A Journey of Three Thousand Miles

The elder ran his tongue between bottom lip and gums before puffing out his cheeks like a four-year-old holding his breath. "Ah huh," he affirmed soon after with a deliberately slow nod. "Masduh Erm knood 'im well. Hupt 'im wid duh tuhb'ets ya spuhk 'boot. Masduh Zuhnji goone widduht wuhrd dem t'ree duhcade 'go doh; ain't noone 'ear nuddin' sinse."

His cheeks bulged out again like a puffer fish, and the course facial hair above his upper lip began pulsating quickly as he beat against the inside of it with air while in apparent thought. "Why de intruhst 'n tuhb'ets now, hey? Ain't noone foom uhtsid Nantambu coome 'boot dem 'n loong while. Wha pek ya tauts ta coome 'ere fuh dem?"

He brandished a slight scowl as he awaited her response, clasping his hands loosely behind his back.

Wynn pursed her lips, muddling through what she hoped was a correct translation of the man's syrupy thick accent.

"Well, we have come to this place because this was where the tablets were discovered and held," she explained. "The lore of the Old Mage is common knowledge around here, but up in Avistan it is not as well known. I have only come to learn of him recently. Since I have interest in studying him further and the great works of artifice he was able to accomplish, it only goes to reason that we had to come here. To Magaambya."

The smile she wore slowly diminished as her brows drew together in vexation.

"It was a disappointment to learn that the tablets had disappeared. And again so, that the man who unearthed them is no longer is on staff here. However. . . I hope this to be no more than a fork in the road of this investigation." Squinting tearfully in the sun, Wynnsaren peered up into the man's dark eyes optimistically. "Would you be willing to aid us. . . Master Erm?" She took a chance at her suspicion. "If you helped Master Zenji with the tablets' translations, perhaps you may have precisely the information we seek. It is rather specific."

The elderly man swooshed the air around his mouth some more as he pondered on her words. He lifted his face to the sun, closing his eyes and basking in its serene heat for a moment before noisily releasing the air from between his cheeks with flapping lips and no small amount of spittle. "De a'r sookuhlit roond an' roond," he proclaimed with absolute certainty, "an' it uhlways brung duh cloods wit rain. Soometim coomes clensin'; soometim jes heps da duhrt t' mud."

One eye sneaked open a crack to look down at her over the wrinkled, leathery terrain of his cheek. "Uhlways e'citin', wuhd'var coomes."

Immediately, he turned on his heel and started off down the road humming a merry little tune. After a score of paces, he stopped and glanced behind to where the woman stood, tilting his in curiosity as to why she remained there. "De wuhld doon' sten' stiw fo' noona us," he lectured sternly, albeit with something of a twinkle in his wizened eye.

Wynnsaren grinned and taking Glas' tether in hand, glided over to the strange fellow with Kaz in her wake.

"I confess that I have wished for precisely that on rare occasion, but not this day. Not when there are mysteries in need of unraveling! Lead on Master, and I will follow."

For as much as this weathered old man seemed more than a bit over-baked by the blazing sun of the Expanse, it became apparent that a keen mind and a deep well of wisdom lurked beneath his creased surface. The aasimar breathed a word of thanks to Nieford for pointing them here and then a prayer of thanks to Desna for putting Master Erm directly in their path. Answers to so many of her questions seemed nearly within reach!

Magaambya's head of Artifacts and Antiquities led them out of the university proper and to the edge of the central circle of the city where a small cafe was doing a brisk bit of business. Clearly this was one of the man's favorite haunts, for as soon as he was spotted, a wispy, little slip of a girl greeted him by name -- which Wynn had thus far presumed, and took them to a quiet table slightly apart from the general hubbub.

By this time, she was flagging noticeably in the withering heat and Kazimir, wearing his concerned father face, helped her into the chair across from the master. The opportunity to rest in the shade was glorious! Wynn sighed pleasantly as she took her ease and dabbed her brow and neck with a kerchief pulled from the folds of her dress.

Once seated, the serving girl took their order for drinks, none of which she knew the names of, but only asking that whatever it was, that hers be cold. Hopefully the girl understood a smattering of common. . .

The more mundane tasks attended to, Wynnsaren leaned back in her chair and rubbed Glas' head where he'd rested it upon her thigh.

