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Description
Though she appeared outwardly calm, the Archcardinal Arrats shook with excitement as she prepared for departure. The open road again! How many years had it been since she had wandered to hone her power and her faith? Too many, she decided as she pulled her traveling spellbook lovingly from its safe and wiped the layer of dust from its cover.

She turned to her guest and asked, "I still have no name for my companion. What may I call you, good sir, if you may tell me?"

He stood at the door, unmoving as a statue since he had entered her apartment. Were she not so excited, she decided, he would unnerve her with his cowled gaze. After a pause, he said, "You may call me Inlé, Archcardinal. I have many titles and names, but that is the first."

"A beautiful name, Inlé. I do not recognize its origin, but I suppose that would be expected, considering your origins."

"True, madam. But my origins are not divine, as you may believe. I am still human enough. There is no divinity in me."

"And your display moments ago was not divine, then?" She wondered at this Inlé's manner of speech. His words sounded as if he spoke with humility, but his tone sounded distinctly ... proud of his mortal state.

"It may have been," he answered, confusing her. Seeing this, he elucidated his point by saying, "Those items I carry were given me for this mission. They possess some merit of divinity granted them by their creators. I have little control over them, Archcardinal."

"Well enough," Arrats said. She placed her spellbook down and walked for her wardrobe. "These are my personal quarters. Study, bedroom, lounge. Feel free to look through the bookcases. Anything that catches your eye can come along."

"This is no vacation, madam."

She sighed. "Of course, but one must keep their mind sharp as well as their body. The texts there are information on many paths of learning. You may find something that will help. Admittedly, I don't have any idea the depth of your education, but I'm sure you will see something I wouldn't. I am so intimately acquainted with the texts there that I may overlook something valuable out of over-familiarity."

"As you wish," he answered her, approaching the bookcases.

She pulled a robe off its hanger and looked it over to determine whether it would be adequate. It had been some time since she had worried about her wardrobe, too, she realized. Normally it was inconsequential. Confined as she was to the tower, practicality was of less value than comfort and display of status. Finally, useful clothing again! After juggling a few garments, she settled for a gown of homespun wool, drably colored.

Changing into this outfit, Arrats looked herself over in the mirror. The fiery hair of her youth had darkened to a muted auburn, but she was glad to note it refused to succumb too much to age and whiten. At one hundred eighteen, she was still young enough to last a few more decades at least. The average age for the lay people had dwindled to a paltry eighty years, but mages and clerics still held strong lifespans of two hundred or longer, though texts told that once that had been the lay norm, and those with divine or arcane power lasted as much as three times that.

Her skin was still strong and pale, without wrinkle. She was proud of her appearance, especially her unusual mismatched eyes--one green and gold, the other crystal amber. She was less satisfied that she had put on some weight since last she had worn this robe. What once had been form-fitting had become a bit snug, and Arrats decided that this adventure was a few years late in coming. She grabbed a few trinkets from a jewelry chest atop her bureau before leaving the closet.

The Archcardinal was pleased to note her guest had begun collecting texts and was thumbing through one when she entered. Which texts mattered little to her, as she had much else to collect before they could leave.

An old bag was lifted from a chest beside her desk. A simple dagger was also pulled from the chest, as was a belt with numerous pouches and a sheathe for the dagger. She lovingly inspected each item for wear, knowing there would be none.

"You find these items dear to you."

Her guest's voice surprised her almost enough to drop the dagger she was inspecting. She was amazed to find him a step away. So close and she had not noticed? This was no man unused to adventure.

"I do," she defended. "They are all dear friends with whom I have wandered through many dangers. Without them, I surely would have been lost long ago."

The man stared at her in the shadows of his hood, only his eyes unnervingly visible. "And yet you have not held that dagger in a great time. It is awkward in your hands."

Feeling rebuked by this emotionless person, Arrats said, "I have had little need for them in some time."

"So you take them up only when you must."

"There are few days I go without thinking of them, but I cannot carry them often. My position prevents me from keeping such humble things with me."

"An excuse for concealing those things from your past that you are ashamed of."

