After an hour and a half at the forge, I stopped by Daniel and informed him of the twenty-one new rings and all the casting points I used to make them. I explained that I had to dig into quite a few restoration potions to make that happen. He noted it all down.
“Oh, Patron, we are all set with the auditor, and she suggested you don’t look for payment for your position as they could argue that all your work, personal or otherwise, constitutes work for the city, and you would not be paid for any special labor. Of course, they could still claim that, but without pay, it wouldn’t hold up in court.”
“So business as usual, then?” I asked.
“Yep.” And Daniel went back to making notations in the books.
I noticed that he added a number in the margin next to it. I asked him about it.
“That is how we indicate that work or partial work is a commission. You are paid for your casting points, but the creation of the Dwarven Copper rings is a special commission. Not just anyone can make those, you know.”
“You don’t say?” I commented.
“Nope. It’s a pretty special skill set, so it gets the commission notation separate from the spell casting of the sockets.”
I stopped by a couple more stations on my way up, offered encouragement, and then headed to my rooms to freshen up. It was nearly time for my meeting with the Elven ambassador, Grandmaster Rothilion Venstina.
The Elven embassy was past the university along the shores of the South Dark River. It was a magically created home, sung into existence among a tiny forest of trees they had brought with them in a caravan of wagons a couple of centuries ago for that special purpose, and they grew the small forest in a few days. While none still lived who recalled it, except perhaps the Archmage, stories still talk about the week that the trees walked in Keelwell.
I dressed in my finest robes and decked myself out with magical rings on my fingers. I did not expect to run into any dangers, but my preparation was more for respect. Elves are magical creatures and are more likely to show respect and courtesy to those who approach some level of equality. No mere mortal could, of course, but I was especially young and wanted to make some kind of impression, even if the impression was not a memorable one. My master’s two bracers and my silver socketed dagger were also added to strengthen my appearance.
The elven guards at the gates were expecting me, and I was escorted into the ambassador’s home or lodge, as it was known. They left me by myself in a warm study that was filled with books and crafted arts. I wandered around for a time, enjoying the beautiful imagery. Normally, I would have gone right to the books, but a book is a personal item and represents a level of familiarity or even intimacy that I certainly did not share with the ambassador. I had met him a couple of times over the years at my father’s side, and while he greeted me kindly on each occasion, I was not of any real interest to him. Or at least, that is what I had always thought.
“Enchanter Gwydion!” The ambassador said in human Tradespeak as he strolled into this study. “It is wonderful to see you again. You have grown several inches since the last time we met, I believe.”
I laughed and replied in Elven, which informed him that the honor of his native language was preferred. “Yes, ambassador, but I think that I have stopped growing at this point.”
He raised a finger, “Physically perhaps, and perhaps not. But certainly one never stops growing mentally and spiritually.”
I bowed my head in respect for his scored point. Elves live such long lives that much of their time is spent in what humans would consider mere games of wit and words. But surprising one’s guest with wisdom or little delicacies was important to their sense of identity and position in the world.
He acknowledged my bow with a slight one of his own. It was a kind of polite “thank you” for seeing the point I just earned. But there was no malice, just ego, involved.
He offered me the choice of chairs, and I chose the lesser of the two, indicating his esteemed position over my own.
Another elf came in and placed a tray of fresh breads, cheeses, and seasoned vegetables between us. He reached over and chose a chunk of dark bread, which he tore apart slowly and ate in small bites. I chose a different variety so that we might recommend the flavors to each other.
I hoped that my love of their culture and language was helping me fit in.
“Or should I call you, Commander Istari? I understand congratulations are in order.” He added after we had sampled the breads before us.
I bowed to him again. “I think that among most humans such an opportunity would be seen as worthy of congratulations, but this is done out of duty, and I do not foresee it lasting beyond the conflict’s resolution.”
It was early to discuss such things, but he offered it up as a path by recognizing my new title.
He bowed to me slightly and frowned. “It is dark days we live in. As dark as any in the past century, maybe even beyond that.”
I looked down at the bread in my hands and then placed it on a plate beside me.
He appeared surprised and asked, “Was the flavor not to your liking?”
I sighed and changed from Elven to Ancient Elven. “Ambassador, in my heart, I wish nothing more than to share impressions of the flavors of these delicacies and ask you about the story of many of these amazing works of art,” I emphasized this by waving my hands slowly around his study. “But time, by even human standards, is short, and I have a favor to ask that by rights I have no privilege to request.”
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He set his bread down. “I take no offense, Gwydion. Speak directly and I will hear your words.”
By naming me personally, he assured me that despite my rudeness, he took no offense.
I relaxed. My first hurdle was overcome.
“Ambassador,” I began, still using his title.
He held up his hand. “If you are Gwydion, then I am Rothilion.”
The second hurdle was achieved. And now for the hardest part.
I bowed my head more deeply, indicating that it was an honor I had not earned.
“Please, Gwydion, tell me why you are here. I have followed your progress since you were a child at your mother’s feet. She is Elfkin and family. I sponsored her, and so you are also family, just not formally.”
“I did not know that,” I said. There was a great deal about my mother’s life that I was only now finding out.
He smiled. “Yes, she served the kingdom in many ways, and once it was so important that it merited, even demanded, recognition.”
I wanted to ask him about it, but if she did not share it with me, then it was inappropriate for him to do so, and I did not want to lose the ground I had gained in our meeting.
“She has not shared the story with you, has she?” He asked sadly.
“No,” I replied.
“She was sworn to secrecy and has kept this even from her only child. She is a remarkable human, and I do not mean that in a chauvinistic way. Although, as an elf, it comes quite naturally when discussing other races.” He admitted.
