The Great Library of Palanthas
An Aesthetic shows you to a small reading room.
Stories of Ansalon from the view of Maranth.
A little gully dwarf runs by and says 'Wordwrap Off 65 80.'
The gully continues 'Eyes hurt? Turn Color OFF!! (regular story dates)
Astinus says 'Enter the main library here to view only the author list.'
Astinus gently places a tattered paperback on the table in front of you.
You note the spine bears the word 'Maranth' scribed in faded grey ink.
Author: Maranth Date: Tue Mar 2 21:47:50 2021 Subject Education - 1/?
Maranth sank into the corner booth, quiet, near the back door, of the Crow and Berries, where the drinks were weak and the food was worse, but at least nobody went there. Cautiously, she unfastened the tortoiseshell clasp of her money pouch, leather and embossed with a cow's skull, and counted her gold. It was a decent haul, and almost all made honestly. She only played the cup game once that day. Well, twice. All right, make it three times, but even then, she only played it with people who seemed like they had it coming. That Palanthian nobleman with the fish breath and no concept of personal space, for example. He had it coming.
All the rest was from selling foraged food and spell components and doing little chores for the sailors and vendors in Caergoth Port. There were a lot of tasks a little petty magic could speed up enormously, and all her regulars knew not to mention it to anyone wearing a robe.
Trellin the barman lumbered his way over with a bulging eye on her coin. "Get you something, Maranth?"
"Ergothian whisky and the fish of the night. As long as it's fresh enough not to poison me."
"The whisky or the fish?"
"Fish fresh. Whisky very not."
"I'll meet you halfway on both."
"Ugh. Was it at least caught this week? This is a port town, Trell, honestly."
"Ah, shaddup, Maranth, it were caught today. Fried mullet. Real tasty."
"And some bread, as long as it hasn't got anything greenish growing on it."
"I'll see what I got."
She swept the gold back into her pouch. She had enough to sleep here tonight, have a quiet room to study her book, some good quality sleep to refresh her mind...put aside 20 gold towards the debt; keep ahead of the interest...might even have enough for breakfast tomorrow.
Tomorrow. When she'd get up and do it all over again.
Movement outside the window caught her eye. A pair was striding down the street, one of them wearing a sweeping white robe. She tensed and watched their progress. They paused and took a look at the menu scrawled on the slate outside and looked to be discussing its merits intensely.
"Move along...move along...the food is rubbish and it smells," she whispered through clenched teeth.
The robed fellow looked at his companion, a big oaf with the air of a soldier of fortune, and he shook his head. The robe shrugged his shoulders and the pair moved along. Maranth relaxed.
Perhaps tomorrow was time to move along.Lunitari waxed overhead, sanguine and cloud-wreathed, and Maranth felt a nervous anticipatory tingling in her fingertips, her arms, her leg muscles. The night was cool and the air fresh, and that combined with the moon left her invigorated. She wanted to make fire dance in the trees, conjure multicolored sparks to light the darkness...too risky, especially after seeing the robe in town. So, to burn off energy, she trudged out of town on a country road, watching the fog rise in front of her face each time she exhaled.
Of course, the downside was that being on a country road, especially at night, especially during a waxing moon, made her quite likely to run into--
"Amaranthia..."
She had almost run into the massive, chocolate-colored cow that stood right in the middle of the path. She groaned.
"You again? What do you want?"
"I don't want anything. I'm just here because I'm here. I'm bound to you. You know how it is," the cow said in her resonant drawl.
"Gods help me. Why me? Who on Krynn has a COW for a familiar?!"
"I happen to think we're quite lovely, and so does Lunitari, apparently."'
"You're going to give me away. If people see me with a talking cow--"
"No, no, we've been over this. You're the only one who can hear me. They'll just see you talking TO a cow. Nothing magical about that."
"You'll get me sent to the sanitarium."
"Did you study your spellbook?"
"For hours.
"Hours?"
"An hour. Give or take. What are you, my master?"
"No. You haven't any."
"And I'd like to keep it that way." Maranth shoved past the beast and walked on down the path. It followed her with an odd lumbering grace.
"Then how will you ever improve?"
"On my own, in my own way. Will you shove off? I left home to get AWAY from cows."
"You could learn some important lessons from cows."
"Come off it."
"Patience, service, tranquility..."
"Waiting around to get killed..."
