The sorcerer and the diminutive wizard found a clean-enough barn in New Koratia where they could stable their horses. The rent for keeping their wagon was more than they were willing to pay; Hennet solved the problem by selling it to the stablemaster. With the extra money, they could afford better lodging at the Cuttlestone.

Hennet and Nebin pushed through the crush of people heading toward the Floating Crystal. Without such an obvious landmark, they'd have been hard pressed to find the location of the Duel Arcane. Soon enough they stood at the edge of a large, open space beneath the hovering tower. Nebin could feel the tower's presence above even while not looking. Despite his wizardly training, his unconscious mind had decided that the building was about to crash down. He didn't share this feeling with Hennet, who seemed oblivious to the hanging threat.

The clear space was a coliseum. It was open on one end, but the other half was built up in great stone seats, like a half-bowl. The coliseum's floor was divided into more than a dozen circular areas. Scores of people, most of them in robes, some in outlandish costumes, including one woman with a brilliantly glowing glass cape, congregated across the floor of the coliseum. Some circles contained people who chanted, waved their hands, and occasionally released displays of magical energy.

"The preliminaries have already started!" said Hennet.

The two hurried down to an official-looking elfin bright green robes. The elf, like a few others, had the emblem of a floating tower on his robe. He looked up.

"We're here to compete in the Duel Arcane, if we are not too late," said Hennet.

The elf raised an elegant eyebrow, then grinned.

"You fear that you have missed the deadline, yes? Not to worry. Preliminaries conclude today. Are you entering the competition for the Golden Wand? Neither of you is secretly an arcane master masquerading as a novice caster?" He produced a monocle from a silk pouch, brought it to his eye, and squinted at them through it. "No, I would know. Very well, that's your group."

The elf pointed toward a gathering near the middle of the coliseum, and Hennet and Nebin wound their way out onto the floor, following the official's directions. The seats of the coliseum were mostly empty. The preliminaries were not nearly as exciting as the main events of the Duel Arcane. The people in the stands at this early stage would be mostly professional gamblers and bookmakers, trying to pick up every tidbit of information they could on possible winners. Nebin had been told that the main event drew over ten thousand spectators. His stomach fluttered at the thought.

They reached their group, which included an elf woman in a blue tunic holding a wand, a halfling man with a dwarf-like beard, and three humans.

Another official wearing the badge of the floating tower pointed to the elf woman and said, "Follow me, please."

She paled, but obliged, and was led toward one of the circles.

One of the humans turned and grinned at Nebin. "She shouldn't be so nervous," he said. "These are the preliminaries. All we need to do is show magical proficiency."

The man pointed at a pebble lying near his feet. A ghostly hand appeared, picked up the pebble, and dropped it in one of Nebin's pockets.

The man laughed and added. "I'm sure we're all up to that. By the way, my name is Aganon. Aganon Redstone."

Nebin warmed to the man, who appeared both so friendly and so confident at the same time. A bit like himself, he fancied.

"I am Nebin Raulnor, adept of the Secret Flame."

"Secret Flame, eh? I haven't heard of that enchantment."

Nebin grinned. "Then, watch and learn, my friend!"

The gnome lowered his goggles, then loosed the same spell he had used several days earlier at the Inn of the Fair Warrior. It rarely failed to impress. As before, he created the image of a ball of raging fire. This time, he placed the ball several feet above his head. Phantom sparks rained down, partially cloaking him in fauxfire. He spread his arms wide to promote his own spectacle.

"Ah, see, the Secret Flame responds to my every whim!"

Those standing in the group with Nebin, Aganon, and Hennet studied the floating flame, but quickly turned back to study the field—it was hard to impress a wizard with a wizard's trick. To Nebin's satisfaction, Aganon took a step back as if impressed.

"Gnome, I have met my better! Truly, you must be a powerful wizard if you can so easily command so potent a force," said Aganon, concluding his speech with a slight bow.

Nebin was pleased but suspicious. He could never be certain when humans were being sarcastic; sarcasm was rare in gnomish culture. Before Nebin could offer a rejoinder, someone tapped him on the shoulder.

A Duel Arcane official stood behind Nebin, an open scroll penned with many rules in hand. Nebin let the illusion of the fire fade and pushed his goggles up onto his head.

"Yes? I'm Nebin Raulnor. Am I up?"

