It was the hour of dawn when Cutch mounted his horse in the courtyard of Torech Besruth, his hunting gear packed on the saddle and harness, a green cloak covering his hunting clothes. There at his stirrup stood Seregrían, looking up at him with a pleased gleam in her eyes.
“I have kept you closeted for too long, my hunter,” she said, “and I do not begrudge you on this foray. Enjoy the day and know that I await your return with joy.”
“Thank you for understanding, mell bereth,” Cutch replied. “I shall bring you back two gifts: the bounty of the hunt, and of my heart.” He reached down to her and took her hand. Gazing into his wife’s eyes, he spurred his horse as he let her hand fall from his, and rode off up the trail from the enclave, looking back at the Lair once he reached the pass above, then vanished from sight.
Seregrían stood watching her husband depart, unmoving until he disappeared round the turning of the road – she had to wait for Cutch to leave, for her covert research to begin. She hastened back inside the manor, making a right turn from the Gallery into the guest hall. Facing a large and ornate bookcase, she spoke in a commanding voice words in her own tongue, and the bookcase slid open to reveal the stairs winding into one of the spires of Torech Besruth.
Seregrían passed through and climbed the steps, coming at the top of the stairs into the Sanctum, her private study and book-hoard. Whereas the rest of her manor was comfortably lit from hearth-light and lamps, she kept the Sanctum in a brooding gloom, with only her study and desk illumined by candles and lantern, scattered with books and papers from her researches.
Seregrían crossed the room to a cabinet of drawers and selected one, opening it to reveal a box with a clasp of bronze. From the box she removed a leather belt pouch and sat at her study and opened the pouch. She shook its contents onto the desk: a handful of stones, along with a chisel, and what she recognized as a Rune-master’s riffler. Taking up her quill and ink, she began writing:
Examination and Analysis, Rune-satchel
Satchel recovered by Household at Ost Barandor, during the rescue mission that recovered Cutch. Satchel taken off the body of an Elf-woman, presumed to be that of Gilmorwen.
Preliminary analysis shows the stones to be of quality and configuration typical of many rune-keepers. Chisel and riffler are of same type and condition, though chisel bears markings of indeterminate origin.
Seregrían laid out the stones in order, as she divined by the marks on the stones themselves. There was one of pale blue, one of translucent white, and one of amber and red, a flickering flame in the lamplight. Her hand returned to her quill:
Use of stones based upon Cutch’s note: blue stone summoned lightning, white stone summoned ice and intense cold, red stone produced fire. Rune-keeper protocol requires use of chisel for offensive force – Cutch reported she used two stones in concert (Cutch mistook chisel?)
Seregrían lifted the red stone in her hand, wondering. The final effort that Gilmorwen was to inflict upon Cutch came from this stone. This needed an additional test, she thought as she rose from her chair and crossed over to the cradle where she rested her staff. Hefting it in her hand, she wondered aloud.
“Dondangol. You can do much the same as these stones are reported to do. I wonder what you might reveal…”
Turning back to her study, Seregrían held the staff in her outstretched hand over the objects and spoke a Word of Command: Calad na beth nin. Calad na beth nin! At her word, the head of the staff, the lunar-moth crafted of ithildin cast a soft glow over the objects, and she looked upon each stone and artifact in its light. The three stones lay inert and unmoving, just unremarkable stones – but as she passed the staff over the chisel, the metal pulsed with a soft blue glow.
Seregrían’s eyebrow arched at the sight, and a thought came to her. Crossing back to the staff’s cradle she drew from its sheath her sword, Az-gazukh, and returned to lay the blade on the study next to the other objects. Passing Dondangol over the blade, she was rewarded to see the same pulsing blue glow. She passed the staff back and forth over each object, stone, sword and chisel, several times. Laying the staff down, she returned to her notes:
Cast of ithildin light upon artifacts shows chisel to be crafted of light mithril alloy, similar construct and composition as Az-Gazukh. Markings on chisel resemble no known cirth, Elvish, Dwarvish or Mannish…
“No known letters… not in those tongues, but what if…?” Seregrían mused aloud. She rose once again and moved to a bookcase, selecting a battered tome with a scarred leather cover. With a look of distaste, she opened it and scanned a few pages, then compared one page to the chisel, noting the markings on the object and on the page…
…markings are letters, but not in any known tongue, including the Black Speech.
Seregrían sighed a small sigh of relief at that; at least this Gilmorwen’s twisted mind did not delve into the arts of the Shadow. Returning the leather book to its shelf, she selected another, this one with arcane runic marking on the cover and spine. After reading a chapter with a bookmark jammed upon it, she returned to her quill:
Further analysis shows the rune-stones would be inert to handling by any other than a Rune-keeper, and even then would remain inert until proper invocation is performed. In specific cases to produce noted effects, the rune-keeper who crafted them would attune the stones to the invocation; ergo, none but the crafter could use them…
And there was the answer Seregrían sought. Without Gilmorwen’s word or skill, the stones would never respond to anyone or anything; their power died with her.
The stones, chisel and riffler Seregrían would deliver to the archivists at Duillond. The conclusions she made she would deliver to Cutch – he need never fear the runes again. She sighed, relieved, and gathered everything to be put back in their proper places, and descended from her tower to enjoy the coffee that Cutch had left warm on the kitchen hearth.
