Books Page 5

"As your host, I insist you rest," Stiofan said, and grinned at Odran. "I've a feast prepared. First we eat, then
we'll talk."

The table in the Great Hall had been lavishly prepared in anticipation of this gathering. Platters of succulent
roasted boar surround by honey-glazed asparagus, carrots and potatoes, large wooden bowls filled to the brim
with juicy grapes and large fleshy apples, along with ample amounts of ale, cider and warmed milk to wash it all
down.

"Of course," Fadi said. "Your hospitality is much appreciated."

Mor could tell by Fadi's tone that he would have rather skipped the formalities and get right down to the purpose
of his visit. However, he had enough wits about him not to dismiss the customs and traditions of Afia's ruling
house.

Once his fascination with the old magi had passed, Mor found himself staring at the girl, his gaze hidden behind
a skeletal carcass of the roast boar. She handled herself well, speaking only when spoken to, possessed
exquisite table manners and displayed the class and upbringing in which she was obviously raised. She was
perfect - except for the more than ample amount of food on her plate for someone of her size.

Stiofan kept his eye on his guests, making sure everyone was taken care of, and waited patiently until all were
finished before he spoke. "Shall we retire to the hearth and discuss why we are here?"

"That would be ideal," Fadi said, but with no contempt or impatience in his voice, which surprised Mor since the
feast had lasted well into the evening hours.

Mor didn't even notice the chairs around the fireplace had been pushed back to accommodate a small table. His
stomach was full and his eyes were heavy, but he was curious as to why two old strangers had journeyed so far
to speak with his father.

"We have received a sign from Torthecrea," Fadi began. "Days ago, the night sky at Bashkim Keep lit up with
hundreds of lights streaking through the Aurora Australis all the way to the sea with tails ablaze. It is surely a
sign from Torthecrea. A new Bashkim was been exalted."

"I'm sorry Fadi," Stiofan said. "I do not understand the importance of this or what this has to do with us."
Fadi leaned in closer, as if the reason Stiofan didn't understand was because he couldn't hear properly. "It has
been over two thousand years since the last devastation of man."

"Man?" Zustand asked. "The world of man is a myth, is it not?"

"No Zustand," Fadi said. "The world of man is very real. The survivors of the last catastrophe are beginning to
congregate. To rebuild what was lost," Fadi explained. "Who knows how much knowledge of old they have
managed to hold onto." Fadi paused. "Or how much they have lost." His voice trembled. "The anointing of a new
Bashkim is a sign. Man is in need of guidance. They are ripe to receive the blessed message of grace that is
Torthecrea, and the Bashkim is a gift to man."

Mor shivered. It felt like he was in a dream. He had heard countless stories of the world of man when he was a
young boy and most of them were either terribly sad or horribly frightening.

"So . . . you've been there?" Stiofan asked. "The world of man?"

"Yes . . . many times," Fadi replied. "It was my role . . . and the task of all Bashkims before me and those that
will follow."

"Is it as terrifying as the legends?"

"At times . . . but it is almost as beautiful as our own Kumari Kandam."

"Man!" Odran hissed, failing to hide any contempt. "Torthecrea's favorite and the most flawed creation of us all.
Nothing but trouble if you ask me."

"Do you know where this new Bashkim is?" Zustand asked, ignoring Odran's bitter words.

"I do not," Fadi admitted. "But we are not without a map. For tens of thousands of years, the ones chosen as
seekers have followed The Golden Path."

"The Golden Path?" Stiofan asked. "I've heard of no such . . . path."

"It's been so long . . ." Fadi said and paused, scratching his head. "But if you would be so kind as to retrieve
your charts."

"Mor," Stiofan said.

Mor stood up and walked to the bookcase to get the scrolls. He knew right where they were kept, but he
lingered as he could feel her eyes upon him, studying him, just like had studied her when she first arrived and
during the feast. Slowly he pulled the scrolls off the shelf and returned to his seat.

Fadi whispered as he studied the maps, but nothing Mor could understand. He ran an unsteady finger along the
map of Kumari Kandam, the Chosen Land, as their land and the lands surrounding Afia all the way to the seas
were called.

"The new Bashkim will be found somewhere along this route," Fadi said.

"What sort of path is this?" Stiofan asked. "It circles around itself and has no logic about it at all."