The official frowned and said, "The rules of the duel forbid non-competitive casting in the coliseum. It could interfere with the legitimate judging of other competitors. Please explain why I shouldn't disqualify you right now?"

Nebin hesitated, scrabbling for an explanation.

Melf's Beard, he thought frantically, I'm going to disqualify myself before I even qualify.

Aganon stepped up. "My new acquaintance was showing me the crucial finale to a heroic story," he said. "I'm afraid the story wouldn't have been the same without the visual aid. Surely you won't ruin such a wonderful tale by ejecting its teller, especially when he's so talented a wizard."

The official, apparently interested despite himself, asked, "What story?"

Aganon looked to the gnome.

Nebin stuttered, "Well, you see, I...I was on the road to attend this very competition. Then...then..." Suddenly he smiled. "On the way to the magnificent city, I and my companions stayed at an inn, one with a reputation for being haunted by ghosts. I was out late at night searching for magical essences of moon dust—you can't collect them by day, you know—when I heard a call for help. I responded instantly, and found a fellow traveler being menaced by a horrible creature slithering about on its belly! If I hadn't shown up, I shudder to think what would have happened. I used the very spell I just displayed to send that terrible creature running. The poor woman was so grateful. She told me that if ever the Order of the Enabled Hand could do me a favor, I shouldn't hesitate to ask."

Nebin smiled as he finished the story.

The official studied the gnome, scratched his chin, and said, "I'm feeling generous. I won't disqualify you. But another infraction, and you're out."

He moved off, shaking his head, and Nebin let out a long breath.

"Who knew they were such sticklers? Aganon, I owe you a drink."

The human nodded, but he was looking quizzically at the gnome. He seemed about to say something, but instead darted a look between Nebin and Hennet, who was being led out to one of the circular areas by an official, and he smiled enigmatically.

"I'd like that, Nebin," he replied. "Where can I find you and your friend—what did you say his name is?"

"Hennet. He likes to believe his mastery of the craft is as potent as my own. Out of friendship, I indulge him. We're staying at a little inn off Cuttlestone Row—the Cuttlestone Inn. Look us up."

Aganon answered, "I will. I would love to hear more about this terrible beast and the poor Enabled Hand monk."

Another official motioned at Aganon. It was time for his proficiency test.

Nebin frowned. He wondered if he should have been so free with his identity and purposes with a stranger.

Well, I'm sure it's all right, rationalized the gnome. Aganon is certainly friendly, he thought.

With that, he pushed the doubt from his mind and turned it to preparing for his test.

 

 

The Motherhouse of the Enabled Hand was as grand as Ember remembered. An edifice of whitewashed stone, the structure was ringed around with elegant and overpowering relief sculpture. The frieze portrayed an ongoing fight of monk versus monk and stretched all the way around the building, creating an unbroken loop. The monks of the Hand were a legendary force, and few other groups in the duchy could claim such a prestigious and powerful membership, nor such a stately and arresting home.

Ember and Brek Gorunn walked down a long flagstone path through the colorful garden that surrounded the Motherhouse. The scent of rose mixed with sage and pine made her think of her youth. Together with the bountiful flowers and stately white building, the Motherhouse presented an air of serene strength. Ember felt sure that things would soon be made right. She especially looked forward to meeting her old mentor, Kairoth.

The wide door of the Motherhouse was open. Immediately inside was a large chamber, a salon draped with colorful linens and flagged with granite tile. Three novitiate monks sat, in apparent mediation, facing the doorway. As Ember and Brek Gorunn walked up, the foremost stood and bowed.

"Greetings. Welcome to the Order of the Enabled Hand." Recognizing Ember's dress, she ventured a ritual greeting of the order, "Weakness is pain."

Ember bowed. "But pain leaves the body."

The novitiate concluded, "And so weakness is purged. Welcome! From what chapter do you hail, sister?"

Ember said, "Until recently, Volanth Chapter. But that chapter is no more."

The novitiate paused, not understanding.

Ember said, "Sister, I must see one of the elders immediately. I bring dire news that may endanger the whole order."

The novitiate who had spoken looked back to the other young trainees who remained seated, a man and another woman. They had no answers for her except concerned expressions. The novitiate turned back to Ember and Brek Gorunn.

"Wait here. I will ask leave to disturb the elders in their inner dojo."

