Moknay continued glaring, his teeth clenched. 'You'll find that quite difficult without a head,' he snarled slowly.
Barthol's brow furrowed in thought. 'You know,' he pleasantly responded, 'I think you're right.'
'Now listen to me and listen carefully,' Moknay instructed. 'My friend here is not from Droth, nor is he from Sparrill, Denzil, or Magdelon. He says he comes from Santa Monica, which could be another part of the world- Imogen knows I've never heard of it! We've run into a bit of a problem, and I want you to check your charts to see if Logan's… arrival has been noted.'
Barthol beamed. 'Ah! My charts!' he happily cried. 'You have come to the right man! I shall answer any questions you may have… if you'll let me go.'
Moknay released the priest and watched as he walked to an empty wall. Dimpled fingers picked up a pouch and reached into it. Between his thumb and forefinger, Barthol was pinching some glittering dust when he extracted his hand, and Logan thought it looked like glitter he used to buy as a kid at a magic shop. Knowing he had an audience, Barthol himself put on a magic act, adding meaningless gestures and ridiculous jumps as he sprinkled the dust before the blank wall. For a moment, nothing seemed to happen; then the wall shivered, almost rippling like water. Gradually, a dark square formed on the wall, dotted with points of light. Logan blinked a few times at what appeared to be a window, only it did not look outside at the town of Debarnian but stared out into the blackness of space. Strange illuminated symbols accompanied the stars as they went about their celestial dance.
Barthol leaned closer to inspect his chart.
'Hmmm,' the little man muttered, 'Bergyls has shifted, and Rewyt seems to have dropped Wheelward. Aetwindan is increasing, and Gereord is diminishing. IukIan and Paell have interchanged, and Tolmaessa is veering Gymmward.'
Logan scratched his head. 'What's all that mean?'
Barthol turned around, shrugging. 'I don't know.'
'You don't know?' Moknay bellowed. 'What do you mean you don't know?'
Barthol waved his hands frantically. 'I never did understand all that cosmic claptrap!' he admitted. Unexpectedly, something on the chart caught his eye and he began staring. 'What's this, then?' he mumbled. 'There's a rift in the Wheel, causing it to tilt slightly to one side.'
'Any foreseeable danger?' interrogated Moknay.
'Oh, no,' Barthol consoled him. 'The Wheel continuously dips from one side to the other-part of the cosmic cycle of events.'
'Anything about the Jewel of Equilibrant?' Logan abruptly questioned, shifting the leather pouch he carried in his arms.
Barthol turned away from his chart, his eyes trained on Logan. 'Why do you ask that?'
'Can you find it on your chart?' Moknay pressed the question.
Barthol swung around to face his chart. 'Of course I can find it on my chart,' he retorted. 'The Jewel acts as the force that balances out the system of forces within the Wheel and produces equilibrium for the…' The priest nosed up to his mystical chart, peering at it. 'It's not there,' he gasped.
'Do you know who owned it?' Logan inquired, recalling Moknay's comment about stealing it from the Smythe. Wouldn't that just be dandy? the young man thought. The man I was looking for was in one of the first places I was, and I may have not only left without seeing if he could help me, but stealing his horse as well!
In somewhat of a daze, Barthol turned to some scrolls to answer Logan's query. 'The Jewel has been in the possession of one of the mightiest spellcasters in all Sparrill, a magician by the name of Zackaron. In his experiments with the Jewel, Zackaron accidently triggered a portion of the energies and bestowed upon himself almost godly powers. This transfer alone has kept him alive for almost two hundred years.
Unfortunately, powers that practically give Zackaron control over nature also drove him quite mad. So, in order to keep the Jewel's powers in check, he gave it to his servant-boy, Pembroke.' Barthol swung his gaze from his scrolls back to his chart. 'And it seems Pembroke has lost the Jewel!' He went silent for another moment. 'Holy Agellic!' he cried in fear. 'If the Reakthi should happen to get their slimy hands on the Jewel, I'd hate to think what would happen to Sparrill!'
