The wind began to howl outside and Halthor looked uneasily at the door. "The shadow riders will not reach you in here. Even if I opened the door wide and stood aside, they could not enter. My home is inviolate and a place of sanctuary," the elf woman said as she checked on her bubbling pot of broth. "You have gained three days of travel by one walking the ancient paths. It is only right that you spend at least one of them in rest. The journey from Starhaven has been hard upon you. Tell me, does Elrian still sit upon the throne or has the unrest stirred up by the priests of the defiler reached the crown?"
"The king of Ranyth is the son of Elrian, Hogarth and he is an old man now. He is child less and has yet to publically declare an heir. He is sending me to count Olerand with this gem and nothing else," Halthor answered. The elf woman nodded her head slightly. "The black priests move through the kingdom stirring up trouble left and right. King Hogarth refuses to ban them, saying they are holy men, but the priests of Sigurt are beginning to vanish in the night. King Hogarth and the high priest Orian have argued bitterly in the chamber that Alaric and I were building for the king. Something about the actions of men are a reflection of the actions of gods. I don't know much about it, I spent my time on wood work."
The blond haired woman dressed in blue gestured towards her table where Halthor found a generous array of food before him as fine as would have been served at the king's own board. A stool sat beside the table. Halthor eyed it with some uncertainty. It was not as stable as he would have prefered but the other choice was to stand, for the fireside chair was too heavy for him to move. As he lowered himself to the three legged stool, he discovered it was more sturdy than it had looked. A bowl of steaming broth sat before him with a small round loaf of bread. Between he and his hostess was a roast bird of some kind glistening with juices. And a small bowl of apples sat on the table in a curious shade of yellow and red that he had never seen before, much larger than the ones he knew were put through the press for cider.
A cup carved from stone sat beside the bowl made from pottery filled with water so clean and clear that it shimmered in the light, which he only had seen rarely in the city of Starhaven. For the wells of Starhaven had a suggestion of iron in the water and in high summer a faint tinge of red to them. The Sweetwater was fouled by the city's sewer and no one dared to draw water from it. The pure streams that he could have found on his journey were covered in snow and ice. Thus, it was in the home of the keeper of the rivers and streams of the forests of central Ranyth that he experienced truly clean water for the first time. He sipped it like it was wine and marveled. There was no taste of iron or anything else in it. It had no scent of any kind to it. And in some way, it seemed almost sweet to him. "You say this is water, but it is unlike any water I have ever known," Halthor said. The elf-woman waved a dismissive hand.
"Water is water. The problem is what you put into it," she answered. Halthor looked at her curiously. "If the water is not fouled, drawn from the ocean, or tainted ground, you can drink it. You must clean the water if it is drawn from unclean sources. I would teach you this, but you can not stay long enough to learn how. Perhaps you shall return, Builder, and I will teach you another thing to build for the good of men."
Outside the wind grew loud and Halthor could nearly swear he heard voices in it. "I was waiting for them to arrive," the elf-woman sighed, "They travel faster than men because they ride the winds. They're an annoyance. A menace to good and decent people. And tragic souls that have become trapped between worlds who vent their fury upon the living." She began to eat her soup as Halthor tried to ignore the sound of a voice pleading for entrance.
"Can you send them beyond to where their souls would have peace?" Halthor asked. The elf-woman shook her head. She gestured at the food before them and Halthor resumed eating.
"Only a necromancer can do that," she answered, "But all of the necromancers I have ever known were more interested in trapping the souls to do their bidding. I doubt there is one who does not serve the darkness. All of them seem to be tangled up in the Defliler's work. If there were but one who was not, I am sure they are hiding so that the others do not come and destroy them for freeing the damned from their tragic fate."
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