Night Visitors

Taken from the journal of Par Salain:

The Foundling entrée thirty-four

I must first beg my own pardon for this five-month absence. Much of my time has been placed toward the training of Tarrin and Roent, which I feel is a far more worthy and important goal then this now a days. Both boys are doing remarkably well, same as before. The bond they share is an inspiration, it keeps them strong and steadfast in their wish to continue on and become mages. It would not surprise me at all if they found a way to help one another through their tests when the time comes at last.

With the passing of another Festival of the Eye the leaves of Wayreth have been painted with astoundingly beautiful shades of gold, crimson, and auburn. And the day that will mark the passing of Rosemarta's second year upon the road draws nearer. I wish that I could know how much she has changed during the time that has passed. Perhaps I shall pay a call upon her when she returns, or seek her out if she settles elsewhere. I find my self-griped by a most profound sense of curiosity. If she is no different from when she left here I will be very much surprised.

Morgen sat at his favorite table in The Bores Head with Marz on his right, Gremelkin on his left and a half empty bottle of whisky between them. Morgen had spent the Festival of the Eye at the Tower, same as last year, and, same as last year, he had spent the evening in his room with friends drinking and talking. The next day, once his hang over had subsided enough that he could think with out wanting to puke, he had decided that it was about time he took to the road again. Gremelkin had gotten wind of his plans and decided to invite himself along. Not that Morgen minded his company at all, in fact the old cat was rather companionable and could hold his licker remarkably well for a feline. The problem was he reminded the old red robe of Rosemarta. Oh well that's what whiskey was for, repressing memories. Morgen smiled to himself as he took another shot.

"So you haven't seen her then? Not at all?" asked Marz as he refilled his own shot glass. Morgen shook his head.

"Not at all, not since the new year. Dalamar ran into her in Thorbardin and according to him she is doing well. Won her self some four hundred steel that she split with a dwarf friend of hers. When I asked him where she went he said she hadn't specified. Just said she was heading north and didn't have any plans to return to the Tower or anywhere any time soon" Morgen downed another shot.

"What's she looking for?" Morgen shrugged.

"Who knows?"

"I doubt very highly she even knows. If she did she would have found it by now don't you think?" this from Gremelkin before clamping his teeth around the shot glass and tilting his head back. Morgen nodded.

"That's true enough"

"Will she ever come back do you think?" asked Marz his eyes settled upon his glass.

"I think so. She said that she would either return to the Tower or if she found someplace else that she would send for me. If that happens I'll contact the both of you somehow. Krif owes me a few favors its time I collected them" the old cat chuckled. Morgen smiled at him and scratched behind his undamaged left ear. Marz smiled too and at last drank down his shot.

"I hope she does find someplace else"

"So do I my friend. I wouldn't wish a life in that Tower upon my worst…no wait yes I would. But I wouldn't wish it on her, not her"

"She told me it was more likely that she would end up returning to the Tower but I do not think that is what she really wants"

"Problem with Rosemarta is she thinks she doesn't deserve anything. Not friends, family, lovers or a home. Its those damnable black robes they changed her" Gremelkin shook his head.

"No, if anything has changed her Morgen it's the road. Dalamar is a black robe and he thinks the world belongs to him and he would take it if he wanted it. Thankfully his ambition goes only so far"

"I cannot imagine my princess being so changed" Marz's voice was quiet. Morgen placed a hand upon his friends shoulder.

"We wont know till we see her again my friend"

"Thank the gods she still believes her self to be human. If she were to"

"Gremelkin!" Morgen's gaze flicked to the cat and then back to his friend. The Minotaur seemed not to have heard. Gremalkin had modified his thoughts so that only Morgen had heard. The old red robe sighed and muttered.

"You mind what you say" the old cat shrugged and pawed at his glass for it to be refilled, Morgen obliged. Just then the door of the Bores Head opened and in walked an old man in tattered gray robes and a similarly tattered and abused looking hat sitting atop a head of long white hair, the brim of which cast a shadow over his face. His beard hung down past his knees and in one hand he carried a plain looking wooden staff. The bar tender smiled at him and waved.

"Fizban!"

"Where?" cried the old man in alarm taking his staff in both hands and looking about himself. The bar tender laughed, as did a number of the other patrons and even the old man himself as he lowered his staff and walked up to the bar.

"Oh no" Gremelkin groaned.

"A friend of yours Gremelkin?" asked Morgen, his eyes fixed upon Fizban.