"In the River Kingdoms of northern Avistan, it is considered rude to discuss business or matters of import before one's refreshment is taken," she began with a whisper of a smile on her lips. "It is believed to be bad for the digestion. However, among the Varisians virtually no agreements are struck without a meal before them and some type of libation in hand. They say "Wrought the deal; wet the hedgehogs", meaning the deal is not done until the participants are drunk." Wynn couldn't contain a laugh before continuing. "We are plainly new to this region Master Erm, and thus to Mwangi custom. I am attempting to find a polite way to ask if I should begin peppering you with questions now, or if convention dictate that I should wait until after you have taken your. . .kahawa. Your coffee, is it?"

The master frowned by jutting out his bottom lip, almost like a bulldog, and scrunching his brow, which brought his bushy eyebrows together into one crooked line. "Dem 'n duh nuhr duhn lik dere wook? Suhd," he shook his head and released a resigned sigh.

"Ah, but you see, work is not why we have come! Nay, nothing with such dismal endowment, my dear Master Erm, but discovery! Discovery of a portion of the lost knowledge of the Old Mage himself!" Wynn's unfocused eyes lit with an almost feverish excitement and taking his sigh of resignation as affirmation to continue, she forged ahead.

"We are here for no lesser reason than to learn what you know about Sight Orbs. . . Where they were created, to whom his ten Magic Warriors might have entrusted them, and how their stores of knowledge and mysteries might be unlocked."

"De set oobs," the Master repeated lightly, taking in each of these foreigners in turn. "Ye foond a set oob o' Jatembe?"

No odd theatrics ensued, only a sudden seriousness of expression and clarity of vision. It was obvious that the elderly man desired to know the story of such an acquisition, but, to his credit, no such question was forthcoming. "O' dem, I knoo soome. Dese no tuhs ya spek o' nuhw. Dese puhs--" he broke off the sentence as the servant arrived with their drinks.

"Nothing more after this, Jo'fe," he told her in his native Polyglot. Do not come back to this table unless I specifically signal you to do so. That goes for everyone else, as well. Am I clear?

Absolutely, the serving girl replied with a respectful bow, then scampered away.

The Master returned his gaze to Wynnsaren. "Eef duh tuhb'ets spek uht twoo, de oobs huhd duh poor t' foonuhmoonly uhltah duh muhjk uh duh woold. Dey smuht ya see," he tapped at his temple, "ensigh. Dey knoo, ya see? If'n ya knoo huhw took ta dem." He sighed, then, and slowly shook his head. "Buh noone knoo's huhw took ta dem. Noo een duh Tuhn."

He sipped at his coffee, never breaking eye contact her. "Noone, sep oon," he revealed cryptically.

Wynnsaren busied herself sampling the beverage that was placed before her, paying no noticeable heed as Master Erm spoke to the serving girl.

The tall glass was filled with something resembling thin milk. Watery, yet sweet and not at all unpleasant. She and Kaz were apparently of a mind and eagerly took a long swallow of the cool liquid. The Master, accustomed to such blistering climes, had set before him a large cup of what appeared to be very dark tea. To her utmost horror, it was hot!

Rather than suffer immediate heatstroke in mere consideration of his choice of refreshment, the aasimar was pleased to have her attention reverted back to the particular point of their visit which the leathery old man started right back in on after the girl scuttled off.

Fundamentally alter the magic of the world? She was sure that Lord Garess would believe that to be a bunch of hogwash. . . however, when he had attempted to use his magic to learn the secrets of the orb, he did mention layers upon layers of magical properties and upon delving further, until the pain and eye-bleeding forced him to stop, he said there was something, some magic almost divine in nature. Intelligence? Perhaps the orb resting against her heart was 'smart' as the Master stated. Wynn had seen far too much to dismiss such incredible power as mere fancy.

"Who?" She whispered, leaning forward as the man left this tantalizing morsel dangling before her. "Who knows how to talk to them?"

"De tuhb'ets geef na nam," the Master explained, "buh dey def'ly spek o' soome uhn. A senshuhn mine dat knoos; a voos tuhw'jens widda ke. Noomuhs plessuhs doos 't spek o' dis oon, buh neffa spek duh nem.

"Et oot dere'n duh juhnel do. Nuh duhn dat oon, mm-mm," he shook his head with emphasis. "Dat wuh 'e goo, Masduh Zuhnji. 'E knoo, 'r tuht 'e ded."

