“You are too sentimental. A promise made to her grandmother, amidst the fury of battle? Council will not be pleased you are straying from your assigned path,” he insisted. “And you may have no ends of trouble with what you encounter should many others become aware of your search for the man.”

“What exactly do you speak of?” I wanted to know.

He lifted his stein of mead again for a long draught, then lowered it to the rough hewn table between us with a thunk, wiped his wet lips and beard free of lingering foam.

“Council set your path,” Omar reminded me. “And the other entowered wizards have been asked to help ensure your safety, as have the lords on your expected route. This includes ensuring the King’s roads are more often ridden by men-at-arms to the detriment of less travelled roads. Other eyes will see this and will speak of it. And they will lie in wait.”

“And why would I think of doing that?” I asked him. I hadn’t given him any great cause to think I would.

“Because I know what you have done in the past,” he told me. “And you may still well regard yourself able to freely ignore missives should that be your choice. Especially should it argue with your other… obligations.”

He called for another tankard of mead.

“It has grown more dangerous off the highways in the last few years, master” he continued. “And given what I suspect is the nature of the Margrave’s allies in the east, a straying wizard, especially of your stature, could exactly be what they lay in wait for –who they will be able to capture and turn to their own ends. Or, other’s ends. None have succeeded yet, but there have been attempts.”

I considered his warning to be rather dramatic, all things considered. As well: “I’ve not seen these mentioned in any chronicles.”

He leaned closer.

“You, most of all, know how Council reacts to such threats,” he said in a low tone. “Especially if they suspect more than mere men are involved.”

I could not argue with his assessment of Council, but had little to fear from any talisman bearing bandits or any moon witches but one. And I had defeated enough lingering creatures from the worlds above and beneath to let fear guide my path.

“You will also remember I fought in the Riven War,” I asserted. “Not to mention held three peaces during the two Wars of the Alliance. I am hardly a newly enstaffed apprentice to be tricked by highwaymen.”

Omar sat up straight and glared at me. My dismissal had clearly caused offence.

“With respect, master,” he replied firmly. “The Riven War ended six decades ago. The Second War of the Alliance, more than two. You have not been on the roads for more than a decade. Not only have the Kingdoms grown in strength, so have those along the borders in their audacity. Will you argue that truth?”

I remained silent.

“I see what you are now,” he continued. “And so should you. I will not argue the choice. It is because of you and your fellows the Collegiate exists, and our numbers have grown fifty-fold. But you are old. And so is that letter of obligation. Let it go. Do what you are assigned, and be honored by it. All of us are glad to be able to share time with you. Appreciate that. It is what you deserve. And that daughter of a certain Donlands Count knew the life she was getting into, not to mention the husband she was marrying. Her family’s fate is your problem.”

I rose, grasped my staff, let it accept a little of my weight. He was not wrong in his words. Not utterly. I motioned he join me out on the quiet street.

“We ask the new generations to undertake geas, Omar. Why? Because it ensures they can trusted with their word, deed and obligation,” I told him, “Until they have proven they no longer require such compulsion. You and those younger than yourself may chafe at them, I understand. However, I recommend you and your fellow stop concealing such details and dangers. Dealing with such is what Council was created for.”

In the shadow of the wall, he gazed at me with narrowed eyes.

“I am old, I acknowledge that,” I continued. “And yes, I am not bound by a piece of parchment I scrawled my seal on before you were born. But where geas has no power, we must turn to honor. I repay my debts. Let no one ever say I do not.”

“It is your choice, then,” he replied. “I will, out of respect, not send any missives about this to Council. And I suggest you give them no reason to recall you. If what I suspect is waiting for you out east, however, then I beg you to be careful.”

“That I will,” I replied. “Thank you, Omar.”

“I will always help you where I can, Good journey,” were his final words of parting.

I watched him stride back up the cobblestone street, his tall blackwood staff clacking against stone. He did not look back.

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Hi all, this is Double A Roi, the author of Black Cloak White Art.  I hope you've enjoyed the first quarter of The Stones of Arcory, the first story of Black Cloak White Art and are looking forwards to the upcoming next quarter as Greyslan continues his quest while coming across some serious troubles along the way.    If you could, take a moment to rate my series.  And, If you are really eager to get a glimpse ahead of everyone else, join me at my Patreon page, where as a Reader you will have the opportunity to view Black Cloak White Art  up to a full month  in advance(around 16 or so chapters of this series), among other treats.