The Shattered Path

Chapter 34 - The Old Friend

Alara desperately wished she had stayed on the ship. Shivering in damp clothing outside of the Gleaming Sword, she wasn't sure where to go. She had spent only a few moments inside of the tavern and three men had tried to buy her a drink or grope her; or both. It was a filthy place. She had only wanted to sit and drink water while she recovered from her draining use of magic. She hated this city. Captain Kedamon might have been right about cities being best when viewed from the deck of a ship.

Alara still felt shaken from her experience on the docks. She had used her magic to harm those two men. She felt that she should feel guilty, but she did not. And the appearance of the robed figure almost made her laugh now. It had probably been an old man on his way home from working at his shop. She had run away like a little girl, thinking he was some evil wizard. That had been foolish.

She had wondered if she might run into her father while in the city. That would be bad luck, if she ran into him in such a large place. He would be very upset. It was unlikely she would run into him, though; she probably couldn't find him even if she searched for him. At least, if she ran into him now, it would be an easy way back to the Seachantress. It wasn't as if he could really punish her anyway. He already kept her locked away from everything. They were miles from home and intending to go even farther away. And she might not see her mother for another year. That was punishment enough.

"Did I not teach you well?"

Alara gasped. The voice was familiar.

There stood an old man. His blue eyes watched her from beneath heavy, white brows. His hair was thick and white, hanging wildly to his shoulders, and his full beard reached his chest. His thick, burgundy robe seemed to devour him.

"Syrs!" Alara exclaimed.

"Well, aren't you going to hug me or something like that?" asked the old wizard with a grin.

Alara threw her arms around him and laughed. His robe was soft. He felt like an armful of robes, smelling of pipe smoke and fruit, of all things.

Alara pushed herself away suddenly. "How did you find me?"

"Unfortunately, it was quite an easy task," he frowned. "Let's not spend all night on the street talking. Let's go inside and sit." He motioned to the front door of the Gleaming Sword, looking up and down the street. "When you get as old as I am, you will find chairs to be a wondrous invention indeed."

Syrsraelius opened the door and entered. Alara followed closely.

Rough men sat at tables or stood waving their mugs and shouting. A hearth sat cold and unused, and the only light came from two lanterns by the door. Pipe smoke hung in the air, and the room smelled of unwashed men and strong liquor, masking the faint odor of cooked vegetables; perhaps a stew. Alara was hungry, but couldn't imagine eating in such a place.

Syrsraelius crossed the room, stopping at a small table in the corner where two men were seated. He leaned over and spoke quietly to the men. Alara couldn't hear, but both men stood and walked away without looking at the wizard or Alara, leaving their mugs of drink on the table.

"What did you say to them?" Alara asked, watching them go.

"Nothing that you want to hear," Syrs promised, a smile curling his lips. He sat with his back to the wall. "They'll be fine by morning. I think." He shrugged. "Where is your father?"

"He is with the priest," Alara replied. She sat in the opposite chair, putting her back to the room, an uncomfortable feeling. "I don't know where they went."

"Oh, running around on your own again, I see." The old wizard shook his head. "I told that man to never tell you no. It can have the opposite effect, you see." He smiled at her, but suddenly frowned. "What priest?"