MIND GAMES

An excerpt from the Chronicles of Sapha. by Tom Hunter

Palor stretched his bad leg and leaned heavily on his staff. He was getting too old for this waiting around in the sun. Each year the delegations came. Each year he showed the young pompous aristocrats from the provinces around his home. Each year he stood in the baking heat until some spoiled little brat dained to appear for the tour. As Key Master of the House of words it was his duty, and one time honour to share the enlightenment of his home and office with provincial twits and pretenders. After 36 years it had worn as thinly as his patience.

He wiped sweat from his brow and directed his gaze to the far distant mountains. The Kaldstorm Mountains rose out of the continent like a hunch. A twisted spine of peaks that split the land from top to bottom, in the form of a lazy S with a fishhook tail to the south. The range created a natural border between the empire of Tolos Dal Juleth in the east and the Parq Traders Council in the west. Thoughts of snow and winds cooled Palor a little and he allowed his mind to wander.

His favorite places were dark and cold and he thought himself now into a labyrinth of underground passages. Weaving his way this way then that, past dozens of rooms filled with whispers and echoes. There are no shadows in these corridors. There is no light. Torches hung on the walls, he knew, but in his mind he was the light. Down palatial stairways and over vast chamber floors he floated through this, his most beloved of places. He came here dutifully each day. It was the most pleasurable duty of all. He thought himself on, deeper and deeper into the maze of cavernous rooms. Sometimes floating over and sometimes under the bridges that connected the upper levels. His mind's eye was as always, as keen as a hawk's. Sweat was again trickling down his face as the irrepressible heat of the Saphian summer's longest day soaked into him. 'The things I do for this Empire' he thought as he dabbed at his brow once more.

The Dal Juleth Empire was in its 280th year and ferociously ruled by the ageing Tolos IV, whose 63 years as Emperor had brought many changes to Dal Juleth. Most noticeable was the return of Magic. For more than 40 years he had ruthlessly pursued the secrets of past ages. Hardly a myth or local story of unexplained events had slipped past his agencies. The collection of many thousands of books and scrolls had led to the building of a fabulous library spanning many acres and several levels.

Like all the buildings in the Imperial quarter of Neeba, made of stone hewn from the Guresh Steps and transported 500 kilometers south over the Plains of Haste, its polished surface reflected the sun. Unlike the others, it stood alone in the center of a grand square. A myriad of barracks and refectories, alehouses and residences, shops and accomodaries pressed in on three sides. The fourth opened out onto the Gardens of Tranquility. Palor wished that at least once his group of gawkers would meet him in the relative cool afforded by the arboretum. Shopping, however, always preceded sightseeing.

Moving some of his weight back onto his bad leg, he shifted his staff to his other hand and ending his reverie looked once more over the square. 'Blast this heat,' he thought, 'and blast this pretence'. He considered returning to the shade of the library. 'After all, it is all just a matter of time now.'

The square as always thronged with people. Clusters and strays of all types stood or strolled. Some even sat, but all of them stared at least for a while, at the sheer splendour of the House of Words. Larger than the Imperial Palace in the center of the Gardens of Tranquility, it shone like a beacon announcing the righteous power of the empire. Adorned with a multitude of impressive statues and reliefs, the white marble building told the story of creation.  Many wondered at its construction and even fled as its greatest illusion caught their imagination. Three of the middle levels clad in mirror polished metal reflected the sky, creating the impression that the upper levels floated on air. Palor once found some humour in their reactions, but not now. It was a sign. A sign that enlightenment still evaded the masses. 'They have filled their bellies and neglected their minds', he thought.

"Master Palor!” "Master Palor!”

Palor turned to see the excited form of Lobi, a junior practitioner of the second order, scuttling across the library entrance towards him. "Master Palor, my apologies Master. We have just heard from the Palace. There will be no tour this day."

"What?" he demanded.

"However the Lady Aurien is on the river" continued Lobi in his usual flustered manner. "And is requesting a private tour."

"Who in all of Sapha is Lady Aurien? And what's this about the tour?”

