by M. L. Forman
As they finished, Bregnest stood and spoke. “When we meet with the king, remember not to speak of our final goal.”
“It’s likely Osrik has already guessed our quest,” commented Thrang. “However, you are correct, none of us should speak openly of our final destination.”
The company agreed that, if anyone asked, they would direct the question to Bregnest. Then, as they had done at the White Tower, they each placed their weapons and magic bags on their beds, waiting for the king’s summons. Alex started to feel nervous again, wondering what Osrik might say about his being an untrained wizard, when Thrain appeared at the chamber door.
“You have been called to the counsel of King Osrik,” said Thrain in as commanding a voice as he could manage. “I am to lead you to the king.”
“Lead on,” replied Bregnest with a formal bow to Thrain.
Thrain blushed, as he seemed to do every time Bregnest bowed to him. He led the company through the city, walking slightly in front of them and trying to look official. He didn’t speak to them as they walked, though Alex could see it was a struggle for him to stay quiet. They followed Thrain back to the king’s hall. Nine large chairs had been placed in a circle at the foot of the stone pedestal and Osrik was waiting for them in one of the chairs.
“I thought we should all be comfortable,” said Osrik as the company approached. “It’s such a bother talking to people from the throne. This seems so much friendlier.”
“Your kindness overwhelms us, great king,” answered Bregnest as the entire company bowed.
“A kindness to you, or to me?” Osrik replied, a playful grin on his face. “But come and join me, we have much to discuss.”
Osrik directed each of the company to a chair, calling them by name one at a time. Bregnest sat to the king’s left, while Thrang was again on Osrik’s right. Alex sat between Thrang and Halfdan, which seemed to please both dwarfs very much.
“You have traveled far and through dangerous lands,” Osrik began, looking at Bregnest. “Will you tell me the story of your journey?”
“Perhaps your kinsman would be best at telling the story,” Bregnest replied, looking at Thrang. “I am sure he will know which points will interest you much better than I would.”
“You speak well, Master Bregnest,” said Osrik, still smiling. “Thrang, will you tell this tale?”
“As you command, Lord Osrik,” replied Thrang, standing and bowing to both Osrik and Bregnest.
Thrang began with the gathering of the company. He explained to Osrik how each member had been chosen and asked to join the adventure. Osrik nodded as Thrang spoke, but asked no questions.
When Thrang told Osrik about how Alex became the eighth man, Alex listened closely. It appeared that his joining the company had not been as big a chance as he had thought. Thrang and Arconn had gone to Mr. Clutter’s shop on the advice of an oracle, which came as a surprise to Alex. Thrang also told Osrik about the sign in the adventurer’s shop, and how Alex had applied to join the adventure without knowing what he was doing. Osrik laughed at this but said nothing. Then Thrang told how, to everyone’s surprise, Alex had been told he could use a staff.
“A wise choice I would say,” Osrik observed, glancing at Alex. “Or perhaps a lucky chance.”
Alex was sure the story of his being an untrained wizard had already reached Osrik, and he smiled weakly at Osrik’s words.
Thrang continued the story, including the first time Alex had used the inferno command and nearly set his beard on fire. When he told how Alex had defeated the three-legged troll, Osrik chuckled to himself and Alex turned pink.
“These seven bags you recovered, do you carry them with you?” Osrik questioned, glancing at Alex and then at Bregnest.
“Indeed, yes,” answered Thrang. “Master Taylor carries the burden of the seven.”
Osrik nodded thoughtfully and motioned for Thrang to continue the story.
Thrang told of the Oracle’s invitation and how Iownan had named Alex a friend. He told of the discovery of Alex’s magical sword, Moon Slayer.
Alex squirmed slightly in his chair, embarrassed because his own part of the story seemed very impressive the way Thrang told it.
When Thrang told Osrik about Alex’s sudden magical change during the bandit attack, Osrik took a deep breath.
“I have heard of such swords, though I have never seen one,” Osrik commented, sounding almost as excited as Thrain had the night before.
Thrang finished the story, leaving out the part about the old man in Techen and his secret map to the dragon’s lair. For a few minutes, Osrik did not speak, lost in his deep thoughts.
“It is nearly time for the midday meal,” said Osrik at last, glancing around the circle. “Before we eat, I would ask something of you.”
“We will do what we can for you,” Bregnest answered, noncommitally.
“These seven bags you recovered,” said Osrik, glancing at Alex. “Will you show them to me?”
“May I ask why, Lord Osrik?” Bregnest questioned, still looking a little worried.
“One of my cousins went on an adventure. It has been almost twenty years now, and we have heard nothing of his fate,” answered Osrik, an uneasy look on his face.