With that, she glided away.

Apparently things had changed a bit since Ember's days as a novice. When she trained, things were slightly less formal. She shrugged it off and looked at one of the remaining novitiates.

"Is this the first you have heard of troubles for the order in Volanth?"

One of the remaining two novitiates stood up. He wore the same simple white practice garment as the other trainees.

He swallowed and said, "No, nothing definite, but there were rumors."

The other trainee coughed and shook her head slightly.

The novitiate continued, "We were told that the rumors were groundless, and that we shouldn't repeat lies."

He looked into Ember's eyes, as if trying to read her intentions.

Ember nearly flushed. "Lies they are not. Volanth chapter is destroyed, and enemies of the Enabled Hand are abroad. You can repeat that all you like, because I speak only truth."

The novitiate backed up a step and muttered an apology under his breath. He looked down and refused to meet the gaze of limber or the dwarf.

After that, the minutes passed uncomfortably. The trainees said no more, and neither did Ember. She heard Brek Gorunn mutter a prayer under his breath, asking Moradin to bequeath the blessing of tolerance.

Finally the original novitiate returned. She said, "Sister, please proceed directly to the inner dojo, the Elders' Sanctum. Two await you, Elder Cestra and Elder Vobod."

The novitiate motioned back in the direction she had come.

Ember led her friend the dwarf down the hallway without a backward glance. She was still a bit angry, but knew it was not part of the Order's code to display negative emotions. She was slightly ashamed to have been so obvious in front of novitiates.

They passed several open courtyards where monks of various degrees trained. The sounds of their exercise soothed her. She and Brek moved down a long corridor lit with lamps on either side and numerous small, closed doors. Ember remembered spending many a long day in those rooms; meditation cubicles, where a student attempted to quiet the mind and enhance inner strength. As they approached the Elders' Sanctum, she wondered about her old mentor Kairoth and why he wasn't with the other elders. In fact, it was odd that the usual quorum of five elders were not assembled in the inner dojo.

They passed a richly carved oaken lintel and entered the inner dojo. Silk screens hid the walls, though warm lights and fragrant oils burned behind them, giving the space a special ambience. Three people stood within, their hands clasped in the posture of respectful waiting. Ember wondered what activity she had interrupted with her arrival. One of the three monks wore the sash of a teacher, not an elder. Though his face was as stony as the two elders, Ember thought she detected deference in his posture, as he stood a little apart and behind the elders.

Elder Vobod stepped forward. Ember remembered him from long ago, but only barely. His head was shaved, except for a braid of gray hair that hung down his back, though his eyebrows and thin mustache were dark. His green silk robe was elegant, embroidered with many flecks of gemstone. On his finger flashed a large ring inset with a strange symbol unfamiliar to Ember.

"Be welcome in the hands of the Enabled." He motioned to the instructor, who closed the door behind Ember and Brek Gorunn. Elder Vobod smiled thinly, saying, "We prefer to keep this interview private. We know of your plight—"

Despite the breach in protocol, Ember broke in, "You know that Volanth chapter was beset and destroyed by enemies of the Hand? Not according to the novitiates minding the door."

The other elder, a human female whom Ember recognized as Elder Cestra, raised a hand and said, "Your questions have answers. Sit, calm yourself. Your words betray your emotions. The Order has taught you better."

Cestra's hair was dark, long, and gathered into a braid much lunger than Vobod's. Her eyes were dark and penetrating. Her silk tube, while elegant, was less showy than Vobod's. Ember remembered her in a kindly way, though she'd had little contact with the rider during her training.

Censured, Ember sat and said no more. She motioned for Brek Gorunn to join her.

The dwarf continued to stand, saying, "Dwarves are not suited to such contortions. I will stand, if you don't mind."

Apparently, the elders did not mind; they ignored the dwarf.

Elder Vobod looked at Ember and said, "Sister Ember, we know about the tragedy in Volanth, and you have our condolences. We share your grief."

Ember looked back at him, puzzled.

Elder Cestra said, "Sister Ember, though your journey of warning is commendable, know that we in the Motherhouse are aware of our enemies. They revealed themselves prior to the attack in Volanth. We blame ourselves for underestimating the danger these villains posed. We assumed the threat was local to the Motherhouse. Had we known that our outlying chapter houses were threatened, we would have sent word to the elders of each. We have done so now."