"I'm sorry Master," blurted Lobi, "I've just heard myself and I can't quite believe it either, it’s just so unexpected."

"Damn and blast you Lobi! Can’t you just tell me what is going on instead of prattling on so?” Despite of his lack of patience with Lobi, Palor actually liked the young man. After six years of watching him fumble his way through the academy, only one thing remained he disliked.

"I'm sorry Master, I'm just caught up in all the excitement I suppose, then when news of the lady came. Well!"

"Lobi, for the love of Gosha will you tell me what is going on, and please, in a manner that I can comprehend. And for once will you keep your thoughts out of you trousers and concentrate on what I need to know?"

"Sorry master"

"And stop apologising will you, it really is the most annoying sign of weakness. Not at all suited to a apprentice of your class, even one as old as you."

Lobi looked suitably abashed by the insult. After six years an apprentice should have mastered all five levels of concentration and progressed to the Guild of Practitioners. He had achieved only two. Palor raised his staff in threat and glared at the young man.

"Sorry master, the lady OUCH!"

"If my day must begin in the heat? So be it, If I must suffer a fool? So be it, If I must hear of this woman so be it! But I will hear of why the Palace has called off the tour or I will rap your head instead of your foot!"

Lobi, rubbing his foot on the back of his other leg, struggled to think of a way to tell Palor his news without mentioning the Lady Aurien. After all, it was her that wanted the tour and she was on her way. He began quickly.

"The Lady Aurien arrived last night with her Uncle Lord Brandeth and his party," He skipped a look at the master, whose patience was almost at boiling point, then continued.  "Who were to partake of the tour this morning with the other dignitaries, but were all called to the War Council instead. Except the Lady, she wants to see the Library."

"War Council you say?"

"Yes Master, most of the provincial lords are already at the palace and there is talk among the apprentices of the return of the Inquisitors."

"Inquisitors eh? Tell me, what do the apprentices say about the enemy? Who are we at war with?"

"I assume it is the Parq Hoards from the west Master, they say only that we are invaded."

"All we can assume of war Lobi is that people will die, perhaps even you and I. Still, that will not be today. So tell me now of this woman, Arien? "

"Lady Aurien master"

"You say she came with Brandeth? From northern Manchara?"

"Yes master, and she is reputed to be beautiful"

"Perhaps Lobi, for certain she has been traveling for some time. Let us not disappoint her. Come we shall both receive her".
 
"Both of us master? I mean, I"

"Well Lobi It is about time that you began to live up to your position. Sometimes even an buffoon such as you must accept that with the blue gown comes duty."
 
"But Master?"

"No Lobi, no buts. If we are at war with the Parq and their evil brotherhood you may be called upon to assist in the effort."

"Me master?"
 
"Yes my young friend we may all be expected to do our bit for the empire, and if you are, you will look back on this day and thank me for it."

Palor could not say it, but he felt that this might be Lobi's last chance to ingratiate himself with a woman of substance. His bloodline would not guarantee a suitable pairing, but affairs were a different matter all together.

"But master, I have not "

"Shush boy! As I have said, this will not be today. For now let us concentrate on your young lady, Arien wasn't it?"

Lobi exuded fear and trepidation. His eyes fixed on Palor's staff; he looked like he might collapse as he mumbled "Lady Aurien SA Manchara".

"SA Manchara? How interesting" Palor realised why he had not heard of this lady Aurien until now. Only someone adopted by or married into a family used the prefix SA, and given the remoteness of the Mancharan province. He made a mental note to learn more about its ruling family. "We shall kill two birds with one stone today young Lobi."

Lobi, his face ashen, could not force himself to respond though he did break his stare at the master's staff for a split second.

Palor looked across the square, shielding his eyes against the light. 'Yes' He though, 'I am getting too old for this.' 'How could I have missed it? No soldiers!' He placed an arm around Lobi's shoulder and guided the shaking youth toward the Library entrance. He made another mental note. This time it was to refrain from dalliances and pay attention. 

