Alex was a bit puzzled by the idea of Iownan telling someone they should be an adventurer. She had spoken plainly to him, but he knew that was not her normal way.
“Few of us ever seek the White Tower these days though,” Thrain said, sounding a bit sad. “The roads are hard, and as you know, there are bandits. Most of my people prefer to remain here in the Brown Hills to make their fortunes.”
“When will you come of age?” Alex questioned.
“I’ll be fifty next spring,” said Thrain happily. “If I can find a few others who are willing, I’m going to find the White Tower.”
“You should think long before taking that road,” Alex advised. “The Oracle may not tell you what you wish to hear.”
“I’d like to see the White Tower anyway,” said Thrain, his smile still in place. “At least that would be an adventure, even if I never got to go on another.”
They had returned to the great hall and Alex thanked Thrain for leading him through the city. Thrain bowed deeply to Alex and quickly returned to his post at the edge of the hall.
“The sword Moon Slayer, Lord Osrik,” said Alex, holding his sword out for Osrik to see.
“Will you remove it from the scabbard?” Osrik asked, twitching slightly with excitement.
Alex drew the sword and held it in his hands so Osrik could see it better. The king bent over the sword to look closely at it, but he did not touch it. Alex remembered how Arconn had not touched the sword either, once he had discovered what it was. He wondered if there was some reason for their caution.
“A most excellent weapon,” said Osrik, leaning back into his chair. “The dark elves were always the best swordmakers, after all.”
“There is more to it than swordmaking,” commented Arconn.
“I’m sure there is, my friend,” Osrik replied, smiling at Arconn. “If dwarfs had the magic of elves, then such swords might be more common.”
“And of less worth,” Thrang added in a thoughtful way.
“Return your sword to your side,” said Osrik, seeming to take no note of Thrang’s comment. “You shall all be free to carry weapons in the dwarf realm of Vargland, for I name you all friends of my kingdom.”
“Your kindness overwhelms us,” replied Bregnest.
“And now for the bags,” said Osrik.
Alex spoke softly into his own magic bag, withdrawing the seven recovered magic bags one at a time. As he produced the bags, Alex heard Thrain gasp behind him. Osrik carefully examined each of the bags as Alex handed them to him. When Alex handed him the fifth bag, the color drained out of Osrik’s face and he let out an audible moan.
“It is as I feared,” said Osrik, his head sinking to his chest, his hands clutching the bag tightly. “Poor Umbar, he shall never return.”
“You recognize his bag then?” Thrang asked softly.
“As if it were my own,” answered Osrik, shaking his head in sorrow. “I will send for his heir and order the preparations made. The ceremony of returning the bag will take place this evening.”
Osrik gently handed the bag back to Alex, his hands shaking with emotion as he waved for Thrain to come forward.
“Forgive me, my friends, my sorrow is too great. I cannot join you for the midday meal,” said Osrik, looking incredibly old and sad.
“You have our sympathy,” said Bregnest as they all stood and bowed to Osrik.
Thrain motioned for the company to follow him. He led them back to their sleeping chamber without speaking, a troubled and worried look on his face. Alex wondered if Thrain was reconsidering his desire to become an adventurer, now that he realized how dangerous it could be.
After Thrain left, Alex turned to Arconn. “What is the
ceremony for returning a lost bag?”
“It’s a little different, depending on where you are,” said Arconn.
“The Handbook doesn’t say anything about a ceremony,” said Alex nervously.
“You’ll be fine,” said Bregnest, breathing a heavy sigh and putting one hand on Alex’s shoulder. “I should not have let you carry this burden on your first adventure.”
“It was his right and his choice,” said Thrang, taking a seat next to Alex. “Besides, it’s not that difficult really.”
“Will you explain it, please?” Alex asked. “I don’t want to upset the ceremony, or make a fool of myself.”
“Among dwarfs, the ceremony is almost always the same.” Thrang stopped to gather his thoughts before continuing. “The ceremony will take place in the feasting hall. You will be called to the front of the hall by the king. He will ask if you are the bearer of the lost bag, stating the name of the adventurer who was lost. You simply reply, ‘I am.’”
“And then what happens?” Alex questioned.
“Well, you’ll hold up the lost bag so everyone can see it,” Thrang went on. “Then the king will call the adventurer’s heir forward and ask him to state his name and titles. Then the king will ask you if you believe that the person is the rightful heir.”
“It will be, won’t it?” Alex asked in a worried tone. “I mean, I don’t think Osrik would call the wrong person forward.”
“It has been known to happen,” said Arconn, listening closely to Thrang’s explanation.
“So what should I say?”
“Say that you accept the heir and his claim, but that the lost adventurer requires proof,” answered Thrang, stroking his beard. “Then the heir will whisper the bag’s passwords in your ear.”
“But I thought those words were secret,” Alex interrupted.
“They are,” said Thrang. “But the heir will know what they are and be able to tell you. Use the passwords to go in and then come out of the bag. Once you’ve done that, you will say the lost adventurer is satisfied. The king will ask what payment the heir will give for the return of the bag and the heir will make an offer. If the offer sounds good to you, say, ‘It is fair,’ and then hand the bag to the heir.”
“What do you mean, payment?” Alex questioned.
“Reward may be a better word,” said Arconn with a smile. “A reward is always offered for the return of a lost bag. You should know that from your reading, Alex.”
“What if the offer—sorry, reward—doesn’t sound good?” Skeld asked with a wicked smile.
Thrang looked slightly worried. “Then you say, ‘It is unjust,’ and the king will ask the heir to make another offer.”
“Is the offer likely to be unjust?” Alex asked, trying hard to remember everything Thrang was saying.
“It might be,” said Thrang. “Normally the heir will offer part of the treasure in the bag. Sometimes the heir will offer something else as well as part of the treasure. You know, in case there isn’t much treasure in the bag. Or, if they think there’s a lot of treasure in the bag, they might offer something else and a smaller share of the bag’s treasure.”
“What would you consider a fair offer?” Alex questioned.
“It’s not my place to say,” said Thrang, shrugging his shoulders. “I’d say, if the heir offers you one-in-ten or one-in-twelve of the bag’s treasure, you should consider it fair. Anything less than that, though, would be an insult.”
“What if I forget what to say?”
“You’ll be fine,” said Thrang, smiling. “And if you don’t think the offer is fair, feel free to say so.”
“What if the offer seems like too much?” Alex asked, wondering if that ever happened.
“Then you say, ‘You are too generous,’ and say what you will accept instead,” Thrang replied. “But be careful because if you offer a lot less than the heir has offered, he may take it as an insult.”
“Right,” said Alex, rubbing his hands together and trying to remember what to say and when to say it. He remembered what Andy told him about dwarfs and their money and he hoped he wouldn’t insult the heir to the bag. Then another thought came to him.