"Forgive me, Master Erm but I am having some difficulty deciphering your accent," she frowned after an embarrassingly long pause. "You are saying that these tablets speak of some kind of. . . intelligence that possesses the key to speaking with the orbs? That this sentient mind is somewhere out in the jungle and that is why Master Zenji left, because he believed he knew where to find it?"

Wynnsaren thoughtfully traced the pad of her index finger around the tall, cool glass in front of her.

"And that was three decades ago. . . It does not bode well that he did not return to share any new findings." She peered up into the dark eyes and hoary brows of the weathered man across from her, looking to find any sign of pain or worry at his colleague's disappearance.

"Did Master Zenji ever mention a specific location where he planned to search for this intelligence? I would imagine he must have had a fair solid theory for it seems it would be less than ideal to head out blindly into such an ancient and dangerous wild as the Mwangi.

"Oh, and if you would not mind Master Erm, to avoid confusion on my part, perhaps it would be easier if you continued on in Polyglot. While I cannot speak it currently, I am magically aided in its understanding."

The Master's lips disappeared as he sucked them into his mouth, leaving nothing but taut skin pressed together like that of a dehydrated, lipless corpse with no teeth. His eyes blinked rapidly in agitation, and his fingers paced them with their rapping on the tabletop. Then it all stopped. His eyes remained firmly shut; his fingers planted solidly on the table's surface; his lips remained oddly gone within his mouth.

"Mm hm," he deigned to reply before letting a long silence set in. With an effort, one hand slid along the smooth wooden table toward his drink, some newly-created force apparently weighing it down to the point that moving it proved akin to pushing a five-ton boulder through a field of thick mud. As the elderly Master raised the cup, his lips suddenly appeared out of hiding so they might take a slow, sipping drink. "Clarity," he expressed quietly in Polyglot, but with a profound air holding up the word. "Truly a gift to be understood."

Master Erm nodded to himself a couple times, then opened his eyes to glare at the woman across from him as if for the first time. His mouth twitched once, twice, but it remained closed to whatever utterances had sought freedom from their confines within. A final nod, then, to seal it all away for a time, and another long sip to organize his thoughts on the matter at hand . . .

"A brain," he tapped his temple with the middle two fingers of his left hand. His mouth opened to say something else, but he quickly took another sip instead, then continued: "A vastly intelligent brain, yes. The tablets referenced such sentience numerous times. Nowhere does it state a creature, or a name; only a brain."

He glanced down at the hot drink in his hand for a brief moment before depositing it back upon the table. "He absolutely had a solid theory about where his destination might reside, I agree. I've concluded, as well, that somewhere within the tablets a clue existed referencing this location, which would explain why Master Zenji decided to abscond with the tablets. One's chances at being the first to make such a discovery become significantly reduced should one leave evidence of the discovery laying about where others might decipher it too."

"A prudent course it must have seemed at the time," Wynnsaren responded with a disapproving frown. Lifting the glass to her lips, she took a swallow of the cool drink while simultaneously swallowing her opinion about the selfish stupidity of men in pursuit of fame.

"Were copies of these tablets ever transcribed?" She asked hopefully. After a moment's thought, the aasimar tilted her head to the side in curiosity and added, "Do you think it possible that Master Zenji had uncovered one of these orbs, which prompted him to hie off into the jungle to find the key to unlocking its secrets?

"If he found one of the Sight Orbs, he hid it quite well from the rest of us. Never had I any indication that such was possible."

Master Erm folded his hands upon the table, keeping his thumbs parallel to one another. I believe it more apt that Master Zenji sought this sentience spoken about in the tablets with hope that it might have information all its own . . . perhaps about the orbs, or, perhaps, about anything else.

"You see," the wizened man stated matter-of-factly, "indicative within the context was that this sentience could never sleep. Would never sleep. If that were to prove accurate, exactly how much do you think it might know about the Old Mage? About the thousands of years since? How much more do you think it might have learned in that time?"

Leaning back in her chair, the aasimar loosed a long breath and folded her hands primly in her lap. For the first time, Wynn wondered if she was putting Rasven Winter's needs of a higher importance than that of her mission in Novastasia. To take their small little band out into the Mwangi and risk their lives for. . .what? Something that was clearly important to Master Winter. Eternal life? Freedom from an insidious vow? Worthy pursuits those may be to procure for him a life of liberty, but to put at risk a mission whose failure threatened an entire nation? An entire world?

