Lux Tenebris: The Secret of Treeport

"Eamor got together with the priests about the Temple of Ryat we found," said Fericille. She had been waiting for Mallora when the drow returned to the guesthouse. Her battered cap and cloak were back in place, but despite that she somehow managed to look completely at home in the guesthouse's upscale parlor.

"The godbotherers have spoken. We can take the treasure without any sort of divine retribution, so - Hurrah! - you can get your things back."

She reached for the plate of iced spice-cakes on a side table and popped one into her mouth.

"That's good to know," said Mallora. "I'll have to travel quickly to make up for the lost time."

"Oh? Are you on a schedule?"

"I'm meeting some old acquaintances in Moontree. Their ship will dock a few weeks from now."

"Then you have some time," said the sorceress.

"Not as much as I'd like," said Mallora. "The Graymist Way is more traveled than the Old Road and, well. . . ." She waved a hand at herself. "I'll have to be a bit more cautious than I have been, travel a bit slower."

"Ah." Fericille nodded and eyed the plate, considering another cake. "Well, there might be something we can do to help with that."

"Such as?"

With a shrug, Fericille plucked another cake from the plate. "Haven't you been curious as to why our little community is called Treeport?"

"I assumed it had something to do with the giant tree," said Mallora.

Fericille chuckled. "Very adroit of you, lady. And, yes, it does. Somewhat. Eamor has sent a caravan to bring the treasure horde into the city. When it gets in, we'll retrieve your belongings and I'll show you what's going to put Treeport on all the maps."

* * * * *

Two days later, Mallora followed Fericille through Treeport's streets. She had recovered most of her possessions from the treasure horde. Her pack was waiting for her in the guesthouse room, her hands resting comfortably on the hilts of her old blades. She'd returned the borrowed weapons to Elkedren.  The Sheriff seemed indecently pleased. Mallora suspected the gallows being built in the middle of the plaza had something to do with it.  Lord Terret had condemned the captured bandit-monks to death.  Mallora didn't begrudge him his feelings.

"Where are you taking me, Fericille?" Mallora asked.

"Here," said the sorceress.

They stood in front of a large, two-story building with a dressed stone facade.  The building occupied the entire block and was surrounded by high stone walls.  A trio of guards in heavy armor stood outside the entrance, examining everyone who approached with grim, narrowed gazes.  Fericille nodded at the guards as she swept past them, pulling Mallora into the building behind her.

Mallora found herself standing in a large, airy chamber. The floor and walls were honey-colored wood, and the room smelt strongly of green, growing things. The pungent odor made Mallora's nose tingle.  Looking up, Mallora saw that the building was a shell; there was no upper floor. Arrowslit windows and carefully placed reflector glasses made the interior of the place nearly as bright as the outside.

At the center of the room was a stone-topped desk. Behind it, sat an older man in wizard's robes. He was leaning back in a wooden chair, hands folded over his ample belly, softly snoring. 

Fericille led Mallora toward the desk. As they drew near, the sorceress cleared her throat. Immediately, the wizard's eyes flew open in alarm. His panicked demeanor evaporated the moment he saw Fericille.

"Oh! Mistress Fericille! Thank the gods! For a moment there, I thought you might have been one of the Green Sisters."

"Count your lucky stars that I'm not, Master Hawkthorne," chided Fericille. She gestured at Mallora. "This is Lady Mallora of Fallen Baramir. She needs to travel to Moontree. How close can we get her?"

"Moontree? Hmm." Master Hawkthorne stroked his wispy white beard in thought.  "The closest station we've established to Moontree would be Widowmaker Bay." He smiled at Mallora. "That's about two days ride from Moontree, lady."

"How would you send me there?" asked Mallora. "A teleportation circle?"

"In essence, yes," said Master Hawkthorne.  He opened a drawer on his desk and produced a slender leather volume. "We've got a circle scheduled for Widowmaker Bay in three days time, lady."

"Nothing sooner?" asked Fericille.

"I'm afraid not, Mistress Fericille.  There's not much traffic, yet, between us and Widowmakers Bay."

"Go ahead and schedule a circle for Lady Mallora," instructed Fericille. "Lord Terret will waive the cost."

"Of course," said Master Hawkthorne. He glanced at Mallora. "Pardon me, lady, but have you ever traveled by teleportation circle before?"

"Once or twice," said Mallora. "It was a . . . novel experience."

"I'd recommend skipping breakfast," said Master Hawkthorne. "And eating lightly the night before your travel."

"I'll bear that in mind," said Mallora.

"And there you have it," said Fericille, after they had returned to the street. "The secret of our fair little town."

Mallora frowned. "I don't understand. Many cities and large towns have access to teleportation circles, Fericille.  Why do you act as if Treeport's is any different?"

"Because it is," said Fericille. "How many times can a wizard cast teleportation circles in a day? Two times? Maybe three?"

"I don't know," admitted Mallora. "But I know it's a low number."

Fericille grinned. "Indeed. But we can use our circles as many times as we like."

"How?" asked Mallora. "Unless you've got a batalion of wizards hidden away in that building back there, I don't see how that's possible."

"Our circle network isn't powered by wizards," said Fericille. "It's powered by the tree."

She pointed upward at the massive tree, towering overhead.

"How?"

"Eamor figured it out," said Fericille. She smiled at Mallora. "He's a genius."

"I don't doubt it, but how does it work?"

"Treeport sits on a convergence point of arcane ley lines," explained Fericille. "They're the reason the tree is so huge. Eamor devised a way to tap into the energy of the lines and use it to power the circles."

"Impressive," said Mallora. "And you can open portals anywhere?"
"Ah. There's the rub. We can't, actually. We can only open circles to other points within the ley line network. Karina compares the ley line network to the tree itself, says its like all the stations are like the branches and roots of the tree."

"Who's Karina?"

"Ah. Pardon me. Lady Terret. Eamor's wife." She jerked a thumb in the general direction of the tree. "She's the Holy Mother of the Green Sisters. They make sure that our tapping into the arcane energy isn't damaging the tree itself."

"Anyway," said Fericille, "the part that matters to you is that we can get you two days ride from Moontree in less than two days.  Which will actually put you well ahead of your original schedule, I think."

"Yes," said Mallora. She bowed her head. "Thank you, Fericille."

"There's no need for that," said Fericille, waving away Mallora's thanks. "If it wasn't for you and your unfortunate encounter with the monks, they'd still be plaguing the area.  The Sheriff would still be chomping at the bit to do something about them and Eamor would still be holding him back."

"Well, I'm glad I could provide a reason for the Sheriff to act," said Mallora, dryly.

"If you hadn't come along, Elkedren would probably have gone out on his own and done something rash and foolhardy," said Fericille. "We should all be thanking you for preventing that."

"You've done more than enough to help since I arrived," said Mallora. She glanced around the street, at the people passing by, going about their business without really giving her a second glance.  "And I'm glad I could help Treeport. It's very . . . civilized here."

"We try," said the sorceress. "Now, what are your plans for the next two days?"

"Rest, I suppose. Eat light."

"Well, darling, if you want to rest, I know an absolutely amazing spa on Hilere Street," said Fericille.  She slid her arm through Mallora's and began to extol the virtues of a half-elf masseuse named Jalen.