Free Farthest Reach by Richard Baker Page B

cleric hurried into the hallway, his kind old face anxious with concern.
    “Yes. Forgive me—I just received a sending,” Araevin said, coming back to the library with a start. “I am afraid I must go.”
    “Is there anything we can do for you?”
    “No, my friend, I think I must leave Silverymoon.”
    “I see. Do you know when you will return?” Calwern asked.
    “A couple of tendays, I hope?” Araevin stooped and picked up the lists he had dropped, quickly setting them back in order again. “While I am gone, will you have your sages look into these sources for me? I will come back soon and see what you and your colleagues have learned.”
    “Of course.” Calwern took the papers, bowed, and touched his brow and heart in the elven manner. In Elvish he said, “Sweet water and light laughter until we meet again, then.”
    “And to you,” Araevin replied.
    He returned the cleric’s parting, then hurried out of the Vault of the Sages, making his way to the Golden Oak.
    In the middle of the day, the inn yard was almost empty, the tables beneath the great oak tree deserted and silent. He found his way to the room Ilsevele and he shared. She was not there, nor were Maresa and Filsaelene in their own rooms, so Araevin began to pack up his belongings, making ready to leave. He settled the account with the innkeeper for all of them, and he waited for his companions.
    Not long before dusk, Ilsevele, Maresa, and Filsaelene returned to the inn, tired but in good spirits after another day of wandering Silverymoon’s streets and markets. Araevin stirred himself from a shallow Reverie as they bustled into the room, laughing at some jest or another.
    “Good evening,” he said. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
    “You’re an elf, you’re good at it,” Maresa observed. She grinned at her own wit. “In fact, we can go back out again for a while, if you’d like.”
    Ilsevele glanced at his pack and staff by the door, and the soft smile faded from her perfect features. She looked back to Araevin, her expression guarded.
    “What’s happened?” she asked.
    “I’ve heard news of the daemonfey, I think.” Araevin stood. “Starbrow had Jorildyn speak to me in a sending. Your father’s warriors have found some portals hidden beneath Myth Glaurach, and Starbrow suspects that the daemonfey might have built them or used them for their own purposes. He asked me to examine the portals. I told him I would come within a few days.”
    “Portals? Leading where?” Maresa demanded. “More troll-haunted forests, or monster-plagued caves? I’ve had enough of portals, thank you.”
    “I won’t know where they lead until I see them for myself,” Araevin said. He looked at his companions, and gestured at the inn room. “Starbrow asked for me, and I intend to go. But there’s no need for you to leave Silverymoon, if you would prefer to stay.”
    “I’ll come,” Ilsevele said at once. “My father’s fight against the daemonfey is my fight, too, and my place is with you.”
    Araevin nodded. He hadn’t really expected anything other than that from her, even after their argument in the Vault.
    “It may be nothing,” he said. “But, if Starbrow has stumbled onto the trail of the daemonfey, it might be more than a little dangerous to follow them. I might stumble into the middle of Sarya’s audience chamber again. Or they may set magical traps or monstrous guardians to discourage pursuit.”
    “You are going to attempt those portals, regardless of the danger,” Ilsevele observed. “I will, too.”
    “Why do they need you for this task, Araevin?” Filsaelene asked. “Aren’t there dozens of skilled mages with Seiveril and Starbrow at Myth Glaurach?”
    “Yes, there are, but Araevin’s made a special study of portal magic over the last few years,” Ilsevele answered for him. “He knows as much about portals as any mage in Faerun by now.”
    “When are you leaving?” Filsaelene asked.
    “Tonight or tomorrow