Ostrias’ words left Ehrir in shock. His eyes widened. He couldn’t quite swallow the piece of information given to him. The name Farnaraen was unknown to him, but who haven’t heard the myths about the first five Changelings that emerged from the mists of time in an obscure era countless centuries ago? It was a tale older than the northern kingdoms and only vaguely remembered by people… And yet he was the creation of one of these legendary men!

“Unbelievable”, he muttered. “The Thirdborn… I thought the first ones were just fairy tales…”

“Well, if it helps, all of the world thought he was dead for the last three centuries”, said Ostrias while shaking his head. “It’s a great shock to me too, if I have to be honest. Farnaraen being alive means that the right to rule above all Changelings belongs to him, as no other amongst the original five is still breathing. He can create quite a mess if he just arrives in the Inner Fantasy…” He paused for a bit. “Oh, the Clairvoyance sure is a mesmerizing thing… They absolutely didn’t speak your tongue originally, but your mind somehow changed that…”

Ehrir heard every word of the Ashen Gaze, but didn’t respond nor did he react in any way. The minutes went on in silence, except for a few sentences exchanged between Sevrian and Ostrias. The old man looked shocked. Fear was written on his face. The atmosphere was grim and the servant that arrived soon felt it and tried to get out as quickly as possible. He returned, though, with food and drinks. But nobody touched the delicious-looking fruits and the newly made bread with rich amounts of butter on it. Despite that the three goblets with weak wine were gulped down quickly.

“So… the Changeling you are looking for is travelling with… with the Thirdborn?” Ehrir finally uttered with considerable amounts of effort.

Ostrias nodded. His expression was gravely.

“Yes, although he is probably more of a servant to Farnaraen than a comrade in his journey. The older Changeling is definitely choosing their route and that is highly problematic. See, I knew Arleon, more or less. He prefers to travel loudly and luxuriously and can’t be missed. But the Thirdborn… He was known as a hideous and cunning man. We probably won’t be able to sense him even if we eat in the same room as him. Damn it…” the Ashen Gaze rubbed his temples. “I don’t want to discuss all of this right now… You can go on and leave. I’ll contact my subordinates soon and maybe by next week I’ll be able to forge a plan. Consider yourselves invited to dine with me in the main hall this evening. Sevrian, bring your other disciples too.” After these words the Ashen Gaze sank in silence and didn’t open his mouth again. The old man and Ehrir bowed to him and left.

Once in the hall Sevrian began cursing. The Undone One stood by and just watched.

“Fuck it”, he murmured after a dozen or so really creative cusses. “This… This is not good, young man. The whole south will become a boiling pan if they hear that one of the first five Changelings is still alive… Peace will fade away quickly if Farnaraen appears. People like him have a god-like status even hundreds of years after their death. The Thirdborn will be able to raise an army in the blink of an eye if he wants to.” The old mage was speaking more or less to himself without acknowledging Ehrir. His gaze was foggy and unfocused. The Undone One walked with him to the entrance of his room on the first floor.

Ehrir’s chamber was of considerable size and it was cozy and comfortable. The windows looked at the mansion’s gardens which were empty in this hour. The bed, the small table, the couch and the fireplace (in which small flames were still dancing) added to the pleasant vibe of the room. Previously the Undone One thought that he could just lie down and sleep a few more hours after the Clairvoyance, but he knew that this would be impossible right now. He couldn’t even think about falling asleep after all that happened. No, he wanted to go somewhere where he could forget about Farnaraen, the Changelings and magic in general.

So he took the opportunity and went to the harbor.

***

Ehrir spent the day quite well. Nalevas was as lively as yesterday. He was just one amongst hundreds of people filling the city’s streets. He had breakfast and lunch in two different pubs and visited a whole lot more. In most taverns he just tried different kinds of drinks or played hazard and other dice games with the customers. He wasn’t skilled nor lucky in them so the money in his pockets, although not much in the first place, quickly shrank to just a handful of copper coins. Because of that he couldn’t afford more gambling so in the afternoon he just walked across the harbor or sat in the streets’ shadows. The day was colder than the last, but it still wasn’t nowhere near as chilly as the normal autumn days up north. Near sunset it began getting a little bit colder and Ehrir finally stopped sweating. He wanted to just go grab some silver and visit another tavern, but the time for the dinner with Ostrias in the manor was approaching. He wasn’t very willing to go, but… Hell, he had to do it.

The mansion’s guards were already familiar with him, so they let him pass without uttering a word. A servant girl welcomed him and led him to the main hall.

