“My kin say that you’re one of the greatest sages of the Yuirwood… and that if anyone knows about the one called the Ancient, it’s you,” Nymara slid into the chair beside him with a casual smile, but an intense look in her steel gray eyes. She was surprised to find so many of her people had chosen to return to Faerun, with fifty settled in Relkath’s Foot alone, but the dozen who’d gathered around her seeking news of Sildeyuir knew little about the baelnorn who had her niece. However, they agreed that if anyone did, it would be Hamafil Sylerin, the green mage; a wild elf who’d led his tribe to abandon their primitive way of life and one of the most powerful sorcerers amongst the Yuir. But they’d warned her that his knowledge always came at a price. “That’s a subject not discussed lightly,” he declared thoughtfully as his hungry eyes sank from her beautiful features to the cleavage that showed above her bodice. “But I understand your young niece was seen with him a few days ago… very unusual… he seldom tolerates the presence of others, let alone keeps company with anyone.” “What could he want with her?” she demanded with concern for the child’s safety, but her eye betrayed her fear that the answer wouldn’t be one she wanted; Calastra wasn’t even a century old, just thirteen by human standards, and most of the possibilities that haunted her were not pleasant. “What indeed,” he mused as an evil grin crept onto his face. “Knowledge is a precious thing… your people have gone to great lengths to protect certain secrets… secrets left buried here when Yuireshanyaar was shifted to Sildeyuir… and precious things always demand a high price.” “Tell me what you know and I’ll pay your price,” she stated with resolve, sure that she knew what he wanted from her. For all his knowledge and power, he was still just a man… and she knew what men always wanted. “Very well,” he smirked with a victorious gleam in his eyes. “As I’m sure you suspect he’s a baelnorn left to watch over something that couldn’t be taken to Sildeyuir. Exactly what that is I’ve yet to learn, but I do know who left him here... your family… he was once Thaeleven Moonshadow!” Nymara recoiled in shock and dread; Calastra was in the hands of a being her family had abandoned to an endless existence of solitude… one of their-own blood! She’d heard whispered tales of dark things never to be disturbed and the unfortunate sole left to guard them, and feared from the moment she’d heard of him that they were true. He should have been honored for his sacrifice, but that would mean revealing why he was left behind and her family could never do that, so he was all but forgotten… never to be spoken of. “I suspect you know what he was left to guard,” Hamafil asserted with a piercing glare, “but I’m certain you will not speak of it… and its likely better left that way. However, knowing that the girl is of his blood and clearly has a gift for the Art, or she could never have worked the menhir, I can guess what he’d want with her after two thousand years of solitude. Just imagine the madness such torment could cause!” Nymara pushed just such thoughts from her mind as she looked up at him, his eyes sparkling with a look of ownership as they devoured her, and conceded; “I agreed to pay your price… what do you desire of me?”