"No!" she protested. "Were I able, I would keep them with me always. They are always beside my desk, within reach most of the day, while I sit and work. Always reminders of my former glories."

"Reminders rarely attended to."

She thought about her words before saying, "Perhaps I have been lax of late. Truly, it feels strange holding this dagger again, wearing this belt. I am meeting old friends after a long journey. But it is not uncomfortable. I feel as though I am experiencing a homecoming rather than preparing for an excursion. In truth, I have missed them dearly."

Her inquisitor watched her for another long moment, then said, "It is a good answer. You should always remember your tools. They will keep you alive when you yourself come up lacking. But remember that mistreating them or abandoning them will make them less able--less willing--to aid you the next time you need them. They seem to share a great love for you, as well, but they are all out of practice. As you will need time to readjust yourself to them, they will require time to reacquaint themselves with you. Pray you and they are ready when needed. As you yourself said, one must keep herself sharpened in all aspects to remain prepared."

Scolded--something she had not felt in decades--the Archcardinal thanked her guest as he wordlessly returned to his readings. She collected her pendant of rank from her desk as she rose. Inspecting herself, she placed her trinkets in various belt pouches and sheathed the dagger. Her bag was filled with the spellbook and slung over one shoulder.

She approached her companion by her bookcase and was surprised to find him reading through one of her textbooks on elementary magical practice. Glancing quickly at the group of books he had neatly stacked on the side table that he leaned lightly against, she saw that they were all similar in content.

"You prefer to review the basics, then?" she asked him.

"I prefer to study them, yes," he answered. "These practices are new to me."

"What? How can that be if you are personally associated with the goddesses?"

"There are many things about myself that would surprise you, Archcardinal."

She looked at the cowled man as he continued to read quickly. She realized then that all she knew was his name. "May I see your face?" she asked. "I would like to know my companion's appearance, at least."

He paused, then put the textbook down and faced her. Slowly, he lifted his hood back, pulling a long topknot out from its recesses in the process. She was astonished to find him so young. He was still a boy! And yet so stern was his visage that Arrats understood he brooked no mercy for those who underestimated him for his youth, not even himself. Brilliant blue eyes stared out impassively from a poker face only slightly sun-worn. There was no sign of a beard, as though he had decided not to grow one and his body had simply agreed. And his dark hair, now draped over his left shoulder was silk-smooth, perfectly groomed despite its time in the hood.

"Satisfied, Archcardinal?" he asked.

"Very," she answered lightly. "Certainly this trip will be more exciting than I could hope. Don't disappoint me, boy. I plan to enjoy this to the fullest."

She finished packing as her guest continued flipping through her library.

When Arrats was satisfied, she called over to Inlé. "Have you found what you want to bring, boy?"

"I have," he answered without looking up. She waited for him to continue, but realized after a few page turns that he wouldn't.

"Well here's a bag to carry them in, then," she held it up for him to take. "What did you decide on?"

He looked at her as he took the bag, then said, "A test, perhaps. I will lift the book, and you will tell me its title before it is placed within the bag. You claimed an intimate knowledge of their contents, but how well do you truly know them?"

"You're on," she laughed as he lifted the first book. The thin black primer showed wear all over its cover, even though--as Arrats well knew--the cover had been repaired nearly a dozen times. "Beginning Mage. The first edition, by the way. Very rare now." A thicker book with a natural hide cover rose. "Creatures of Note, the bestiary for the continent Ramborol and its surrounding islands. Hardly exhaustive, but a formidable work nonetheless." A red tome was lifted. Arrats thought until the book was almost in the bag before answering, "A History of Ashkern. It's a decade behind revision, but the newest copy I have." A white book, "Goodleaf and Ragalwort. Are we going to avoid all towns?" Another red book, "The Magics Alive. I wrote that one, by the way."

The last book Inlé had selected was a slim pink book just larger than his palm. Arrats remembered seeing the book on her shelf--knew exactly where it would be returned--but remembered nothing about the book. After allowing Arrats to look at it for a long time, Inlé placed the book into the bag and slid it over his shoulder.