"Not exactly"

"Do you know him Marz?" the Minotaur nodded.

"Not on personal terms but he comes in here every so often to tell stories and drink mead. He's perfectly harmless but I think he's also more then a little bats"

"I am inclined to agree" suddenly the old man turned in their direction. Seeing Gremelkin his face lit up as a grin appeared upon his lips.

"Why bless my soul if it isn't Gremelkin. What a coincidence this is. How have you been?" while saying this he picked up his glass of mead and walked over to join the warrior cat at the table.

"Well enough but suddenly I do not feel all that well"

"Really? Oh my what a shame. I have some medicine about me somewhere if you wish" remembering the old mans scatter brained tendencies Gremelkin was not all together sure that he could trust any medicine of his. More likely then not it would make him sicker still or worse.

"No thank you, I'm sure it will pass"

"Very well if you're sure"

"I am"

"And who are these two fine gentlemen sitting with you?" Fizban turned to face Morgen and Marz.

"These are my friends Morgen Dasrenvair and Marz Stonesheild"

"A pleasure gentlemen" Fizban held out a hand to Morgen who took it warmly.

"The pleasure is ours Fizban"

"It seems that I have heard of the both of you" while saying this he presented his hand to Marz.

"You have?" asked Marz as he shook the elderly man's hand. Fizban nodded.

"Quite, do you mind if I sit down?"

"Be our guest," said Morgen indicating the empty chair next to him.

"Thank you" a silence passed between them as Fizban took his seat and drank his mead. Gremelkin cleared his throat.

"You were saying Fizban?"

"Hum? Was I? What was I saying?"

"About how you know Morgen and Marz?"

"Oh? Oh yes, right. Well I have of course heard of your marvelous work sir Marz. You are said to be the finest silver smith in Palanthas" Marz scratched the back of his neck.

"Well I would not call my self the finest but when it comes to my work only the best will suit. I've never had a disappointed customer and I want to keep it that way"

"Quite right quite right, but might I say modesty can be just as much a bad thing as a good thing"

"And how do you know of me? If I may ask?" asked Morgen, refilling his shot glass. Fizban turned to Morgen and was silent for a while as if considering his answer carefully. He watched as Morgen downed his shot and refilled his glass again.

"I know you through the reputation that you have established for your self here. You are rather notorious Master Morgen. Your name it seems is known rather well in many parts of this city"

"Is it now? Well that is news to me. I know of my own reputation but I did not know it reached so far"

"Indeed it does but might I say that if I were you I would be worried to be known for such things" Morgen shrugged.

"What for? If I'm to be known for something I would rather it be for something that I am rather then something I pretend to be like a great many others in this city"

"In my friends defense sir. I will say that Morgen is a good man despite his faults. He has always been a good friend to me and I warn you any one who says a bad word against him answers to me" Marz looked upon Fizban coldly. The old man did not so much as flinch under Marz's gaze and returned it with a simple smile and a nod.

"You are an honorable man sir Marz and I respect you. Rest assured I would never say anything against any man who is a friend of yours. Besides that I can see for my self that Master Morgen is as you say he is" the Minotaur returned the old mans smile and drank another shot. Another silence passed and Fizban took it as an opportunity to take a drink of his mead. He twirled his glass absent mindedly before looking up again. "So might I ask what brought you three here this evening?" Morgen picked up the bottle and shook it.

"Your looking at it pretty much, just sharing a bottle and talking. Marz's wife and son went home a long while ago. So we decided to hang around for a bit, have a men's night out"

"I see, might I ask what you were talking about"

"Nothing that would interest you" said Gremelkin, perhaps with a sharper edge to his voice then was necessary, but Fizban took no note of it.

"What Gremelkin means is its family matters mostly, kind of personal" said Marz, pouring the warrior cat another shot before filling his own glass.

"Ah I see, well, and forgive me for being rude, might these family matters involve a certain young woman by the name of Rosemarta?" at this Gremelkin groaned again and both Morgen and Marz looked sharply from one another back to the old man.

"How do you know that name?" asked Morgen.

"Gremelkin and I are not strangers. I know her through him"

"That's not true. The first time we met you knew her name before I even had a chance to give it to you and you knew mine too"

"Did I?"

"Yes"

"Oh, well maybe I heard someone else say it before I ran into you"

"I don't see how the only other living thing you might have run into in the forest of Wayreth would have been a wolf and you wouldn't have gotten anything out of one of them, unless you can speak to animals on top of all your other talents" Fizban shrugged.

