When Gavin finished raking tomato off his face and out of his eyes, he found Declan standing over him. Gavin fully expected to see the bard laughing along with Kiri and was surprised to find him serious.
“Never be so focused on what you’re doing that you lose sight of what the other guy’s doing,” Declan said as he held out a hand to Gavin.
Gavin accepted the hand and allowed Declan to help him to his feet.
“Have any other vegetables hidden somewhere?” Gavin asked, his tone only half teasing.
“Tomatoes are fruits, and let’s hope you don’t need to find out,” Declan said as he turned and started walking for the door. “Come! We’re going to walk the grounds. We will divide the grounds into eighths, focusing on an eighth each session, and you will compile a list of any innocuous objects that could be used to shift the advantage of a fight to your favor.”
“What about Kiri?” Gavin asked as he hastened to catch Declan.
“She compiled her list for the section we’ll be visiting this morning. I’m looking forward to seeing how-or even if-yours compares to hers.”
Chapter 19
Gavin’s days settled into a familiar routine. Each morning, Marcus exposed Gavin to complex concepts of arcane theory he said even the Council of Magisters would be hard-pressed to understand; Gavin doubted that assertion, but there was no denying his increased facility with the Art. Some three weeks into his studies, Gavin remained standing through an invocation, a feat Marcus assured him most wizards of his power would not do at his stage of experience.
Gavin spent the bulk of his afternoons studying the topic of the day, whether that was geography, history, or current events, but no matter what the afternoon topic, there was still time set aside for Gavin to study with Declan.
Gavin left the bedroom he shared with Kiri intent on washing up before the morning studies with Marcus, and he found his mentor sitting in his favorite armchair and gazing into the hearth. Something in the old man’s demeanor pulled at Gavin’s attention, and he stopped.
“Is something wrong, Marcus?”
Silence reigned over the space for several moments before Marcus lifted his eyes to look at Gavin.
“Wrong? No…I wouldn’t say it’s wrong.” Marcus held up a folded piece of parchment. “I received a request this morning that changes my timetable yet again for our studies. Normally, I would reject the request out of hand, for it truly is an absurd waste of your time. And yet…despite it being a waste, there may be some merit to the idea.” Marcus nodded his head toward the bathroom. “Go wash up. We’ll begin the day once you’re finished.”
Gavin exited the bathroom to find Marcus sitting at the table. He saw the folded parchment off to Marcus’s left, while Marcus held two sheets of parchment yellowed with age.
“Sit, Gavin,” Marcus said, pointing to the chair across the table from him. Once Gavin was seated, Marcus extended one of the two old pieces of parchment. “Read that, please.”
Gavin accepted the parchment and looked at it. The ink was faded, almost to the point of illegibility in places, but enough remained that Gavin could discern the words.
“‘We cannot…begin to discuss…the world-changing event…that has become known as the Godswar…without discussing…one of its most…central figures: the arcanist known only as Kirloth.’” Gavin looked up from the parchment. “Marcus, I’ve read this before. It’s part of the introduction to Mivar’s Histories.”
Marcus extended the second aged piece of parchment in silence.
Gavin accepted it and found the ink was just as faded as the first.
“‘Master, I compose this missive to inform you of my coming works. I feel compelled to chronicle the horrors we have survived, lest we make some future choice in ignorance that would undo all we have fought to achieve. I cannot in good conscience choose what parts to include, and many of the events do not paint you in a kind light. It is not my intent to anger or defame you, but I could not publish my work without you being aware of its content. Your apprentice and friend, Mivar.’”
Gavin looked up from the parchment to see Marcus holding his medallion, rubbing his thumb across its surface.
“Gavin, have you noticed anything odd about the people you encounter after donning that medallion?”
Gavin nodded. “I don’t understand why, but something about this medallion makes people uncomfortable…if not outright afraid. I saw it at the Temple when I walked there with Kiri. I saw it before we reached the Temple, too, just walking through the crowds in the markets; people stepped away from us when they saw me.”
“Do you know why?”
Gavin shook his head.
Marcus stopped rubbing his medallion and let it fall to rest against his chest once more. Gavin felt his eyes widen at the sight of it. The recessed center was no longer blank; it now bore the same glyph as Gavin’s medallion.
“The people are uneasy around you…because of me. I am Kirloth, and one day, you will be Kirloth. Today, we’re going to discuss what that means.”
“Surely, you don’t mean that you’re this Kirloth,” Gavin said, lifting the old pieces of parchment as example. “You’d have to be…what…six thousand years old?”
“I am in truth 6,138 years old, Gavin. I was born the eldest of three brothers; my given name is Amdar. My brothers are-or were-Gerrus and Marin. Gerrus was your grandfather, a great many times removed, and you probably saw Marin’s statue in the Hall of the Gods. That is why you are House Kirloth.”
Gavin sat staring at the pieces of parchment. He had not a thought in the world of how to respond.
“It is an incredible weight to process, I know,” Marcus said.
“Does anyone else know you’re Kirloth? I mean, the Kirloth?”
“Valera, the Magister of Divination, does…and probably Ovir.”
“Why do you hide it?”
“Think about how people react to your medallion, Gavin.”
Gavin thought back to all the uncomfortable glances, the people shying away, and nodded.
“Now, picture the reactions they’d have to the man who built that reputation in the first place, the man who founded this country. I was the first Archmagister, Gavin, the first to wear the gold robes. The people are so fed up with the king and the state of Tel that there would be riots, mass uprisings demanding I take the throne as Archmagister once more. There would be a civil war, and I would have to kill a great many people to end it. The world cannot afford for Tel to endure that upheaval just now; too many events are coming together.”
Gavin frowned. “So, if I’m Gerrus’s descendant…I’m from the Refugee World? That’s where I was born?”
“Yes. I never completed my studies in cross-planar scrying or teleportation, so I have no way-at present-of returning you home.”
“I’m not sure I’d want to go home not remembering who I am or who my family is. Why did Valthon take my memories?”
“What makes you say He did?”
Gavin sighed. “Lornithar said something about ‘an old man took much from me.’ I don’t really remember the conversation, but that part stuck. The only ‘old man’ I imagine Lornithar would even discuss is Valthon.”
Marcus nodded. “Perhaps, you are right, but Valthon wouldn’t take your memories. Hide them? Certainly, but never take them. Those memories and the experiences they represent are what made you who you are. No. If He did anything, He hid them for a time. As for why…the only reason that comes to mind is that something about those memories and experiences would have affected how you view and interact with this world. He must have wanted you able to approach all this with a clean slate, as it were.”