughed, “at least for us. The borders may be open between Shiria and Arodar, but we don’t get many travelers from home here. It’s a welcome gift to us that you stayed so long.”

“Aye,” Karver agreed with a smile. Arko, for his part, reached into the box where they kept their money from the day’s work and pulled out a few coins. He held them out to Vrann.

“I can’t take your money,” Vrann protested, “You have fed me all day!”

“And you’ve kept us enthralled all day,” Arko argued. “We couldn’t have asked more from a Devotee of Faldir, so take it… if for nothing else, to pay the Cloud-Skier.”

“You best take it,” Karver chuckled, “He’ll only make you swallow it if not, and passing coin isn’t pleasant for humans.”

“Nor us,” Terak added with a laugh.

Reluctantly, Vrann accepted the offered coins. He thanked the three brothers again for their hospitality and their generosity, and after Karver gave him directions through the streets of Elystrl to the Ritual Circle, Vrann took his leave and departed the shop.

Twilight was wrapping its gentle arms around Elystrl by the time he reached the circle. Lamps in some of the surrounding buildings were already being lit and were shedding their light into the streets by the time he turned a corner and saw the Ritual Circle ahead of him. No two Circles in Rengarth were alike. Some were formed from their natural surroundings, carved from rocks that were set in a ring, while others were more elaborate. This one was of the latter kind. A raised stone platform had an intricate circle carved into its surface, which was inlaid with golden metal. Four tall, purple, crystalline rocks stood equidistant around the Circle, and gave off a glow that illuminated the space it occupied. A figure stood by one of the tall rocks and paced around it, looking a little bored. As Vrann watched him, he occasionally ran a hand against the crystals, examining the shifting light within before moving to another to do the same. He wore a pale-coloured tunic with a blue and gold filigree tabard that was tied at the waist with a leather belt from which hung a large book, attached to the belt by chains. His hair, moustache and goatee beard were a distinct shade of blue which identified him undoubtedly as a Cloud-Skier. To Vrann’s eyes he looked quite young.

Vrann took a few more steps towards the circle and, on hearing his approach, the Cloud-Skier looked up. Vrann paused for a moment when he met the young man’s gaze. He had met Cloud-Skiers before, but it always unnerved him a little whenever he met their stare. There was no definition on their eyes – no iris nor pupil – the whole surface was silver, and even reflected the surrounding skin. Vrann pressed ahead, even though he had no doubt that his hesitation had been noticed. The Cloud-Skier likewise approached him and they met a few yards from the Circle.

“Good evening,” Vrann started.

“Good evening, good sir. My name is Kallengarth. How may I serve your needs?” The Cloud-Skier replied. His tone seemed a little flat, and Vrann wondered if the young – was ‘man’ the right word to use? – was indeed as bored as he looked.

“Circle travel, of course,” Vrann answered. Kallengarth began to approach the Circle, but Vrann coughed and the Cloud-Skier stopped and looked back. “But first… are you… I mean… can you…”

“Can I what?”

“Can you… take me to someone?”

Kallengarth raised a questioning eyebrow. “That depends on where said ‘someone’ is.”

“I… do not know,” Vrann replied, “I was hoping you might be able to find out for me.”

“Our magic doesn’t work that way,” Kallengarth shook his head. “It would take an assembly of at least four of the Shikanti, and a rite, to locate someone. The cost would be a fee or a favour to each involved, and might take a few hours to organize… I could have it ready by morning if…”

“I cannot wait until morning,” Vrann sighed, “I have just about enough coin to pay you for passage. I thought it might be a simple casting.”

“Not for our kind, I fear,” Kallengarth shook his head again. Vrann sighed, looked towards the circle, and resigned himself to a swift journey home. Kallengarth regarded the tall stranger for a moment, and then he reached a hand into a pouch on the other side of his belt. “You could try this, though,” he added. He held out a small crystal towards Vrann.

“What is it?” Vrann asked as he accepted the stone and examined it. It was very similar to the stones that stood around the Ritual Circle, except that it was much smaller. Tiny flickers of light gleamed inside it.

