"Did you actually see the city in your head? I mean, pictures of it?"
J'role indicated no.
"Just words, eh?"
Then the ork would continue to hum, a bit of a skip in his walk.
"Did you see any people? Or landmarks of any kind?"
Again J’role indicated no. And as the day wore on and he continued to answer the odds questions in the negative, he wondered what worth he really possessed for Garlthik, and what the ork might eventually do with him if he proved himself worthless.
The walk itself exhilarated J'role. Where the previous night he had been terrified to realize how far he was from home, now the distance he put between his village and himself sent a strange, unknown excitement coursing through his muscles. He could feel his former life fading from his body, like an old splinter sliding out of flesh. His past would be meaningless to the new people he met. No one would know that his mother had gone mad, that his father was a drunkard. They would know only that J'role was a mute and no more than that. No one would know he was cursed.
"We'll keep walking until I think of something," said Garlthik. "I want to put distance between Mordom and us."
And so they walked.
As J'role saw mountain ranges he'd never seen before, saw rivers running crooked and blue-green that he'd never known existed, he was overwhelmed by the realization of how much there was in the world. By walking forward into it, new possibilities opened for him. The promise of …
Something else.
6
When he was seven, before everything went wrong, something lived in their home with them.
Their home consisted of three rooms-a sleeping room for J'role's parents, one room for J’role, and a central room between the two where they gathered and played. It was a luxurious place to live within the tunneled corridors of the kaer, but J'role's father was an important man.
The thing-a shadow of a thing-a wavering white shadow-sat in the corner of the central room for days. J'role never looked-straight at it, for it frightened him. His parents never said anything about it, so he thought it was his own problem. He never said anything.
He spent more and more of his time in his bedroom, trying to avoid the gaze of the strange thing. When he had to leave his home, he rushed through the room, desperate to avoid its gaze. His mother asked him why he was so nervous. Once he pointed at the thing. It laughed a raspy laugh. His mother saw nothing.
At noon they ate berries and roots that both J'role and Garlthik knew how to find and knew were safe. It was not easy work, finding the food, for though the sky was clear and beautiful the land around them was desolate. It spread out like death, a wasteland testament to the thoroughness of the Horrors, who had in one way or another consumed everything they encountered. Strange furrows twisted their way through the rocky brown dirt of the hills, and the ground showed odd-shaped bulges. Sometimes the weird patterns of the land grabbed J'role's attention, distracting him so that he could no longer walk, nor think on anything it but the sight before him. The chaotic pattern of the land spoke to him in a way he could not understand, as if it reflected the worn and ragged mind inside his skull.
After eating, they continued on their way. Garlthik had stopped asking questions and contented himself with humming. However, J'role's own curiosity had taken root. He tugged on Garlthik's arm and held the ring up in his palm, for Garlthik had permitted him to carry it. Still walking, Garlthik asked, "Yes?"
J'role pointed to the ring, and then shrugged his shoulders.
"Ah," said Garlthik. "Not sure, actually. Magic of some kind. But I'm just an adept, not a magician, and there's much of magic I don't understand. I only know how to think about magic in a specific way-as a means of procurement-if you will. But as to its-" he spread his arms wide, searching for the words-"as to its fundamental nature, I am blind.
Magicians know. Mordom, that crafty dragon's breath …" Garlthik's green eye gleamed bright. "He knew more than he was saying of that I'm sure." With that the ork fell silent and resumed his humming as if the matter were closed.
But what J'role wanted to know was about the ring itself. After carrying it for half the day, he had time to think about its strange effect on him. He wondered why someone had taken the time to make such a ring. As he continued to walk he slipped the ring on his finger. . and instantly began to speak, unable to resist the sweet images his mouth held.
Again, he did not know what he would say before the words came out, but as the sounds waited, touching his tongue like delicious dates and nuts, all he had to do was unleash them and listen. He stopped, unable to move on, and Garlthik turned to stare at him. J'role spoke of vaults filled with piles of artifacts and magical treasures, of pictures painted on huge marble walls that moved when anybody looked at them, of towers where ships of stone docked after traveling through the air from distant lands.
J’role pointed at his mouth, then summoned the will to remove the ring. He took it off his finger and stared up at Garlthik. The ork seemed disappointed, like a child who has just been told he must wait until the next night to hear the rest of his favorite bed-time story.
The mention of treasures had surely caught his interest.
Once more J'role pointed to the ring.
"All right," said the ork, turning and talking over his shoulder as he continued. "But let's keep moving."
J 'role hurried a few- steps to catch up, and when he had, Garlthik continued.
"The ring is from a city, I think-and I am close to convinced after seeing the odd effect it had on you. From the wonders you describe, it must be an ancient city of the Theran Empire. Perhaps it's somewhere nearby. But I don't know much about the world. Nobody does anymore. I've got to find out if anyone knows of such a city. I don't suppose you do?” He waited for a response, and J'role shook his head. "Anyway, that's why I want you by my side, young J'role. I believe you can help me to solve the mystery, though I don't know in what way yet."
J'role remembered his father telling him about the Theran Empire many years ago, but his father had obviously not known much about it either because he had said very little. What he did know was that the empire once ruled the province of Barsaive, which included J'role's village as well as lands in all directions, and had created the knowledge to build the kaers.
"Yes, you see. A mystery. What happened to the city-if there was a Theran city here in Barsaive?” Garlthik asked. "Did they survive the Scourge? If so, do they need help now?
If they do, a reward must await whoever comes to their aid. And if they did not survive, well, all the better, for then the city itself is the reward for whoever finds it. Mordom I think, knew more of the ring than he ever let on-and probably more of the city."
Garlthik touched his thick fingertips against his eye-patch. "The man possesses magic the likes of which I have never seen."
But J'role's thoughts had wandered far from the ork's words. A city filled with magicians!
A city filled with people who could make statues dance and chariots fly through the air!
What wonders might they perform on J'role himself? Could they remove the creature from his thoughts? Might he once again have his voice? Certainly if the people of the city were in trouble, and J'role helped save them, such a reward would be little enough to ask.
J'role added a skip to his walk as he continued along.
Garlthik saw this and smiled. "So, now the quest intrigues you, does it, lad?"
J'role looked back and nodded.
"I thought so. I thought I saw something of it in your eyes when first we met.”