"Well, that's hardly our fault."
"Look, cow, I appreciate the concern, but I don't need advice from bovines. Not even magical ones."
The cow heaved a sigh and Maranth caught the scent of fresh grass. "You'll be sorry."
"I'll be all right."In the murk of the warehouse, no one could see her perform the intricate sequence of motions with her hands, and no one could hear her mutter "Diuva seper saat disentah, mung tidak ada behani," as she described an X over the heavy crate. Who knew what was in it, but now it would be a hell of a lot easier for Trezzick to load. That spell vanished from her memory, she turned to the next crate, the one Trezzick had marked with a skull, the one with the air holes drilled in it, and began to focus her energy on a protective spell that would make the wood as tough as iron. She didn't want to know what he was transporting in this one, and tried to focus her mind on the words of the spell instead of the low growling that seemed to be emitting from the crate.
"I've always told you you'd look very good in red, you know."
Maranth jumped three feet off the ground, or at least it felt like she had. She whirled round and saw the man in the white robe. Her hand darted to her dagger and a spell to conjure an opaque fog was on her lips until she focused on his face. Her mouth fell open.
"Danarr!"
"The one and only."
"Well, well, well!" Maranth took him in, from his face down to the hem of his white robe. Age had been kind to him, though she'd never say that to his face. "It's been, what...ten years?"
"At least. I haven't seen you since you left Milkpail. I left right after."
"Fancy robes."
"They keep me warm."
"Gone legitimate, have you? Conclave, Test, and all that?" His mouth stiffened a little when she mentioned the Test. "Yes, Maranth. It was the only way to advance my skills. And the benefits are many, believe me."
Maranth sighed limply. "And now I suppose you're going to turn me in, are you?"
Danarr scoffed. "For putting a few apprentice-level charms on boxes? I don't think so. But why WOULDN't you join?"
"Ha! And have some Master breathing down my neck all day long? That would hardly suit me. Not to mention risking life and limb taking their silly Test. Look, I know a fellow who sells Xocnalic plant medicine that'd give me just the same experience except it wouldn't leave me gibbering or missing a head or something."
"I wish you wouldn't make light of the Test, Maranth."
"Oh, I don't, believe me. That's why I'm staying very far away from it."
"You'd do well, you know. Really well."
"I'm doing well already."
"Are you?" He cocked his head and smiled in an infuriatingly benevolent way and Maranth felt a strong urge to kick him in the teeth. "Look, come and have a drink with me later! I'm staying at the Severed Head. We must catch up."
"Promise it's not an ambush?"
"Oh, please, Maranth; if the Conclave hunted down every amateur doing sleight of hand tricks, they'd never have time for anything else."
"Now, hang on a minute..."
"You get hold of any REAL power, though -- and, knowing you, it'll fall into your lap -- and they're going to start to take notice. Take care."
"Thanks for your concern."
"See you at 8? Whisky? Fried clams? White bread? My treat? Don't say no."
"Oh...go on then." It might have been a trap. But, things being as they were...she simply couldn't say no to a free meal."Mar, I do not understand you -- really, I don't," Danarr said, pouring her a generous glass of red wine. "Scraping around here in the dirt, doing errands for sailors, when you have the natural-born ability to study in comfort with the most elite group of scholars on Krynn. Why?"
"Congratulations on passing your Test...so what did they take from you?" Maranth said, looking him dead in the eyes across the basket of bread.
Danarr held her gaze for a moment, then shifted his eyes down to his hunk of oiled bread -- he was still a heel man, Maranth noticed, after all these years. "I don't think you realize what a deeply personal question that is."
She kept staring at him as she grabbed a slice from the middle of the loaf and piled it with wildberry preserves. "I don't see any physical scars, so it must be on the inside -- unless you've covered it up with those white robes, of course. White robes -- good robes. I wonder why people who claim to be associated with the gods of good ask you to cut off a hunk of yourself just to be who you are."
"It's not like that, Mar. It's a willing sacrifice. You have to be willing to give of yourself for magic. When people begin to take the power lightly, it puts everyone in danger."
"That's what they tell you, but I wonder how many renegade mages are running around minding their own business and not blowing up Krynn at all."
Danarr sighed. "You'd better watch yourself."
"Well, I don't plan on learning any spells of apocalyptic power anytime soon. I'm just trying to make a little extra gold and be left alone."