Lobi remained visibly shaken as he entered the Library under at least some of the master's weight. War, what did he know of war? With the exception of third and fourth hand stories of victorious campaigns against brigands in the south, the only war he could think of had almost destroyed the world. History lessons remembered he was visualizing cataclysmic battles. Bodies and bits of bodies lay amid buildings rent asunder by magic. Blood washed over him as he watched black rites performed by manic priests of the Brotherhood, and a man called Corrus reached for God and tore the world apart. He wriggled awkwardly as a shiver ran up his spine.

"Steady boy," assured Palor. "War is often months in the preparing. You will have plenty of time to get used to the idea. Remember we are about to meet a beautiful young lady, so pull your wits about you!"

"Yes Master, I'm sorry Master. Will the magic be lost again Master?"

"Lost, Hah! For someone who is barely aware of its potential you're a strange one to worry over losing it."

"I know Master, but wasn't it war that led Corrus to destroy the children of God, and most of everything else."

"Hush lad," Palor looked around nervously, and then leaned conspiratorially closer. "We must not speak of such blasphemies. Never should we utter that name, especially in this house."

Assuring himself that no one had heard them he continued. "That was a very long time ago, and we have learned from his mistake. Its bad enough that you mention him, but in times of war we cannot afford to remind everyone else." Knowing it was too late, for if Lobi was thinking of him, every practitioner and his apprentice were already discussing him, he wondered if it was worth trying to put an end to it. 'Perhaps not' he thought. 'From the religious fanatics down to the mildly superstitious, they'll all be telling his tale by nightfall'.

It was all Lobi could do, to stroll and listen to his master berate him in hushed whispers. His mind was still adrift in rivers of blood as Palor guided him through the library toward the gardens. He no longer felt the increasing weight of his master's hunched form pushing him onwards to what he was sure was a horrible fate. As they passed through the halls of learning many blue-robed figures paused to acknowledge them. Lobi saw something in the eyes of them all. Something that in all of his years of trying had failed to achieve. He saw acceptance. Perhaps it was only the absence of ridicule, but certainly it was recognition. United by fear for none alive had been involved in war and all of them knew the consequences of it, they were now equal in at least one sense. Several of the young apprentices who studied with Lobi attempted to gain an aside chat with him. No doubt they wished to share their fears and perhaps learn more of the possibilities from an older student. Lobi however, could not be reached. Shuffling rather than walking, almost as if he could delay the inevitable, he resisted all they way to the arboretum. His mind trapped in a whirlwind of death and destruction, his hope fading to memory.

Palor’s mind only partially removed from his walk, engaged in the subtle art of deception. Each student or practitioner he greeted received the same nonchalant dismissal of the importance their part in a war would have, while secretly he analysed every scrap of information he gathered. It was not time yet to join in battle with the Parq. He was not ready. Fingers of annoyance began playing at the strings of his nerves. All his planning, all his years of study would be useless unless he could delay the start of a war. ‘What in God’s name was Tolos up to’ he thought ‘Those blasted puppets of his no doubt, and why wasn’t he informed? We shall see just who is the best puppeteer’

He set his mind to the sixth level of order. A level of power only he had achieved. It took his awareness beyond the limits of normal senses and allowed him to probe the minds of others, and much more.

As he walked through the second of the seven great arches spanning the central hallway, he removed all the detritus of thought and feelings that clung to his conscious mind. He prepared himself for all that as to come.

No one knew of his skill, even his emperor, who had kindly provided the scrolls in which he discovered it. He allowed himself a smug moment as their ignorance amused him. Maintaining a tenuous thread to reality, he spread himself thinly across the thoughts of the occupants of the library, searching for a remnant.

His head filled at once with a cacophony of drives and desires fears and wonder. Thoughts of all subjects and intensities competed for his attention and threatened to drown him with their passion. Moved, in more ways than he could count, Palor fought to control the river of emotions that raged through him. He began by locating his beacons. Thought he had placed deep in the minds of several of his fellow masters, for occasions such as this. Once located, Palor used the mind of each of his ‘puppets’ to direct his search in a more controlled manner. Like a Bloodhound he sniffed out many unpleasant thoughts and fears, but no trace of a binding. He was searching for telltale traces of conflicting impulses that would indicate his people were under the influence of another agency. A memory out of place or an emotional disturbance had often given him proof of mind control by the emperor's henchmen in the past. Their skills though heavily practiced were still brutish and easily countered. The problem was in wading through all of the baggage the average person cluttered their minds with.

