Pitfalls of the Palantir

Gongs crashed in discordant, arrhythmic time, beaten to life by a crowd of blue-robed acolytes. A pall of choking smoke hung in the air. Haleth fought to stay close to Inglor in the crush of novices that filled the great hall of the tower.

They had stolen robes from two hopeful applicants and left them tied in a safe place. The faded blue wraps covered them from head to toe. Even their hands were concealed in the folds of the coarse, patched material. Except for variation in height and girth, all of the novices looked the same. Inglor hunched down to make his height less obvious. The great hall was filled a teeming sea of bodies so similar that it seemed one large, pale blue animal rather than many individuals.

The welcoming ceremony had begun before dawn. The sun was halfway to its zenith and the rites showed no sign of ending. Several would-be novices had fainted. They had been carefully removed by anonymous men in robes of a slightly darker blue than those of the newcomers.

Haleth would occasionally attempt to speak to Inglor, but the level of noise in the hall made communication impossible. For the most part she had been forced to allow herself to be carried around the room by the currents within the crowd.

Several times she lost Inglor. Each time, she would glance surreptitiously around the throng, searching for his tall, bent form. She never managed to find him before he would magically reappear at her side.

Upon observing that several people robed in deeper shades of blue had entered and exited by a particular door, Haleth became certain that this was the way deeper into the tower. She tugged on the sleeve of Inglor's robe and pointed towards the door, hoping he would understand. Then she made her way to it through the crowd.

The smoke hung thickly over the proceedings, stinging the eyes. Haleth slipped unnoticed through the door. She found herself in a small alcove. Several robes of varying shades of blue hung from pegs on the wall. She selected one of medium blue which was a bit too big for her. Then she hung her discarded novice's robe beneath of one of a darker shade.

She had managed to misplace Inglor again. Haleth considered the options; she could wait for him and risk capture or she could go ahead of him and hope that he would follow.

It was likely more dangerous to remain in the alcove than it was to be seen moving around the rest of the tower, where there was less of a chance that she would be stopped and challenged. She decided to press onwards without him. He would no doubt catch up to her very quickly once he found his way here.

Fervently hoping that the Hosluin did not bother with passwords, Haleth found another door and exited the alcove.

She found herself in a dimly lit hallway. People passed her without acknowledging her presence. Haleth shuffled forward, her hands thrust into the sleeves of her robe, her hood covering most of her face. It was very difficult to tell where she was going with nothing more than the floor around her feet to steer by. Every so often, she would furtively raise her chin to glance at her surroundings.

It took several wrong turns and bad moments, but she finally found the stairs. They wound upwards, a grey spiral, along the main wall of the tower. Slowly she climbed them, her hood obscuring almost all of her vision, the hem of her robe threatening to entangle her feet with every step.

At varying intervals a landing would lead off the stairway into a long hallway. In these places, Haleth could hear the muffled shambling of feet in the corridor. She forced herself to walk at a slow, measured pace across the exposed area to the next flight of stairs.

Once on the staircase again, she risked pulling back her hood to get a better view of her surroundings.

Light was provided by either smoking torches or a rare, shuttered window. Each time she passed one of the latter she had to make a conscious effort not to rub her bruised nose.

Most of the people within the compound must have been busy with the ceremony because she saw and heard no one on the stairs.

The staircase narrowed as she ascended. The torches were replaced by oil lamps. Evidently the decor improved as one climbed higher. Every so often she would pass a narrow door that led into the body of the tower.

Curiosity beckoned her to open one of those doors to learn what was on the opposite side. She steadfastly beat the impulse into submission, determined to recover the palantir without being distracted.

Haleth was beginning to believe that she would reach the top without meeting anyone when there was a shout of alarm from outside. This was joined by wordless howls from below her. Guessing that someone had discovered she was loose in the tower, she sped up the steps, searching for concealment.

Loud voices and many descending footsteps echoed ahead of her.

Haleth hesitated for a fraction of a second before turning back down the stairs, now intent on hiding behind the door that she had forced herself to leave unopened.

The clamour of voices and the dull thunder of many feet pounding down the stairs grew steadily louder. Haleth reached the small door only to discover that it was locked. Not even bothering to take the time to curse, she put her arm into her robe, fumbled within the pockets of her own clothing and produced a lock pick.