"I hope that's true."
"Anyway, it's been years since we both left Ergoth. What's your story?"
"Oh, Maranth, let me tell you about the devil of a time I had convincing my mother to let me leave for Wayreth Tower..."
They talked late into the night over wine, more bread, more wine, lamb pie, and wild strawberry oat-honey cakes. Maranth hadn't eaten so well in months -- it was almost enough to convince her to join the Conclave, if this was the way its members got to dine. She hoped there weren't hidden costs to this meal, but she felt confident enough that Danarr -- who was really quite simple, for a mage -- harbored no secret plans to sell her out to renegade hunters.
Still, though, it didn't hurt to take precautions, and as he rambled drunkenly about his memories of Ergoth, she worked out the details of her plan to leave Caergoth in the morning."This is what I owe you. And the interest."
Trezzick counted the stacks of gold and copper, then counted them again. The minotaur snorted, then dipped his horns. "I guess our business is concluded."
"I guess it is."
"It's a shame. Your tricks have really made a difference for my business. You wouldn't consider joining my company...?"
"It's time for me to move along. Things are getting a little too crowded in Caergoth."
"Hmm," he rumbled. "Saw you talking with that white robe."
"Yes. And if he asks you, you don't know me."
He touched one finger to his broad, pink nose, and Maranth tried not to think of cows she'd left behind. It was a strange feeling, working for a minotaur when you grew up on a dairy farm. "You have anything left?"
"Enough to get me to the next town. Why? You thinking of forgiving some of my debt?"
"No, not exactly, but...well, something came in the last shipment that I thought you might be interested in. More importantly, that white robe nosing around might also be interested, and I don't want him interested. Don't like Conclave. Rather get rid of it quick than get him interested."
"Well, now you've got MY interest. What is it?"
Trezzick stood up and closed the drapes, then lit the oil lamp on his desk. He unlocked the chest behind his desk and withdrew a red velvet bag. He plunked it on the desk between them. "Take a look at that."
Maranth picked up the bag. She could tell that there was a book inside, and she carefully slid it out. The book was thick, bound in red leather, and embossed in gold with a simple icon of a gryphon. Heart pounding, she opened it to a random page.
The pages were covered with cobwebby Magius script. Her head swam. She leafed through the pages. Page after page after page, completely covered with spells, illustrations of gestures, diagrams of magical objects...it'd take years -- an entire lifetime to study this book. It was worth more than she could possibly amass. It was practically heaving with power. She could feel it in her nerves.
With no small effort, she maintained her composure, and looked up at Trezzick. "Where did this come from?" she said.
"Well, the man this come from, Mar, we generally don't ask him that question, but...you remember that chest we had you open?"
"Oh, sure. It had a pretty simple magical lock on it. So this was in there?"
"Along with some other odds and ends. Fellow who sold it to us couldn't get it open himself; sold it to us without knowing what the contents was. I took a bit of a gamble, but there was some gadgets in there the local gnomes went crazy for, and some silk handkerchiefs, and some jewelry. Anyway, it's a spellbook, ain't it?"
Maranth felt giddy. He barely had any idea what he had. "Yeah, sure, it's a spellbook," she said, trying to sound unimpressed.
"To be honest, it gives me the creeps a little. Clammy feeling when I touch it. Don't like it at all. Wanna buy it?"
"Oh, I think I already know most of these, but if I sat down and went through it I'm sure I could find a few cantrips and charms that were new to me. I suppose I could add it to my collection. How much were you thinking?"
A little standard-issue haggling later, plus an underhanded suggestion spell, and the book was in Maranth's pack. All she wanted to do was sit down and read the damn thing, but it wasn't exactly the best time or place for that. But there would be time. For now, she concentrated on the best route to get as far away from Caergoth as she could, with the fewest eyes on her along the way.The book, the book, the book. That was the only thought in her head as she put one foot in front of the other on the road leading east from Caergoth. Read it...read it...when could she read it? No place to concentrate, out here...she could almost feel it humming with power in her pack. Almost? Maybe she wasn't imagining it. What if she wasnt? What if it was so powerful that other mages could perceive it, too? Nervous, she scanned the road. Only one road out of Caergoth. Only one road to Harrying...one foot in front of the other. What could be inside it? Who had it belonged to, before it belonged to her? Would he come looking for it? Was he in the Conclave? She imagined the books original owner. Maybe tall and imposing, old and powerful, wearing a red robe...
