Apprentice

Taken from the journal of Par Salain:

The Foundling entrée fourteen

It has been a month since the Test and the child is faring remarkably well with Sarilban, far better then I had suspected. But I suppose that their compatibility should not surprise me that much. After all she is a woman with out a people and he is an elf with out a home, similar situations if different circumstances that brought them about. Sarilban is a man of many secrets so I was surprised when he agreed to take Rosemarta on as his apprentice. But, as he is so fond of saying himself, his secrets guard them self's, if this were not the case I doubt very much if he would ever let anyone with in ten feet of him. He keeps the girl busy from what I hear, sorting and shelving the books and scrolls that he himself hasn't gotten too as well as the new ones that come in at a constant rate. Angelique is yet to be apprenticed at this point but I don't think it will last for long for I do believe that Tryfan may have an interest in her, in more ways then one. I my self am in need of a new apprentice but I, for obvious reasons, cannot take her. Our new students shall be arriving soon and perhaps among one of them I might find my new apprentice. Come to think of it Morgen might have made a good master for Angelique but he has been gone for this entire month and I do not expect him to be back anytime soon. Not that I'm complaining mind you, I enjoy the quiet.

The elves mind had wandered again, as it was wont to do during the quiet hours of the long workday. And as usual it was the face of a woman that filled his mind. A woman so beautiful that she seemed to have been hand crafted by the gods them self's. That was the way he had always seen her and the way he remembered her, the way he would always remember her, in the years before…. Before…

"Master Sarilban?" he jolted awake. He was seated at his desk. Before him was an open logbook, one of about twenty in which were recorded all the books and scrolls that were held in the archives of Wayreth. Ink from the quill he had been holding had dripped onto the page making a large black splotch that he frowned at before looking up.

Standing in front of him was Rosemarta, his new apprentice, looking worried.

"What? What's wrong?"

"Nothing master its just you looked…upset" Upset? Yes he supposed he must have since it had been a very long time since he had been able to think of her with out being upset.

"You were worried about me then youngling?" she nodded.

"Yes, I was" a faint smile appeared upon Sarilban's face but it was quick to disappear.

"I appreciate your concern but I am perfectly well now so kindly return to your work" when she didn't move his eyes became cold. "I said return to your work" Rosemarta bowed slowly and did as she had been bid. A tarring sound broke the sighlents of the archives as he removed the ruined page from the logbook.

On the whole Sarilban liked Rosemarta. She worked quietly and disturbed him only to ask a question or to inquire after his well being which wasn't very often.

Sarilban liked to think of himself as a man conditioned for solitude and so the loneliness of working in the archives didn't bother him in the least. Every so often he would get visitors if a certain manuscript could not be found in the library, but it was strictly business nothing more. Sarilban had few friends and even fewer acquaintances to begin with. The only mage's at the tower that he counted as friends were Dalamar and Laddona, and he didn't see much of them on a regular basis either.

Laddona had been…well he was not really sure what she had been. He had enjoyed her company, found her attractive, and had slept with her but he was not all together sure if it had been love. For he had known love before, all be it a long time ago, and with Laddona it had not felt the same. It had died not too long after starting and he had never thought of why, for he truly did not care.

Dalamar was another story all together. Dark elves were few and far between now a days and Dalamar was the only one that Sarilban had ever been able to stand, for what reason he couldn't rightly say. It could be that he saw an image of him self with in the young dark elf. Or perhaps it was the fact that the only one that could truly understand a dark elf would be another of the exact same.

But now for some reason this girl, Rosemarta, seemed…

Voices interrupted Sarilban's thoughts. Voices muffled by the books in the depths of the archives. Heaving a shallow sigh the dark elf rose from his desk to seek the voices out. He had not gone far before his keen hearing recognized one of the voices as his young apprentice, the other was still a mystery but it was definitely male. As he got closer he at last recognized it as that of Tryfan. His curiosity sparked, Sarilban stood in the shadow of one of the bookcases to listen.