The place was big and lit by half a dozen giant crystal chandeliers. It was mainly occupied by a table able to hold at least one hundred people. Currently only a small part of it was used by Ostrias, Sevrian, his two disciples and a bunch of other sorcerers serving under the Ashen Gaze. All in all there weren’t more than twenty people there, although the amounts of food on the table didn’t even hint at that.

There were dozens of dishes served, from fruits and simple salads through different kinds of bread with herbs and spices, fish (both salted and fresh) and diverse types of meat. Ehrir’s hunger quickly rose upon looking at such a sight. He quietly went up to Ostrias, greeted him and took his seat next to Nalia.

“Ya’ look like you had quite a good day, huh?” asked the young woman while smiling cheerfully. This time she wasn’t focusing on the wine or mead but instead was trying to stuff as much meat and buttered bread in her mouth. “Oh, talk, talk, and don’t mind me. I’m just quite hungry, to be honest.”

“That’s rare… and you eat without a solid portion of alcohol by your side? What’s gonna happen next – the sun’s gonna rise up from the west?” answered Ehrir with a grin.

“Sis, I don’t mean to interrupt, but he’s right. This is probably the third time in the past two years in which you eat dinner without a goblet in your left hand”, added Varhel from the other side of the table with a smirk on his face.

“Are you challenging me?”

“No, no… Don’t take it that way.”

The evening went on like that, with chatter, laughter and eating. Well, drinking too, although Nalia didn’t touch the precisely located bottles on the table. Ehrir managed to introduce himself to the other sorcerers attending the dinner, but he couldn’t bother with remembering their names nor those of their apprentices. The Undone One almost thought that the day could pass on without any additional surprises.

And then someone entered the main hall.

It was a tall, well-built man, no older than forty years. He had thick greying beard and a twisted nose obviously broken many times in the past. His clothes were akin to those of a traveler, with a cloak, knee-high boots and leather jacket covered in pockets. As soon as he saw Ostrias he kneeled.

“I salute you, master”, he said with a loud and clear voice.

“Thanks, but I’m not really sure who you are”, answered the Ashen Gaze with a smile. He looked completely recovered from the morning’s shock. Maybe he just acted careless in front of his subordinates.

“My name is Oros, milord. I’m a mercenary working for your subordinate Tael the Green Scar…” uttered the man. “I’m here to give you an important message from my master.”

“Couldn’t it wait a little bit?”

“My master wanted me to deliver it as soon as possible. And to your hands and ears only.” The man didn’t look up while speaking.

Ostrias shook his head slowly and then shrugged his shoulders before getting up.

“Fine, fine. Stand up and come with me. All of you, don’t wait for me… This may take some time. Go on and eat or the food will go cold.” With these words the Ashen Gaze left the main hall, the mercenary following him quietly.

Ehrir exchanged glances with Nalia and her brother.

“What the hell is this about?” murmured the young woman. “Could it be… that they located the Changeling that master Ostrias is looking for? Could your creator… the Thirdborn, be with him?” The last sentence could be barely heard.

Ehrir felt a cold chill down his spine. The brother and sister quickly learned about his nature as an Undone One back on the ship, but Farnaraen being his creator was something new.

“How do you know about that? Did the master tell you?”

“How does it look like?” Nalia’s grin wasn’t confident as usual. “To think that one of these old bastards is still moving his ancient bones… It’s quite astonishing.”

“Yeah, you tell me…” answered Ehrir bitterly.

The sorcerers in the main hall waited for almost half an hour. The atmosphere slowly grew darker and nervousness appeared in the air. The relief was almost visible when the mercenary appeared again, but it didn’t last for long.

“Master Ostrias wants the mage Sevrian and his apprentice Ehrir to visit his chambers immediately. Please, follow me.”

The old man looked at his disciple, but didn’t say anything and just got up. The Undone One went alongside him quietly. He could feel the gazes of everyone on the table fixated on his back and Sevrian’s. It wasn’t pleasant.

Ostrias awaited them in his room. His face was dark and he began talking as soon as he saw the three men entering.

“Hear me out before you say anything. We don’t have the time for greetings. We should head out to the south shores as soon as possible. This man”, he pointed to Oros, “is bringing me news that a huge rogue army of deserters and bandits on the southern shores has been destroyed. The news spread quickly and one of the men that lived to tell the tale got in the hands of my subordinates. He told them that their army was destroyed by two sorcerers of incredible might, although one of them was clearly more powerful than the other. My servants suspect that one of them is Arleon… If that is true, you… you know who the other one is.”