She stopped in her tracks. A cart was trundling down the road in the other direction, pulled by two powerful-looking paint horses. It looked like the driver was wearing a black robe. Instinctively, she muttered the stealth spell that she memorized every morning, and slipped into the shadow of an oak tree. No one could take this book from her...
But what was she doing? The man was probably powerful, many times more powerful than her. He'd surely be able to see through this apprentice-level spell. It wasn't even true invisibility, not really. The cart crept closer. No way forward. She'd have to go back.
Darting from shadow to shadow, she retraced her steps back to Caergoth, and the sea-smell had hardly left her nostrils before it was back. Plenty of places to hide here, and she knew people, Trezzick would--
Her eyes immediately zeroed in on a flash of white in the distance. That was Danarr. And he was talking too -- dear gods above, it looked like he was talking to Trezzick. He could only be talking to him about one thing, Maranth was sure, and that was the book. Would Trezzick betray her? Damned well he would! You heard about honor among thieves, but that was a legend, as far as her experience had led her to believe. He was probably selling her out to Danarr right now, telling him exactly what he'd sold her and which way she'd headed --
She was in a port town and there was only one thing to be done. A couple of solidly-built kender were carrying a large wooden crate into the hold of a docked ship. She slid into the shadow of the crate and followed it into the hold.
She caught a brief glimpse of the name on the ship on her way in: Vanderkaum.
She hoped they were kind to stowaways."Well, this was a wonderful idea," said Maranth to the darkness. "Just terrific." The boat was already pitching and rocking terribly, bringing back sickly memories of her first naval journey from Ergoth -- the one that, at the time, she had sworn would be her last. She was wedged behind a cargo crate the size of a garden shed, her knees pressed against the side of the box, with a wooden beam situated exactly between her shoulderblades. She had cramps in both legs, a crick in her neck, and nothing in her stomach. The hold was airless and totally dark, and from the smell of it, she thought the cargo must be mostly onions, goblin hides, and fertilizer.
On the other hand, she still had the spellbook, and no one else did.
"I'm going to have to let them know I'm here sooner or later," she said. "I can't just live down here in the cargo hold. Probably better sooner than later, too. What's my angle here?" She wriggled and shifted, searching for a more comfortable position. "I've got to seem sympathetic, or they'll just throw me off the boat. Maybe Im being chased by the Dragonarmies, or Im searching for my missing sister, or..."
"Or you're in search of a cure for talking to yourself," said a voice in the darkness.
Maranth's blood did a tapdance in her veins. "Uh...well, this is embarrassing. I, er...didn't think anyone else was down here, you see."
"You think I don't know when something's amiss on my ship, fool? Come on, show yourself, filthy stowaway."
"Supposing I do. Are you going to immediately put a cutlass through my guts?"
"That depends. Are you a blackguard?"
"I dont think of myself as one, no."
"What are you? Smuggler, thief, murderess?"
In some moments, Maranth had learned, the truth was called for. "Mageling, actually. Harmless mageling-for-hire eager to be of service. Free service. As long as you don't hurl me into the sea. And if you don't want me, just put me off at the next port, please, and I wont bother you ever again."
"Magic-user, eh? What robes do you wear?"
"None. That is part of my problem."
"Ah, yes. Now I'm starting to get the picture. Come out, you, and let's talk. No renegade-hunters on this ship. Just honest misfits, the lot of us."
"Do you promise?"
"Maybe not one hundred percent on the 'honest' part, but the rest is true."
"All right. Talkarpas ang shirak." Maranth cupped her hands and an orb of faint light appeared between them. She wriggled out from behind the crate. At the entrance to the hold, a woman's silhouette was outlined in bright light. "My name is Maranth."
"I'm First Mistress Shizuru. Any funny moves and I'll slit your face and feed you to the sharks. Now come out of there, for gods' sake, and have a drink."
The Storytellers of Ansalon, The DragonLance MUD
Astinus points to the massive wall of books behind him and bids you to make a selection.
Authors: All|A|B|C|D|E|F|G|H|I|J|K|L|M|N|O|P|Q|R|S|T|U|V|W|X|Y|Z
Astinus mentions 'We have had over 869 storytellers on Ansalon pen their epic stories here for all to read.'
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