Kelton had never seen so much metal in one place. Intricately designed and in shapes whose functionality was a mystery. The metal before him didn't hold the dull color of iron. It was gold, silver, and copper like coins. He couldn't imagine the craftsmanship it took to shape them, some so thin it was surprising they didn't collapse upon themselves.
Rolic retrieved a dull golden bowl with a spout at the end and brought it to the growing fire. The hearth fire ignited the spout like a candle. He placed it back on the table. He lit two more of these devices, and light bathed the cavern. Kelton still hadn't moved.
"Are you staying?" Rolic asked.
"It is like a field of spring flowers," Kelton said, his eyes traveling across colors that he'd never knew cloth could take. The King's Own had cloaks of red, and the Hold Lords wore blue. They were said to be a gift from the Brethren. The rest of the world wore shades of gray and brown.
"It is done with dyes," Rolic said. He looked pleased as if he enjoyed Kelton's naivete. "I confess I know little about it. There are many in the craft who make their living knowing."
"In Aragonia?"
"No, that knowledge is suppressed here." Kelton lowered his pack to the ground.
"Like your bow and arrow."
"Aye, among many other things. Possession of a bow would cost you your life. That and the life of everyone who saw it."
"My life is already forfeit," Kelton mumbled. For the first time, the thought held power. There was no fear of learning more. A person certainly can't be killed twice. He moved toward a large cloth draped against the side of the cavern. Thickly woven with vibrant colors. An image of a cloaked horseman riding hard, their clothing shiny like metal. He smiled as he traced the lead man's drawn sword with his finger.
"It is called a tapestry," Rolic informed him. "It is an artist's image of a great battle from long ago."
"You wear the same mustache," Kelton observed. He marveled at the detail that was present in the cloth.
"Vanity," Rolic admitted. "Don't we all dream of being a hero?" Kelton nodded, knowing both the truth and horrible reality of the statement. He lowered his hand thinking of the deaths such a battle would cause.
"How long does it take to learn to create something like this?"
"It takes talent and many winters," Rolic replied. "Some are born with it and others, like me, can only play at it." Kelton thought of Gossamer and his stories. There was no doubt Gossamer was born to tell them. He smiled, Taggert had the talent in him as well. Kelton turned to Rolic.
"It is foolish to hide such beauty. Why would such things be hidden?"
"Art is powerful," Rolic said as he began to remove his traveling gear. "Like the tapestry, it can hold the past and is equally comfortable housing dreams of the future. It is most impressive when it comments on the now. Without a single word, it can shift men's minds and unite them in common cause."
"It could make things difficult for the King and Brethren," Kelton said more to himself than to Rolic. He shifted to one of the lidded burning bowls. There were designs carved along its body. As he neared, he recognized vines with blooming flowers etched into the metal. "How does the wax get into it?"
"It isn't wax. It burns an oil made from olives. Its a simple device called a lamp."
"It is simple if you've seen it before," Kelton said as he lightly tapped the lamp's surface expecting it to be hot but finding it cool. "Why does it not just burst? I've seen oils flame up before."