"Is there anything else you will need, Archcardinal? Or may we continue on our journey."

"We have everything, so we can leave--out the back door, not off the roof. But first, what did I miss? What was that last one? I know it went right here"--she jabbed a finger into a gap in the books--"but for the life of me I can't remember what it is."

"And if you were to wager a guess?"

She shrugged. "Based on the other books, you have texts on flora and fauna, history, politics, and magic. So it would not be something pertaining to those. You aren't the type to read a fiction or something trivial, and I know it isn't a religious text."

"No?"

"No. Because those all belong on the shelf there. None have been moved, even ... A warrior's text, perhaps?"

"No," he answered. "Close, perhaps, but not nearly correct. What's in a Name, is the title of the book. With that, can you tell me its contents?"

Surprised by his choice, Arrats paused before saying, "An onomasticon containing etymological information and the changes of personal names over the last three centuries. It also dabbles in etiquette. The book itself is only so small as it is because the text was made to be read with a magnification spell. The author found that she could make the book appear to be a book of beautiful black and white pictures with the text so shrunken. It seems a strange title for you to choose, Inlé."

"Ninety-two per cent, Archcardinal," Inlé said as he walked beside Arrats toward the door. "Considering the size of your library, that is impressive."

Suddenly there was a loud knocking on the door the pair was approaching. Arrats was confused, but continued to the door calling, "I'm coming! Hold on." She noticed her guest was no longer beside her.

Opening the door, a trio of guards stood behind a fourth, who greeted Arrats. "No need for alarm, Archcardinal. There was a break-in at the bottom of the tower. Some fool found a way to bypass the barriers and came up the side of the tower. You haven't seen him, have you? Apparently, he was attempting to make contact with you. We believe him to be an assassin."

Arrats stepped aside, revealing the once more cowled Inlé. On seeing him, the gaurds raised their spears and rushed in to surround him. Inlé did not move.

"No need to fear, Archcardinal, we have everything under control," the guard told Arrats. Addressing Inlé, he continued, "Come quietly, fiend, and we may yet show you mercy."

"There is no need for this, Captain," Arrats said. "He is fine as he is."

"Aye, Archcardinal, a fine will be extolled--"

"Tolled, sir," one of the others corrected quietly.

"--quite right. He will be charged heavily. He may even be more harshly discipled--"

"Disciplined, sir."

"--quite right. The punishments will be steepled!"

"St--oh, nevermind," the guard sighed.

Chuckling gently, Archcardinal Arrats said, "No, you see, he is a guest, as I should have said."

Other than the captain, the guards began to lower their weapons. He remained poised to strike. "Quite right, Archcardinal. I never would have guessed someone would want you dead either!"

She smiled fondly, then put a hand lightly on the captain's shoulder. A bolt of energy leapt into him, and he collapsed on the ground. The other guards, suspecting an impostor, lifted their weapons once more, but Arrats waved for them to lower them again.

"Don't worry, boys. Your captain is only resting. The shock may have killed anyone else, but it's only knocked him out for a moment. Take him to his room, and when he wakes, tell him that he captured the criminal after an intense battle. That will cheer him.

"Inlé, pay this no mind. The Captain and I have been together for quite some time, and his wits have been somewhat addled by some of the things we have done." The guards were carrying their fallen leader out of the room, and Arrats signaled that the two should also leave. She pulled the door shut and sealed it.

"Oh!" she cried. She ran quickly to catch up to the guards. "Boys, do me a favor, and ride him down the stairs," she said mischievously. "It won't hurt him much, if any, but he will be more likely to believe there was a fight if he feels battered." She waved them on, then turned back in another direction with Inlé, laughing.

"This may be the reason the Captain is addled, Archcardinal," Inlé said, sounding unconcerned.

Arrats laughed. "Inlé, I wouldn't worry about him. He's tougher than a shelled koresque terror. I've seen the man shatter a warhammer against his forehead." She chuckled at the memory. "That may have had a little to do with the addling. But let's not talk of that now. Other tales for other times, you know. We're off to the kitchens to get breakfast and something light to travel with."

