Epilogue
"That's it. That's the whole thing." Gaspar let out a
slow sigh, exhausted. They'd been
at this for hours, questioning him at every turn. The last hour,
though, he had spoken without
interruption; he wasn't sure if they had finally tired or were too incredulous
to bother
with questions. Thankfully, his mission had been only to retrieve; it
would be up to
the five men seated before him to endlessly sift through what he had given
them,
questioning every part. He did not envy them the task ahead.
Turning his attention
back to the room, he realized no one had yet spoken.
"May I have your leave to return to my quarters?" he asked softly. "It is almost dawn."
"You were obviously duped, Gaspar." Moltan said suddenly,
leaning back heavily against his chair
and drawing deep from his pipe. He was second only to Breck among the
Guildmasters...
and Gaspar knew the man disliked him. "There's a fair bit of
nonsense and maybe some fact
in that telling, but it's obvious the bastards somehow knew you were in there
and planted
what you found." Moltan stared around at his fellow Guildmasters as
he spoke, challenging
them. He was such a boorish man, Gaspar thought.
Breck merely rolled his eyes and folded his arms on his chest.
"Moltan, you've been
making a point of discrediting this evidence all night. Gaspar is one of
our best men.
I find it hard to believe we... we... were so thoroughly duped by
Runemasters... no matter
how powerful they may be." He gave a brief pause; Moltan was visibly
flushing. "I
propose we discuss this now, while it is fresh in Gaspar's mind." He
waited again, then
looked at Gaspar. "Gaspar, I'll give you leave in a few minutes. For
now, pull up a chair and
take some brandy from that shelf and let's see what we can make of this."
He did as he was told, glad for the tiny respite from their piercing gazes. He had known this interview would be difficult. It had taken him some time to recover from the shock as he first read those ancient scrolls deep in the bowels of Caer Thorn. The constant threat of being discovered had been a blessing, really; it had allowed him to focus and not dwell on what those things meant.
"Let us assume, for arguments sake, that these things are true," Moltan's half-mocking voice drew him back with a start,"We must then believe that Araketh was once mortal and was once the companion of the Runelord himself. To that we add the rather entertaining notion that Santa Tiere fought alongside them as well."
"Such a notion would drive the Western Darnics into quite a frenzy," Guildmaster Stae mumbled to herself; she had thus far seemed rather disinterested in the discussion. "I hate to beat the provervial dead horse, Gaspar," she added, "but is there really no way this could have been planted for you?"
Gaspar sighed. "Look... we've been through..." he stopped himself,
breathing in, and started again," As you well know someone in my position
is trained to discern quality. My eye can distinguish baubles from
fortunes in a few seconds. I myself am quite a collector of antiques from
the Spider Wars. I tell you, these scrolls were ancient. The
paper, the writing, even the smell spoke of age. Some of the older
records --the ones Guildmaster Moltan keeps returning to-- they were near a
thousand years old. Think of it! I doubt more than two or three
people visit that place every half century. The runes of stasis were well
wrought; it took me several hours to undo them and several more to replace them
with weaker copies. I've also verified some of the references and I think
they bear out.
"For starters, historians have long puzzled over why
the Crater Sea is called Galen's Sea in older texts. We've no mention of
any such ruler in Mithranas. Is it coincidence that the scrolls mention a
companion of Araketh's by the name of Galen McGown? And that that man had
a holding in what was then a range of mountains?"
"But it's well documented fact that the Crater Sea was created when Araketh and the Runelord clashed in the First Battle. What does this have to do with this Galen?" Guildmaster Stae seemed decidedly more interested now.
Ugh. To explain everything again! "Why do you think they fought there to begin with?" Gaspar was becoming frustrated. "We've never really figured out why they decided to fight there! It was a populated area, why there? This tells us! Because that was where Araketh's lair was when he was mortal. The church! Below the church was a complex he had been building for decades. The Crater was the aftermath of the Runelord's strike!" Gaspar was now standing, shouting. The last few minutes had helped put the last few pieces in place.
"There's no way to verify any of this! This is nonsense and it's meant to throw us into confusion. More likely..." Moltan grew quiet, looking very weary. Gaspar knew the man was wrong. Dead wrong. But how much could he tell them?
"There is a way to verify this." The Fatheroak. Secretive as they may be, the Druids have made no secret that they believe this oak is all that remains of their greatest leader. And we have long suspected that the Tree has some sentient powers. It can tell us." He paused. It was crucial that they believe him now. Although true, this path of inquiry would lead them away from what he had just realized. "I believe the tree --in some way-- can still hear the voices of men... and it will remember."
This time the Guildmasters fell silent. Minutes passed as Gaspar recovered his composure. He now knew what he had to do and he would do it alone. For now he hoped he would be given leave to sleep.
"Gaspar, I was wrong. These matters are too grave to continue with now." Breck looked at the others; all nodded tiredly in agreement. "Let us adjourn and we will continue this tomorrow." One by one, the filed out of the room without discussion. Gaspar had discovered too much that was foreign; if even a tenth was true, the Guild would have to re-think its position, its startegies. And the priests would have to ask Araketh for guidance.
*******
Despite the many wards and weaves the Guilders had placed
over that room, there were seven beings in that room that night.
From a dark corner, Wookie had sat quietly, smiling as he listened to the
things Gaspar told his masters. In truth Wookie had much to be proud of.
Without his invisible help, Gaspar would never have made it into that
vault. Never seen the Records. And never seen Lucas's old notes,
recovered by the Runelord when he took possession of Caer Thorn. He had
seen the glint in Gaspar's eyes that morning when he realized what it was the
Runelord was planning: why he had been absent without word from his Tower for
almost two decades. After a thousand years, it was time to play the game
again. Had it really been that long?