"There is only one thing that I wish to discuss. The Master of Light."

The old one smiled indulgently at the demand. "Indeed. And I assure you that we will in time. But there are other things that you need to hear as well, and if I give you what you want to hear, then you will rush away without receiving everything that you need."

Dorothy remained silent, irritated by her inability to force the conversation. Even though Sageras had vouched for the man's knowledge, she was beginning to reconsider whether his request was worth her own. Pagan seemed to sense her impatience, for he sighed and reached out to gesture towards the pool in front of them. "If it troubles you this much, why haven't you tried scrying for him?"

Dorothy opened her mouth to answer, and then closed it sharply. Sageras had also plainly stated that this man was a mage. Would he ridicule her for her lack of ability if she told him, or merely pity her? Before she could formulate a reply, Pagan answered his own question. "You have not done so because you cannot."

"How do you know that!" Her outburst was forceful, but quiet enough to not attract attention. Dorothy glared daggers at the old man. "No one knows that except for my tutors, and they were well paid to disregard any lack of talent on my part."

Pagan shook his head. "Lack of talent it may be, but not as a natural occurrence. As to how I knew, it merely runs in your bloodline."

"Have you never wondered why it is that one so gifted with the sorcerer's art should be unable to call up the slightest vision, while the man upon the throne can merely look upon a mirror and see the furthest reaches of his kingdom? And that while not having touched the most minor subjects of magic?" When Dorothy shook her head, the old mage continued. "It is not a likely thing. Most unnatural, even. And it was set in place by your ancestor, the first upon the throne of Ganwyng."

-

Far above the gardens in his own private chambers, the Lord Khush'Ranada entertained his own guest. They had yet to touch the wine in their glasses, and were deep in their discussion.

"Your daughter is quite lovely indeed. She pleases me, and pleased me well with our time together last evening." Dekim sat just a bit straighter, pride taking the foremost of his thoughts. His daughter was playing her part to perfection, even if she had no inkling of the matters behind her betrothal. Treize was smitten with her, just as it should be. It would distract him from any other maneuvers that were planned.

"I am glad to hear that, young lord. I trust that the bond between our houses will remain strong."

"Oh, I'm sure that it shall." Treize blandly reached down and plucked his wineglass off of the table, pausing in his words to take a small sip. "And how are the rest of your countrymen disposed towards our plans?"

"Those that know, support them. And those who would inconvenience them shall fall in the course of the undertaking." Dekim threw the younger man a shrewd look. "I must congratulate you on the political maneuvering, of course. Inviting a splendid specimen of the elven court here to mediate between us was a stroke of genius. The fools will be so distracted by her presence, that it will be possible to get them to agree with any settlement. Though nothing that would detract from our boundaries, sadly. The buffer will have to come on your side, I'm afraid."

Treize looked completely unconcerned at the pronouncement. "That makes it easier to pull off the next phase of the plan, a call to war. Kidnapping the daughter of a duke, that will rouse them, I think."

Dekim smiled darkly. "At which point they take the bait and fall completely into the snare that has been laid before them. We have nothing more to do than pick up the broken pieces of our respective empires. Although mine has more loose ends to tie up than yours does. Is your man ready?"

"Oh yes, he's ready. He can't help but be ready for my command." Treize's expression turned smug. "His life depends on answering the summons. And to think that I hold his sister hostage as well."

"I suppose that will be incentive enough for the man to get the job done. As long as he does, there won't be anything to worry about." Dekim paused to sip his wine again. "That being said, I believe that I should take my leave now and prepare for the banquet. It wouldn't do for them to suspect any sort of connection between us before the right moment. I am supposed to be neutral in these affairs after all."

The duke set down his glass and stood. "Farewell, son-in-law. May we be fortunate in our little games."

"Oh indeed." A smile lit up Treize's face briefly. "Please tell your daughter that I look forward to seeing her again."

Dekim nodded. "I will be sure to inform her."

As the door closed behind is guest, Treize's grin became manic. "Yes indeed, father. I look forward to seeing her again, but you think far too small in this game of power."

He clenched his fist and stared into the depths of his wineglass.

"I can't wait."

-

"The story told simply, is as follows..."

"Garedan Khush'Ranada, first of his line, first of the Lords of Ganwyng. Disinclined to step down from the throne when age set upon him and fearing the plots of those of his own bloodline, conferred with his mages and had them craft a spell whereby he could see all within the borders of his own domain, while at the same time restricting the power to do so from his kin."

"In the crafting of the spell, a drop of blood was necessary, and an oath of succession. The blood to call upon the power of the bloodline, and the oath to pass on the power when death should call for the ruler. So it was that all direct descendants of his blood lost their ability to see anything beyond their sight by magic, save for one who sits upon the throne. To him is the entirety of the bloodline's strength gathered, so that he can at once with a word see all that passes in his domain."

"This is the tale of the limiting."

Pagan fell silent for a long moment while his young companion absorbed the import of his words. When she finally looked over at him, she had a question ready. "So how is it that you know this?"

The old mage shrugged his shoulders. "I have lived a long time in service, young noble. Not always with the same house or country. Knowledge is something that you must have in order to make your service effective."

He smiled. "Perhaps if you live as long as I have, you will understand this. But enough of this. You had one particular bit of my knowledge that you wished to learn of. I shall tell you what I know."

Dorothy sat up straighter at the statement. Her eyes gleamed as she regarded the old man. "Who is the Master of Light?"

"Before we go about seeing who, I suspect it might do you some good to hear 'what' and 'why'." Pagan indulged her impatience with another smile. "The Master of Light is the head of an ancient order, called the Brotherhood of Light. Why it was founded is unknown, but history first records the deeds of the Master and his brothers in the War of Darkness many years past."