"Angelique has been asking after you Rosemarta. She is concerned about your well being"

"I see, well I've been terribly busy lately and I doubt if I could get the time in to see her today. So if you could tell her from me that I am well and that I hope she is the same I will be grateful" Tryfan chuckled.

"I'll do that. Been busy have you? Sarilban's not working you too hard is he?"

"No, not at all, in fact I enjoy it"

"Glad to hear it. All the same though when it comes to Sarilban I think you ought to know"

"She ought to know what Tryfan?" asked the dark elf as he emerged from the shadows startling both mages and nearly causing Rosemarta to drop the books that she was holding. Tryfan half smiled.

"That your almost as bad as Astinus when it comes to work"

"That I am and that having been said I think you have distracted my apprentice for long enough, if you have business you will conduct it with me" he turned to Rosemarta. "As for you those books aren't going to sort them self's, back to work" Rosemarta bowed to both mages and hurried away.

"Getting along are you?" asked Tryfan, side glancing at Sarilban.

"As well as can be expected for a master and an apprentice" a malicious glint entered Tryfan's eyes, a look that was quite uncommon for him. Had anyone he had a particularly close relationship with been in the room at the time no doubt they would have been shocked to see it.

"You know there are some who think that she should have been a red robe instead"

"And you among them I suppose?" Tryfan nodded. "I see, well you know what thought did don't you Tryfan?" a tight-lipped smile appeared upon the red robes face.

"Shit him self and thought he didn't"

"Precisely, now surly you didn't come here just to distract me from my work with old news" the tight smile disappeared and Tryfan became himself again.

"Your right, I actually came down here looking for a scroll"

"Do be more spesific will you? We have many scroll's here," Sarilban said this calmly even though he knew that Tryfan and been deliberately vague just to irritate him.

"Of course, the scroll I am looking for is part of a collection written by Aleck Torin on the history of the Drow" Sarilban's eyes turned to stone.

"Is that meant to be funny?" the steel in the dark elves voice was unmistakable but Tryfan appeared unfazed.

"Not at all I am quite earnest. In fact it's a subject that I have been interested in for some time"

"Really? Since when?"

"Since I learned that Rosemarta was to be your apprentice" the two mages stared at one another for a long space of time until Sarilban finally turned his back on the red robe.

"This way" said the dark elf tersely as he led the younger red robe through the many shelves. There were many who wondered how it was possible for the elf to find his way around with out carrying a list with him at all times and a map, as other keepers of the archive had done before. Every so often one would inquire as to the dark elves secret and always they would be met with a sneer and a cold answer of.

"Do I look like a human to you?" the glib remark was usually enough to silents any further questions, especially if the asker had been human themselves. The truth of the matter was that Sarilban had a spectacular memory. He had only to look at something once and he would remember it almost flawlessly. Tryfan knew this and so was not surprised when it took but fifteen minuets to locate the scroll he had requested.

"Here it is, you know the rules for its handling I trust?" Tryfan nodded. "Good, now is that everything?"

"Yes this is all Sarilban my thanks" Tryfan bowed stiffly, Sarilban returned it and watched gratefully as the red robe departed. Hearing nothing save Rosemarta's footsteps echoing from somewhere in the archives the dark elf returned to his desk to await the end of the day.

* * *

The hour's passed almost with out Sarilban's notice. He completed fifty pages without interruption and when the chimes in the mechanized clock that Tongs had set upon an iron pole extending from the wall, finally struck the hour of five he set his quill down and rubbed his eyes warily with one hand.

He knew she was there with out looking up.

"Have you completed your days work?"

"Yes master I have"

"Very well then you may go. I shall see you on the morrow. Good night"

"Good night master" he remained at his desk and listened to her footsteps as they faded amongst the bookshelves. He heard a door open then close, then silents. He sat alone for a few more moments before closing the book, setting his quill and ink with in a drawer, and then departing for his own chamber, making sure to lock the door of the archives securely behind him.

He passed a number of mages on the stairs, none of them colleagues of his so he ignored them and continued on to his room, sealing his door with a wizards lock before retiring to his bed. He did not fall asleep for long hours, full knowing what awaited him when he did. Sleep was his most vulnerable state and so it was there that the demons he had long fought waited.