There was a resignation inherent in her posture; a nervous acceptance that somewhat dulled the excitement of discovery. No matter her concerns, she knew she had to follow where this path of clues led, for to quit now that they'd come so far. . . Well, that simply was not in her nature. And who was to say that she had not been led to Rasven for this very purpose? For his benefit, for her benefit, perhaps but maybe this pursuit had wider reaching ramifications. . .

Wynn turned to her companion, the crusty ranger with eyes as hard as flint, and found in them what she needed. Warning, caution, yet resolution that whatever she decided, he would follow her through the gates of the Abyss if it came to it. She smiled her affection at him which elicited a scowl of confusion. Kazimir was a true friend. Good or bad, he told her what he thought without filter and spoke up when he believed she was acting wisely or playing the part of a fool, but no matter the situation he was there by her side come what may.

She turned back to Master Erm, and with the matter settled in her own mind she continued her course of inquiry.

"Is there anything else you might know or infer about this sleepless sentience, Master? Anything that might aid in its finding?"

"I know very little else about it," the old man admitted. "Even when they were here, I did not see all of the tablets. Master Zenji controlled their study, in which I aided whenever possible. If secrets existed that I knew about, do you not think that I'd have exploited them in an attempt to uncover his trail? He desired to disappear. That's exactly what he did. Many have tried to find him and failed."

He puffed out his cheeks and slowly released the air through loosely sealed lips. "I wish you luck in your search. I would tell you to start combing the jungles, but, as the recent discovery of Saventh-Yhi has shown us, some places of old are so protected by ancient magics that finding them requires more than simply falling upon them. If I recall anything more, some minute detail that my old mind has somehow skipped over, I'll contact you, should you be in the city."

Wynn studied the man intently. With clouded silver eyes, she held him for a uncomfortably protracted moment before sitting up and resting her elbows on the table with her fingers interlaced. She rested her chin on her hands while a subtle smirk played at the corners of her lips.

"My dear Master Erm. I am not so young nor so naive as to believe that your mind is anything but as sharp as a war razor. Neither are we so easily dissuaded from our course of action, for we have not come to the Mwangi for riches or fame but to acquire knowledge that may free a friend from the magical bonds that torment him. It is he that found the orb many years ago and it is he that sent me on this errand in his stead. I am very motivated to succeed at bringing back to him a way of communicating with his artifact.

"Now I understand that we are outsiders among you. Perhaps you do not appreciate the thought of tshamek fortune-hunters stripping your jungle of some of its secrets but I would like to assure you that this is not our intention. If somehow these tablets were to be recovered, they would return to you and their rightful home within Magaambya. Any knowledge uncovered would not be secreted away, but shared to the benefit of all.

"A certain reticence is understandable and even commendable, but I have told you these things that you might know our intentions are honorable. So if there is something else. . . something you have held back that could lead us to the information we seek, I would be indebted. Beyond that, I cannot believe that you would wish to pass up an opportunity to aid in making such a discovery!"

Master Erm started to reach for his drink again, then stopped, and his fingers clenched tightly into a the palm of his hand. Nostrils flared in agitation as he rather conspicuously surveyed the cafe about them. Apparently without realizing it, the old Master began rapidly sliding his clenched hand back and forth across the table in an attempt to wear a knuckle-sized trench in the smooth surface.

"Do not think because you have located a rare treasure of the Old Mage that it entitles you to the secrets of the Mwangi," he hissed through clenched teeth without ever looking at her. His voice, while strained, remained conspiratorially quiet. "Do not think that the sufferings of your benefactor entitles you to her treasures." Satisfied by what he didn't see around him, the Magaambya Master finally deemed to peer at the woman through half-squinting eyes. "Some knowledge is not meant to be found."

He slid from his stool with more calmness than his most recent tirade would indicate the man currently possessed. He reached for the drink upon the chamber once more, but, again, failed to manage grasping hold of it before his hand spasmed into a fist that lightly pounded the table half-a-dozen times before he pulled it back in to himself. "Let sleeping aliens lie peacefully resting," he proclaimed silently, peculiarly, then started away with a warning glare to her compatriots not to follow.

A peculiar comment not only in its substance, but also in its delivery . . .

The spoken language of Hallit, savage tongue of the northern Kellid tribes.

"That went well," Kazimir snarked; his first contribution to the conversation that afternoon. "I s'pose I can guess most a' what he said, but what was that last bit? Didn't even sound native."

The aasimar stared unblinking at the chair Master Erm had just vacated. "No. No, it was not. That was the language of the barbarian tribes around our neck of Golarion, the Kellid peoples. Stolen Lands, Iobaria. . .Numeria."

