‘Fare you well, Tandarae?’ answered the Demon Master.
‘As well as one might expect, given our current circumstances.’ He glanced around to make sure no one was listening, then walked over to Gulamendis and put his left hand on the Demon Master’s shoulder. Lowering his voice he said, ‘I suspect you have much to do and need to be about your business; I’ll walk with you, for I also am hard pressed by duty.
‘I just wanted you to know that what you have brought to the attention of myself and others has not gone unheeded. You have our thanks.’
Not entirely sure where this was leading, Gulamendis said, ‘I only serve.’
‘Yes,’ said Tandarae with a slight smile, lowering his voice even more, ‘and yet there are those among the Lorekeepers, Loremasters and priesthood who would happily see you burned as a heretic’
Gulamendis said nothing.
‘Like yourself, I have witnessed the fall of our great race.’
Gulamendis kept quiet as they walked past a circle of priests who were enchanting a Star Stone. Having been raised by his mother in a small town on the frontier of the Empire of the Stars, he had never before seen one created. Their fabrication was rare, yet seven were being fashioned in this, the People’s new home. He paused to observe the wonder, then finally said, ‘No one has escaped being witness to tragedy.’
Tandarae nodded and remained silent for a moment.
The priests finished their spell. A dull grey object, like a large piece of unfinished lead or tin ore, hovered in the air. It began to glow, slightly at first and with a pulse. Over the next minute the glow brightened and the pulse quickened. In less than an hour it would glow with the brightness of a star and to gaze upon it for more than a moment would blind you. But the magic prepared the ground for the most holy of the People’s artefacts, their living breathing heart, one of the seven great trees known as the Stars.
Quietly Tandarae said, ‘I could be burned at the stake for saying so, but all of this is unnecessary.’
Gulamendis turned to study the Lorekeeper. He looked much like any young male of the People, tall and regal, with broad shoulders and a haughty expression. His features were unremarkable: a straight nose, deep-set eyes, a strong chin and high cheekbones. His hair however, was unusually dark, almost deep auburn in colour. ‘Unnecessary?’
Tandarae knelt and gently rubbed his hand over the dirt of the valley floor, as if stroking a pet. He then picked up a loose clot of soil. ‘This is Home, Gulamendis.’ He raised it to his face, sniffed, and said, ‘The magic is already here.’
Standing again, he looked at the Demon Master. ‘We needed the Star Stones in the past to prepare the soil of an alien world and allow the Seven Stars to flourish.’ He took a long, slow, deep breath, and said, ‘The magic here is in the air. I know you felt it when you first came through the portal.’
Gulamendis nodded. ‘It was impossible not to.’
‘We could excavate the Seven Stars, wrap their mighty roots, magic them through the portal and plant them without the stones and they would thrive here. This is their home, too.
‘But the People are wed to tradition.’
Gulamendis nodded in agreement. Entrenched beliefs were difficult to challenge. Those in power were so certain that a Demon Master had caused the invasion that it was only by fortune’s favour he still lived.
Looking around to make sure no one eavesdropped, Tandarae continued. ‘You and your brother have lived on the fringes for too long, my friend. Masters of Illusion are treated with indifference, they have no place on the Council of Magic. Over the centuries, the builders, geomancers, aremancers—’ he nodded at the group of priests and magicians who were now leaving the site where they had created the Star Stone, ‘—and especially the tarmancers, have convinced the People that they alone should be entrusted with advising the Regent. Overcoming their bias . . .’ He left the thought unfinished.
Quietly, Gulamendis said, ‘Why are you saying these things to me?’
With a slightly sad smile, Tandarae said, ‘I have no magic, Gulamendis. My only gift is a prodigious memory. I speak without false modesty when I say that no Lorekeeper before me has been able to recall, word for word, every passage in every tome he has read. I know the history of our People better than any living elf, better than any who came before me.
‘And I can see a pattern.’
‘Pattern?’
‘We have much to talk about, but first you must find us a demon.’
‘I don’t understand?’