The unseen crowd was almost on top of her. While it was unlikely that they would recognise her as an intruder, they could challenge her. Her strength was in stealth, not in battle. At the very least the newcomers would expect her to help them with their errand. Having come this close to the palantir, Haleth did not want to be forced to retreat.

One more instant and the first of the pack would appear around the curve of the stairs. Haleth concentrated, sweat forming a fine sheen across her forehead. The lock clicked open and she slipped through the door, closing it behind her.

The unseen herd thundered by without pause. There were quite a few of them and they took them some time to pass, their footsteps muffled by the thick door. Haleth could not make out any of the words that passed between them so she could not learn the reason for the race to the bottom of the tower.

Once it became apparent that she would be there for awhile and her eyes began to adjust to the relative darkness, Haleth examined her hiding space.

A very dim light suffused the area, floating into the room from the thin space under the door. From the limited amount that she could see, Haleth judged the chamber to be the size of a closet.

Curiosity finally got the better of her. Once more she dug into her many pockets. Her search produced a candle stub and tinder box. She stuck the tinder and raised the stub of the lit candle to examine her surroundings.

A dark curtain covered most of the far wall. Haleth approached it out of morbid curiosity, fully expecting to find a pile of bodies behind the thick fabric. Hands trembling slightly, she lifted the corner of the drapery and examined what it concealed.

There was no pile of bodies. Instead, the curtain hid something entirely unexpected and puzzling: a large woodcut hung in a niche. A tall elf was depicted upon it, his hair laying upon his shoulders, a bow held in his slender hand. Haleth examined it minutely but did not recognise the individual depicted. There was a small inscription along the bottom of the woodcut.

Haleth read it and almost dropped her candle in surprise.

Bottles of various sizes lined the lower shelf made by the niche. Still trapped by terminal curiosity, Haleth placed her candle on the shelf and opened one. It smelled of strawberries. She quickly closed it and put it back, not wanting to disturb anything more.

Haleth retrieved her candle and carefully placed the curtain back the way she had found it.

She had been wrong. It was not a closet. It was a shrine. She doubted that the leading Hosluin would approve of it. It went without saying that they were unaware of it.

In light of this new discovery, Haleth wondered what size and variety of commotion Inglor would cause if he was discovered. The mere thought sent a shiver up her spine.

She found the door, snuffed her candle and waited for a few seconds before replacing it in the hidden pocket. Then she listened carefully. When she was satisfied that no one was outside, she opened the door a crack and listened again. There was still no one there. She left the room, locked the door behind her, and resumed her climb.


*~*


Inglor had tried to follow Haleth when she had indicated that she was leaving, but the shifting, milling crowd had forced them apart. He thought he had caught a glimpse of her slipping through a door. With the enveloping robes, it could have been anyone. But the person had skulked in such a familiar way that he could not imagine it being anyone else.

A Hosluin in a cerulean blue robe approached the azure-robed man who led the ceremony of welcome and delivered an urgent, whispered message. The incessant chanting broke for a moment and Inglor listened intently. There was a disturbance outside. He briefly thought that Haleth had been caught, but that would not likely warrant disrupting the ceremony.

Again the chanting faltered. In the relative quiet, Inglor could hear the faint but unmistakable sounds of panicked shouting from outside. Although he could not make out any words, he guessed that the tower complex was under attack.

Inglor knew that he had to get out of the great hall before the doors were barred to prevent the crowd of novices from escaping and adding to the confusion. He quickly pushed his way to the door where Haleth had disappeared, using his height, strength and agility to either shove people out of the way or dodge around them.

He gained the door and slid through it as quickly as he could, his robes a blue blur.

Several blue-robed figures were in the alcove, watching the door to the rest of the tower. Inglor was almost on top of them before they noticed him. One Hosluin cried out in alarm and the rest immediately spun to face him.

"You!" one said in what was likely meant to be an intimidating tone. "You're not supposed to be here!"

Inglor picked up the nearest blue, hooded figure and threw it at the others. They all went down in a heap. He carefully made certain that they would stay down and quiet for some time.

He exchanged his novice robe for one of deeper blue before ducking into the hallway. He followed it, looking for a way up the tower. Small crowds of panicked Hosluin ran past him without noticing him.

Inglor quickened his pace. It took several turns before he found what he sought; a wide staircase that spiraled upwards.

He ascended it, taking the steps three at a time.