Description
Though she appeared outwardly calm, the Archcardinal Arrats shook with excitement as she prepared for departure. The open road again! How many years had it been since she had wandered to hone her power and her faith? Too many, she decided as she pulled her traveling spellbook lovingly from its safe and wiped the layer of dust from its cover.

She turned to her guest and asked, "I still have no name for my companion. What may I call you, good sir, if you may tell me?"

He stood at the door, unmoving as a statue since he had entered her apartment. Were she not so excited, she decided, he would unnerve her with his cowled gaze. After a pause, he said, "You may call me Inlé, Archcardinal. I have many titles and names, but that is the first."

"A beautiful name, Inlé. I do not recognize its origin, but I suppose that would be expected, considering your origins."

"True, madam. But my origins are not divine, as you may believe. I am still human enough. There is no divinity in me."

"And your display moments ago was not divine, then?" She wondered at this Inlé's manner of speech. His words sounded as if he spoke with humility, but his tone sounded distinctly ... proud of his mortal state.

"It may have been," he answered, confusing her. Seeing this, he elucidated his point by saying, "Those items I carry were given me for this mission. They possess some merit of divinity granted them by their creators. I have little control over them, Archcardinal."

"Well enough," Arrats said. She placed her spellbook down and walked for her wardrobe. "These are my personal quarters. Study, bedroom, lounge. Feel free to look through the bookcases. Anything that catches your eye can come along."

"This is no vacation, madam."

She sighed. "Of course, but one must keep their mind sharp as well as their body. The texts there are information on many paths of learning. You may find something that will help. Admittedly, I don't have any idea the depth of your education, but I'm sure you will see something I wouldn't. I am so intimately acquainted with the texts there that I may overlook something valuable out of over-familiarity."

"As you wish," he answered her, approaching the bookcases.

She pulled a robe off its hanger and looked it over to determine whether it would be adequate. It had been some time since she had worried about her wardrobe, too, she realized. Normally it was inconsequential. Confined as she was to the tower, practicality was of less value than comfort and display of status. Finally, useful clothing again! After juggling a few garments, she settled for a gown of homespun wool, drably colored.

Changing into this outfit, Arrats looked herself over in the mirror. The fiery hair of her youth had darkened to a muted auburn, but she was glad to note it refused to succumb too much to age and whiten. At one hundred eighteen, she was still young enough to last a few more decades at least. The average age for the lay people had dwindled to a paltry eighty years, but mages and clerics still held strong lifespans of two hundred or longer, though texts told that once that had been the lay norm, and those with divine or arcane power lasted as much as three times that.

Her skin was still strong and pale, without wrinkle. She was proud of her appearance, especially her unusual mismatched eyes--one green and gold, the other crystal amber. She was less satisfied that she had put on some weight since last she had worn this robe. What once had been form-fitting had become a bit snug, and Arrats decided that this adventure was a few years late in coming. She grabbed a few trinkets from a jewelry chest atop her bureau before leaving the closet.

The Archcardinal was pleased to note her guest had begun collecting texts and was thumbing through one when she entered. Which texts mattered little to her, as she had much else to collect before they could leave.

An old bag was lifted from a chest beside her desk. A simple dagger was also pulled from the chest, as was a belt with numerous pouches and a sheathe for the dagger. She lovingly inspected each item for wear, knowing there would be none.

"You find these items dear to you."

Her guest's voice surprised her almost enough to drop the dagger she was inspecting. She was amazed to find him a step away. So close and she had not noticed? This was no man unused to adventure.

"I do," she defended. "They are all dear friends with whom I have wandered through many dangers. Without them, I surely would have been lost long ago."

The man stared at her in the shadows of his hood, only his eyes unnervingly visible. "And yet you have not held that dagger in a great time. It is awkward in your hands."

Feeling rebuked by this emotionless person, Arrats said, "I have had little need for them in some time."

"So you take them up only when you must."

"There are few days I go without thinking of them, but I cannot carry them often. My position prevents me from keeping such humble things with me."

"An excuse for concealing those things from your past that you are ashamed of."

