Of Truth and Beasts

Her first task was to deliver the sealed message from her branch’s council to the high premin here. But it was the middle of the night, and everyone was probably asleep.

“Perhaps we should have found rooms elsewhere?” Ore-Locks commented. “Then come here tomorrow?”

A heavy clack carried from beyond the gate, and light spilled from the guild’s entryway. A silhouette appeared amid the glare, so tiny at first. But it was only the size of the doors that made it appear so. The figure wobbled out, paused where the path met the melded ring of ancient redwoods, and raised a hand.

A light grew there, where a tall, sleepy-eyed elf in a brown robe held up a cold lamp crystal. He squinted at the new arrivals as his feathery eyebrows cinched together.

If he carried a crystal, he had to be at least a journeyor, though likely not a master or domin if he tended the doors late at night.

Wynn raised a hand in greeting, calling out in Elvish, “Forgive us for ringing so late.”

The elf drew closer. He was young by human standards, but there was no way to be certain of an elf’s age after he reached early adulthood. He looked down at Wynn through the gate’s ornate ironwork and then suddenly blinked, his eyes widening.

Perhaps he hadn’t noticed Shade’s dark form at first. He was still staring when Wynn cleared her throat.

“We’ve just arrived and need rooms ... if possible.”

The elven sage met Wynn’s gaze, and then took in her gray travel robe.

“Domin Ch’leich âr Én’wir designates guest quarters,” he answered. “But he has retired.”

That name threw Wynn. Was it a title, a proper and family name, or what? It was something like “a ridge in a river’s mouth.”

“What is wrong?” Chane asked.

He must have sensed it from the elf’s tone, and Wynn quickly reiterated the problem. Ore-Locks shifted the chest’s weight on his shoulder.

“So much for Lhoin’na hospitality,” he said.

“They are quite hospitable,” Wynn countered, “but—”

“Please follow me,” the elf returned, this time in Numanese. With the twist of a key, he opened the tall gate and stepped aside.

Startled by the sudden change, Wynn stepped through with a nod of thanks. But again, the journeyor watched only the black majay-hì. Shade padded by him without returning his notice. Chane followed, and Ore-Locks came last.

Halfway to the entry alcove, the elven journeyor stepped ahead on his long legs. When he pulled the handle on one door in that dark space, warm light again spilled from the split.

The double doors were made from polished redwood. They fit delicately within the entryway’s shape, but were so tall and appeared so heavy that Wynn couldn’t imagine how the elf opened them with only one hand. Among a pattern of carved and glittering green filigree that arced from one door to the other, she read the New Elvish rendered in Begaine symbols.

FHÉRIN TRIJ FHORUS ... FHORUS TRIJ SHOLHUS ... SHOLHUS TRIJ FHÉRIN ... FÄIL-RÉUILACH ÂG ÄISH.

It matched the Numanese engraved in frame stones above the entrance to the new guild library in Calm Seatt.

TRUTH THROUGH KNOWLEDGE ... KNOWLEDGE THROUGH UNDERSTANDING ... UNDERSTANDING THROUGH TRUTH ... WISDOM’S ETERNAL CYCLE.

Wynn grew sad at the sight of the creed she had grown up believing. Truth in this place would be well hidden, just like First Glade’s ancient heritage. It was a hoarded secret rather than a worldly treasure to be safeguarded for all.

Worse than that, Wynn was no longer certain which was right or wrong in the details.

She’d never found drawings of this branch’s interior, so she had no idea how the place was laid out. As she stepped inside, memories of an’Cróan homes didn’t prepare her, and she slowed to a stop.

The floor was covered in grouted shale tiles of irregular shapes. But the walls themselves were much the same as she remembered in the Farland’s Elven Territories ... except for their size.

She tilted her head back, which was the only way to see the high ceiling above.

Like an’Cróan homes, the interior was bark-covered, rough and red like the structure’s exterior. In some places, bare wood showed through, although those openings appeared natural rather than cut. They exposed wood still glistening with life. Inside these openings, cold lamp crystals glowed outward, mounted in brass fixtures with frosted glass globes.

The size of it all was unbelievable, even for what she’d seen of the exterior. The entry chamber was easily three times the size of High-Tower’s study in the guild keep’s northern tower.

The walls flowed organically upward to the ceiling, beyond clear reach of light. To either side were wide, natural exits that might lead onward into the ring of redwoods. Directly across from the entrance was a smaller pair of polished redwood doors. Even those were tall enough that any elf would’ve had to reach up to touch the frame’s top.

“This way,” the journeyor said, heading straight for the second doors. He opened one, holding it as he waited.

Wynn stepped through the door and into a massive courtyard inside the redwood ring.