Ember ventured, "Why do the novices at the door speak in ignorance, knowing only rumors and lies?"

Vobod spoke. "Though the threat seems extreme, we have determined that the novitiates and those below the rank of instructor should remain ignorant, lest they be moved to fear or unwise acts that would compromise our own investigation."

"Sister Ember," said Cestra, "even now, most of the surviving elders are looking into this matter, attempting to root out those who would do us harm. So, too, are our most trusted instructors. We anticipate soon putting this terrible event behind us."

Ember said, "I don't think you understand the magnitude of the threat that faces us. Volanth chapter was wiped out to the last! I am the only survivor. See? I wear Loku's Bracers, relics of the founder of our chapter. There is no other to wear them now. But there is more; on the road between Volanth, we were assaulted by a new nest of these Nerull cultists. They seem to be everywhere!"

Elder Cestra paused, looked at Vobod, and said, "Nerull cultists? Is this something new?"

Vobod nodded quickly, saying, "Yes, yes, we knew this. Some who oppose us give allegiance to that old god. Forgive me Cestra, if I do not keep you appraised of every latest development. It is a minor detail. More important are the events of this morning: We discovered and destroyed their last stronghold here in New Koratia."

Ember gasped. "Their last? But why did some old cult wish us harm in the first place? What are we to them?"

Cestra turned back to Ember and said, "Elder Vobod is in charge of the Enabled Hand's response to the threat. He leads with the other elders in this matter. I was chosen as the lone elder to keep the Motherhouse running in the meantime." She smiled, turning to face Vobod again. "But, Elder Vobod, please speak on. Sister Ember has endured much and deserves to know the whole story."

"Very well," Vobod responded. "Apparently a cleric of Nerull called Sosfane was behind the plot to destroy the Enabled Hand, Sosfane led a group of disaffected monks from the south, who are known to walk paths of evil. But Sosfane was slain in her putrid lair below New Koratia this very morning, as well as all those who followed her. I am only now waiting for confirmation from Elder Breshimon, who leads in the field. With Sosfane dead, our order is once again assured of peace. It was she who masterminded the entire threat. It only remains to mop up scattered bits and pieces of the enemy and conclude the  investigation."

Cestra, looking from Vobod to Ember, said, "So now you know. Everything will soon be right again."

Ember felt dumbfounded. After all she had seen and the days she spent on the road to bring warning to the Enabled Hand, she was finding it difficult to accept that everything had already been taken care of.

She said, "Elders, surely there is more to this—what did this Sosfane have against us? Was she crazed, or was she acting for some deeper purpose?"

Vobod shook his head. "Who can say why? She is dead now, so we cannot know the truth from her lips. Our investigation will, of course, reveal her motivation in time. Please allow me to contribute in some way to the final eradication of these monsters."

"I'm afraid there is nothing for you to do. We understand your desire to be useful in this effort, but we cannot manufacture a threat from nothing. The matter is already resolved."

Cestra offered, "You are welcome to stay on the grounds as long as you like. When your grief is assuaged, you can remain here at the Motherhouse if you like. Perhaps you would care to teach for a while? We always welcome sa bum nim."

Ember wiped her forehead and said, "No, thank you Elder Cestra. At least, let me think on it. Really, all I want is to talk to my old friend Kairoth. Elder Kairoth, I mean. Is he involved in the effort against the cultists?"

Elder Cestra looked distressed.

Elder Vobod sighed and said, "I'm sorry, Ember. Kairoth was one of the first slain by the enemy. It was his sacrifice that alerted us to the enemy's true nature. It was a terrible loss for all of us; we still grieve."

"Slain? But when?"

"He was taken from us some four weeks past. Elder Vobod, here, found his body," said Cestra.

Vobod nodded. "A harder blow I've never felt. Kairoth was one of my dearest friends. And it was on the Day of Fasting, too, Kairoth's favorite yearly festival. He will be remembered always," vowed the elder.

"But..." stammered Ember. Something was wrong. Her last letter from Kairoth was clearly dated three days after the Day of Fasting. Ember nearly flushed—she almost betrayed her reaction.

She nearly called Elder Vobod a liar.

In the end, she held her tongue. Something was very, very wrong. Until she knew who to trust, Ember decided it would be best to remain silent.