“You fear his bag is among the seven,” said Bregnest.
“I do,” said Osrik in a sad and troubled tone. “We were very close, and in the last few years, his family has fallen on hard times. If his bag is among the seven, whatever treasure is inside may help to repair their fortunes.”
“Then they will be brought before you immediately,” said Bregnest, turning to look at Alex.
“Thrain will lead you back to your chambers,” said Osrik, motioning for Thrain to come forward. “And if you don’t mind, I would dearly love to see this wondrous sword of yours as well.”
“As you wish, Lord Osrik,” replied Alex with a bow.
The rest of the company remained seated as Alex followed Thrain out of the hall. As soon as they were out of the main hall, Thrain began to ask Alex questions.
“Are you really a wizard then?”
“Untrained and untried,” answered Alex with a smile. “Though everyone says that I can be a true wizard, in time.”
“And you killed a three-legged troll all by yourself?” Thrain continued, almost bubbling over with excitement.
“With a great deal of luck.”
Thrain asked questions during the entire walk through the city and back to the chamber where Alex picked up his magic bag and sword. Alex answered him as well as he could, always trying to make his own part in the adventure seem smaller than Thrang had made it out to be.
“I’d love to be an adventurer,” said Thrain, as he led Alex back through the city toward the great hall. “But so few of us are ever chosen. I’ll probably end up being a silversmith like my father.”
“A noble profession, and far less dangerous than adventures,” said Alex. Then he asked, “How are your people chosen as adventurers?”
“Oh, that’s simple,” said Thrain, sounding pleased that Alex had shown interest. “When we come of age at fifty, we can seek your friend, the Oracle.” Thrain seemed happy to refer to the Oracle as Alex’s friend, and Alex had to smile. “Then, if she tells us we should be adventurers, we go to Telous to find an adventure to join.”
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 te
ll 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.
“What happens if the heir doesn’t know the passwords?”
“I’ve never heard of that happening, so I’m sure you don’t need to worry about it.”
“But what if he doesn’t know?” Alex persisted.
“Well, then, I suppose the lost adventurer can’t be satisfied and you can’t give the bag back,” said Thrang. “And if that happens, the heir will need to visit either the Oracle or the bag maker in Telous to find out what the passwords are.”
“And I’d have to carry the bag until he does?”
“Yes,” said Thrang.
“What, and wait here until the heir finds out what the passwords are?”
“Not at all,” said Arconn with a soft laugh. “You would be free to go. If the heir doesn’t know the passwords, he will have to fin
d out what they are and then wait until you come back again.”
“But don’t worry,” said Thrang, slapping Alex on the shoulder. “The heir will know the words, and you’ll do fine. Just remember not to insult him by asking too little for the bag. After all, the return of a lost bag is about more than the treasure in the bag. Among dwarfs, the return of a lost bag to the adventurer’s heir is also a return of lost honor.”
As the afternoon wore on, Alex thumbed through his Adventurer’s Handbook without reading any of it. He was worried and nervous about the upcoming ceremony, and he hoped everything would work out all right. The idea of accepting a reward for returning a lost bag troubled him, and he was concerned about how much the heir would offer. He really hoped the heir’s first offer would be fair. More than anything else, he hoped the heir would know the bag’s passwords.
All too soon, the company was summoned back to the feasting hall. Alex carried the lost adventurer’s bag over his shoulder and walked quietly beside Thrang. He was still nervous, but Thrang’s instructions returned to his mind and that calmed him a little. When they entered the hall, they were seated at a table to the king’s right.
Alex could see several richly dressed and important-looking dwarfs seated around the king, and he hoped that his clean but plain clothes would be acceptable.
“Master Taylor, please come forward,” Osrik called loudly.
Alex hadn’t been paying attention to what was going on as he worried about his appearance. Thrang nudged him gently and nodded toward the king. Alex stood up and walked forward nervously, carrying the lost magic bag in his hands.
“Are you the bearer of the magic bag that once belonged to Umbar, son of Olin, the adventurer who was lost?” questioned Osrik.
“I am,” Alex replied and held the bag high above his head so everyone in the hall could see it.
The ceremony proceeded, and Alex was relieved he didn’t forget anything Thrang had told him. He worried a little when the heir—Umbar, son of Umbar—told him the bag’s passwords. The words were obviously dwarfish, and Alex was afraid he wouldn’t be able to pronounce them correctly. He managed to get in and out of the bag without too much trouble, though he had to repeat the exit password twice to get it right. Then it was time for the heir to say what he would offer for the bag’s return.
