pinch on the fire. Instead of sparkles we got a rushing blue fireball. The damned thing scorched off all his hair. Fortunately, his burns weren't too bad, and the adventuring life has taught me to dodge well, but the common room here was badly blackened. I would recheck the component proportions before making a new supply. It cost me the purse of the gold I'd earned off that dragon you were so curious about.
Fortunately, he was an old brute with a considerable hoard. The locals called him Silverskin because they kept finding bits of old coins around his kills. It turned out he'd lain on his treasure so long it had embedded right into his skin.
So you can see, from what I am telling you, I have no need or expectation of repayment. I do not wish to be indebted to you. Still, I owe you some little amount for not standing against me like the others at the Academy.
Perhaps in payment, I can offer you an answer to your business about Greenwinter. I believe I have seen the snake-bound pattern you asked about, though I did not know what it was at the time.
I was high up in the mountains, in white drake country, as it is called around here. There was a rock shelf, bare of snow, that thrust out over a gorge. At first I thought what I saw was claw marks on a dragon perch, but when I got closer, the pattern was clearly carved and polished into the stone. I've enclosed a sketch of what I saw, as best I can render it from memory. I would not call it a map, really. That is all I can tell you. Any more you will have to learn on your own.
However Marriana, who has always been kinder, will reproach me if I do not send some remembrance of your birthing day, just as you did of mine. I don't know when yours is, but I'm sure a few have passed over the years. Therefore I have enclosed a bauble taken from Silverskin's lair. Take this gift, a trinket from the dragon's trove, in the spirit of 'Wishing you many more.'
Respectfully, Wizard Torreb
P.S. The charms I used on Marriana were purely natural. Spells I leave to others.
Perfect and Absolute Magister Pavish His Official Residence at Corsk
Another special day greeting to you, Wizard Torreb!
I grieve at this delay in replying to your letter and your gift, lest you think you've put me off with your testy tone. I am sending this to Tyn's Rock, in hopes it will find you. Perhaps old wounds are the hardest to heal, like they say, but I will not be dissuaded by your last letter. If you thought I would, you count me wrong.
I delay only because this provincial posting is more effort than I had expected, especially since the governor is an overbearing ass. He really thinks he'll reach the imperial court someday, maybe even rise to a ministerial post. Of course, he hasn't a whit of talent or cleverness and relies on me for everything. He has had me scurrying about, casting this, researching that, and doing a score of sorcerous tasks to further his petty ambitions. Of late, he has gotten it into his head that if he can produce some wondrously powerful spell or magical gimcrack, it will buy him entry into the inner circle, as he calls it. Of course, that means I have to do all the work while he just grumbles about the time it's taking.
The worst part is that I carelessly mentioned my research into Greenwinter's staff, and now he has become convinced that it is the tool that will make his destiny. His demands have become nearly intolerable, and so I turn to you in desperation. I assure you, knowing your feelings about helping me, that you are my last chance.
We were not close during your Academy time; indeed in many things we were rivals. But I see no cause for bitterness between us now. You must look instead to all that went to your credit between us-Marriana, 1st initiate, even the master's wand-all these things went to you, not me. Try as I might, I could never top you..
To hold me in reproach for the injustice that fell on you is unwarranted. You know full well that when the others called you a cheat and a plagiarizer, I did not join their chorus. Having tried and failed to beat you in so many areas, I knew your talent was genuine.
There is no doubt for me that you were framed. I suspected it then, but I am certain of it now. Whoever stole the Theurge's spellbook went to great pains to cast the blame on you. No doubt the perpetrator was jealous of your success-a frontier lad besting the sons of the noblest wizard clans in the empire-and maybe even a little afraid. Unable to match you fairly, they resorted to tricks and deceit to bring about your fall.
So now, you can gain satisfaction, for I implore your assistance once more. Your sketch of the pattern was invaluable, but there are many things unanswered. What direction do the tails point? Which mouth is open? Are your certain of the script around the edge? These details are vitally important, as I'm sure you can well understand.
I confess discovering the answers has proven to be just beyond my skills. Perhaps knowing that will dispose you to be merciful toward me. If you would only provide me with a more complete description of Green-winter's pattern, I am certain to locate the device. Think of it! You and 1 shall be known throughout the wizardry societies as the masters who solved the unsolvable!
Now please, don't consider the present I've sent as some sort of tasteless attempt to buy your aid. As I wrote, I have been very busy between this twit of a governor and the hours I've spent locked in my meager library, poring over what scrolls I can get from the capital. As a result, I've managed to miss your birthing day again. It seems it's become a custom for us to exchange presents with each post. I do hope you enjoy this present, perhaps a little bit less volatile than the last I sent you. Of course, you were correct about its formula. Even out there on the frontier your perception outshines mine.
I must note, though, that the gift you sent, while charming, did cause a little difficulty. The magical bird sang most marvelously by the command you described, but could not be silenced the same way! It chirped and twittered for weeks before I was able to conjure up the true command. It was actually rather comical. I confess that by the end, I had to banish it to a shelf on the outdoor privy for the sake of household sanity.
Still it is the intention that matters, after all.
Perfect amp; etc., Magister Pavish
P.S. I saw Marriana's father, Minister Dalton, at the privy council chambers. Imagine my surprise to learn he disowned her upon your marriage. To think that she had to suffer such a price!
Posted from Pine Shadow Wood
Magister Pavish,
First, I must let you know I received your letter many months past, and against my first inclination, I did not cast it upon the fire. I cannot say why.
It is admirable that you now say I was wronged, especially given that speaking out before would have required courage. You present me with the virtue of nothing-having done nothing against me nor anything for me, you consider me indebted to you. What little you could claim I discharged with my previous dispatch.
Then you chide me for being bitter. Could you be glib if our lives were reversed? You know as well as I who was innocent. I had no need of the Theurge's spellbook to pass a conjuration examination. As you wrote, someone chose me to take the blame. Some say it might even have been you. After all, we were rivals in so many things. What better way to overcome an obstacle? You always favored the quick and easy; perhaps you favored it more than I suspected. I have spent these years wondering who and why, and now you complain about my ingratitude.
No doubt you expect me to honor your request for aid, and I will not be so ignoble as to spurn you completely. Nonetheless, my aid comes with a caution. In your pursuit for this lost artifact, I think you reach for something more dangerous than you realize. With no library up here, I can only say from memory, but in the Duel of Tromdarl and Greenwinter it all comes to an end when Greenwinter triggers his master creation and destroys Tromdarl with it. Every apprentice worth his salt knows that much, and that's what Master Feur-gond taught.
What apprentices don't realize is there's a final canto to the work, one that gets lopped off in a fair number of readings. Master Feurgond laid out the scroll one time after lecture. It's a lament from Greenwinter's consort, crying for his absence-something about how a storm of fire and thunder carried him and his artifact away, much more than just wandering off into history. The master said it was only an allegory-and a bad one at that-for Greenwinter's victory and the later disappearance of the artifact, but I am not so sure.
I worry, too, about this ultimate power. To what ends will you use it? You would not be my first choice as its wielder. At the Academy, you always struck me as a touch arrogant and a little petty. I suppose you could have changed since then; time will do that, but perhaps the staff is better off in more responsible hands, or not found at all.