 

 

A sharp rap on the door roused Hennet from meditation. He looked at Nebin, who was deep in a dusty tome, penning notes in the margin with an inked quill. The gnome had purchased the volume on their way back from the Duel Arcane preliminaries. Both he and Nebin had qualified, despite Nebin nearly disqualifying himself. After the preliminaries, he and the gnome secured lodging at the Cuttlestone Inn.

Hennet sighed; Nebin wasn't going to get the door. The sorcerer stood, arranged his cape, and answered. It was Ember and the dwarf, Brek Gorunn.

Is she here to see me? wondered Hennet.

He stood unspeaking for a moment, tongue-tied, before he managed to say, "Come in. How did your visit to the Motherhouse go?"

"Seemed to go well," Said Brek Gorunn. The dwarf looked at the monk. "To me, at least."

He had the air of someone who knew more than he said.

Ember entered and clasped hands with Hennet, then said, "I apologize for interrupting your afternoon, but besides Brek Gorunn I don't know anyone else I can trust in New Koratia, except for you two."

Nebin closed his book at this declaration, curious to hear more.

"Us two?" repeated Hennet. "What about the Motherhouse? Surely the Enabled Hand is trustworthy."

"Something strange is going on there. With your indulgence, I'd like to tell you."

Hennet said, "Of course!"

He saw the gnome hide a smirk behind his book, but he didn't care. If Ember wanted to tell him a story, he wouldn't deny her.

Ember spoke, telling of the visit to the Motherhouse. She related how the elders assured her that the threat to the order was eliminated, though she could scarcely credit the news. She further explained how her old friend, Kairoth, was lost to that same threat, on the Day of Fasting.

"So," continued Ember, "I have a difficult time explaining this. I didn't show the letter to the elders, or even mention it; caution warned me against revealing my knowledge."

Everyone clustered close around Ember as she opened her satchel and extracted a leather parchment sleeve, of the variety used by couriers to send messages overland.

She said, "I received this letter from Kairoth after the Day of Fasting. And look—" She pointed to the wax seal on the leather sleeve. The seal was broken, but the date pressed into the wax could still be read. "See the date? This letter was sent three days after the Day of Fasting, but according to Elder Vobod, he found Kairoth's body on the Day of Fasting. Kairoth isn't dead, or wasn't, yet the elders lied about it."

Hennet felt a surge of excitement over the mystery and treachery revealed by the date on the letter. He loved puzzles; of course, never before had he dealt with a puzzle that involved murder.

"If they lied about this, what else did they lie to me about?" concluded Ember.

Nebin shrugged and said, "You know your own order better than we. Perhaps a simple mistake is to blame?"

Hennet, seeing Nebin's tack, said, "Or perhaps the message is incorrectly dated?"

Brek Gorunn cleared his throat, then said, "Could it be that, denied your vengeance against those who destroyed Volanth chapter, your mind seeks enemies in the shadows where there are none?"

"I would like to believe any of those explanations," replied Ember, "but it is not in the nature of an Enabled Hand elder to mistake the date of the death of a member, or for an elder to mistakenly date a letter. Something rings false."

So saying, she removed a single piece of parchment from the leather sleeve. Neat script covered the parchment, apparently the last message of Elder Kairoth.

"But, it does no good," she continued. He mentions no enemies of the Order, Nerull, or anything out of the ordinary."

Hennet reached for the letter and aksed, "May I?"

Ember handed the letter to him. Hennet read it aloud.

Sister Ember,

It has been too long since you last visited the Motherhouse. The gardens are in full summer bloom. The Day of Fasting is three days past, and we missed your presence. Sometimes the smell of the flowers is so strong it puts me in mind of the old days. Remember when we explored below the city, looking for that old temple? We spent three (3) whole days down there; I wonder if you remember? Well, it hardly matters, I suppose. Things go on much as they ever have. The Motherhouse is training a new crop of novitiates, though 1 fear some of the class are less then apt to the lessons of the order.

Most sincerely,

Kairoth of the Enabled Hand

Hennet read the letter through twice. Random letters were smudged along the bottom of the paper, apparently thoughtlessly scribbled letters as one might make when distracted, but still holding the quill. They seemed out of keeping with the neat script of the rest of the letter.

He pointed them out to Ember and asked, "Do these mean anything to you?"

