struck on a gray and rainy morning. A six-block stroll north on MacIntyre Path brought him to a weather-beaten building of sandstone and brick, covered in peeling gray plaster. A tarnished nameplate over the single street-facing door read Seekers’ Guildhall.
“It seems that the years haven’t been kind to the Diviners’ Guild,” Jack reflected aloud. Still, he might as well see what he could learn.
He tried the door and found that it opened with a wretched creaking of its hinges. A hallway paneled in dark wood led deeper into the building. “Good morning,” Jack called. “Is anybody here?”
He was answered by a disembodied voice that echoed through the hall. “Enter, seeker,” it intoned. “Your coming was foretold.”
“If that is the case, one might have expected to be greeted by name at the door,” Jack remarked.
“Your skepticism was foretold as well. Advance to the end of the hall. All your questions have their answers here.”
Jack did as he was instructed. As he neared the end of the hall, a concealed panel slid aside, revealing a small room lavishly decorated with purple drapes, hanging censers from which ribbons of aromatic smoke rose, and a table on which rested a sparkling crystal ball bigger than Jack’s head. At the head of the table sat a white- bearded old gnome who wore a shapeless baglike hat of purple felt decorated with silver moons and stars. “Please, seeker, be seated,” the gnome said.
Jack nodded and took the seat opposite the gnome. He folded his hands in his lap and waited in silence until the gnome frowned and peered more closely at him.
“Well?” the small wizard said. “What is it that you seek?”
“Oh, I didn’t realize that I needed to tell you,” Jack answered. “My coming was foretold, so I thought my business would be equally apparent.”
The gnome glowered. “It is not wise to test the powers unseen, young one! Know that I am Aderbleen Krestner, Master Diviner. To pay proper respect to the unseen powers, speak your name and business, if you please.”
“I am the Landsgrave Jaer Kell Wildhame, and I am in need of a divination,” said Jack. “I seek a book called the Sarkonagael.”
The gnome laughed at Jack. In fact, he laughed so long that his guffaws became dry whistling gasps and tears ran down his wrinkled cheeks. Jack glanced around, wondering if there might be some other object of humor in the cluttered chamber, and he finally crossed his arms and tapped his toe. “I fail to see what provokes this unseemly display,” he snapped.
“First,” the gnome wheezed, “You are the fifth treasure-seeker, troubleshooter, or bored dilettante to ask for my assistance about this matter, as if I couldn’t read the handbills and spot a reward notice for myself. Second, why in the world do you believe the tome’s location can be divined? If the book could be found by divination, someone would have done so already, and no reward for you.”
“Ah, but I possess an advantage that other seekers likely lack,” Jack said.
“Advantage? What advantage?” Aderbleen asked, frowning suspiciously at Jack.
“I have seen the book they are looking for,” Jack replied. “In fact, I have handled it at length, although that was a long time ago. If I recall correctly, it is much easier to divine the location of something that has been handled and studied than something that is simply known about. None of your professional colleagues have even the slightest clue what it looks like.”
Aderbleen’s bushy eyebrows rose. “That may prove significant,” he admitted. “I am willing to make the attempt; my customary fee is five hundred gold crowns. The spirits advise me to require payment in advance.”
“The spirits are a grasping and suspicious lot,” Jack answered. “Perhaps they’d be inclined to accept one hundred crowns in advance, and a ten percent cut of the reward when I collect it?”
“The spirits dislike your stinginess,” the gnome shot back. “They refuse to be consulted for less than four hundred crowns. After all, your ability to successfully utilize the information they impart is unknown at this time.”
“Perhaps the spirits should augur the odds of my success, then.”
“That is another divination altogether,” the diviner replied. They dickered back and forth for a few minutes, and finally agreed on two hundred pieces of gold, with a bonus should the tome be recovered.
Satisfied, the diviner rubbed his small hands together and motioned to the crystal ball at the center of the table. “Lean close, resting your hands on the table,” he intoned. “Gaze into the orb, and bring to mind everything you recall of this book-its look, its feel, the smell of its pages, words or passages you recall. We shall see what we shall see.”
Jack complied, concentrating on his memory of the Sarkonagael with all his might. The gnome chanted softly, summoning his magic; the room seemed to grow dim and the crystal ball grew brighter. He remembered the weight of the book in his hands, the black leather cover with an embossed silver skull, the title stamped out with silver chasing. In the crystal orb a misty image began to take shape, a dark book lying on a large stone table. Parchment and lesser tomes lay scattered around it.
“Ah, you have indeed seen this book before,” Aderbleen whispered. “No other attempt gained even the faintest glimpse. Let us draw back and see more of the surroundings.” He murmured softly, continuing to shape his spell, and the image in the orb shrank and slid out of view just as if Jack had stepped back and turned his head in a different direction. Now he could see something of the surroundings: A large chamber of dressed stone blocks, the floor made of gleaming yellow marble, crimson pillars carved in the shape of heroic dwarves supporting the ceiling high above. At one end of the hall or chamber there stood a dais crowned by a great altar in the shape of an anvil; a mosaic on the wall behind the altar displayed the image of a huge hammer surrounded by fire and lightning. Bookshelves and work tables were arranged haphazardly throughout the grand hall. The whole scene was illuminated by gleaming golden crystal-lamps worked cunningly into the pillar-sculptures of the dwarf heroes.
“The book lies in Sarbreen, somewhere beneath our feet,” Aderbleen said. “Find this chamber, and you will find the book.”
“Sarbreen is a very large place, full of monsters and ancient traps,” Jack protested. “I can hardly search the entire ruin for a single chamber, no matter how grand.”
“Well, I can also tell you that the tome lies about eight hundred and twenty-five yards in that direction,” Aderbleen said, pointing at a shallow angle toward the floor behind Jack’s back. “However, there is no way to know which entrance to the ruins is actually closest to the Sarkonagael’s location once the twists, turns, and blind alleys of the ancient city are taken into account. Try somewhere in northern Sarbreen, about two or three levels down.”
Jack peered again at the image in the crystal ball. He thought he saw a shadow of movement … but it was gone almost at once. He didn’t know where in Sarbreen that chamber might lie, but he knew someone who might. “Very well,” he said. “That is certainly more than I knew before I arrived on your doorstep as foretold.” It was also a strong indication that the Sarkonagael was not currently in Myrkyssa Jelan’s hands, nor in immediate danger of discovery by some other treasure-hunter. “Need I remind you that what we have seen in your crystal ball should remain strictly confidential? If someone else should reach the book before I do, you will not receive the bonus we agreed upon.”
“The spirits are not stupid,” Aderbleen replied.
“Very good.” Jack stood up, and bowed to the small mage. “With luck the spirits will soon reveal to you our mutual success. Now, will the unseen powers lead me forth, or should I just show myself out the door?”
“Oh, just go back the way you came in,” the gnome snapped. He hopped down from his chair and pointed Jack to the door. Jack bowed his head again to Master Aderbleen, and left the Seekers’ Guildhall whistling a merry air.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Although Jack wanted to make inquiries about where exactly in Sarbreen a great abandoned temple might be found, he had to keep an eye on his social calendar if he wanted to continue to present himself as a lordling reestablishing himself in the city’s noble circles. The Sarkonagael seemed safely hidden in Sarbreen for now; he