'No need to worry,' Moknay grimly advised. 'Logan has the Jewel.'
'Moknay, this is no time for your macabre humor,' Barthol snapped, still glaring at his shimmering chart. The priest's eyes abruptly widened. 'By Harmeer's War Axe, you're right! That's why the Wheel is beginning to tilt! The rift seems to be from your friend's 'arrival,' but the tilting is because the Jewel's powers are not being kept in check. We're doomed! Doomed, I say! Doomed! That Jewel has got to be given to a spellcaster who can hold the powers in. If the Jewel continues to leak its cosmic energies, there will be nothing to stabilize the forces of the Wheel and act as equilibrant! The Wheel will have no means to achieve equilibrium, and it will tilt until it entirely flips over and destroys us all!'
Logan took in a sharp gulp of air as a burning anger chewed its way through his brain. 'So it's up to Matthew Logan to save the universe,' he snarled venomously.
'Huh?' queried Barthol. 'What was that?'
Logan turned on the priest, eyes blazing. 'I didn't want to come here!' he thundered. 'Blast it! All I want to do is get back to my quiet, apathetic, Earthly home! I don't want to have the outcome of an entire world on my shoulders! It's not fair! It's not my fault I got zapped here! Why is it my fault that this Wheel is tilting?'
'It's no fault of yours, dear boy,' Barthol soothed. 'Only a spellcaster should have that Jewel; the powers inside it are what keeps the Wheel balanced, and you can imagine the force those powers must have. A magician must constantly keep the Jewel's energies in check. Oh, some leaks out now and again, but the Jewel easily replenishes itself. However, if there's no one around who knows how to keep the Jewel's powers in, they'll start escaping-slowly, mind you-but still escaping.'
Moknay was nodding all through the priest's explanation. 'How long do we have until all the powers are free?'
Barthol studied his chart. 'Not very long,' he reported dismally. 'You will see signs of the escaping powers: earthquakes, storms, and such, all unnatural, of course, since the natural balance is faltering. Then larger disasters will begin. When this occurs, there will not be much time before the Wheel tilts on its side.'
'And, if I remember my schooling correctly,' Moknay continued, 'once the Wheel goes over on its side, there's no reversing it. it will continue to tilt the rest of the way until this entire place goes up in flames.'
Barthol nodded in silence, scanning his chart over and over.
Fists clenched at his sides, Logan stood behind the two, the anger still within him. This was worse than a dream, he grumbled to himself. It was a nightmare slowly going from bad to worse. It was suddenly up to him whether this land lived or died, and that didn't seem fair to Logan at all. He was an accident… a quirk! He wasn't supposed to be here! Why did this task fall to him? He didn't mean to steal the Jewel from Pembroke-why should he have to face the consequences? He was having a hard enough time as it was!
The young man's anger started to diminish as a faint sound reached his ears. For a second, he thought that infernal buzz of mismatchment was upon him, but then the noise faded, leaving Logan floundering in a million possibilities.
'Should we give the Jewel back to Zackaron or continue toward the Smythe?' Moknay was asking Barthol.
'The Smythe, by all means!' Barthol replied. 'Agellic knows what Zackaron could do with his mind gone and all. It's a wonder he never forgot to keep the Jewel in check himself.'
'We could use your help in finding the Smythe,' Moknay invited.
The priest shook his head. 'I'm afraid I'll have to abstain, not that I envy your task. My duty lies with the Church.'
Moknay was nodding when Logan jumped toward him. Wings! the young man's brain was screaming. That noise is the beat of wings!
The Murderer went to the floor wearing a startled expression as something tore the air and splintered against the far wall near Barthol. Cursing, Moknay rolled to his feet, his grey eyes flaring angrily. Standing outside Barthol's open door was Groathit, a ghastly smile drawn across his lean face. Flanking him were six chestplated Reakthi, one leveling a crossbow at the Murderer's chest.
From his vantage point on the floor, Logan saw the spellcaster's left eye was glazed, as if he were blind in