"No!" she protested. "Were I able, I would keep them with me always. They are always beside my desk, within reach most of the day, while I sit and work. Always reminders of my former glories."

"Reminders rarely attended to."

She thought about her words before saying, "Perhaps I have been lax of late. Truly, it feels strange holding this dagger again, wearing this belt. I am meeting old friends after a long journey. But it is not uncomfortable. I feel as though I am experiencing a homecoming rather than preparing for an excursion. In truth, I have missed them dearly."

Her inquisitor watched her for another long moment, then said, "It is a good answer. You should always remember your tools. They will keep you alive when you yourself come up lacking. But remember that mistreating them or abandoning them will make them less able--less willing--to aid you the next time you need them. They seem to share a great love for you, as well, but they are all out of practice. As you will need time to readjust yourself to them, they will require time to reacquaint themselves with you. Pray you and they are ready when needed. As you yourself said, one must keep herself sharpened in all aspects to remain prepared."

Scolded--something she had not felt in decades--the Archcardinal thanked her guest as he wordlessly returned to his readings. She collected her pendant of rank from her desk as she rose. Inspecting herself, she placed her trinkets in various belt pouches and sheathed the dagger. Her bag was filled with the spellbook and slung over one shoulder.

She approached her companion by her bookcase and was surprised to find him reading through one of her textbooks on elementary magical practice. Glancing quickly at the group of books he had neatly stacked on the side table that he leaned lightly against, she saw that they were all similar in content.

"You prefer to review the basics, then?" she asked him.

"I prefer to study them, yes," he answered. "These practices are new to me."

"What? How can that be if you are personally associated with the goddesses?"

"There are many things about myself that would surprise you, Archcardinal."

She looked at the cowled man as he continued to read quickly. She realized then that all she knew was his name. "May I see your face?" she asked. "I would like to know my companion's appearance, at least."

He paused, then put the textbook down and faced her. Slowly, he lifted his hood back, pulling a long topknot out from its recesses in the process. She was astonished to find him so young. He was still a boy! And yet so stern was his visage that Arrats understood he brooked no mercy for those who underestimated him for his youth, not even himself. Brilliant blue eyes stared out impassively from a poker face only slightly sun-worn. There was no sign of a beard, as though he had decided not to grow one and his body had simply agreed. And his dark hair, now draped over his left shoulder was silk-smooth, perfectly groomed despite its time in the hood.

"Satisfied, Archcardinal?" he asked.

"Very," she answered lightly. "Certainly this trip will be more exciting than I could hope. Don't disappoint me, boy. I plan to enjoy this to the fullest."

She finished packing as her guest continued flipping through her library.

When Arrats was satisfied, she called over to Inlé. "Have you found what you want to bring, boy?"

"I have," he answered without looking up. She waited for him to continue, but realized after a few page turns that he wouldn't.

"Well here's a bag to carry them in, then," she held it up for him to take. "What did you decide on?"

He looked at her as he took the bag, then said, "A test, perhaps. I will lift the book, and you will tell me its title before it is placed within the bag. You claimed an intimate knowledge of their contents, but how well do you truly know them?"

"You're on," she laughed as he lifted the first book. The thin black primer showed wear all over its cover, even though--as Arrats well knew--the cover had been repaired nearly a dozen times. "Beginning Mage. The first edition, by the way. Very rare now." A thicker book with a natural hide cover rose. "Creatures of Note, the bestiary for the continent Ramborol and its surrounding islands. Hardly exhaustive, but a formidable work nonetheless." A red tome was lifted. Arrats thought until the book was almost in the bag before answering, "A History of Ashkern. It's a decade behind revision, but the newest copy I have." A white book, "Goodleaf and Ragalwort. Are we going to avoid all towns?" Another red book, "The Magics Alive. I wrote that one, by the way."

The last book Inlé had selected was a slim pink book just larger than his palm. Arrats remembered seeing the book on her shelf--knew exactly where it would be returned--but remembered nothing about the book. After allowing Arrats to look at it for a long time, Inlé placed the book into the bag and slid it over his shoulder.