In the beginning he had thought, most logically at the time, that he would be able to deprive himself of sleep and still be able to function. Thus never having to face the demons at all. But he was soon to learn that this plan was greatly flawed for even elves needed sleep, no matter how far above humans they believed them self's. It only ever lasted but a few hours. Only for a few hours a night did he have to bare this torture and so he resigned him self to it, however reluctantly. And so he took a breath, closed his eyes, and allowed sleep to take him, into its pitiless embrace.

* * *

It was a warm and beautiful summers day, but then there was never an ugly summers day in Silvanesti or a cold one, so this description was unnecessary and highly unesenal to the memory. He lay awake looking at her, marveling at her, adoring her, as was his ever-increasing habit after every night he spent with her. Her name was Halunakara. Her hair was the color of rosewood, her skin tanned golden by the sun. She was the most beautiful thing he had is his possession and he had sworn many a time that he would never let any other have her. He let a few more minutes go by before getting up and dressing. He had worn the white robes then, for being a nobles son had entitled him to learn magic, a craft that was forbidden to anyone of low social class, such as Dalamar the Dark who still had a few centuries to go before being born.

Once he was done dressing he turned to look upon her once more before descending the stairs to the main room of the grand house that he had inherited from his father, and his father from him and so on down the line farther back then he cared to remember. It was early yet but already the servants were setting about their duties. His nose caught the smell of breakfast being made but he did not care to stop, not this morning. Had he known what was to happen later that day as a result of his next actions chances are he would have stayed his steps, turned around, and gone back. But he did not know and so he kept on.

He passed familiar faces on the many garden pathways that surrounded the palace and a few on the road leading away from it, all of which he ignored. There was one face he should have paid attention to. Those of his rival a man that was a match for him in age but not in skill. A jealous man with a conniving mind that he knew to be weary of but today his mind was on other things, so he did not see the eyes of this man following him curiously, as they had many times before but never so intently. They were searching eyes, probing eyes, burning eyes, eyes that spoke his doom.

After the first few months of being a white robe he had felt something stir with in him. He wanted more, far more then the roll of a white robe could ever give to him. But the practice of darker magic's was forbidden even to those of noble blood. And banishment awaited those who were foolish enough to get caught. But Sarilban was no fool, he had a plan, one that had served him well thus far and one that he was certain would serve him well for years to come.

He walked till he was out of sight of the city and then turned his steps onto an old abandoned hunting trail, which had been with out use for years and was now over grown with brush. At a point not too far along the path three trees, the victims of strong spring winds lay across it, completely cutting it off. It was here that Sarilban dropped to his knees to begin clearing away the dirt that covered the iron door leading down to his secret laboratory. Breaking the wizards lock Sarilban pried the door up and shoved it aside. He swung one leg over, then the other onto the ladder, went down a few rungs before pulling the door back into place. Reaching the bottom of the ladder he turned so that his back was to it before commanding the lamps to light.

The blue light of the lamps reviled a large room with a flagstone floor, walls, and ceiling. At the rooms center was a large round table littered with beakers, test tubes, and other such implements. The shelves beneath the table housed jars of many different sizes filled with herbs and other more curious things, like dried frogs. Cabinets along the walls held scrolls and books. It had taken many months to build this room. Many months of transferring materials and tools by night but it had been well worth it. He spent quite a fair amount of time here on a regular basis, learning things that would get him either killed or banished if he was not careful. But he didn't care, knowledge such as this was worth risking everything for, or so he had thought.

It was late afternoon by the time he decided to leave. He packed everything he had been working on neatly away and figured that he would give Halunakara the same story that he always did, he had appointments to keep. It was simple but believable and had always worked. He took on last look around before leavening. No sooner had he placed one hand outside of the entrance when two sets of hands grabbed hold of him and slammed him against a near by tree, while a third set took his spell components, and a forth struck him hard on the back of the head with a stone, causing him to black out.