Of all the thoughts he experienced the most inviting yet repulsive was the preoccupation with food and what some people dreamed of eating. Feeling both sick and hungry he continued. His progress through the library was as slow as his search. As they passed the central stairway leading up to the machine rooms and laboratories of the middle floors, his mind was descending from the private apartments and studies of the upper tiers. With the exception of the control thoughts he had placed himself, which he dutifully reinforced, there were no traces of another mind at work. At least his sleeping army still slept blissfully unaware of the powers that shaped their futures, albeit a little too soon for Palor.

By the end of their stroll Palor's search was almost complete. He slowly became aware of a change in his perception as he withdrew his thoughts from the deepest levels beneath the library. Here only students and their tutors worked and studied.

Concentrated thoughts made his task so much easier and he was working so fast that he almost missed it. The normal soothing darkness he cloaked his probing thoughts with began to fade into light. He began to sense danger, and if anyone had looked they would have seen the small hairs rise on the back of his neck. Perhaps there was another mind at work? Capable of shrouding their thoughts even from him.

In the physical world his eyes closed and he stood still.
On the sixth plane of consciousness, Palor pushed his mind to identify the light. It had no source, no flow of power and no direction. It came from nowhere and was simply everywhere. He felt exposed as it stripped away his cloak of soothing shadows. He had never experienced fear of this nature. With each beat of his heart the light grew brighter and Palor struggled to apply logic to it, something that could explain its presence in a plain of thought that until now had been his alone. His search had become something different. If this was another mind, it was a mind unlike any he had experienced. A mind is traceable, identifiable, and even controllable through its' thoughts. This ever-increasing brightness was not a thought. It was real and it became so bright he fled. His awareness poured back into his mind like water down a drain, a safe dark drain. He prayed silently to Oleyea that the light would not follow him.

Now perspiring heavily despite the relative cool of the library chambers, he felt Lobi tugging at his cloak. The young man was no longer in the grip of his imagination. He was positively glowing with confidence as he directed Palor's attention to the small group of people who had just entered from the arboretum. Confused and shaken by his experience, the old master momentarily felt that he and Lobi had reversed their roles, only briefly though, for there was too much at stake to allow the whimsy of emotional distraction. He calmed his thoughts and turned his attention to the direction Lobi had indicated.

The sun was streaming through the garden archway and Palor squinted his eyes to see the small knot of people who stood just inside. He could not identify any of them, as surrounding them was a blaze of light. Fear began to rise again in his mind. No blood and bodies for him, just an encompassing bright nothingness. Shafts and sparks of brilliant reflected sunlight made it impossible for him to tell how many and of what he was looking at. He steeled himself against the impulse to withdraw. 'It's not going to happen like this' he thought. 'I will not become the victim of my ignorance and fear.'  A bead of his sweat dripped onto Lobi's hand causing the apprentice to look more closely at his master.

Lobi asked, "Are you unwell Master?"  While straining to hide a beaming smile behind a look of great concern.

"No, no I'm all right boy,"

Palor was struck again by the change in young Lobi. He had become a man in the space of a heartbeat. Gone was the foolish, skittish buffoonery and in its place was something Palor could only describe as lust for adventure. He decided not to pursue this phenomenon until later, when he and Lobi could be alone or at least until he could bring himself to travel the sixth plain without fear. He though it best to be careful with his powers until he knew something about what might have caused whatever it was he had experienced.

These thoughts disturbed him for within their web lay the possibility that he was already discovered, and by whom he knew not. He added to his mental list. 'Nor shall I be victim to paranoia'.

"It's just that you look so pale, and wet" continued Lobi, his look of concern winning, but not without difficulty.

