Back at the Academy, our adventurer are debriefed and resume their studies, some relieved by the relative quiet, others missing the freedom of adventure. The teaching itself is relegated to older apprentices or other Academy members as the mentors seem otherwise occupied with research or other concerns.
Roughly one week after their return, as their old routine starts to set in, the disciples are each asked to accompany their master on an errand and led/teleported to the quarters of master conjurer Broju. Once everyone has arrived including Mistress Gyth’s walking tea pot, Vikkard reaches in his shirt and pulls out a small leather pouch tied to a chain around his neck. He reaches into the pouch and, after a few false starts, pulls out a black marble. As he takes the marble to his face and begins whispering to it, the adventurer’s vision begins to dim, the edges of the room darkening. In a few seconds, their entire room in which they stood fades from view, replaced by an endless expanse of darkness occupied only by the eight masters, the six disciples, a large table with eight eclectic chairs, each seemingly designed to reflect one master’s personality, and a walking tea pot. Wherever this place is there is no sound behind those created by their presence and even those seem to be eaten up by the darkness.
Each of the great mages takes a seat and, each in their own way, makes it clear to their disciple that they should stand a few feet behind their chair. Ogma asks Nasah to distribute the cookies she had him bring while her teapot approaches each master, offering a drink. As everyone settles down, master Skarlag, annoyed and impatient as always starts:
-They were supposed to get it Wolann, what did you do?
-I’m not a foundling to be spoken down to in this way, Therin.
-Of course not, Master Carrow, says Lyrion Tannister, but, you must admit this was not what we expected.
-Hmmph… Divination is no exact science.
-Perhaps this is because you do not approach it rationally, interjects mistress Guezult, obviously angering the old man some more.
-Don’t you start, Althea! I double-checked all the skeins, there are many variables, but they are still our best chance to collect the panoply.
-Then, what do the threads say should be our next step Wolann, asks Draktooth in his distinctive, grumbly voice.
-Ah, well, I had the chance to sift through Amelia’s recollection of the events and I believe their time in Whadi is not quite complete. There is an auction taking place two nights after their time in the Sanctum. This seems to be the strand to pull, if you get my meaning.
-I’d feel much more comfortable if Mavrikos was along for the trip, particularly with that zealot woman running around.
-I believe that was my price from the start mistress Kryseis, yes, asks Vikkard Broju. I need your zealot for me, yes?
-And a Tannister always pays his debts, adds Lyrion.
-Why did you say that?
-I don’t know, it seemed appropriate at the time… He shrugs.
-How are they getting along, Vikkard, asks Ogma.
-Who cares, interrupts Therin. The Rusk’s mission is of no concern to our undertaking. We will speak again once the disciples return from Whadi. He gets up.
-Stormmane will join them a little later, we still need to discuss his pitiful performance at the Sanctum.
He grabs Eydan’s upper arm and they disappear.
-That is that, yes?
Everyone stands and the darkness recedes, leaving everyone standing in Vikkard’s quarters as he slips the marble back in his pouch.