"Why the switch then? I mean, he's an odd duck on a good day, ain't no doubt, but. . ."

"To drive home the message, the warning. 'Let sleeping aliens lie peacefully resting.' Apparently the sentience that knows how to speak to the orbs is. . .not of this world."

Kaz nearly spat out his coconut milk. "What!?" He rasped in a harsh whisper. "Good gods girl! We ain't needin' to be magicked half way around the globe to find some aliens! They're crawlin' outta the woodwork back home! We should ask one a' them!

"A'fore you came traipsin' along I ain't heard nor seen no aliens. Ever! Now I'm travlin' with one," the ranger gestured to the rubbery blue akata, "they're crash landin' all over the place, and you keep talkin' about tentacles comin' to doom us all! Now your Master Winter's sending you on alien errands!? That's just great. As if yer life ain't knotty enough, you gotta go and fall for Captain Complication."

Kazimir finished with a well-practiced 'hrumph' of indignation and Wynn, engrossed in her own thoughts, patted him comfortingly on the knee before placing a few coins on the table.

"Let us walk about town awhile before we meet up with Lord Garess. Master Erm gave us quite a bit to think about, but no clear direction for us other than to leave it be. Zaistrun may have some thoughts on that."

"I take it you don't intend to leave it be. . ." Kaz grimaced.

"Oh Kaz," She chuckled and reached down to lovingly scratch behind Glas' tentacles. "Do I ever leave it be?"


***

With dusk approaching, an unlikely group of patrons convened over dinner at a table in a quiet corner of the Dhahabu Mamba's common room. Zaistrun had been listening attentively and expressionlessly to the entire story of the conversation with the Magaambyan Master without interruption.

"So what do you think?" Wynnsaren asked the young lord as she scooped up a spoonful of bright yellow rice. "Erm seems to know more, but he is clearly disinclined to divulge anything further."

His day had been somewhat fruitful. It was confirmed to him in this place through a helpful trader that thought he could unload a worthless piece of tripe from Savith Yhe as an artifact. Evidently no one could use magic to go there, but there was a small trading village that had sprung up in one of the places just outside the ancient city that could be used. It might take a day or two, but it was possible he'd find someone who actually had been there instead of some confidence man selling refuse from Sargava.

He was terribly interested to hear that Wynn had found Master Erm so quickly, but as he suspected the old coot probably found her attractive and sought her out. Zaistrun listened to the whole story patiently, but quirked his head at the diplomat's last statement. "What makes you say that? He obviously wants you to pursue the matter. More Tea?" Zaistrun waved his hand and refilled his own cup with a steaming stream directly from the nearby pot. "I'm not sure what makes it so, but the taste is so much better here. There's hardly any bitterness at all."

The young sorcerer also reached over and grabbed a small brown soft cylinder and pop it in his mouth. "I was skeptical at first, but these locusts are quite tasty" He remarked after hastily clearing his mouth and readying it to receive another. "These they cover in chocolate after roasting them in olive oil. I doubt it's something I'll be able to find in Novastacia when we return." He did indeed eat another one before he continued.

"So you will pry at him for a couple more days, no? It's not as if he's a sleeping alien. But it does look like he's losing his composure. Once the dam begins to leak, the more it will do so. And what does he get off by claiming it as a Mwangi secret. If it's alien in nature it doesn't belong to them either."

"Another cup would be lovely, thank you," she smiled, sliding her empty tea cup closer to the pot.

"I do not disagree with your assessment of ownership, but the native peoples do seem to be constantly battling against those who would strip their home of all its secrets, artifacts, valuables. . . I suppose that the recent discovery of Saventh Yhi has only heightened that sensitivity. As valid an argument as you have made, I fear it would get me nowhere with the man."

Wynn pushed a hunk of goat meat around her plate with the spoon as she mentally reviewed her encounter with the odd master.

"While Erm seemed quite adamant that I not persist with my line of questioning, there seems to be little else for it but to make of myself a very specific nuisance, as he is currently our best -- our only, lead on the matter.

"He is very confident of this sentience's alien origin," she mused. "This could mean that either the tablets revealed a great deal more than he shared with me, that perhaps he currently has the tablets that he says Zenji took, or. . .or he has seen this alien mind for himself."

