13th Day of Fireseek, 565 CY
Wizard's Guild, Willip, Furyondy

Silently, Cygnus and Zantac stood in the doorway and watched the activity going on in the workshop before them.

Three wizards, all wearing worker-style brown vests over linen trousers and shirts, were inside the cramped space, working with six sheets of what looked like thin glass to Cygnus. Two of them were ten feet square, but the others were twice as long. As he watched, Hogeth and Thormord fitted one of the longer sheet's edges into a L-shaped metal frame, directed by the third wizard. One of the shorter sheets was then fitted into the other side of the frame, so the two sheets now made a corner. The other two wizards were making incantations and running their hands over the sheets and the frame.

Cygnus turned to Zantac and whispered, "It looks like they're making a cage box of some kind. What for?"

Zantac could only shrug. "Don't know. Must be a special commission that just came in. I'd heard nothing. Don't ask about it, though."

Thormord addressed his co-workers. "That'll do it for tonight, people. Replace remember to out all your equipment back where it belongs, and I'll see you tomorrow. If only briefly," he added with a quick smile, his eyes flickering to the doorway.

Cygnus and Zantac stepped back into the corridor so that the others could file out.

"Zantac!" said a rather portly wizard dressed in brick-red robes coming around the curved hallway, who was mopping his forehead with a white silk handkerchief. "It's good to have you back. You must be Cygnus; I'm Martan!" He added, grasping Cygnus' hand and shaking it vigorously.

Cygnus nodded. "Pleased to meet you, Martan. I'm here to train up. I'm sure I'll see you around."

Martan raised an admiring eyebrow at Zantac. "Training up. Really?"

Zantac moved quickly, hoping to squash any rumors. "Trial basis only, Martan." He then leaned in close to his friend. "Where's Aimee?" he asked quietly.

"Spell research. Started just after you left. She should be out of touch for another week, at least." He narrowed his eyes. "Why do you ask?"

"I'll stop by before we turn in. Tell you then." Martan nodded and headed back the way he had come moved off as Hogeth Grayeye came out of the workshop.

Cygnus took the initiative, shaking Hogeth's hand and looking him straight in the eye. At six-foot-five, he was closer to that standard than any of the other wizards he had seen here. "Good to see you again, Hogeth. I hope we can talk shop later."

The half-orc peered keenly at Cygnus, searching for signs of patronage or pity. Apparently he found none, for something that probably passed for a smile among half-orcs appeared on his face. He said nothing, but nodded and moved down the corridor after Martan, passing a wizard in dark blue robes with curly gray hair and a mutton-chop beard who was now approaching them.

"Cygnus, this is Naury." Zantac's introduction was business-like. He knew Naury wouldn't treat Cygnus any better than he treated anyone else, so he decided not to waste any effort to the contrary.

Naury however, surprised Zantac. He wasn't friendly by any stretch of the imagination, but his demeanor was almost personable as he shook Cygnus' hand. "Heard a lot about you, Cygnus. Enjoy your stay." Naury, having apparently come up to the tower's fourth floor for the sole purpose of meeting Cygnus, also began to return down the corridor towards the stairs that led down.

"Hope it was all good!" Cygnus called after him with a smile.

Naury turned around, with an expression about as much akin to a smile as Hogeth's.

"As a matter of fact, he couldn't say enough good things about you." His light brown eyes seemed to rake over Cygnus. "Must be hard to live up to such a reputation."

"Who was-" Cygnus began, but Naury had already moved out of sight around the curving corridor.

A voice from his right drew his attention before he could ponder on this.

"Good to see you again, Cygnus. I trust you're ready for an exhaustive week?"

"I believe you've already met our Scribe and your new instructor, Thormord." Zantac put in. Thormord's green eyes almost glowed at Cygnus underneath his bushy eyebrows, and above that pasted-on smile. "You left for Willip this morning?" he asked as he shook Cygnus' hand. "You must have made good time."

Cygnus nodded. "Yes, sir. We have excellent horses."

Thormord returned the nod. "Indeed, I have heard. I'd love to speak with them sometime," he added, leaving no doubt he knew of their unique qualities. The Scribe's face then took on something of a puzzled quality. "Tell me, Cygnus, did my son ever mention me to you?"

Cygnus' expression now matched Thormord's. "Your son, sir?"

The Scribe smiled and nodded, apparently satisfied about something, although Cygnus couldn't tell what. "The honorific is not needed here, good Cygnus. My son is also a wizard; a somewhat absent-minded one, it seems. You've met him. Thorimund."

Cygnus' expression did not change, except perhaps to add a little apologetic flavor to it. "Pardon, sir-, er, Thormord. Thorimund?"

The elder wizard's face darkened just a touch. "Yes, Thorimund." He paused. "He is a follower of Wainold."

None of this was ringing a bell for Cygnus. "Wainold?"

The Scribe was now clearly getting impatient. "Yes, Wainold!" He glared at Cygnus. "You've known the man for years!"

No change.

"The druid, man! The druid!"

"Oh!" The light dawned on Cygnus now, and he smiled. "You mean Wayne! Yes, I remember Thorimund now. A good man, but he never mentioned you." He looked expectantly at the Scribe now and was mildly surprised to see Thormord's eyebrows shoot way up, and his mouth fall open slightly.

"Wayne? You call him Wayne? A child's name?"

Cygnus gave a wry smile. "Actually, Argo calls him Wayne of The Woods. I think he does it just to see the steam come out of his ears, but that's Argo for you."

Thormord shook his head. "I'm amazed that you all didn't take root and sprout leaves on the spot. Druids have little humor, and those of the Old Faith even less so."

Cygnus shrugged. "That's been my experience as well, but for some reason, Wayne, er, Wainold, seems to tolerate it, if only just."

"Interesting," came a voice from behind them. "Private party, or may anyone join?"

Cygnus and Zantac turned around. Zelhile, the third wizard who had been in the workshop when the duo had arrived, was eyeing them all, with one of his smiles firmly chiseled on his stone face. Thormord quickly moved to make the introductions. "Cygnus, may I present the Guildmaster Zelhile?"

The two shook hands. Doesn't anyone around here have a normal smile, Cygnus thought. He wasn't sure he wanted to know what the Guildmaster was thinking. He suddenly felt transparent and a little cold, despite the magically maintained temperature in the building. "I'm honored, Guildmaster" he said.

Zelhile nodded slightly, with no change of expression. "I look forward to speaking with you later, Cygnus." His gaze then shifted to Zantac. "I'd like to see you downstairs for a moment, if I may, Zantac." He turned and walked off. "The Meeting Room. Five minutes."

Zantac gulped.

Thormord was gesturing Cygnus back into the workshop. "I've been told you're already set up in your quarters, Cygnus. Correct? Good. I'd just like to speak with you privately for a few minutes regarding the training before you retire. This way please."

He gave Zantac a look that the latter instantly knew that meant his presence was no longer required here.

Slowly, Zantac headed for the stairs leading down. How did I ever get into this? he asked himself ruefully, then decided Oh well, no turning back now. There's nothing to be worried about, anyway.

However, he made sure his spell component pouch was stocked and within easy reach as he descended the stairs.