"Is there anything else you will need, Archcardinal? Or may we continue on our journey."

"We have everything, so we can leave--out the back door, not off the roof. But first, what did I miss? What was that last one? I know it went right here"--she jabbed a finger into a gap in the books--"but for the life of me I can't remember what it is."

"And if you were to wager a guess?"

She shrugged. "Based on the other books, you have texts on flora and fauna, history, politics, and magic. So it would not be something pertaining to those. You aren't the type to read a fiction or something trivial, and I know it isn't a religious text."

"No?"

"No. Because those all belong on the shelf there. None have been moved, even ... A warrior's text, perhaps?"

"No," he answered. "Close, perhaps, but not nearly correct. What's in a Name, is the title of the book. With that, can you tell me its contents?"

Surprised by his choice, Arrats paused before saying, "An onomasticon containing etymological information and the changes of personal names over the last three centuries. It also dabbles in etiquette. The book itself is only so small as it is because the text was made to be read with a magnification spell. The author found that she could make the book appear to be a book of beautiful black and white pictures with the text so shrunken. It seems a strange title for you to choose, Inlé."

"Ninety-two per cent, Archcardinal," Inlé said as he walked beside Arrats toward the door. "Considering the size of your library, that is impressive."

Suddenly there was a loud knocking on the door the pair was approaching. Arrats was confused, but continued to the door calling, "I'm coming! Hold on." She noticed her guest was no longer beside her.

Opening the door, a trio of guards stood behind a fourth, who greeted Arrats. "No need for alarm, Archcardinal. There was a break-in at the bottom of the tower. Some fool found a way to bypass the barriers and came up the side of the tower. You haven't seen him, have you? Apparently, he was attempting to make contact with you. We believe him to be an assassin."

Arrats stepped aside, revealing the once more cowled Inlé. On seeing him, the gaurds raised their spears and rushed in to surround him. Inlé did not move.

"No need to fear, Archcardinal, we have everything under control," the guard told Arrats. Addressing Inlé, he continued, "Come quietly, fiend, and we may yet show you mercy."

"There is no need for this, Captain," Arrats said. "He is fine as he is."

"Aye, Archcardinal, a fine will be extolled--"

"Tolled, sir," one of the others corrected quietly.

"--quite right. He will be charged heavily. He may even be more harshly discipled--"

"Disciplined, sir."

"--quite right. The punishments will be steepled!"

"St--oh, nevermind," the guard sighed.

Chuckling gently, Archcardinal Arrats said, "No, you see, he is a guest, as I should have said."

Other than the captain, the guards began to lower their weapons. He remained poised to strike. "Quite right, Archcardinal. I never would have guessed someone would want you dead either!"

She smiled fondly, then put a hand lightly on the captain's shoulder. A bolt of energy leapt into him, and he collapsed on the ground. The other guards, suspecting an impostor, lifted their weapons once more, but Arrats waved for them to lower them again.

"Don't worry, boys. Your captain is only resting. The shock may have killed anyone else, but it's only knocked him out for a moment. Take him to his room, and when he wakes, tell him that he captured the criminal after an intense battle. That will cheer him.

"Inlé, pay this no mind. The Captain and I have been together for quite some time, and his wits have been somewhat addled by some of the things we have done." The guards were carrying their fallen leader out of the room, and Arrats signaled that the two should also leave. She pulled the door shut and sealed it.

"Oh!" she cried. She ran quickly to catch up to the guards. "Boys, do me a favor, and ride him down the stairs," she said mischievously. "It won't hurt him much, if any, but he will be more likely to believe there was a fight if he feels battered." She waved them on, then turned back in another direction with Inlé, laughing.

"This may be the reason the Captain is addled, Archcardinal," Inlé said, sounding unconcerned.

Arrats laughed. "Inlé, I wouldn't worry about him. He's tougher than a shelled koresque terror. I've seen the man shatter a warhammer against his forehead." She chuckled at the memory. "That may have had a little to do with the addling. But let's not talk of that now. Other tales for other times, you know. We're off to the kitchens to get breakfast and something light to travel with."