"I've never tried it before. Well that is to say I've never tried talking to a wild animal before. I mean I'm talking to you aren't I and you're an animal are you not? Even if you are a rather intelligent one"

"You still haven't answered my question"

"Which one?"

"In the name of Sargonnas never mind how you know her name, why do you think we might have been talking about her?" asked Marz, fast growing tired of this argument which had a clear path to no where. Fizban turned from Gremelkin to look at Marz.

"That's easy, you're worried about her and rightly so. A very troubled young woman is Rosemarta, very troubled indeed"

"You've seen her?" asked Morgen, hope making his voice light.

"On a few occasions yes"

"Do you know where she is now?"

"Admittedly no but I think I can safely say that she will be nearing the end of her travels very soon"

"Did she say so to you?"

"No"

"Then how can you say that truthfully?"

"I believe him. Don't ask me how but he's usually right about these things" this from Gremelkin, cutting the old man to the chase and remembering what he had said about Tarrin and Roent as well as what he had said about Rosemarta being alright after her trial concerning the duel. Morgen and Marz regarded the warrior cat silently, both thinking his sudden choice to side with Fizban, who was obviously a few bricks short of a load, more then a little strange. Both of them shrugged, deciding it best just to go along with him rather then to start an argument that the old cat, though half drunk, was sure to win.

Another silence, longer then the first two, settled over the table. In time, seeming to have forgotten their entire conversation, Fizban began telling a story, only to them at first and then to all of the Bores Head's patrons. Morgen, Marz, and Gremelkin finished off what remained in the bottle and listened to the old mans story, crazy though he may have been he was a good storyteller. At the stories end the three friends stood up and departed, Morgen leaning upon Marz for support as they staggered out the door and turned up the street to head for the Minotaurs home.

Not long after their departure Fizban walked up to the bar to return his glass and pay for a room. Key in hand he walked up stairs, his staff sounding hollowly upon the floor. Instead of lying down upon the bed and sleeping, once he reached his room, instead he bunched up the extra blanket, the pillows, drew the covers over them and placed his hat at the head of the bed. He then locked the door and slipped out through the window into the ally below. It was almost a sure thing that no one would try to get into the room now that it was locked but he had decided to set up the ruse anyway just in case. It was a simple and rather old trick but it never failed.

From the ally he made his way to the main street, looked both ways to be sure that Gremelkin and the others were out of sight, before heading in the opposite direction back toward the city gate. One task done, one more to go.

* * *

It was well past midnight but Rosemarta found she could not sleep, her thoughts simply refused to quiet and allow her to do so. This coming new year would mark the second year of travel. She thought back upon all she had done during these past soon to be two years and found that it amounted to absolutely nothing. She had seen many places, had adventures, met many people, made friends and enemies alike but aside from that what had she done? She had set out looking for something she was sure. But what was it? Had she found it? She reasoned not since if she had she surly would have stopped wandering by now.

What was it that she wanted out of life? A home? She had one to return to at the Tower but she did not much take comfort in that thought. A lover? Perhaps a future husband? No, what she knew of men thus far still left her with quite a few misgivings and besides that she had come to the rightful conclusion long ago that such a thing would never be hers, only in dreams. A means to make her own way in the world maybe? But how? She could become a professional musician. Offer her talent permanently to some rich lord or Innkeeper. That would not be such a bad life except for the fact that she was a mage first. She could not see her self-sacrificing one talent for another. When it came right down to it her magic was far more important then her music. But her magic could not earn her a living; well unless she opened a mage were shop. But where? She couldn't compete with Jenna and she didn't intend to try. Everywhere else either already had a shop or had no use for one, and no use for her either.

And there was the thought that plagued her the most. Where did she belong? At one time she would have said the Tower but that wasn't the case anymore. Now a days the farther away from the Tower she was the better. The only people she really missed were Gremelkin and Sarilban. She had a home in Palanthas she knew. Marz and his family would welcome her with open arms as they always had. Yes if there was any place that had ever felt remotely like home to her it was Palanthas. But then the same question again, how would she make a living for her self? She refused to live off of Marz for the rest of her life. No she could not live in Palanthas. So where then?"

The sound of footsteps broke Rosemarta away from her thoughts. Her head snapped up, a hand reached for her dagger and her mind brought a complete arsenal of spells to mind.