"Blast this heat," said Palor rubbing at his face with his sleeve in an attempt to both mop up and bring some colour to his cheeks. "Damn sweat is in my eyes. Tell me who is there, boy, while I try to focus. Describe them to me, and don't linger on the Lady Aurien, leave her till last!"

"Ah but Master," sang Lobi, "she is but the most beautiful creature to walk upon Oleyea's earth. To leave her anywhere would be sinful,"

"Unless of course it was in your bed" scoffed Palor. "Now get on with it." He managed to raise his staff a little, an act from which Lobi took the hint.

Palor was reassured to see a little embarrassment show in Lobi's cheeks. Feeling a little more like himself he glanced around to ensure that no one else bore witness to his momentary frailty, although it would certainly be helpful if he wished to avoid a part in the tour.  
Lobi, beaming like a ray of his own sunshine, stood proudly at his master's side. His fear simply forgotten, he was never more prepared for any task. He looked upon the waiting people and his eyes filled with tears from his heart. He did as Palor asked, described the unimportant while his mind never left the center of the small group. Nor did his eyes, for how could he take his sight away from such beauty without becoming blind from its absence. He was captivated and surrendered willingly.

Buoyed by an increasing love he floated his master over to meet the others while his heart wished that She would see only him. He was living for the moment and prayed with all his being for time to stop if their eyes should meet. He wasn't aware of the change in his demeanour, but he did feel very much alive. What he gazed upon now gave him an overpowering reason for living.

Aurien, exhausted from her long journey, swayed slightly as she stood amid the dazzling reflections cast from her escort's body armour. She had never been one for pomp or ceremony and today seemed most inappropriate for either. Yet here she stood, regaled in the finest silk and adorned with jewels mined from the depths of Mount Thunder. If her uncle had not dismissed her from the palace she would have retired to a bed that was not pulled by a horse or afloat on a river. It had been her dream for three long weeks of travel. Two days ago a rider had called them to the bank of the river Lotah, as they completed the last leg of their journey by barge. His meeting with her uncle Brandeth had resulted in a hard ride across the Plains of Haste and her last night of rest had been under the stars.

She had begged to be left in a room to sleep, but Brandeth had insisted that she not remain in the palace. He had offered no reason, but the fear she saw in his eyes convinced her to do his bidding. She trusted him, and she believed it was for her benefit.

Lord Brandeth assigned two of his most trusted constables as her escort to whom Harj the captain of the Imperial Guard had added four of his own. Their small company was increased by the presence of Jarvic, an Imperial archaeologist who had come down from the mountains over Manchara on the eve of their sojourn south. A strange ferret-like man, who had kept very much to himself and said little of consequence, he had done nothing to deserve the distrust Aurien had for him. Standing by him now, her discomfort with his proximity was the only thing keeping her awake. She stood with her hands clasped, the weight of the jewels in her hair pushed her head forward and she blinked slowly.
What was she doing here? 'Ah yes, taking a tour of the Library' Her thoughts became fuzzy and her head became light.
'There's a war, a tour of the library'. 'Yes, a tour of the library.' 'Stay out of the palace'
A smile spread across her lips, as a warmth rose up from inside her, like the warmth of a comforting blanket. 'Yes, a tour of the library would be good, you will like it, trust me!' The sounds of a familiar lullaby removed the last of Aurien's discomfort before she slept where she stood.

Robart and Philo the Mancharan Constables engaged in light banter with the Imperial guards. They swapped stories of courage and daring-do in the field of battle. Each trying to out-do the other until it came to tales of the Great War. Everywhere, respect for the dead and fear of another cataclysm sobered the minds of braggarts. There would be no one to sing their songs or tell their tales if everyone died or disappeared.  

"What I can't understand," said Robart "is the fact that we haven't had any dealings with the Western peoples for centuries, agreed?" The others all answered with a nod or a grunt.

"I've lived on the mountains all my life right?" He continued, like a market trader working his customers. "And I've never seen one of them,"

"Horrible hairy bastards they are" said one of the emperor's men, sending the others into fits of laughter, all except Robart, who although glad of the lightning of the mood did not like interruptions. He tapped on his polished breastplate with a ringed finger until he had regained their attention.

