The Silver Crown

Chapter 9

Caleb

We wake early and eat some of the leftover soup for breakfast. I have a short meditation session, showing Kylee how to relax and reach inside herself. By the end of the session she figures out how to summon and control a gentle breeze. We break camp and resume our journey. We have roughly five days left till Rolcarnagur's deadline and we are still a long ways from Nilava. The woods are peaceful and we make good progress. When we stop for a midday meal, I take the time to teach Kylee a little more with her dirk. Mostly basics and how to cover your back.

"You have to watch in front of you, while listening behind you." I say slapping her lightly on the small of her back with the flat of my blade. "You're eyes are one-directional, but your ears aren't. Listen for the little things." Kylee grumbles, but I see improvement by the end of the session.

I keep up the hard pace through the afternoon. Kylee seems to know I'm pushing her limits and grimly keeps up. By evening, we come out of the woods to see the small town of Cilac in a large bowl in the ground.

"Stay close," I warn Kylee. "You never know what you'll find in these little towns.

We enter the town and start looking for an inn to stay the night in. The town only has a handful of two-story buildings, so the search isn't long. The Silver Eel is a large square building that looks like it was originally converted from a barn. It's been remodeled, but is in serious need of repainting. The light gray paint is cracked and peeled in many places. We step into a very smoky main room. It's arranged similarly to Tyron's, a bar along the back, round tables throughout, and a few booths lining the walls. The bartender glances at us as we enter, then turns back to the glasses he's wiping out. Ready for trouble as I am, my attention instantly locks onto the large cluster of men in the back. They're all large, unshaven, rough-looking men, covered in grime with weathered hands and faces. The men are clustered around another, very different, man.

The stranger in the middle is tall and very thin, giving the impression of a pencil, and has black hair. He looks to be in his early twenties. He's dressed in floor-length light blue robes and is clutching a massive leather-bound book to his chest. A cloth bag hangs from his shoulder. His lean features are flushed with excitement and indignation.

"I'm telling you, the Great Sage spoke to me through a scrying pool." He insists. "I assure you, I am not making this up. It is a serious matter."

The men laugh. "Why would that fat old man take the time to call a random bookworm? Yer not even Androlian; yer Indalorite like the rest of us." The apparent leader mocks. "That supposedly "Great Sage Council" never leaves Androlan. None of them could've talked to you in Sanlas."

The stranger stiffens. "I told you: he scryed me. And only a Sage has enough power to speak through a scrying message. He told me to come here and wait for his chosen party to arrive."

The gang laughs and starts shoving the man back and forth. This doesn't make any sense. Why would this strange man have any sort of communication with The Wise One? And who could he be waiting for except us?

"Hey!" I called. "Leave him alone." The laughing stops and the men turn to face us.

"Who are you?" The leader grunts. His face is thick and weathered and his nose looks like it's been broken multiple times till it is little more than a mashed-up lump on his face.

"I am Caleb Mason, Agent of the Sage Falarianius Intrulagostun. Step aside and let the man be."

"Ha," the man laughs, triggering all the others to spontaneous laughter. "You think I take orders from a punk? Scram kid. And take your girlfriend with you. Our business is no concern of yours." He turns away, dismissing my presence. The stranger in the middle however, had seemed to light up when I said I worked for The Wise One. He begins struggling to get through the crowd to get to us. The men push him back into the wall.