"Who's there?" A log shifted in her fire and sent up a shower of sparks, illuminating the form of an old man in gray robes. He bowed to her, reaching as if for the brim of a hat and then, suddenly realizing or remembering that he didn't have one, dropped his hand again and said,

"Just a road weary traveler like your self. Would you mind terribly much if I were to warm my self by your fire?" Rosemarta thought for a while then heaved a sigh as she banished the spells from the for front of her mind and relaxed again.

"Be my guest old man"

"Thank you, and the name is Fizban by the way" while saying this the old man settled down next to the fire across from Rosemarta and held his hands a safe distance from the flames. "Do you not intend to give me your name as well?"

"No I do not intend to give you my name as well. If you don't like it you can leave" Fizban shrugged.

"Very well suit your self"

"I will" a silence passed over them and Fizban regarded Rosemarta through the flames as discreetly as possible. This wasn't going to be easy.

"How long have you been on the road?"

"It will be two years come this winter"

"Two years? Shouldn't you be returning home soon? I'm sure there are quite a few people worried about you"

"I doubt it and besides that I don't have a home to return to"

"Oh come now everyone has a home"

"Well I don't so just leave it be"

"Alright, well do you know where you're going then?" Rosemarta shook her head and stirred up the logs in the fire, sending up sparks and causing them to crack and hiss in protest.

"No, I think I've been everywhere that's of any interest to me so now I'm just wandering"

"Everywhere hum?" a strange light appeared in Fizban's eyes and it had nothing to do with the fires light. "What about Solace?" Rosemarta looked up.

"Solace?"

"Do not tell me you've never heard of it"

"I've heard of it. I suspect anyone who has read or heard the old stories or is old enough to still remember the War of the Souls has. I've also heard the name from a few of my fellow travelers but I have never been my self"

"Well then there's your destination. It's a lovely town with very fascinating people. I think you'll like it" Rosemarta shrugged.

"I'll think about it"

"Think hard, it would be such a shame if you were to pass it up"

"Have you been there?" Fizban nodded.

"Yes many times and I've always found my self reluctant to leave. Might be a nice place to settle down one of these days" to this Rosemarta said nothing placing the stick she had been using to stir up the fire aside and folding her hands inside the sleeves of her robes. She did not need to ask where the town was or what it looked like for she already knew that from the stories that she had read. For some reason it had just never occurred to her to go there. Thinking on it now she decided it might not be such a bad idea in fact it sounded like the perfect ending to her travels. A place with such a history as Solace would definitely be a fitting place to say good bye to the road, at least until she got sick and tired of the Tower as Morgen always did.

"I'm not so sure about that last part old man but I think I shall go there one day soon" a wide grin appeared on Fizban's face.

"Splendid! You wont regret it I assure you" while saying this he rose to his feet, still grinning, "Well I thank you for your hospitality but I must be on my way now. I have a fair way to go yet before I can feel comfortable settling down for the night. Fare well, perhaps our paths shall cross again one day, perhaps in Solace" he bowed to her and turned to walk out of the reach of the fires light and back to the road. Before he was out of an earshot Rosemarta called out to him.

"Old man, I mean Fizban?" he stopped and half turned to her.

"Yes?"

"My name? Its Rosemarta Dasrenvair" he smiled.

"Well then fare well to you Rosemarta Dasrenvair and I know we shall meet again" he turned around and walked away into the dark of the night which would soon be early morn. Rosemarta remained awake for a few moments longer before lying down. She did not expect to fall asleep, considering she had already tried and failed to do so on four other occasions that same night, but this time sleep came swiftly, bringing peace to her troubled mind and filling her dreams with images of Solace.

* * *

Fizban returned to Palanthas feeling rather pleased with himself, at last things were finally starting to fall into place. He walked back to the ally behind the Bores Head and used the boxes and trash bins there to regain the window of his room. He closed the window before returning his bed to order and climbing in. How nice it was going to feel to sleep in.

* * *

The morning was frosty, but nowhere near as chill as what she remembered from nights before. She stoked up the fire and fixed a pot of tea for her self, the entirety of which she drank. She ate a breakfast of bread, cheese, and bacon then sat to wait for the day to warm up a bit before breaking camp and turning her steps west. Rosemarta was still a long way away from Solace, much ground, and many places, familiar and not, separating her from the famous town but she would get there someday soon. And no matter how much the road had changed her she still agreed that the best things in life were well worth waiting for.