Thork pointed. “There it be, my Lady, the Wizards’ map.”
Elyn, now fully dressed, stood beside Thork upon a high catwalk encircling a great round chamber, a chamber some one hundred feet across, and perhaps just as high. Before them was a huge sphere, fifty feet or so in diameter, held in chamber center, midway between floor and ceiling, by a mighty metal shaft running from the deck below to the roof above. A large amber light affixed to the distant wall shone inward upon the great globe, illuminating one side only, the other half of the sphere darkened by its own shadow. Upon the surface of the huge ball, they could see what surely was intended to be a map: mountains, rivers, oceans, forests, deserts, wastelands, and the like, were all clearly marked. Surrounding the globe was a curious scaffolding, plainly used to clamber all about the sphere and view portions of the face of the globe. And as Elyn and Thork stared at this thing of the Wizards, they discovered that it was slowly turning, creeping rightward, driven by gearing in the floor fixed to the metal shaft, the axis not quite vertical, slightly tilted. Too, it appeared that the amber light in the wall was on some kind of a geared track as well, but its motion, if any, was not noted.
“Let’s have a closer look, Thork,” whispered Elyn, as if reluctant to speak aloud in the presence of such a thing of wonder.
The catwalk connected to the scaffolding via several handrailed spans, and they chose one which led them to the lighted half of the sphere. As they crossed, the detail scribed on the globe became evident.
“Hola!” exclaimed Thork. “Up there: that be the Rimmen Mountains, and above that be the Grimwall.”
Up the scaffolding they climbed-Thork moving slowly, gingerly, for he was yet sore from his blizzard ordeal-till they were level with the area noted.
“This is surely Mithgar that is detailed hereupon,” said Elyn, “but why would they scribe it on a great round ball?”
“Who knows the ways of Mages?” growled Thork, his eyes scanning the surface. “Only a Wizard would take something flat and scribe it on a globe.” The Dwarf moved rightward. “Hola! Look!”-he pointed with a stubby finger-“There be a soft glint shining out from here. .”-his eyes swept across the surface-“. . and there, too. What make you of these lights?”
Elyn shaded one of the glints from the amber beacon on the wall behind. “ ’Tis not a reflection, Thork, for in the shade the sparkle is brighter than ever. It seems to come from within.”
Thork, too, examined the glimmer closely. “Another Wizard’s puzzle,” he grunted in bafflement.
“Look not at the glint, Thork,” advised Elyn, “but instead tell me what part of Mithgar you judge it to be in.”
Now Thork looked at the map surrounding the silvery spark, and after but a moment: “I deem it is the Wolfwood whence comes this glister.”
“Aye, me too,” agreed Elyn. “If not the Wolfwood, then certainly close to it. Let us see what these other sparks tell us.”
Thork sidled off to the right as Elyn made her way upward through the scaffolding, his eyes roughly following the track of their journey, she climbing up to a different glow.
“Look!” Thork exclaimed, his finger pointing at a bright cluster of sparkles within a scribed mountain range just now turning into view, crossing the boundary between shadow and light. “Hai! I deem that these be gathered within Black Mountain itself. They must mark the places where Wizards dwell.”
“Or the Wizards themselves,” called down Elyn. “The one in the Wolfwood marks the Wolfmage.”
“If that be so, if each glint marks a Wizard, then this Mountain be filled with them.” Thork stroked his beard in deep thought.
Elyn climbed up the curved surface. “Thork, to me! There are dark lights as well as those of silver. Here, up north. . ”
Stiffly, Thork climbed up to where Elyn studied a portion of the huge spherical map. There, in the Barrens north and east of Gron, a great dark blot pulsed, ebon light beating forth.
“Mayhap dark spots like this one show where evil dwells, vile Mages.-Modru!” Elyn’s own words hissed in dread at her naming of the Evil One.
“If ye be right”-Thork clambered down the side of the sphere-“and I do not doubt it for a moment, then, hearking back to the words of the Wolfmage, Andrak’s dark spot must be this one down here.” Thork’s finger pointed to a black flickering just to the north of the bright silver sparkles marking the Wizardholt of Xian.
Leaving the globe behind, it did not take them long to retrace Thork’s earlier steps-steps taken when he had first searched out the Wizardholt-for only a handful of chambers did they come to, none of which held food, and only one of which had a source of water-an ever-running stream pouring into a carven niche, the silver dipper now restored to the hook at its lip where Thork had first found it.
There were seven rooms in alclass="underline" the entry chamber, the hall of the globe, and five additional rooms. But for wall hangings, two of these other chambers were empty; a third one was a privy; the fourth held several cots; and much to Elyn’s delight the fifth and final one was a bathing chamber, with pails for bearing water and a tub that could be heated from below, there being a fire chamber beneath with a chimney disappearing into the wall, as well as firewood stacked in a corner.
Except for the room containing the great sphere, each of the chambers had vivid tapestries hanging upon the walls, tapestries that showed great rivers, mountain ranges, deep forests, desolate deserts, icy wastes, roaring waterfalls-scenes of nature for the most part, undisturbed by the hand of living Folk, scenes apparently designed to put a mind at rest. Yet in one of the empty rooms a broad tapestry depicted a great battle, where, upon a long slope, two hosts were locked in deadly embrace, and across a blasted plain below, a chariot in the lead, a great, black Dragon flying above, a vast horde of Foul Folk marched toward the raging conflict; but in the foreground of the tapestry and dominating the scene, a wee figure conferred with a great large being. “Waeran and Utrun,” grunted Thork.
“I recognize the Wee One, Thork,” said Elyn. “We name their kind, ‘Waldana.’ But the great one. . I would say that it is a Giant, yet there is little in Jordian lore of them.”
“You have the right of it, my Lady,” responded Thork. “They are Utruni, also known as Stone Giants. They dwell deep within the earth, molding the land: building Mountains, shaping the living stone; able to split the very rock with their bare hands, and seal it behind without a mar as they pass through the stone below. And giants they be, if the Loremasters’ tales be true: fourteen to seventeen feet tall, when full grown. It is said that they have true gems as eyes-rubies, sapphires, emeralds, opals, diamonds, whatever-though by what light they perceive the world, I cannot say; yet it is told that they can see through the very rock itself.
“At times, there is a knelling deep within the living stone, and Châkka lore has it that the Utruni are signalling one another, striking out messages, much the same as we Châkka hammer-signal one another through the stone.
“Châkka lore also has it that at times they have aided Free Folk-eld King Durek, for one-and I do know that they were part of the Grand Alliance in the Great War.”
“Mayhap this tapestry depicts one of the battles of that time, Thork,” said Elyn, examining the border. “Look, Thork, here in the marge: a title.” Her voice took on a hushed tone: “Ai-oi, it is written in Valur!”
Thork looked. “Nay, Princess, it is scribed in my tongue: Châkur.” Thork’s finger traced out the runes as Elyn watched, yet his tracing did not follow the letters that her eye saw.
She in turn traced out what she perceived, The Battle of Hèl’s Crucible, and it followed not his own sight.
Yet they both concurred that when the letters were translated and spoken aloud in the Common Tongue, it was the same name.
“Wizards,” grunted Thork, saying nought else, and Elyn nodded in agreement.