"I bet the old coot did Master Zenji in." Kazimir spoke between indelicate chawing on the skewer of chicken he held. "Something ain't right about the man. More 'n just the sun bakin' his brains too. Maybe he went with this Zenji into the jungle and they both found this alien thing. Maybe it twisted his mind just a hair. Nay, that wouldn't surprise me a'tall."

The aasimar flicked the chunk of goat off the table and into Glas' waiting maw.

"If he suspects we have the orb with us, do you think we might be in some danger from him?"

Another stream of tea came from the pot and across the table into his companion's cup. "Or perhaps he already lost his friend to the madness from beyond the stars, and he doesn't want to see such things spread. Whatever his motivation, as you say, he is our only lead, and perhaps if he knew more of what we're dealing with up north, he might drop more nuggets of information."

Zaistrun popped another chocolate covered locust in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. "Perhaps you are in danger. He knows your name, the way you look. He could pick you out in a crowd, although who couldn't? I'd have to say that if he did mean you harm it could get rough. I'm going to suggest a protective spell tonight just in case he'll try to catch you unawares. It never hurts to be ready for anything."

"Aye, ain't that the truth," Kaz muttered his agreement. "Especially around you lot!

"Garess is talkin' a lot of sense here, m'lady. You let him shield you with a spell and unless you have some sensible misgivin's about the arrangement, Glas and I will be sleepin' on the floor in your room. Erm's at least half mad, you mark my words, and I wouldn't put it past him to try somethin'."

Wynnsaren watched the two men over the rim of her cup.

"Fine." She replied after finishing a sip of the deliciously smooth tea. "I will point out though that I am not the only one who sticks out like a sore thumb in this city. As painfully obvious as it is that we are foreigners, it would not take any amount of impressive investigative work to deduce that we are here together. As you say, my dear Zaistrun, it never hurts to be ready for anything."

Delicately returning cup to saucer, Wynn's brow suddenly arched in consideration.

"I wonder if he is," she mused. "Lord Garess, would it be possible for you to scry for the man? Perhaps a late night conversation would be in order."

Zaistrun took another delicious crunch followed by a swallow of the slightly bitter tea. "Scrying is something that can easily be blocked if one suspects they might be scryed. Many powerful magic users actually take precautions so it will never happen in their bedchambers. Abtero Vorenic for instance has foiled all of my scrying attempts, and she has none of the reputation of the masters here."

He made a motion to grab another locust, but decided better of it. He sat back in his chair and tented his fingers and the slightest hint of a mischievous glint glimmered in his eye. "You could always just wander through the night in your dressing gown. That sparks midnight conversations.

At the exact moment that Kazimir's mouth opened to loose what would have undoubtedly been a scathing retort, Wynn responded with a bright and bubbling laugh that turned a head or two within the common room.

"It was a joke, Kaz. . ." She giggled at his expression. "Yes, Lord Garess makes jokes." Clearly the ranger wasn't believing a word of it and narrowed his eyes at the young sorcerer for making such an improper suggestion!

Wynn tried to placate the man by pouring him another cup of tea, which had neither been offered nor asked for.

"While I do not believe that strolling about town in my dressing gown would be as effective in this culture as it would in yours, Zaistrun, there is little doubt that I would find it a great deal more comfortable considering this particular climate. I will take the matter under advisement," she winked.

"But if scrying may alert Master Erm to our persisting in this inquiry, than he could presume we mean him harm and involve the authorities against us. That would not do. . . I suppose it would be best to err on the side of caution in this case. We shall simply seek him out again in the morning.

"Will you join us tomorrow in our questioning," she asked Zaistrun, "or do you have further business to settle?"

"I have further business, but it is nothing that cannot wait a day or two. We've only been gone five days and we have about twenty in total before we have to return. I have gathered some information on Savith Yhe, and while it is protected from scrying, teleportation and messaging, there's a small village that has been erected outside the city proper that serves as a hub for such things. It seems that some of the people who had discovered the place were sufficiently powerful to have such needs and made a point of it. All I have to do is scry the area sometime today and we wouldn't be able to go until tomorrow in any case."

Now feeling quite full of his exotic dinner, Zaistrun sat back in his chair, resting easily and completely ignoring that Kaz was glowering at him from across the table. "I will be glad to join you tomorrow, although I would like to ply a few different questions for any of the masters we might meet. It would be good to have a different perspective on how to run an academy, as I never actually went to one. I think we're doing quite well given the circumstances, but there is always room for improvement."