He waved his hand subtly. “I apologize. It is easy for elves to digress in our conversations because we expect our discussions to last for hours or even days. You have a favor to ask. My talk was meant to be reassuring, and that it is fine for you to ask. It does not guarantee a result favorable to you, but you should not fear the asking.”
“Thank you, Rothilion. I appreciate the kindness. Then here is the favor. As you know, the city is under imminent threat of invasion by the infernal-led goblin horde. Bringing that much death and destruction to our land will be hard to counteract. My mother has shared enough with me about her druidic arts to understand that there is a deeper and more fundamental linkage across life than most races understand; perhaps human beings are most notable in this failure or disregard.”
He nodded his understanding of my statement but waited patiently for the favor.
“Since I was a child, I have visited a special tree in our park nestled close to the Park Pond,” I said.
“I have visited this spot many times myself.” He replied.
“My mother has a special bond with the tree and its cohabitant,” I stated.
“A good choice of words. Simple, but apt.” He replied.
“This cohabitant is a powerful source of life in our city. In fact, she is an unusually powerful source and one not common across any other human city that I am aware of.”
“I concur with both your observations.” He said, curiosity about my favor rising in him by the way his head began to tilt, and he tried to foresee my favor.”
“My favor comes in two parts, and either or both may be accepted or denied based on your wisdom, and I do not ask for an explanation or justification for your decision.”
“That is appreciated.” He replied.
“My first favor is that you, me, and as many fellow elves as are willing, attend to her and Elf Sing to her for three hours to strengthen her for the coming challenge. I believe her strength is vital for her and our own survival.”
His expression showed his surprise. “I understand your request, but would like to hear your second favor before responding to either.”
I nodded. “My second request is that you, me, and as many fellow elves as are willing, will then sing for another hour at neighboring trees in the hope of producing three living wands each, that can be used for defense of the city with the specific enchantments either at your discretion or advice.”
He stared at me for quite a long time. It was not uncommon for eleves to do this as they thought through multiple iterations of challenging problems, but it was somewhat unnerving to be on the receiving end of such a stare.
“Have you spoken with your mother about this?” He asked.
“Actually, no,” I said. “But I can see how that would have been wise on my part. I feel embarrassed that I have not done so.” Misreading his question and fearing my entire effort had been wasted, I continued, “And I apologize for wasting your time. I did not think through the implications of my request and-”
He held up his hand. “I asked not to condemn or refute your question, but to clarify where the ideas came from. Did another mage or the Duke suggest this to you?”
I looked surprised. “Well, no. This came to me after my last visit. I asked and received from her boughs my personal mage staff, and I sensed a weakness in her that I had not before seen. I was concerned for her.”
He looked as if I had just broken out into dwarvish rather than continued to speak in ancient Elven.
“She willingly gave you the wood for your mage staff?”
“Yes. For the slightest moment, she was angered, but then agreed and asked me for a later boon in return. I had not realized it at the time, but a giant eel had taken up residence in the pond and had been poisoning her roots and forcing her to use her magic to shield it. But I sensed its presence, and I came back with friends to face it and remove its threat.”
“I see.” He said. “You should know that my fellows and I depart your city tomorrow. We have been ordered home and will not stand at your side. And for that I am truly sorry.”
My shoulders slumped. “I thank you for considering my requests.”
“And therefore, in order for this to occur, we would need to do it this afternoon and evening. Are you available now?”
My mouth dropped open.
He laughed. Elves are famous for their lack of emotion, but they delight in seeing surprise in others since they experience it personally so rarely.
“The look on your face was worth the story. And if I were not so old and stoic in our ways, you would have seen equal surprise from me during your telling.”
“Thank you, ambassador!” I said, smiling from ear to ear.
He raised his hand. “If you wouldn’t mind sitting here a little longer, and perhaps trying some of the delicacies before you, I truly can recommend the flavor of the pumpernickel by the way, I will make arrangements.”
We stood together, bowed to each other with my bow being deeper, and he departed.
In less than half an hour, I was escorting the ambassador and four other elves to the park with Biff and my Watch guards.
He said to me on the way, “As it happens, only five of us remain who have the stamina to accomplish the task you set before us. Those few yet remaining will complete some packing and guard our boundaries for the last day we are here. I had hoped we would number seven in total, but six will still do nicely.”
“It will indeed, ambassador.” After a pause, I asked, “What will happen to the lodge when you depart?”
“The Lodge,” he said with more emphasis in Elven than I had given it, “will remain. We will leave it to nature.”
“Might I make a suggestion?”
“Of course!” He replied.
“I know that our rangers and druids are coming into and out of the city, and most of them find the city barely tolerable-”
“Say no more, or you will shame me.” He replied. “I shall offer it as a Sanctuary for them. I can think of no better caretakers than they for our Keelwell Lodge. I shall also leave the defenses in place and instruct their use to whoever serves as their liaison. Can you make a suggestion?” He asked with a smile.
“Well, I was going to suggest the Ranger Commander,” I said.
“But now?” He asked.
“But now a wisdom occurred to me that an Elfkin druid might be the better choice.”
“I admire the Ranger Commander, but I concur with your assessment. Can you see to it after our efforts?” He asked.
Bella?
Yes, Gwydion. I will let her know, but she is waiting for you at the tree.
How?
Who is to say?
“It appears, ambassador, that my mother is already at the tree waiting for us.”
“Oh? Wonderful. Then we will have seven after all!” He declared.
He did not ask how I had communicated or learned all this, and I did not explain. I was not sure why, but something told me to remain quiet on the subject of Bella, at least for now.
