Lost City Read online

“Not again!” Maelnar snapped. “Do you know how many times I have heard you claim that definitive proof of Nar’s location has been found? Twenty six, Tristofer. Refresh my memory. How many times were you proved wrong?”

  “Well, twenty six if you must know. This time is different!”

  Maelnar crossed his arms over his chest. “If ever there were a time to convince me, lad, it would be now.”

  “Can you not see that this mark is a map?”

  Maelnar held up the map he was still clutching in his right hand.

  “This is a map. That is a mark. Map. Mark. See the difference?”

  Tristofer was unfazed. “Look at the facts, Master Maelnar. The multi-layered spell that created the mark was cast recently.”

  “You don’t know that for certain.”

  “Shardwyn has all but confirmed it. The mark reacts to –”

  “I have not,” Shardwyn contradicted.

  “The mark also reacts to Narian artifacts,” Tristofer continued, ignoring Shardwyn’s objections. “It also –”

  “I have a question,” a small voice asked, and was promptly drowned out by the heated argument Maelnar and Tristofer were having. Shardwyn was the one who noticed Lukas’ raised hand.

  “I believe the young master has a question.”

  Everyone turned to Lukas. Everyone but Tristofer, that is. Taking advantage of the sudden silence, the scholar tried yet again to convince everyone that the mark was indeed a map.

  “If you will just listen a moment you will see that –”

  Shardwyn held up his right hand as a warning. White sparks erupted out of the tip of his index finger as he did so. Tristofer instantly fell silent.

  Lukas was silent for a few moments as he thought about how to best phrase his question. “Do all Questor Marks have some type of reaction when brought into contact with other Narian objects?”

  Tristofer waved his hand as though he was shooing away an irritating insect. “I’m sure they do. Now, obviously the –”

  “Wait a moment,” Venk interrupted. The gruffness of his voice managed to silence the scholar.

  Tristofer glanced irritably at Venk to see why he had been interrupted.

  “If jhorun is involved, how do we know the mark doesn’t react to all maps? Or all books? Can we verify my son’s mark only reacts to Narian items?”

  Maelnar nodded. It was a valid question. And, he had just the thing to address Venk’s query. In the top drawer of his desk was a dagger rumored to have been created in Nar. Unfortunately, no one could authenticate it. For over two centuries it had remained locked in his desk. Maelnar retrieved the dagger, but not before he wrote out another request and handed it to an additional underling.

  “See to it that it arrives here with all the speed that can be afforded,” he told the boy. The underling nodded and slipped away through the door.

  “The owner of this dagger asserts it is a true Narian dirk. I disagree, as does most everyone else. Let’s see what happens to the mark.”

  Unsheathing the small four inch dagger and holding the curved blade close to the boy’s back, Maelnar and Shardwyn both leaned over to inspect the mark. No changes.

  “Do you have access to any other Narian artifacts that we can use to test this hypothesis?” Shardwyn asked him.

  “The Archives has one other artifact,” Maelnar told him, “which I have just sent for. It’s an inventory list from a Narian merchant. It’s one of the other few Narian documents we know to be true. If young master Lukas’ mark reacts to that list, we’ll know.”

  “Hold that storybook next to him now,” Athos instructed. “Now that the quest has been accepted, will the mark react again?”

  Curious, Maelnar retrieved his granddaughter’s book and held it out to Lukas’ back. The tiny Narian hammer within the border darkened and became more pronounced. Pulling the book away from the mark resulted in the hammer becoming several shades lighter. Maelnar repeated the test with the map and then the dagger. Same results with the map, but the dagger failed to elicit a response from the mark. Tristofer was right. The mark was only reacting to authentic Narian artifacts. He was definitely going to have to research the book’s author when he had some time.

  Ten minutes later the inventory sheet arrived from the Archives. Keeping the document in the sealed frame, Maelnar held the scrap of paper to Lukas’ mark. Sure enough, the hammer intensified in color one more time. It reverted back to the same shade as the rest of the mark once the paper had been pulled away.

  “Very well,” Maelnar conceded. “That’s one point for Tristofer. However, this still doesn’t convince me this is a map to Nar.”

  “Of course it’s a map,” Tristofer insisted. “Think about the mark’s origin. Only the strongest and most talented wizards could have cast the spell necessary to make that mark. And the very existence of that mark proves that a quest is waiting. How can we not see it through to the end? Especially when it will lead us to the lost city?”

  “What if the person who cast the spell was Narian?” Lukas wondered aloud.

  Everyone fell silent. Most everyone.

  “Of course!” Tristofer exclaimed, drawing frowns from both Maelnar and Venk, with the latter directing his scowl at his son. “We have to ask ourselves if this might be a misfired spell cast by a Narian centuries ago. Or could it be that there are survivors still living in Nar that are trying to make contact? If so, why did they wait so long? Why choose to give the mark to a boy when it should have been given to someone more...”

  Tristofer trailed off as both Venk and Athos focused their angry stares on him.

  “Suitable. I was going to say suitable, not deserving.”

  “Wise choice, scholar,” Athos mumbled under his breath.

  Tristofer groaned aloud and ran his hands through his hair. “Why can you not see what needs to be done? What do I have to do? Present these clues to someone else to see what their opinion is? One clue by itself is enough to warrant an expedition. If you take into consideration the discovery of all the clues in such a short amount of time then you must see that an expedition is inevitable. There is only one question you must now consider: do we ignore or do we act?”

  “Present the clues to whom?” Maelnar asked suspiciously. If the scholar was threatening to make his findings public then he was in for a rude awakening.

  Tristofer shrugged. “To anyone who will listen. This is too important to ignore. I’m sorry, Maelnar, but if you do not convince the Council to –”

  Tristofer’s threat came to an abrupt halt as Maelnar looked over at Shardwyn and then inclined his head towards the scholar. He whispered a few words to the wizard. Moments later a heavy piece of burlap appeared out of thin air and adhered itself to Tristofer’s mouth, silencing him instantly. No amount of pulling would dislodge the piece of cloth and restore his speech. The scholar’s surprised eyes locked on Shardwyn’s. The wizard shrugged.

  “Apologies. I was challenged to render someone mute from ten feet away. I told him I could do it from a hundred. Besides, I have always wanted to try that spell.”

  Tristofer turned to Maelnar, his eyes pleading for an explanation.

  “Listen carefully,” Maelnar began, in a much lower tone than was expected. The others inadvertently crowded a little closer so as to hear what was being said. “Several prominent families have spent countless fortunes on expeditions to find Nar. Powerful families. If this is as legitimate as you say it is, then this must be kept very quiet.”

  Tristofer squawked with outrage. He had a chance to be a part of the single most important archaeological discovery of his people in the last millennia and he had to keep quiet? Everyone knows scholars share their work!

  Maelnar nodded at Shardwyn, who waved his arm dismissively. The seal over Tristofer’s mouth disappeared.

  “And I suppose if I were to announce my findings I would find my mouth sealed shut again?” Tristo
fer asked, casting a condescending look at the wizard.

  “Indubitably.”

  “Will I ever be allowed to share the discovery?”

  “That remains to be seen.”

  Tristofer sighed. “But you will send an expedition, will you not?”

  Maelnar was silent as he stared down at the map which had been in his family’s possession for centuries. His eyes flicked to the merchant paper brought over from the Archives. Finally, his gaze settled on the underling’s back and the Questor’s Mark it held.

  “Let us adjourn until tomorrow. I will meet with the Council and see which course of action they wish to follow. I will send for everyone when a decision has been made. Shardwyn, before you return to R’Tal, may I have a word?”

  Surprised, the wizard followed Maelnar out of the room.