Free A Wizard's Tears by Craig Gilbert Page A

stretched out before her: a haven of shimmering gold in the glow of the sun. Untaba’s will and guidance shone over the land, bathing all who would listen to his eternal radiance. She felt warm and excited. The day showed great promise.
    The city of Malana was a wonder in the misty woodlands covering most of the Emorthos continent. All the buildings were constructed of polished, white stone, with no marks showing where one block of stone met another. Embedded within all the major buildings were rivulets of marbled gold, the more gold in a building indicative of its importance and the stature of the people who dwelled inside it.
    From her viewpoint, Vergail could make out the main landmarks of the city. Besides the great cathedral, her own home, which had huge towers and spires aching to touch the sky, she made out the slender, tall steeples of the Guild of Mages, a hotchpotch of turrets and sloping roofs. Not far from these steeples rose the great stone statue of Untaba, a figure of solid gold emblazoned atop a massive white marbled column.
    Turning slightly to adjust her vision, she discovered the massive stone pillars that marked the entrance to the Great Library, the building that housed every book ever written in Elrohen, including all known spell books. To the right of this she finally made out her own destination on this fine morning: the rolling green landscape of Malana’s gardens.
    Finishing her walk down the steps of the cathedral, Vergail began a brisk stride into the streets, heading towards the gardens. Her presence instantly made city folk near her bow in homage. A small girl tossed a rose at her feet in greeting and thanks. Vergail smiled with pleasure. She helped these people: gave them faith and hope in times when they needed her. She was well respected and friends to many in the city. When someone close died, they came to her for guidance. When children were sick, they came to her for healing. When arguments arose between neighbours, all came to her for a resolution. She was Untaba’s guide, imparting her knowledge of the ancient texts of Untaba and teaching his ways throughout the city, and sometimes into neighbouring villages.
    Malana was peaceful. There had been no history of war, or decay. For as long as Vergail knew, the city blossomed. New businesses were always being forged; the wealthy grew wealthier. Markets traded and exchanged goods daily. Fresh food, meats and fine wine were produced constantly. The hubbub and general demeanour of people in the city were good natured, and a solid community had been built, embracing the luxury and polished stone like part of the family.
    There was the occasional crime, of course. The mages governed everything – punishment was swift and severe. It was seldom, that people who committed a crime once would ever do so again. Vergail grinned, almost impishly, at how the mages and her own ministrations kept the city in check.
    Ah, look how the city people came out to greet her! It was like royalty; indeed, Vergail was, to some, considered to be the queen of Malana. People of all shapes and sizes came out of their houses and shops to see her as she passed, to wave and to smile. She was unique to the city. Nobody had her skills in healing or providing counsel, save perhaps the mages – but they did not have the calm friendly manner that she did.
    Vergail carried on, turning a corner and heading into a crescent shaped street, one of many market places within the city. Instantly, the smoke and smell of burning incense wafted to her nostrils. The aroma pleased her.
    Surprising the trade woman who sold the incense, Vergail placed a gold coin in her palm and took a pack. The trader bowed low at this unexpected honour, mumbling her thanks. Grinning, the priestess walked on, the incense sticks vanishing under her robe to nestle in an inner pocket sown into the fabric. They would come in handy for her prayer rituals, she thought. They would also aid her teachings.
    Vergail