“Yes,” he said, “I heard about the theft and that some brave lady tried to prevent it. You wouldn’t happen to know who she was, would you?”
Heat crept up Karigan’s neck and into her cheeks.
“You’re teasing her, father,” Estral said. She had heard a full account of the incident from Karigan.
“So it was Karigan.” Lord Fiori nodded as if confirming it for himself. “I did not make it to Sacor City on this journey, but I overheard the remarks of some Rhovan merchants and the name G’ladheon though one of the fellows, an older gent, used a less kind word than ‘brave’ to describe the lady. There was the occasional mention of the incident elsewhere with no name attached. Are the two thefts coincidence? It’s difficult to say. Other than these being documents, what ties them together?”
“There are hundreds of thefts across the kingdom each year,” Rendle said.
“Yes, but how many of those thefts are of objects of seemingly little worth?” Lord Fiori shrugged. “I find it curious. What do you think, Karigan?”
Karigan thought he was testing her and she shifted uncomfortably in her chair, wishing she was the cat who was now sprawled on his back with paws in the air, absorbing the warmth of the fire and purring away, unconcerned.
“I think,” she began, “there were two different thieves.”
“How so?”
“The thief at the museum, who may have been the Raven Mask, or was impersonating him, made the theft in full daylight and in front of witnesses. He didn’t seem to want to hurt anyone unnecessarily.” She remembered his swordtip at her throat. He could have easily killed her. “My understanding is that the thief here came stealthily in the night and showed no such concern for Dean Crosley.”
“Very good reasoning,” Lord Fiori said, his tone full of approval. “I believe you are correct. However, it is possible that more than one thief was working toward the same goal. We may never know the answer. The sad part is that had someone wanted to view the translation key, the archivists most likely would have helped him.”
“Unless the thief planned to translate something nefarious—something he didn’t want anyone else to see,” Rendle said. The pipe was out and lit, and he pulled deeply on it.
“True,” Lord Fiori said.
“There is something else,” Karigan said.
“Yes?”
“I remember the museum attendants saying that the parchment the thief stole was in Old Sacoridian.”
Lord Fiori scratched his chin. “That sounds like more than coincidence. A document in Old Sacoridian is stolen, but it needs to be translated, so a translation key is stolen from the Selium archives. Do you know what the document contained?”
“The museum attendants didn’t seem to know,” Karigan replied, “and I never heard any more about it.”
“That is unfortunate,” Lord Fiori said. “I’m afraid we’ll learn little more unless either of the thieves is apprehended, which seems rather unlikely.”
The group sat in silence until Estral, unable to sit still any longer, burst out, “Where have you been, father?”
“West mostly,” he said. “West into Rhovanny and beyond, trying to get a feel for the mood of the people beyond Sacoridia’s borders. They appear to have been spared the reach of Blackveil Forest this summer past, but rumors of magical oddities here reached even as far west as Dunan and the folk are uneasy. Though I did not venture east this journey, the land was full of tales of passing Eletians, Eletians wandering east, a very bright company of them. I understand they are now encamped outside the gates of Sacor City.”
At the mention of Eletians, Karigan straightened in her chair. “They’ve gone to Sacor City?”
“So it appears,” Lord Fiori said.
“What do they want? What do they plan?”
“I wish I knew,” Lord Fiori replied. “I have not heard.”
Karigan’s knuckles whitened as she gripped the arms of her chair. She wanted to ride back to Sacor City to find out what the Eletians were up to. She did not trust them, not entirely.
“I should think their intentions are peaceful,” Lord Fiori said, as if sensing her turmoil. “I heard nothing of them traveling as a war party. The land told no such tale of danger, only wonder and joy at their passing.”
Wonder and joy… His words soothed her but little. Yes, the Eletians were magical beings, but they were also quite possibly a threat. A threat to herself, and a threat to her people. It was difficult to sort out the Eletians’ intentions. On one hand they were willing to save mortal lives, as in the aftermath of the massacre of Lady Penburn’s delegation. On the other, they were willing to allow all to be destroyed.
Song murmured in the back of her mind. The Golden Guardian sang, his voice growing and distracting her from her worries, bringing her back to the present. His voice arose from the deepest of places within, not just from himself, but from his listeners, and encompassed the entire room, filled the spaces between books and shelves, flowed into the fireplace and up the chimney with the smoke, and arched over them like the ceiling itself. Karigan felt the song vibrate within her. The room was music. He sang:
“The music of the stars mourns
their passing, their passing,
from the shining Land of Avrath
from the shining Land of Avrath
“Will they return?
Will they return to the bright woods,