“We call it a Ley Stone,” Kallengarth explained. “It’s a simple magical device used to relay messages. To use it, you hold it in your palm, name the recipient, and speak your message. Then you break the stone. Your message travels through the Circle network to the recipient. The whole process can take anywhere from a few moments to a few hours, depending on how far the recipient is from the closest Ritual Circle.”

“How much does it cost?” Vrann asked.

“We sell five for a spectral,” Kallengarth said. “They’re one use only, and carry a message of up to fifteen minutes in length, so they’re not expensive. If you want a multi-use Ley Stone, they cost much more. We only make those to order.”

Vrann nodded as he examined the stone again, and gave a nod of approval. “Sure, in that case I will take five.” Kallengarth fished four more of the stones from his pouch and handed them to Vrann, who handed back a silver coin.

“Oh, I should warn you,” Kallengarth added as he pocketed the coin, “the Ley Stones relay your appearance and immediate surroundings as well as your voice, so you may want to be cautious about where you use them.”

“I will keep that in mind,” Vrann grinned. “How much for passage to Barrakeesh?”

“A spectral,” the Cloud-Skier replied. “The fee is the same, whether you travel to the next town, or from one end of the Twelve Nations to the other. We charge for the work, not the distance, and the work is the same, regardless. Or… you could pay by favour.”

“What exactly is ‘favour’?” Vrann asked. “I have often wondered.”

Kallengarth’s demeanor seemed to change as he engaged more in conversation with Vrann, as though this was the first chance he had had to talk to someone all day. “Well, if you choose to pay by favour, we write your name and the details of your travel in this ledger,” he patted the book that hung from his belt. “You know… the circle you came from, and the one you’re going to. All the Shikanti carry the ledger. Should one of us ever be in need of your service, we would come to you with the ledger and call in the favour.”

“But… what kind of favour?” Vrann frowned. “If cost of passage is only a spectral, then surely…”

“We don’t ask for much,” Kallengarth laughed. “A bed for the night… a meal… perhaps the repair of a shoe, or a torn hem… it depends on the individual’s skillset. Sometimes the value of the favour may exceed a spectral, but never by much.”

“Sounds reasonable,” Vrann nodded, “although I would prefer to pay you.”

“As you wish,” Kallengarth nodded and directed Vrann to the circle. “Step across the gold line when you’re ready. You don’t need to go all the way to the centre, just inside the perimeter will suffice.” Vrann complied with the Cloud-Skier’s directions, stepped over the gold line and turned to face him. “This will only take a moment,” Kallengarth said.

The blue-haired man lowered himself down onto one knee and touched the gold edge of the circle. “Eonar valkea,” he spoke in a strange language. “Lokt’waar mar akan, veonar. Silea bin farasash, Barakeesh.” Then he rose to both feet and took a step back, clapped his hands once, and shouted “Dis’KE’day!”

Inside the circle, it seemed as though everything beyond the line flared with a bright white light. It lasted only a moment, and Vrann rubbed his eyes. When he lowered his hands, his surroundings had completely changed. The circle he stood in now was smaller – barely five meters across, and instead of the four crystalline rocks, eight carved pillars of black stone surrounded its perimeter. An older, blue-haired man was sitting on a high-backed chair just outside of the edge of the circle, also rubbing his eyes and muttering to himself.

“That theatrical puppy!” he grumbled. “You’ve come from Elystrl, no doubt!” Vrann had no chance to answer as the old Cloud-Skier rambled on. “Kallengarth has always had a flare for the dramatic! I shall be having words with the Prime, you see if I don’t!”

Vrann grinned as the older man ushered him out of the circle, mumbling to himself. He already knew where he was and broke into a run through the familiar streets of Barakeesh. Within minutes he was stepping into his own home – a small but comfortable place that was his own. He shed the cloak he still carried from his shoulders, kicked off his boots, removed his sword belt and sheaths and practically fell onto a low cushioned couch beside a small table. He noticed suddenly that the table had been laid out with a glass decanter of wine, two glasses, and a bowl of fruit. A single purple flower sat next to the decanter, and Vrann picked it up with a look of recognition.

“Delavina,” he smiled as he turned the flower between his fingers. “You have been looking in your fire of magic again. Still… I am not ungrateful for the welcome home. ”

Continued Here: General Dax Adron