"Merely doodles, I think," she said. She ran a hand through her cropped, curled hair. Hennet wished it was his hand, and the thought so distracted him that he almost missed what she said next. "But something else is odd. I didn't give this letter a second thought, because I wasn't looking for anything strange. On second glance, it seems odd for Kairoth to mention that old adventure. We have talked of it often enough, but it was long ago. It's an old story, and out of context. We spent less than a day looking for the temple below the city, as well he knows. Certainly nothing like three days."

Nebin volunteered, "Is he getting old and forgetful?"

Ember replied, "No, his mind is as sharp as ever. I can't imagine why he would make such a special point of incorrectly recalling the number of days."

"Maybe three is somehow important?" ventured Hennet.

Nebin, who was sitting at the table, said abruptly, "Maybe it's part of a cipher. Gnomes often use ciphers. Some of the oldest writings inscribed by our ancestors are in the form of ciphers. That's how they're kept safe from being read by the wrong people. Without the key, they're incomprehensible."

"The key?" asked Brek Gorunn, uncertain about the gnome's tack. "Wouldn't a simple spell do the trick?"

"No," answered the gnome. "Magic can be broken by magic, revealing the hidden message even it it's in a language the reader doesn't understand. But if a mundane cipher is used to encode a deeper meaning within the letters, there is no magic to dispel. The letters are merely letters. They have a double meaning only for the person who knows the key."

The gnome reached for the letter, which Hennet surrendered.

"Now, even the simplest cipher must have a key," continued Nebin, pontificating. "Once you know the key, you can apply it to the cipher and read the hidden message. Maybe '3' is the key to a quick cipher Kairoth came up with. He expected Ember would take special notice of the number three because it is incorrect, as he well knew. So, what is the simplest cipher he could have used? I think a substitution cipher."

The gnome fell silent. Hennet flushed with mild jealousy—he was the one who liked puzzles, yet Nebin was apparently well versed in such things. Hennett had never heard of a substitution cipher.

Growing more excited as he was drawn into the puzzle's challenge, Nebin continued, "A popular cipher uses only the first letter of each sentence to spell out a secret message. But every gnome child knows that one. Perhaps the message is secretly polled out using every third letter of each sentence? Hmm .. ." He quickly ran his finger along the text and read, "She...emmso...lie...osi."

"Gibberish," said Brek Gorunn, and Hennet had to agree.

"Wait, maybe it is the third letter from the end of each sentence!" The gnome began reading backward, but quickly came up with the same sort of nonsense.

Brek Gorunn shook his head. Nebin's face fell. They all stood glumly looking at the letter.

Hennet cleared his throat and offered, "Does the number three have any meaning if you apply it somehow to the doodles?"

He still felt the random letters were important, but this whole business of ciphers was new to him.

Nebin ran his fingers along the smudged letters. He said, "The letters are 'phhwphlqwkhwhpsoh.' If it is a substitution cipher, it should be that each letter here is actually three letters farther along in the alphabet of the language used for the coded message. I would assume that's the same language used in the rest of the letter."

The gnome hunched over the table, grabbed an inked quill from those he was using earlier, and muttered under his breath as he wrote on the back of the letter.

"Right, that would give us 'skkzskot znkzksvrk.'"The gnome scratched his beard. "Still nothing."

Ember broke in, "Try it the other direction." She leaned forward, eager to see the gnome's handiwork.

Nebin paused, then slowly wrote, one letter at a time, "mee tme int het emp le."

Hennet drew in his breath quickly. Despite his feeling about the doodles, he was surprised when he was vindicated. There was a secret message!

Nebin said, "Hennet, we should have listened to you right off.

It says, 'Meet me in the temple.' Kairoth didn't want anyone to read this but you, Ember!"

Ember clapped Hennet and the gnome on the back and said, "I have been traveling with masters of secrets all this time. How did you know?"

Hennet shrugged and smiled.

Nebin absorbed the praise and responded, "As I said, gnomes like ciphers. We learn them as games in our childhood. Now you know our secret. Well, actually, only gnome children would use ciphers as simple as this, but humans have to start somewhere."

The gnome laughed and twirled his inked quill.

"Kairoth can only mean the temple he talked about in the main message," said Ember.

"Then let us prepare to venture below the city," declared Brek Gorunn, ever practical.