"What I'm saying is, no one even knows who they are anymore. Or how many they are," He reduced his voice to a whisper, "And I for one don't like to fight without good intelligence."

A joke passed on the intelligence of the northerners delighted the Imperial guards.

It was Philo now who tapped on his breastplate for attention. He was the more serious of the two, and devoutly religious.

"We have all the intelligence we need, right here in the Book of Gorash." He indicated the building around them by opening his palms to the ceiling. "Besides, unless they have a way to move mountains they can not all come through the Dragons Teeth at once. Our histories tell us of many campaigns by the Parq that we defeated at the pass."

"Who's We?" asked Brin, one of the imperial guards, who at this point began to show a little annoyance.

Not everyone in the empire appreciated the teachings of the Practitioners', and fewer than ever gave credit to the part that religion and magic had played in the past. After two thousand years, reality had faded to myth and taken its place beside superstition.

Priests were now academics and librarians, more historians than spiritual leaders. Politics ruled the empire; commerce ruled its people and Brin had a personal dislike for anything associated with Gods.      

"By 'We' I mean us, the faithful" replied Philo. "We are all children of Gorash as were those who went before us, my father and your father alike. As will our children if it pleases Him".

"How will you know if it pleases him?" asked Brin. "According to your stories he's dead!"

Philo positively bristled with pride as he defended his religion. "I for one do not believe that God can die,” he said. "And I have faith in His return. Faith sustains us and is our salvation."

"Well I have no faith in anything dead unless I'm eating it," growled Brin, "and that only sustains me until I shit it back out."

Robart was suddenly aware of the lady Aurien in their presence and glanced back at her. He had allowed himself to get embroiled in the conversation and had forgotten she was in their care. Her head bowed, she appeared to be sleeping until she raised her eyes to meet his. On her face he saw a look of deepest sorrow, a sorrow that her beauty could not disguise. That such a gentle beautiful creature could feel such sorrow pained him. He felt driven to succour and care for her and at once impotent to the task. Unworthiness washed over him as he struggled to avoid her gaze. Lost in his own thoughts and in her sorrow, he was only barely aware of the arrival of Palor and Lobi.

Philo provided the introductions while Brin studied him with an expression that said we'll continue this talk again later. Philo's broad smile and a cursory nod in Brin's direction told him that indeed they would, but now it was time for some official recreation. Jarvic, who until then had hardly made his presence felt, moved immediately to Palor's side and motioned secretly with his left hand. He covered his movements by enquiring after the health of the old master, who did not look at all well.

"I will survive," assured Palor, "though I must admit I do not feel that I will do justice to the patience of our honourable guest by fumbling my way around this days' tour. It would seem that the heat of the day has taken a greater toll on me than I can comfortably withstand."
He continued by addressing the lady Aurien but could not look upon her as he kept his head down to avoid anyone recognising the fear he as sure was written all over his face. Try as he had, he could not shake the images of all consuming light that had invaded his mind.

"I beg forgiveness of your ladyship, you have traveled so far and now are faced with an old man who cannot even walk and talk at the same time. If it pleases you, I will leave you in the capable care of young Master Lobi, my assistant. He knows all there is of this library, please feel free to make use of his knowledge as you would of mine."

Palor was beginning to panic. His mind was filling with flashes of light and he felt that if he raised his head the others would see them dancing behind his eyes.

Jarvic had signaled him for an immediate private meeting of great importance, but even this thought could not focus Palor's' mind. A whirlwind of excitement and emotion tried to explode from within him. Only his fear held it in check, the same fear that threatened to consume him. Palor's only instinct now was to retire to the sanctuary of his apartments. He feigned a collapse and was caught in the arms of both Jarvic and Lobi.

"You truly are unwell Master" It was Lobi, his face now a proper picture of concern, who took command of the situation. He hadn't heard Palor refer to him as 'Master Lobi', but he acted just as a Master should. Issuing orders he bade two of the Imperial guards carry Palor to his apartments.

"No master Lobi" said Jarvic; "The guards are under strict orders to protect the Lady. I will accompany Master Palor to his quarters. Besides, I have studied here in the past and know of the House of words. I am simply here as I am not needed at the palace."