The next thing he remembered was wakening up in chains and being dragged into the presents of the Speaker of the Stars, the great grandfather of the doomed king Lorac. The one who had betrayed him had been his long-standing rival Karistran, a jealous and spiteful man whose only goal in life was to be as big an asshole as his father had been. The evidence brought forth against him for practicing forbidden dark magic was damning and undeniable baring only one possible punishment, banishment.

He remembered how heavily the sentence had weighed on his heart. He remembered the pain of the stones that struck him as he was taken from his homeland still in chains. He remembered Halunakara screaming his name and how her voice choked off in a sickening gurgle. He remembered his own frightened cry, as he demanded to know what had happened to her. He would never find out. He remembered falling then landing hard, then nothing. Only Halunakara's scream and Karistran's laughter echoing in his ears.

* * *

"Master!" Sarilban woke with a start, sitting bolt upright in bed. He was sweating, the sheets were tangled, and he was breathing hard as if he had been running.

"Master?" the elf turned to see Rosemarta standing there in her nightdress.

"You…what are you doing here?"

"Forgive me master but I heard you calling out in your sleep. I was"

"Worried?"

"Yes" the dark elf heaved a sigh and attempted to replace the hard mask that he always wore, and collect himself. What had she heard and how much? His eyes became stone.

"If you"

"Tell anyone? You need not fear master I won't tell a soul"

"How can I trust you?"

"Do you have any reason not to? What would I gain from telling anyone of this besides that I respect you far too much to ever do anything of the sort" Sarilban's mask cracked and fell away as a faint smile came across his lips.

"I thank you youngling but tell me what was it that I was saying?"

"You kept repeating a name, a woman's I think, and a mans. The only other words I was able to pick up were betrayal and banishment. The other words I didn't understand. You were speaking elfish"

"I see" Sarilban fell quiet for a while; Rosemarta remained where she was allowing him to collect his thoughts. "Do you have any idea what its like to loose everything youngling? To loose everything you loved in one foul blow? So swiftly that you could almost swear is was a dream but when you wake you know it for the horrible truth?" for long moments Rosemarta didn't answer because she didn't know how to, Sarilban was about to tell her to leave when.

"Yes master, I do"

"What?" he was surprised for he had not expected her to answer. She settled her eyes upon a nearby chair.

"May I sit down?" the elf nodded

"Please do"

"Thank you" she sat, took a breath, and then looked the ancient dark elf in the eyes. "I was only a very young child when Morgen found me alone at the side of the road leading to Palanthas, or at least that what he says, I wouldn't count on that being the entire truth but for now let us say that that is all there is to it. I didn't remember a thing about my parents and I still don't. I used to be able to remember odd phrases or a personality trait but I can't even remember that now and it is likely that in time I will forget them completely. This tower is the only home I have ever known, or it's the only one I can remember. So yes master I know what it is like to loose everything all too well"

Sarilban regarded her with something that resembled stunned silents on his face. This was not the answer he had been expecting. Par Salain's words to him from a month back suddenly came to him and replayed in his head.

"Why did you decide to take the child as your apprentice when you refused all the others before her?" Par Salain had asked.

" All the others were humans" he had hissed.

"Not so, there were elves too if I recall Sarilban the Shadow Stalker, and quite gifted ones at that. So why after all this time have you finally decided to take an apprentice?"

"Laddona and Dalamar both spoke on her behalf and requested it of me. She is also far more skilled then the others I have seen. And after all these years I could use the help, and the company as well...I suppose"

"But she is neither human or elf" he had smiled and turned to face the white robe.

"Exactly"

He had not understood that answer, until now. The ancient dark elf detested humans and elves, for the obvious reason, both but this girl was neither one nor the other. She was something different, something he could not name. Intriguing and above all tolerable on a most pleasant level. The ghost of a pleasant smile appeared on his face.

"Thank you youngling. You may go now I'm alright"

"Are you sure master?" the elf nodded.

"Yes I am sure, good night" Rosemarta stood and bowed to him.

"Good night master Sarilban" as she left the elf settled back down into his bed. He lay awake for a few more minuets before closing his eyes and enjoying the first peaceful sleep he had had in what seemed like centuries.