"That is merely legend, made by the elves to cover for their own weakness. Shadow elves and vampyres did not exist." Dorothy's voice was flat as she contradicted the old one. To her surprise, Pagan merely shook his head and continued on.

"It was at this time that a spell was designed to counter an army of darkness that had been created by a dark god. The Master of Light presided over this spell, with several of his brethren involved in the casting. It sealed away those called vampyres in a realm of light where they could never be more than mere shadows. The casting called forth much power, and all those involved gave their lives in the process."

"More recently, about two hundred or so years ago, the Brotherhood made their home in the northern stretches of Ganwyng. Their tenets of compassion while seeking to cleanse themselves of darkness made them popular among the villagers of that region, if only because of the aid that they provided. One of the brothers at that time was an acquaintance of mine, and relayed the tale of his order's role in the war, as well as their current actions among the villages."

"Though I never met the Master personally, it seemed that it was not very long before a successor had to be chosen. My friend informed me that his master was dying, and together with his brethren, disappeared for a time. When he returned, it was with the tale that a new Master had arisen. Beyond that, things continued as they had until I left that corner of the world for another place of service."

Pagan paused in his recollections, and Dorothy spoke up. "Strange. No one here seems to know of this brotherhood, or of their master. But I suppose that it isn't that strange for a group composed of commoners to remain outside the walls of accepted history."

An eyebrow lifted in disbelief at her comment. "My dear, the brothers came from varying social classes. Many of the order were of noble houses."

"Indeed, it is because of the help afforded by the Master that elves joined the brotherhood as well. For quite some time, the ranks of the brotherhood were increasing. That they no longer appear as common knowledge in this realm is troubling." Pagan frowned, though the expression was mostly hidden by the lines in his face. "I wonder why."

"So, let us see who your man is."

A gesture and a word, and the pool in front of him began to swirl and coalesce into an image. A human form emerged, but hazy and indistinct. No discernable features existed, and though they waited for a few moments, nothing else changed. Pagan gestured again and the water returned to its normal state. For a few moments, he sat back and pondered.

"Ah, I know."

Again the gesture and the word, and yet again the pool swirled to form a figure. This time however, the image began to clear up and form a distinctive person. Dorothy leaned forward with bated breath. His back was towards her in the beginning, but she could tell that she was looking at an elf from his ears. As the spell continued his face came into focus, and as Dorothy fixed her gaze upon it, she received a shock. Piercing blue eyes were staring back at her.

-

Quatre fell silent in the middle of speaking. A far away look entered his eyes. Trowa looked over at his friend sharply, while the others looked concerned, but no one said anything. Finally Quatre came back, a sad look in his eye. Seeing the others looking at him, he shook his head slowly.

"Don't worry, it was nothing that had anything to do with us. Not yet, anyway."

Slowly the party returned to their previous work...

-

How long she remained locking gazes with the elf, she couldn't tell. When he finally looked away his eyes held a sad, knowing look. The spell ended and Dorothy sat back, shaking. "He saw me."

The words were more breathed than spoken, and went unnoticed by the old man beside her. Turning to him, Dorothy addressed him with a question. "Why didn't your spell work the first time? Is he that powerful?"

The old mage shook his head thoughtfully. "But my dear, it did work."

"How could it have? There was only an indistinct form!" Having managed to compose herself again, Dorothy found herself irritated again with the old man. "How could that be when we saw him on the second try?"

There was a tired sigh from beside her. Pagan looked over at the young noble, and shook his head. "Think on it for a moment. The spell is only designed to show me what I ask of it. If I ask it something, and nothing is shown, it means that what I have asked for does not exist. Therefore, what I asked for does not exist - yet."

He regarded her for a moment, and then continued. "I asked the wrong question the first time. 'Who is' only brought me a hazy image, so the next logical question given my knowledge was, 'who will be'. That is the question that brought forth what you wished to know."

Dorothy looked over at him sharply as he rose. "Where are you going?"

"Back to prepare for the evening, of course. A banquet has been declared, with a time of negotiation afterward. My young charge will have need of my presence." Pagan walked away for a few paces before turning back to impart one final piece of advice. "Remember young one, knowing what question to ask is sometimes the most important part of finding the answer."

She didn't reply, merely standing and retreating towards the library again. There were other questions that still needed to be answered, and Dorothy was determined. However, she couldn't shake the memory of those eyes and the sadness that they held. It bothered her greatly, though there was no plausible reason that it should. After all, it was merely a stranger, one who threatened one of her kin.

It shouldn't bother her at all, and yet... for some reason, it did.

-

Alone in his room, Zechs waited. The act was drawing to a close, the familiar giving way to an uncertain future. Although his master considered him a mere pawn, the plans that he had set in motion were already beginning to bear fruit. Tonight his sister would preside over a sham, but she had capable protectors beside her.

And Noin would find her own light to shadow, away from the fading dream that she had clung to for so long. Zechs' lips drew up into a smirk at that thought. His master would not find things so easy as he might have supposed to eliminate those that had the power to oppose him.

His smile didn't last for long, however. His master was calling him now, best he attend and belay any suspicion on Treize's part toward his true motives.

"To think, I once called you my friend."

His footsteps echoed in the silent halls as he headed forth to his master.

-
End Chapter
-

AN: The last of the Dorothy/Pagan interaction, at least for a while. Other things come next, such as the banquet... where lots of people will probably be introduced. Also, Quatre and company have their own quest, which will bring a lot more action into the story. Expect Duo and Hilde to show up again, on top of the mountain this time. Wait, are they falling?!

And Zechs... is quite the hero. Despite being dead and all. More about that later, and maybe even a look at his past. You never know what's going to show up.

See you next time.