"He's right" said Palor, "I will not be responsible for the punishment Captain Harj will deliver upon these brave soldiers if they disobey his orders. I will be all right with his help. Please, if the lady so wishes? Continue with the tour." 

Lobi's heart leapt to his throat as he realised he was about to be left alone with the woman of his dreams, at least as alone as he could be surrounded by six burly guards in the middle of a city of 30,000 people. The social order of the empire meant that no one; not even the Mancharan constables would speak to the Lady unless she invited them to. To Lobi, that left them alone for the duration of her interest in the tour and his company. He now faced the challenge of looking her in the eye.

Bolstered by his newfound confidence and only a little afraid that his wish would come true he looked directly at her. His eyes beheld magnificence.

Bejeweled and breathtakingly beautiful, the Lady Aurien smiled at him. Her countenance placed the final impression on the seal of his love for her. It was a moment that he would never forget. He tried to stretch it to an eternity before he broke the spell by speaking.

"If it pleases my Lady, where would you like to begin?"

Resplendent in saffron yellow silk with her jeweled hair and looking like a ray of sunlight, Aurien delighted Lobi. In the softest of voices, which sounded like a musical realisation of pure pleasure, she replied.

"I would like to know everything Master Lobi. Please begin where you think most appropriate." 

Lobi momentarily stunned for she had called him 'Master', deliberated over telling her that he was only an apprentice. It was not his usual, mixed up bumbling sort of thought, that earned him his lack of respect. His concern was genuine and specific He could not tell even a small lie to this woman, but he feared that he would lose favour if she knew the truth. She had smiled at him, and he did not want to change whatever impression she had of him that made her smile that way.

"I believe the tour usually begins with a walk around the outside my lady."

"You believe?" inquired Aurien, a sense of mischief played around the words as she spoke. "Have you taken this tour before?"

With his emotions on a knife-edge, Lobi was glad that Palor had receded far enough into the library not to witness him failing. He had recovered some of his sheepishness and felt that the lady was tormenting him, but still, what beautiful torment.

"Actually, no my Lady. Until today I, well it is true that I have never taken the tour. I think it would be sensible to start at the beginning, and as the building's artworks depict creation. Where better to start?" He was rambling again, in his usual clumsy fashion. He wanted to go on, and tell her who he really was. He couldn't pretend to be a Master. No, it wouldn't be pretence it would be lying. The difference in his mind was the pain he would cause himself even if she did not find out. The more he thought about it, the harder it became to see the problem clearly. He was surprised when she accepted his suggestion.

"I think you are right Master Lobi, I would like to see this version of creation and if it led to this building and its contents? Then it is the place to start your story."

Boosted slightly by her agreement, and a little confused over her choice of words, he was about to explain himself and come clean when she spoke again.

"Fear not Master Lobi, I know you are not what you appear. If it will put you at ease I will refer to you as Lobi, but believe me when I say that you are more than you imagine."

'She knows' he thought, 'She knows I'm not a Master.' Despite a nagging doubt that he should be upset by this revelation, Lobi was relieved.

The cocky edge had been knocked off his confidence, but it was returning. He offered her his arm and guided her back through the arboretum gates. They walked in step and in silence, though Lobi felt that he was communicating all of his love through the touch of her hand on his arm. He did not care how she knew she had accepted him for who he was and it was wonderful. He just wished that she could know how he felt for her. Ridiculous as it was for he did not know her. Not properly, he could imagine nothing about her that would be enough to change how he felt

Aurien giggled at the slightly perplexed look on his face and it made Lobi want to laugh out aloud. His head was filled with the musical quality of her voice and he basked in the glory of her. He glanced at their escort; their polished armour ablaze with the morning sun was all that he saw that reflected his mood. Their stern faces reminded him that he had a story to tell. The story of creation, of Gorash and Jilrith and a man called Corrus whom he must not mention. Despite his mood, a shiver ran up his spine.

More of the Chronicles of Sapha will be available soon. For more information contact Tom via the link below.

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